by Peggy Staggs
I reached inside the front door and flipped on the lights.
His elegant living room lay in shambles. Furniture tipped over, lamps broken and the Christmas tree lay on the floor. Blood marred one of the cream-colored couches. I took a panic-releasing breath and stomped my fear into submission. I’m good in desperate times. This was definitely one of those times.
I heard a bark come from deep in the house. “Lois?”
My gun raised, I went to the bottom of the stairs leading to the bedrooms. “Jack.”
I took each step with slow deliberation. If something was wrong, which it was, I’d deal with it. “He’s probably outside, and he’ll be right back.” The words sounded even more stupid out loud than they had in my head.
Another bark. Lois would never leave Jack.
On the landing, I froze. A body lay sprawled in the middle of the spacious hall. Thank God, it wasn’t Jack. The blood stains on the man’s shirt were directly over his heart. I checked for signs of life, anyway. He was dead.
“Jack.” My heart pounded as an adrenalin surge heightened my senses.
Lois’s bark came from Jack’s room.
I wiped the sweat from my upper lip on my shoulder as I reached for the doorknob. I knew I should stop and call for help...but what if Lois was hurt. Or worse, Jack.
Logic struggled past my physical symptoms. Jack wasn’t inside. The dead guy was in the hall. I pushed the door open. The bedside table lied on the floor. Next, to it, the broken was still lit. Lois came to me, head down, tail wagging. I knelt and hugged her to me.
Jack’s beautiful room was trashed. The pictures of his Army buddies hung at odd angles. One had a bullet hole in it. Blood trailed down the doorjamb beside me.
Was it Jack’s or the dead man’s?
My breathing now came in rapid bursts. “Lois.”
I pushed her back and checked her for injuries. She wasn’t hurt, but she was as scared as I was. “Let’s find Jack.”
We walked into the hall. Written in blood above the body were the words, “We have him.”
I stood unable to move. Beside me Lois whined.
I needed help.
Uncle Stan was too far away. I didn’t have Jack’s FBI friend’s number. I wasn’t going to blindly call the field office in Salt Lake City and get some stranger who wouldn’t care—if anyone was even there this early on Christmas Eve. Jack’s deputies didn’t have any experience with kidnappings. Only one person in town had the expertise to get things done fast. I hesitated.
This was a mistake.
I knew it.
He was the only one.
I dialed his number, I wasn’t even sure he’d help.
On the third ring. “March.”
“Don, it’s Ensley—”
“Hi, honey.”
I ignored the honey. “Jack’s been kidnapped.”
“Where are you?”
“At his house.”
“How do you know he’s been kidnapped?” He yawned.
“Get over here now. You got him into this, you’re going to get him out of it.” I hung up one second before I realized I hadn’t told him where Jack lived. No, Don would know. He seemed to know everything else. I called back anyway. I was right. He knew.
Ten minutes later, Don pulled up in front of Jack’s large brick home. Lois and I were huddled on the steps outside as his headlights panned across us.
“What’s going on?” he asked as he got out of his car.
“In here.” I showed him the body, the torn-up rooms and the message on the wall. “What did you get him into?”
“He’s a big boy. He can take care of himself,” the tone of Don’s voice was flat and dismissive.
Don was the last person in the entire world I would have voluntarily gone to. The last person I trusted to do the right thing. There was no one else.
I faced him. “This is how it’s going to be. You are going to tell me what’s going on. You are going to find him and bring him back to me, or I swear to God, I’ll shoot your ass where you stand.” A flash of regret shot through me. Had I just alienated the one person in town who could help me?
I’m not used to confronting people, especially not people like Don. His very presence commands attention. I’d seen it happen time and again. Heads turned when he walked into a room. People would actually step aside.
For a long minute, he searched my face. He is practiced at keeping his emotions hidden. His expressions range from hard to very hard. His coke-bottle blue eyes are ghost-like, vague and unfeeling.
My adrenaline had ebbed and I knew the man in front of me was my only hope. “Why are you here?”
