Threshold of Danger (A Guardian Time Travel Novel Book 1)

by Rachel Trautmiller

  His mom's gaze flicked to the article. "The police consider it a random attack?"

  He shook his head. Didn't have an answer to that. But if it had happened while investigating Theo Trenton's whereabouts and she was digging into the story again...

  "If I were you, I'd look into the police report. I'd probably stick close to Sam too. There may be only one reason she's still alive right now. You. You're standing in the way. By the sounds of it since you were eleven. And you may have to face the fact that Haley may be leading you in that direction to cover something else."

  And if she's playing a game...?

  How had he stumbled upon either Billings' sister? At twenty-five, he understood. But eleven? He'd lived across the United States.

  "Does Sam know what you can do? That she's interacting with two versions of you?"

  He shook his head. "No."

  "You're sure?"

  There wasn't any way. She might know that Ricky—the younger version of himself—could travel, but she couldn't have connected the two. Not unless—

  "Sam can see the progression of time travel."

  His mom didn't say anything for a minute. "Do you trust her?"

  "Yes." There wasn't any hesitation anywhere inside his body. Just a flash of last year in a giant warehouse with her bleeding and trapped beneath burning rubble. A moment where he'd cursed Theo Trenton for ever being born.

  For his own stupidity in not nixing the plan Sam had formed. He'd known everything about their investigation was off. That waiting until dawn wouldn't afford them any additional help. But he'd chosen to silence his gut feeling.

  "I'm sensing a but."

  He shook his head. "Sam would step in front of a bus for just about anyone." He knew it all the way to his toes. It scared him as far, too. "She takes too many risks. She'd easily play herself right into the wrong hands."

  "Or maybe right to the exact time she's supposed to be." She pointed to the newspaper still clutched in his fingers. Right at Anne. "She showed up the other day, too."

  "She did?"

  "She was sleepwalking. Unaware of her surroundings. She had a medallion. And she talked to you. Haley bolted shortly after she appeared."

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  Present Day

  SHE SHOULD'VE MENTIONED the dog tags. Sam had planned on showing them to Elliot. Was tired of holding back where he was concerned.

  But then Emma had shown up. Handed over the medallion. And Elliot had gone from open to closed in the minutes Sam had spent talking with Emma. It hadn't improved as he walked her to her car and promised to catch up with her later. And she'd been too caught up in the medallion's sudden reappearance. The flash drive burning a hole in her pocket. The dog tags.

  The last time she'd seen Theo Trenton alive. Ryan-maybe-from-a-bar—aka Dr. Ryan Henderson and his actions this morning inside the hospital. The way he'd held a gun to Haley's head.

  Very angry. Completely unmoved by the thought of witnesses to the crime he likely would've committed. The way Haley hadn't even flinched. As if she welcomed the thought of death. The thought of something else.

  And Claudia Morris—Sam knew the details of her murder inside and out—was now lying in a hospital bed, her identity confirmed on national news. Her husband was already at her bedside in the ICU.

  Sam stood beyond the glass door of Claudia's room watching as Mr. Morris held her unresponsive hand. Tears poured down his face, the unimaginable hell he'd been stuck in for the last six months evident in the hunch of his shoulders. The way his lips met the pale hand between both of his.

  And Sam wanted to find a way to suck the news back. To protect her identity until the police could figure out where she'd been. Until Hope Alive could do the same.

  Because Kent Morris had buried her. Mourned her. And now she was back. Somehow. And even if those events were that the Fresno County Sheriff's office had incorrectly handled the minimal evidence they'd been given and not something far more sinister, they still had a mess.

  "You said she walked into the office, asked for you, and then collapsed?" The Colonel shifted next to her. Flicked a bit of lint from his dark tie. He'd shown up five minutes after Claudia Morris' husband. Had summed up Sam with his dark brown eyes and dismissed her in seconds. Stood next to her in his starched gray suit as if she weren't present at all.

  Like always. All those snapshots were right there, ready for instant recall.

