“OK.” She nodded. “Do you think the power will be out long?”
“Probably until the storm is over. This high up, when the power goes out, it’s usually a downed power line. They won’t be able to get out here to fix it until the storm abates.”
She didn’t like that. For whatever reason, no electricity made her feel less safe.
“Which means we won’t be able to go through any more photos, at least on the desktop” he continued. “Though my laptop is fully charged, so I can use that at least.”
Partly relieved and partly disappointed, she nodded and began ladling the chili into bowls. Jason went to the pantry and returned with a bag of corn chips. He also got shredded cheddar cheese from the fridge. “Now I’m ready to eat chili,” he said.
She watched, bemused as he mixed the corn chips in with his chili and topped everything with cheese.
“What?” he asked, noticing her watching. “This is the best way to eat chili, hands down. You ought to try it.”
Sitting down across from him, she shrugged and grabbed the bag of chips, pouring several on her chili.
“You need more than that,” he told her. “Usually, I put them in first and then pour the chili over. It’s like a Frito pie.”
“A what?” she asked.
“Frito pie. Haven’t you ever been to a high school football game? They’re one of the concession stand staples.”
She thought for a moment. “I don’t know,” she finally said. “I’m tired of not knowing anything.”
“It’ll come.” Taking another spoonful of chili, he swallowed and made an appreciative sound. “This is really good.”
“Thank you. I always used to make chili when it snowed.”
Dumbstruck, she stared at him. “Another memory.”
“Yep. I told you, it’ll come. Remember what Phil said. You’ve got to be patient.”
Nodding, she finally picked up her spoon and dug in. He was right, the chili tasted exactly as it should. She liked the addition of the corn chips. They added a salty crunch that felt pleasing on her tongue.
After they’d eaten, they did the dishes side by side. “We’ll eat this again tomorrow,” Jason said. “Let’s let it cool somewhat before we store it in the fridge.”
He sat down on the couch, grabbing his laptop. “You’re welcome to sit with me and help me look at the next few files,” he said. “I’ve decided to go through the most recent next. The ones from the hotel bombing in Kabul.”
She nodded, taking a seat next to him on the couch, careful to keep a few inches between them. While he booted up the laptop, which had gone to sleep mode, she amused herself by imagining all the things she’d rather be doing with him right now instead of going through photographs. But since a blizzard would have them snowed in again, she figured they’d have lots of time. Plus, she reminded herself that he had a deadline.
“Stop.” Finger shaking, she pointed to the photo on his screen. “Who’s that man?”
He shrugged. “Someone who was traveling with the vice president. The VP and a good-sized entourage made an unannounced and unscheduled stop in Kabul. Word had it that he was meeting with some high-ranking Afghan official, though it was so classified no one knows for sure. They were staying at the same hotel.” He took a deep breath. “The one that was bombed.”
For whatever reason, she had to force herself to look back at the photo. Once she could stare at it without wanting to puke, she nodded at him to go ahead and click the next one.
The same man and several others. This time, she focused on a tall man standing with his back to the camera. “Him,” she exclaimed.
“What? Do you recognize him?”
Staring, she knew she did. His name hovered right out of reach, not quite at the tip of her tongue. “I know him,” she breathed. “I think. It’s hard to tell without seeing his face.”
“Let’s keep going through the pics,” Jason advised. “Sooner or later I’m reasonably sure he turned around.”
Ignoring the trepidation that made her stomach ache, she nodded and tried to breathe as he kept clicking. The same man in several frames. Back to the camera, still his back and finally, his profile. Pausing, Jason eyed her as she studied the clean aristocratic lines. “Anything?” he asked.
“Not yet. Maybe in the next one I’ll be able to see his full face.”
Sure enough, in the next photo, the unknown man completed the turn. Facing the camera, he stood out from all the other men. Handsome, yes. Arrogant too, judging by the disdainful look on his face as he eyed the camera. But again, she knew there was more. Unfortunately, she had no idea what.
Jason watched her closely, waiting while she stared at the photo.
“I know him.” She swallowed hard, tasting bile. “Though I’m not sure how or in what way. But there’s something familiar about him. And though I can’t give you a definite answer why, I know that whatever it is, it isn’t good.”
“Just relax,” Jason said. “Look at the picture and see if anything else comes to you.”
Taking a deep breath, she tried to do as he asked. Carefully, she blanked her mind, emptying it of all thoughts while she focused on the photograph of the handsome man’s face.
Flashes of violence, staccato and unconnected, she thought. The man shouting, cursing. Movement, everything a blur. She closed her eyes, letting the images wash over her. More angry shouting. A small group of women, huddled together under a dirty blanket, weeping and crying in fear. Trying to comfort them and when she did, a fist smashed into her face. Crumpling and falling, but still conscious enough to feel the kicks and the punches. All from one man, the one with the aristocratic features. Pain, such pain. She cried out, lost in the horror of the memory.
“Lucy.” Jason’s voice, calm and reassuring, in her ear. “It’s all right. I’m here. You’re safe.” He put his strong arms around her, offering comfort. Jason. She let herself sag against him, shaken and still not quite certain what the memories actually meant.