“You called me.” When he didn’t want to answer a question, he had a habit of stating the obvious.
I squeezed my eyes shut. “What have you done?”
Chapter Three
“What do you expect me to do?” Don asked.
“You’ve got connections. Call them.”
“I don’t have anyone out here.” He waved his hand at the darkness.
“Is that the reason you’re having Jack do this—? No, wait. Kidnapping—FBI—Brad—” What was Brad’s last name? His number would be in Jack’s contacts on his phone.
“Brad Hughes?”
Don wasn’t all the help I’d hoped he’d be. I notice he’d taken out his phone.
I dialed Jack’s number. Half of me hoped he still had his cell so we’d be able to track him. The other half wanted to find it so I’d be able to call Brad. My heart seized as I heard it ring from inside Jack’s bedroom.
I pulled Jack’s handmade red, white, and blue quilt from the floor.
On the far side of the room, Don bent down. He reached under the bed and fumbled with something. “Here it is.” He hesitated before he stood. Finally, he walked around the bed and handed me the phone.
I pressed the contacts. I glanced down the list of what should have been names. “This is in code.” I’d exchanged the conglomeration of letters and numbers that showed on the screen when Jack called for his picture.
Don didn’t hear me. He’d moved to the window as he talked on his phone. He raised his voice. “I said I want your men up here now. I know this place is to hell and gone from civilization. I’m aware it’s one-thirty on Christmas Eve morning. Don’t give me excuses. Do it!” He hung up.
I’d never seen the CIA agent side of him. Good, I needed him to be competent.
He walked around the room grabbing blankets and throwing them aside, righting furniture and opening the drawers. Finally, he stomped into the closet.
I’d never been in Jack’s closet—why would I? “What’re you looking for?” I asked from the doorway.
“The exchange money.” He began opening drawers. “This mission is falling apart.”
And...I was wrong. It was all about his goal. “What about Jack?”
He didn’t answer, he just kept going through Jack’s things.
I opted not to tell Don he was a jerk. Instead, I moved from one section of the closet to the next. A row of garment bags hung in one section, dress shirts and slacks in another, and jeans and tee shirts in a third. What held my attention was how each area—save the garment bags—transitioned from neat and orderly—almost alphabetically—into normal disarray. As if at one time he’d had nothing better to do than put them in precise order.
I touched the tee Jack had worn the day we’d gone wreath shopping. It hung off-center. I felt the soft fabric, knowing what had changed in his life. Me.
“Ensley,” Don’s voice sounded harsh.
I couldn’t pull my eyes from the shirt. I was lost in the idea that I was this important to him. Was I right? I hoped so.
“Ensley.”
I drew my attention away from the t-shirt. “What?”
Instead of answering me, he turned me away from the clothes. “Listen to me, the money isn’t here. The mission can’t go forward without it.” He walked out of the closet.
The last thing on my mind was th
e mission. “What about Jack?” I followed him.
The hard expression he’d focused on Jack earlier, he now aimed at me.
“You planned this. How could you, son-of-a-bitch?” I wanted to rip his heart out and show it to him.
“I can see Trace has had an unfortunate effect on your vocabulary and your composure.”
I’d show him composure. I stepped up to him. Over his shoulder, I could see the bloody words scrawled on the wall and feel Jack’s dog by my side. “If you had anything to do with this I’ll kill you myself.” My hand balled into a fist.
He gazed down at me and shook his head. “He isn’t worth it. Of course, he hasn’t told you how he can afford this house. Or why he’s hiding in this backwater town in the middle of a backwater state, has he?” He paused. “He ruined his life, your father’s and Stan Hofstadter’s. Now, how does your hero sound?”
“I’ve seen you do this time and again. It won’t work on me anymore.” More times than I could count, he’d level a man with a half-truth or an innuendo. I wouldn’t let it happen this time. “I know his grandmother left him all her money. Interesting how things have changed. Jack talks to me. He even asks my advice. Besides, why wouldn’t you live where you wanted to?” Okay, the advice part had been about some pillows his decorator wanted him to buy. But, hey, he’d asked. Don had never asked my opinion on anything. By the way, Jack got the pillows I liked.