  The time she'd gotten in trouble for punching a kid on the playground after he'd called Haley a bad name. The time she'd sprained her ankle during a track meet and been unable to finish the race. The time she'd returned from playing on the beach to find her mother unresponsive.

  Gone.

  He didn't yell. He didn't say anything at all. And to this day Sam wondered if he'd ever cried like Mr. Morris. Ever grieved so much he thought he'd die from the pain. Even at the gravesite, as the coffin lowered into the ground, he'd been stoic. So much so that Sam had held Haley's hand instead of his.

  Haley who'd never cried over their mother's death either—not that Sam could recall. Haley who'd simply pulled Sam closer. Given comfort a twelve-year-old shouldn't have had to.

  "Samantha?" Impatience lined the syllables.

  "Yes. That's it."

  He nodded as if her words agreed with another eyewitness report on the event. "I signed over a third of Hope Alive to your sister." He didn't take his eyes from the couple on the other side of the glass. "I want you to show her the ropes tomorrow. It's time she became a productive member of this organization."

  A hot flash of irritation surged inside her body. "You do this every year." Minus the paperwork. That he'd never done. "It always backfires." Haley hated everything to do with Hope Alive. If there wasn't a story, she wasn't in it. He knew that. He had to know that.

  "Have faith."

  Have faith? He couldn't be serious. Adventure was her life. Her livelihood. The reason she used to traipse into countries without ready medical aid or boldly enter war zones. "Did she agree to it?"

  Sam had when he'd first offered her that option. She'd signed a slew of paperwork to become part owner. Had to come up with her share of the working capital. Assisted in hiring a team. Vetted potential agencies with which they could use during especially tricky cases. Proved that they could aid the community in conjunction with local law enforcement.

  "Your sister will arrive tomorrow at eight." His eyes speared her. "You'll train her. Is that clear?"

  Sam ground her molars together. There was no way Haley would show up. Not unless the Colonel dragged her in, kicking and screaming.

  And even then it would be a giant mess.

  There was no way he'd even talked to her about it. He did what he did every year. Sent her a certified letter with who-knew-what inside. Which Haley would return unopened. He'd then send Lucinda in to find Haley and deliver the news.

  Hope Alive. Now or never.

  Of course Haley would pick never. And the Colonel didn't know how to take no for an answer.

  That's when Haley would show up at their childhood home. Scream. Break things. Get kicked out.

  Sam wasn't up for the challenge this year. Wasn't exactly sure what to expect from the possibly sober version of her sister.

  "What happened to your face?" The Colonel crossed his arms over his chest. "You have dirt all over you."

  "A mishap at Shaver Lake."

  "You talked to Elliot I assume?" No are you all right? What happened? Just typical Colonel, moving to the next topic of discussion as if they weren't inside a hospital watching the beep of monitors connected to a woman who had been declared dead months ago. Buried.

  Instead, every conversation was a briefing with an agenda they couldn't veer from.

  "Before, during, and after the mishap at Shaver. Yes." She made eye contact then. "Does that meet with your approval?"

  He blinked at her. "What has gotten into you?"

  "I was shot at today, Dad." She so rarely used the endearment. Even
when her mom had been alive, he'd always been the Colonel—this man far above everyone else. You didn't raise your voice to him. You didn't speak to him unless it was requested. And he didn't need your show of affection.

  "You didn't have your gun." The disapproval was thick in his deep voice.

  It wouldn't have mattered. There'd been no one to aim for. Like a ghost had pulled the trigger before disappearing. "Elliot and I were both shot at."

  "You know the office policy. You should have your gun and your concealed carry permit at all times. If you or anyone working with us were injured, our insurance rates would skyrocket."

  Insurance rates? "We were shot at, but I'm fine. Thanks for asking. Haley's fine too. Even after being held at gunpoint this morning. And by the time we went back to the scene where we were shot at, your best friend Jeff was there."