“Lucy,” he said again, moving the hair away from her face with gentle fingers. “Are you all right?”
Was she? She took a deep shuddering breath. Now, with him holding her close, she guessed she was. “I’m okay,” she managed, haltingly trying to explain what she’d seen. “But I have no idea what any of that means.”
He glanced from her to the photo still up on the computer screen. “Clearly, it’s somehow tied to this man.”
“I don’t know. Maybe.” Yet she knew deep within herself that it was. All of it. “Who is he?”
“I don’t know. But I plan to find out.” Keeping one arm still around her, he moved the photo to the special file. “If you’re up to it, would you mind helping me look through the rest of the shots I took this day? There might be something else that looks familiar or triggers a memory.”
Though that was the absolute last thing she felt like doing, she gave a slow nod. “I’ll do the best I can.”
He kissed her on the mouth then, a quick, reassuring press of his lips that left her wanting more. “That’s all anyone can do.”
Amazingly, he’d managed to make her feel better. She sat next to him, hips touching, arms too, and eyed the photos as he brought each up. When she realized there weren’t any more of the one particular man, she began to relax.
He’d taken several shots of the rubble, but in them he’d managed to capture the reactions of hotel employees and others, probably customers. Shock, horror and dismay were a few of the emotions on their faces. Seeing them, she felt each and every emotion too.
Tears pricking her eyes, she said nothing, just continued watching the screen as Jason clicked from photograph to photograph.
In some of them, there were bodies. Dead bodies, twisted up among the rubble, many covered with sheets, but many more not. Swallowing hard, she looked away. “I hope you’re moving those to the
file of unacceptable ones.”
With a quick sideways glance, he nodded. “I am. You don’t have to look anymore if that upsets you. I’m not callous—I’m just so used to documenting whatever I see that I keep shooting pics.”
“I know,” she commented softly. “I saw the ones from Yemen earlier. I had to close one entire file when I saw the school bus that was hit by a mortar attack. I left that one for you to go through. I’m sorry, but I was afraid I might have nightmares.”
Gaze locked on hers, he nodded. “You know what, Lucy? I think I did you a disservice when I asked you to help me with this.” He shut down the laptop, waiting a moment before closing it. “I’m done for the day anyway. How about we play a game of poker? Or Scrabble, if you’d rather.”
Instead of answering, she got up and walked to the door, opening it and peering out at the thick veil of falling snow. “I think I’ll need a little bit of time to collect myself.”
With that, she closed the door and took herself off to the bathroom. She felt like she needed a hot shower. Maybe then she could wash the sick feeling of horror away.
* * *
When he heard the sound of the shower turning on, Jason felt even worse. He hadn’t even given a single thought to how viewing candid photos of the horrors of war might affect someone who wasn’t used to seeing the atrocities mankind visited on each other.
In addition to that, she’d recognized someone who’d been there the day of the bombing. How was such a thing possible? Had she been there too? Even if she hadn’t, he had to wonder what the connection might be.
Pacing the confines of the small room, he wondered if this might be why NCIS wanted to see his photographs. This man, the one who’d inspired such a powerful reaction in Lucy, who was he?
Finding out would be first on his list of priorities.
Walking past the subpoena he’d dropped on the kitchen table, he glanced at the date he was supposed to appear. Though it wasn’t for another ten days, he couldn’t help but hope there’d be another blizzard right before then, making the roads impassable.
The shower cut off, letting him know Lucy would be emerging soon. Picturing her toweling off, a rush of pure desire hit him, so powerful he staggered.
Telling himself he needed to cool off, he went to the front door and stepped outside onto the porch without a jacket. The porch light illuminated a wintry wonderland. Though the full force of the blizzard hadn’t yet arrived, the snow continued to fall thick and heavy. It appeared to be the kind of powdery snow beloved of skiers everywhere.
He stood and watched it, loving the absolute silence, until the cold began to penetrate his clothes. Shaking his head, he turned and went back inside the warm cabin.
Lucy stood near her duffel bag, wearing a pair of flannel pajamas that she’d buttoned up all the way to the top. A pair of fuzzy slippers completed her look.
He froze, struck dumb with wanting. She looked cute and sexy, in a way that made him ache to slowly take those pajamas off her. “Where’d those come from?” he asked, his voice like rusted nails. “I haven’t seen you wear them before.”
“I haven’t.” She smiled at him, clearly having put her previous issues to rest for now. “I was looking for something other than a pair of thick socks to keep my feet warmer and I found these slippers.” She lifted one foot. “When I noticed they went with these pj’s, I had no choice but to put them on. Do they look too silly?” She peered at him, her smile slipping.
“Not silly at all.” He could no more have kept himself from going to her than he could have stopped his heart from beating. “In fact, you look amazing.”
She frowned, as if she couldn’t tell if he meant it or not. “Thanks,” she began.
He kissed her then, cutting off what else she might have been about to say. They lingered over the kiss, neither in a rush to take it any further. Not yet. The night was, as the saying went, still young.