I stood in silence watching Don walk away. “Are you coming?” he called as he left the room. “I’m not jeopardizing my career for Trace.”
I rubbed Lois’s ears. “I’ll find him,” I whispered. I hoped he’d be alive when I did.
One thing for sure, Don will do anything to save himself, even if it means saving Jack.
»§«
I hurried to catch Don as he got in his car. I opened the back door for Lois.
“I don’t want a dog in here.”
“Too bad.” I slammed the passenger’s door as I got in.
“Fine. I don’t care. It’s a rental.” The headlights panned across Jane’s truck. “Where did you get the wreck?”
“It’s a friend’s.”
“Nice.” He backed up.
“What have you gotten Jack into?” I stuffed my gun in my jacket pocket. “And don’t tell me it’s a simple exchange. That ship has dropped anchor in a foreign port.” I indicated Jack’s house and what had happened there.
“All he had to do was take the money to my informant and bring back the information.”
“Nothing is that easy with you. Who’s the informant?”
“Damion LaClair.”
I hated when he used this tactic. Technically, it was an answer, but it didn’t tell me anything. “Stop it.”
“He’s one of my operatives. He infiltrated a terrorist organization. They all crossed the southern border and made their way up to Idaho. He’s due here today to hand over vital information on an upcoming—”
“Terrorists.” My heart pounded so hard I gasped. “Why would they come to Idaho?”
“The nuclear plant,” was all he said.
“Why involve Jack? It doesn’t make any sense.”
“It makes perfect sense if you know what the odds are.”
“The odds?” Were they skewed against Jack? The thought sent another adrenaline surge through me. At this rate, my adrenal gland was going to self-destruct. I gripped the leather seat. “Did you send him on a suicide mission?” No, wait— “How can you, he isn’t in the Army any longer?”
“It’s classified.”
Jack had said the same thing. Maybe this would work. “And telling me terrorists are planning something involving the INL near Twin Falls isn’t?” Hold on. “If you know the who, then you’ve got to know the where.”
He shook his head. “No. This is too important to interfere with. I shouldn’t have told you this much.”
I seized him by his collar. The element of surprise worked in my favor...sort of. The car swerved on the slick road, but Don quickly forced the car back to a straight path. Okay, I didn’t think my actions all the way through. He was driving, the road was solid snow and ice, and it was the middle of the night. On the plus side, I now had his full attention. I let him go.
He braked. “Control of yourself.”
He was right. This wouldn’t help find Jack. The panic I felt doubled. Now, I not only had to find Jack, but I also had to stop the terrorists from blowing up a good portion of Idaho, Nevada, and Utah. Terrorists. It made sense. No one else would have the expertise to take him. “I’m sorry. You don’t understand.” The only thing I could think about was Jack at the hands of radicals.
“Oh, I think I do.” He put the car in park and angled toward me. “He was here when your father died. He played the big hero.” Don leaned against the door and crossed his arms as he leveled his gaze on me. “Stop me if I get anything wrong. He did everything to solve the case. He included you in the investigation. Told you how much your father meant to him. Even said he owed him. Eventually, he found the killers and saved the day. Everyone’s hero. Did I miss anything? When all was settled, he claimed his prize. You. I’ve seen him do it dozens of times, honey, and you fell for it.” He leaned forward, put out his hand out to caress my cheek.
I slapped his hand away. “Knock it off. Stop touching me.” I didn’t believe a word of it. I’d learned the hard way Don is a consummate liar.
The leather of my seat groaned as I confronted him. “If he ruined the lives of my dad and Uncle Stan why are they, such good friends? Uncle Stan is coming to spend Christmas with us, with Jack.” Let’s hear the answer Mr. I-know-everything.
