Too Far Gone

by Marliss Melton

  Letting her feet slide to the floor, he felt Ellie sway against him as he pulled the comforter and sheets back. She was already half-asleep, but she was still fully dressed. “Here, sit down,” he murmured, lowering her to the mattress. “Let me find you something to sleep in.”

  He pulled a light blue chambray shirt from his closet. Ellie remained trancelike as he crossed to the windows to drop the curtains, muffling the sunlight.

  All he could make out was her silhouette as he returned to her side. “Let’s put this on,” he suggested. “You want help or . . .”

  “I’ll do it,” she murmured, taking it from him.

  “I want you to take a sleeping pill,” he started to suggest.

  “No,” she said, cutting him off.

  “Try to sleep,” he said with a sigh. “I’ll be right downstairs with Reno.”

  As he moved to the door, he heard her draw her knit top over her head. He couldn’t resist a quick look back. How ironic that Ellie, whom he’d dreamed of undressing a thousand times, was now undressing herself in his bedroom and sleeping in his bed, all alone.

  Shutting the door with a soft click, he made his way downstairs, where Reno had turned on the television.

  “Check this out,” Reno said, waving him over. “They found her car.”

  Standing beside the sofa, Sean braced himself for the news that the boys’ bodies had been found.

  “The pings of Ellie Stuart’s cell phone drew state police to Jones Lake State Park in North Carolina,” announced the pretty copper-haired reporter, “where minutes ago, her 1984 Chevy Impala was pulled from the lake behind me. The bodies of ten-year-old Christopher Stuart and his two younger brothers, Caleb and Colton, were not inside.” The knots in Sean’s abdomen eased. Thank God, they hadn’t been found dead!

  “Divers continue to search the lake for clues that might indicate the children’s whereabouts,” the young woman added as the camera flashed to men in wet suits. “Stuart’s cell phone, stained in blood, might also offer clues. But until DNA tests can be processed, it remains unclear whether the blood belongs to her children or to someone else. While police have released these composites of the suspected kidnappers, Stuart herself remains a person of interest.”

  The screen flashed to the computer-generated drawings of two men. Sean took a good hard look at them. The first had broad, distinct features, a square jaw, and pocks on his face. The other was a fat man with beady eyes and indistinct features.

  “This is Ophelia Price, for Channel Ten news.”

  “Hey, I know that chick,” Sean realized as the program flashed to a different story. “That’s Vinny DeInnocenti’s fiancée. She’d better not be insinuating that Ellie’s lying.” Vinny was a petty officer second class and a close friend on Sean’s SEAL Team. He’d proposed to the pretty, older journalist a while ago.

  “Don’t worry about the media,” Reno advised, ever calm, ever rational. “The law won’t charge Ellie without probable cause.”

  Sean heaved a troubled sigh. “What would that look like? Give me an example.”

  “Bodies,” said Reno with an apologetic shrug. “If they find the boys dead and it looks like their mother killed them, then they’ll arrest her. Also, if they find a murder weapon with her prints on it, or if a witness steps forward claiming to have seen something, then they might arrest her. But then the clock starts ticking, and they have a set amount of time to find the evidence to convict her. For now, she’s just a person of interest.”

  “Yeah, well, then, so am I,” Sean concluded. He scrubbed a hand over his smooth, shaven head. “The neighbor told the cops that we’re lovers,” he mused.

  “Are you?” Reno inquired blandly.

  Sean looked him straight in the eye. “No,” he said clearly.

  Reno’s mouth quirked. “Well, that’s a first,” he quipped, taking a sip of his tea.

  “Ellie deserves better than me,” Sean added, crossing to the kitchen to pull a beer from the fridge. “Her boys are great,” he added, tossing back a swig. Picturing Christopher’s solemn face, Caleb’s cocky stride, and the baby’s smile, tears stabbed at his eyes. “Fuck!” he exclaimed, shaking his head at the magnitude of what had happened. “Damn it, Reno. No one loves her boys the way Ellie does. She doesn’t deserve this.”