  "He's not—"

  "Telling me where my place in life is, which is not anywhere near the crime scene, likely your doing." Anger reared up, hot and ugly, all the time Jeff had shown up unannounced in the last several months springing to life. "What you fail to understand or accept is that Jeff and I are divorced. I know that's a disgrace in your mind. He may be like a son to you, but he's nothing to me. I'd appreciate if you'd respect that."

  "Samantha."

  "Then you announce Haley is part owner of Hope Alive—as if she wants that at all. As if you don't get that the more you try to run her life for her, the less she gets the chance to figure it out for herself."

  "Your sister isn't capable—"

  "She drank herself stupid in L.A., so you physically went there and brought her back here, paid for everything, made sure she had everything. And what did she do? The same things she'd been doing, but now she had easier access. You can't force her to fix what's broken. Only she can do that." She took a deep breath. Would've savored the complete shock on the Colonel's face if the words hadn't taken every ounce of emotion she had left.

  "Is this about..." His eyes darted around the hallway as if saying your mother's death might bring the boogieman. "Today."

  She shook her head. This conversation would be exactly the same tomorrow. The day after that. In six months. She shouldn't expect different. "Call me when Claudia wakes up."

  Then she moved down the hallway. Hadn't taken more than ten steps when her phone vibrated in her back pocket. She pulled it out and pressed it to her ear. Kept walking. "Sam speaking."

  "Hey, Sam." Captain Simon Riley's deep voice came over the line. "It's Simon. Did I catch you at an okay time?"

  "That depends on if you classify arguing with a bullheaded family member okay or not." She found the stairs where Ryan Henderson had pointed the gun straight at Haley's head and opened it. Moved through it with caution.

  "Depends on the argument. The Colonel or Haley?"

  Sam let out a breath. "Both are equally aggravating and make me seriously consider moving to a remote country without phones or the internet. Hope Alive could branch out, right?"

  "I'm sure that it could, but they would miss you in less than a day."

  No. They wouldn't, but it was nice to think that someone thought that. "What can I do for you?"

  "I tried Elliot, but his phone goes straight to voicemail."

  Her heart kicked up a notch. "Is everything okay?"

  There was a heavy sigh. "Have you seen your bullheaded sister?"

  "A few hours ago at Hope Alive." She could be anywhere by now. In a bar. On her way to a country without internet or phones. Creating trouble. Dead. And Sam would never know.

  And just like that any anger toward Haley floated away and they were back at their mother's graveside with her older sister holding her hand tighter. "Why?"

  "Any idea where she was headed?"

  "No. I'm sorry. We didn't exactly leave each other on good terms. Is everything okay? Is she—"

  "If you see or hear from her, let me know. Immediately."

  ____

  This isn't your first visit to my home.

  The words had frozen everything inside Haley. She would've remembered that house. Those kids. Ricky's mom.

  But she didn't. Not even a little bit. So either Vi was lying or...

  Haley shook her head. Marched toward her car parked inside Clovis ER's parking lot.

  She needed to get back to her vehicle and get out of dodge. Find a place where she could gather her thoughts and make sure she never went back to North Carolina ever again.

  She needed to concentrate on what Anne's reappearance meant. What Claudia would remember when she woke up. And if either of those things was anything that Haley needed to be aware of before the past took a shark-sized bite out of her.

  So she could figure out what to do next. What she could do to make the noise in her head disappear.

  Nowhere in Haley's mind-numbing thoughts had there been room for the man leaning on the hood of his car—the one he had parked right next to hers. He had his phone in his hand. The sleeves of his button up were rolled to his elbows, his free hand shoved in one pocket of his black dress pants. The edge of a black tattoo peeked out from under one sleeve, the image taking up a good portion of his bicep by the looks of what she could see.

  The ripple of curiosity took over for one small second. The familiar surge of a possible story. The way her mind went into hyperdrive trying to figure out what kind of design hid beneath the fabric.

  To the layman's eye he appeared engrossed in whatever the screen held. Haley knew it wasn't true. All of Simon Riley's attention had zeroed in on her the moment she'd approached as if he had a homing device pegged on her exact location.