He took hold of the steering wheel. For a long moment, he considered the snow falling on the hood of the car. “Interesting relationship. They all ended up rich, didn’t they?”
Don was calling three of the men in my life dishonest, and dishonorable. I wouldn’t let it stand. “You’re wrong. Dad and Uncle Stan spent their lives serving this country. They sacrificed and earned every dollar they have. I know how much Jack means to Uncle Stan and how close he was to my dad. For God’s sake, my dad’s last words were to trust Jack. He’s as honorable as they are.”
“The facts stand.” Don put the car in gear and continued down the road.
He’d done it again. The facts stand. He knew how much I relied on facts. I wanted to choke the truth out of him. Right now, I had to refocus. If I didn’t, I ran the risk of losing the help of the only person who could find Jack. Right now, I was more anxious to find him than fight with Don. “Where do we start?”
“We wait for my men to get here.”
Hold on here. If there were terrorists with plans to blow up the INL, who was going to pull off the exchange? Shouldn’t it be Homeland or the FBI? I thought it was worth mentioning. “You can’t operate inside the country.”
“Special circumstances. Homeland is on the way.”
I stared down at Jack’s phone. I’d held it since Don handed it to me. It felt like a lifetime ago. I couldn’t read Jack’s code. I wanted Brad here. Hold on. “If this mission is so important, what’re you going to do now, with Jack gone?”
He was silent too long. Then he said, “With this weather, I don’t know if the operative can get to the rendezvous point.”
He was right. What had started as a cheery holiday snow flurry yesterday morning, was now a full-blown blizzard. The wind had begun to whip through the area, and the snow was coming down heavier by the minute.
Don parked in front of the Sheriff’s Office.
“Why are we here?” The lights were out inside. “They don’t staff the office at night. I’ll call 911.” I knew the person answering would be the only deputy on duty.
“This is Deputy Lyle Purdy, what’s your emergency?”
“Lyle, it’s Ensley Markus. Jack is missing, and we need to get into the Sheriff’s Office.”
“What?” I heard him start his truck. Lyle had joined the force two months ago. So, this was the blind calli
ng the slightly less blind.
“There’s a CIA agent here, and we need to get into the office.”
“I’ll call Phyllis.” He hung up.
“I’m a senior director,” Don corrected me.
Don had developed the unique ability to set my nerves on edge with just a word or two. No, it wasn’t him it was me. Now, I saw him for what he was. What was setting me off was the idea I hadn’t seen it before. I needed to calm down. I couldn’t concentrate on finding Jack if my brain was engulfed in Don’s half-truths and misdirection. Controlling my breathing would help bring my blood pressure closer to normal. Mentally, I held the door closed on the too thin, too nervous woman in my head who oversees apprehension and anxiety. I didn’t need her getting loose and jumping off the cliff and into oblivion. That never ended well. I focused on organizing my thoughts as I watched a gust of wind swirl the snow through the night.
I wondered how long it would take Phyllis to arrive. “Why are we here?” I asked for a second time.
“We need a command center.”
“So, we are going after Jack.” I was beginning to doubt he’d be the help I needed.
He turned to me. “I thought that’s what you wanted.”
“This has been a rough couple of months.” I sighed away the memories. “Of course, I want to find him.”
“You need to know the real story about Trace.” He considered me for a moment. “I don’t think this is the time. You’re too upset.”
My blood pressure spiked. Before I could explain exactly how upset I was, a car pulled to a stop in front of us, and Phyllis got out.
Without a word, we left Don’s rental. I let Lois out of the backseat.
“Lyle said Jack was missing.” Phyllis put her key in the lock.
A grouping of jingle bells hanging on the front door tinkled happily as we entered. Inside, Phyllis shrugged off her coat and turned to me. “Doctor Markus, what’s going on?” She set her bag on the desk. “And who are you?” she asked Don.
“CIA.” He flipped out his wallet. “Where’s Trace’s office?”
Phyllis stepped between Don and Jack’s office. “You don’t have any jurisdiction in my town.” She crossed her arms.