  Reno regarded him with an odd light in his eyes.

  “What?” Sean prompted.

  The lawyer waved a hand. “Nothing,” he said. “So assuming she’s innocent—because I’ve never known you to be wrong about people’s motivations—who would have abducted Ellie’s boys? You mentioned her ex-husband.”

  “His name’s Carl,” Sean replied. He had nothing but contempt for the man, given the scars on Ellie’s heart that made it so hard for her to trust. “From what I’ve gathered, he left Ellie for a cocktail waitress last year.”

  “Where was this?”

  “Mantachie, Mississippi.”

  Reno studied his steepled fingers. “Fastest route to Mississippi wouldn’t take you through North Carolina, would it?” he pointed out.

  “So? Maybe they dumped the car there to throw people off,” Sean replied. “We have to think of something,” he insisted. “We can’t just sit on our asses and let the media have a feeding frenzy—which they will, as soon as they hear that a Navy SEAL is Ellie’s lover.”

  Reno sat back, crossing his legs at the ankle. “What do you want to do?” he said, putting the ball back in Sean’s court.

  “I need to talk to my commander,” Sean answered grimly. “You mind hanging out here a couple of hours while I go to Spec Ops?” he asked, standing up. “Who’s watching your kids?”

  Reno’s wife had died of cancer, leaving him with six young children.

  “My brother,” Reno reassured him, reaching for the remote. “Go ahead. I’ll fend off the cops when they show up to question you.”

  Sean hesitated. “You think they’re going to show up today?” he asked, his stomach knotting.

  “Yep.”

  Shit. He really didn’t want to explain where he’d been when Ellie’s boys were kidnapped. Especially not in front of Ellie. “I’ll be back soon,” he promised, carrying his half-finished beer to the sink. Grabbing his truck keys this time, he headed to the door.

  No cops yet. He hoped to stay one step ahead of them.

  Sean knocked quietly at his commander’s open door. Lieutenant Commander Joe Montgomery glanced up from his desk and blinked in surprise. “Chief,” he said, “I thought you were still on leave. Come in.”

  Sean marched front and center to stand at attention. “I’m on leave till Monday, sir, but I’m hoping to request more time off. An emergency’s come up.”

  The CO’s dark green eyes narrowed slightly at Sean’s terse announcement. “Have a seat,” he suggested.

  Sean lowered himself stiffly into one of the two leather seats facing the commander’s desk.

  Eighteen months had passed since the CO had gotten that scar on his face, a scar that might have ended up on Sean, if his future commander hadn’t pulled him off a reconnaissance op and taken his place. That was back in Afghanistan. Whoever heard of a lieutenant commander heading to the field, anyway? But Joe Montgomery, aka Monty, had been gung ho back then, and when Sean spiked a fever, Monty had gone in his stead, leading Sean’s squad into the worst disaster in SEAL history.

  Amazingly, Monty had survived, but Sean’s three closest friends hadn’t. Sixteen more men swooping down in a rescue helicopter had also perished when an RPG struck their helo.

  Initially, Sean had blamed Monty for the fiasco, going face-to-face with him at Bagram Air Base. He’d basically said if Monty hadn’t pulled rank to take his place, things might have turned out differently, lives might have been saved. His pain had been too raw for him to hold back.

  Since then, he’d realized Monty had more than paid for his decision. Not only would he have to carry that scar around for life, but he’d also have to contend with survivor’s guilt.

  One
of the first things Monty did upon taking command of Team Twelve was to request Sean to join his team, a dream come true for a man who’d spent two solid years in a hot zone. But Team Three still wanted a piece of him, which was why he’d had to go back to Afghanistan recently.

  “What’s going on, Chief?” his commander asked him now.

  Where to start? Sean wondered. “I need to help one of my tenants find her kids. They were kidnapped on Thursday,” he summarized briefly.