When they finally broke apart, breathing heavily, she shook her head. “Wow.”
Her one-word comment made him grin. “I told you those pajamas are sexy.”
“Only to you,” she said, laughing. The sparkle had come back to her eyes. “Listen, I know we talked about playing Poker or Scrabble,” she said, her mouth swollen from his kisses. “But I really think we should go through some more of the Kabul photos.”
“Are you sure? I don’t want to put you in another bad place again.”
She lifted her chin. “I’m positive. Right now, the not knowing is driving me nuts. I have to see the rest of the pictures. There might be something in them that will trigger my memory.”
The determination in her voice told him she meant what she said. While going through more photographs didn’t sound particularly appealing, it had to be done sooner or later.
“Fine,” he said. “We’ll spend another hour or so on the photos and then we’ll call it a day and do something fun.”
“Sounds good.” The wicked gleam in her gaze told him exactly what she thought would be fun.
Smiling back at her, he marveled at the rush of affection he felt in addition to the bone-deep feelings of desire. In his life, he’d known many women, some of them beautiful, some of them fascinating, but no one had ever affected him the way this woman did. And neither he nor Lucy knew her real name or much about her past.
Would the truth change things between them? He couldn’t see how it wouldn’t.
Settling back on the couch with his laptop, he waited until she’d taken a seat beside him to open it and turn it on.
“Start where we left off,” she ordered. “Actually, if we could go back to where that man faces the camera. I want to see him again.”
Though he had his doubts about the wisdom of this, he was also intrigued. The reporter in him wanted to get to the mystery and find out the truth. But part of him also wanted to prolong their idyllic paradise just a little bit longer.
He scrolled through the thumbnails until he located the one she’d requested and clicked on the file. When the other man’s chiseled features filled the screen, he too felt a small shock of recognition. “I know who that is,” he mused. “Though I can’t remember his name right now. I swear, we were introduced at some point. He was part of the vice president’s entourage.”
Studying the photo silently, she finally nodded. “Nothing else came to me. Let’s continue.”
“I took a lot of shots there,” he warned her. “Some of them might be...gruesome.”
“I’ll survive.” Her dry tone had him glancing at her. “I really want to see every single one. I don’t know why, but I’m sure there’s a valid reason. I’m hoping it becomes obvious by the time we’ve finished with that file.”
Nodding, he clicked on the next shot.
They went through forty or fifty photos, most of people, some of the rubble the explosion had caused, without anything causing Lucy to react. Swallowing hard at the next shot, he warned her from this point on, she might find the images difficult to look at. “They’d started bringing people out of the rubble.”
Though she gave a grim jerk of her head, he knew nothing he could say would prepare her, so he simply brought up the next photo.
For the next several moments, they reviewed the pictures in silence. Death and injury, bodies coated in the gray powder of destroyed concrete, limbs missing or twisted in impossible fashion. Grief and pain all came through with a violence that couldn’t begin to match the horror of the act that had done this.
He glanced sideways at her, worried. When he noticed the tears sliding silently down her cheeks, he wondered if she was even aware of them. Unable to help himself, he reached over and gently wiped them away with his finger.
“It’s OK,” she told him, sounding husky. “I’m fine. Continue.”
Marveling at the steel inside her, he did as she asked.
“Wait.” Shock rang in her voic
e. “There. The woman on the stretcher. Do you have more of her?”
“I’m not sure. There were so many people being brought out of the rubble. There’s only one way to find out.” On to the next shot.
Her again. Close up. As he stared at the woman’s battered features, a sort of horrified recognition came over him. “She... That woman looks like...”
“Me,” she said flatly, knowing the truth deep in her heart. “That’s me. Apparently, I was also there when the hotel in Kabul exploded.”
Chapter 11
For a second or two, Lucy couldn’t catch her breath as she stared at the image of herself immortalized by Jason’s camera. Bloody and unconscious, she was almost unrecognizable. Her eyes were swollen, and a huge bruise purpled her face. She looked...dead. Or at least seriously injured. Clearly, she’d been hurt in the bombing of the same hotel where Jason had also been staying. There was the connection, albeit a fragile one. Still, this had to be the reason why someone had taken her to him.
Which would only make sense if they knew each other. And while she had no way of knowing whether they did, judging by Jason’s reactions from the moment he’d walked into his home and found her there, they did not.
For the first time since her arrival, she felt a frisson on doubt. What if Jason was pretending not to know her? What if all along he’d been aware of every single thing that had happened to her?
Hyperventilating, she told herself to calm down. She might not have known Jason long, but he wouldn’t do something like that. He’d made it clear that he considered them in this—whatever this might be—together. And he’d been just as shocked as she when her picture had popped up on that screen. She’d bet her life on it. For the first time she realized she might literally be doing exactly that.
“Are you okay?” Jason asked, putting his arm around her. “This has to be a big shock.”
“Did you know?” she heard herself ask him. “Did you remember taking a picture of me?”
Snowbound Targets (HQR Romantic Suspense) Page 15