  She knew it in the way his entire body tightened—it was slight but there.

  The instinct to run hummed in her bloodstream. To disappear and never look back. It wouldn't help.

  Once upon a time she'd tried that tactic. Ended up cuffed and booked for public intox. And she'd added insult to injury by trying to come on to him in the lewdest way possible.

  In the middle of the lockup. In front of his coworkers. In front of other offenders. She'd done it on purpose.

  She could blame it on alcohol. On drugs. On the fact that she'd been desperate to sleep anywhere but a cell full of people in the same position. It hadn't worked.

  Now in a bar, at a nightclub, or on the street she could easily pick him out of a crowd. It wasn't his height, his chiseled physique, his handsome face, or eyes that seemed to take everything in all at once. It was something she couldn't pinpoint.

  A feeling.

  The indisputable knowledge that Simon Riley was a good guy with not one bad bone in his body. His life was about service over self. Innocence until proven otherwise.

  And her natural inclination was to exploit that all the way to hell and back. To use him and his attempt to put her in a private cell out of the kindness of his heart—and a favor to Sam. To take off whenever she'd taken whatever she could. Anything to make sure she survived until the next free ride came along.

  She'd tried that for a few desperate seconds and failed in an astronomical way. It was a mistake she would never repeat.

  One she didn't even have the guts to apologize for.

  Simon, I'm the biggest loser you'll ever meet.

  Shaky fingers dug her keys from her jacket pocket.

  Haley took a deep breath.

  Right now, she needed to get out of here. Not look back. Not do something she'd regret to add to all the other things she already regretted.

  He was probably here visiting a friend. Maybe some neighbor of his. An old man who'd completed knee surgery. A woman with cancer. A little kid with a broken arm. It could be that simple. He'd seen her car. Figured he'd wait and see if she was drunk or high or causing trouble.

  His civic duty. Nothing more.

  "Haley." His dark brown gaze met hers, stripped her bare. He tucked his phone into his pocket and stood to his full six three height.

  "Simon." She jammed her key toward the lock of her car—missed the keyhole twice before
finding victory. She'd lost the key fob eons ago inside some bar in the Tower District. She'd had to take a Rideshare home and back the next day with her spare set. Found the entire driver's side keyed.

  The angry line in the dark blue paint was still there, a huge reminder of what her life was. A line drawn in the sand—clear and unwavering. The one she stood on, wondering which side she'd choose. Wondering how quick she could make the straight line into a scribbled mess.

  Her stomach swirled.

  The quicker she got inside, blasted the air and the music, and shoved the gears into drive, the quicker she got out of here.

  "Visiting someone?"

  "Nope." She didn't need to make eye contact with him to know that he was moving closer, a leisurely pace an idiot might take for granted.

  She wasn't one of those idiots and she knew he probably had his cuffs at the ready. But she hadn't done anything. Not that she was aware of. Not this time.

  And she wasn't going to compound that nothing with the storm swirling her insides. Haley managed to get her door open. If she didn't get the cool air over her skin she was going to hurl. "I'd love to chat, but—"

  "No, you wouldn't." There was an edge of humor to his voice. "You'd like to be anywhere but here."

  She froze. Turned toward him even as everything inside her mind urged her to get in the car and put rubber to this patch of parking lot. "That a problem?"

  "Not usually. Have you been up to Shaver Lake recently?"

  The noise in her skull intruded so loud she could barely breathe. Run. Stay. Open the bottle of scotch. Take Captain Simon Riley hostage and show him how smoking-hot she thought he was.

  Stop.

  She held perfectly still. The keys in her grasp bit into her palm. She took a few deep breaths to quell her insides. "Not recently."

  He produced a clear bag. "This look familiar?"

  A medallion sat at the bottom, an "H" clear as day. "Yes."

  Honesty isn't so hard, is it?

  The shock inching into Simon's eyes made it downright painful. Made the volume in her brain move a notch higher.