  “This is the same woman who’s been staying with the senior chief,” the CO surmised.

  “Yes, sir,” said Sean, heartened Monty had heard of the situation. “Her car was just found in North Carolina, but the kids are still missing.”

  “You think you can help find them?” asked the CO dubiously.

  “I have some idea of where to start,” Sean replied.

  Montgomery drummed the surface of his desk with a long-fingered hand. “You know, your personal life isn’t supposed to interfere with your professional obligations,” he observed in a neutral tone.

  Here it comes, thought Sean. He’d been waiting for this for months. An officer like Joe Montgomery wasn’t going to be dressed down by a chief petty officer and not eventually get even.

  And yet the CO’s next words didn’t fit the picture. “How much time do you think you need?”

  “Like a week?” Sean hedged. Was that enough time to locate three boys who could be just about anywhere?

  “A whole week,” Montgomery mused with an inscrutable gaze that had the power to make grown men squirm.

  “Seven days,” Sean added helpfully.

  A glint of humor pierced Monty’s dark eyes. “Is it?” He reached for a pen. To Sean’s growing surprise, he jotted a note on his sticky pad. “Leave this on Veronica’s desk,” he instructed, tearing it off. “She’ll type up a leave chit on Monday, and I’ll sign it then.”

  Sean had broken out in a light sweat. That was it? He wasn’t going to get the reprimand he’d felt he had coming? “Thank you, sir.”

  “One more thing,” the CO added. “You might want to call Lieutenant Lindstrom. His wife’s with the FBI, you know.”

  “Yes, sir. That’s a good idea, sir.”

  “Dismissed,” said Montgomery with an enigmatic gleam in his eyes.

  Sean jumped to attention and practically ran for the door. That had gone far better than he’d anticipated.

  But then he spied Vinny disappearing into a supply closet, and his frustrations resurfaced.

  Vinny took his job as the corpsman of Echo Platoon ultraseriously, which was why he inventoried medical supplies every Saturday morning, ensuring his men would never be caught without morphine, tourniquets, or syringes when they needed them most.

  At the sound of approaching footsteps, he leaned out of the supply closet and grinned to see his chief and good friend Sean Harlan bearing down on him. “Harley, you’re back.”

  “Yeah. We need to talk,” Sean announced, making it clear he wasn’t going to kiss Vinny on both cheeks today, a habit he’d acquired to harass Vinny, especially since Spec Ops was full of macho guys.

  “What’s up?” Vinny asked, tossing a box of bandages back on the shelf.

  “Do you know where your fiancée is?” Sean asked with a glitter of anger in his blue eyes.

  “Er . . . sure.” Vinny thought back to their phone conversation this morning. “She’s following a news story down in North Carolina. Some kids went missing, and the car they disappeared in was found at the bottom of a lake.” He was disconcerted to see Sean’s jaw muscles bunch and flex. “Why?” he asked with sudden dread. What had Ophelia done now?

  “Those kids,” Sean explained, “are the sons of Ellie Stuart, who rents one of my houses. And despite what your fiancée may want to imply in her reports, Ellie Stuart would never fucking kill her kids or drown them in a lake. I want you to call her, now, and warn her not to go there. Got it?”

  Vinny felt his swarthy face blanch even as he watched Sean’s fairer complexion turn a ruddy red.

  Vinny didn’t involve himself in Lia’s business. She was the one with a nose for corruption. She could sniff out drama in a heartbeat, and he admired her doggedness when it came to cornering her quarry. “Sure,” he said with more confidence than he felt.

  “And while you’re at it, you’d better explain that I am not Ellie Stuart’s lover, and if she tries to take that angle, I’ll sue Channel Ten News for slander.”

  “Okay.” This was definitely not where Vinny explained that Lia did her own thing and that he made a point of never getting in the way. “Yeah, sure, I’ll talk to her,” he promised, then fell back on the more comfortable role of confidant. “Are you okay, Harley? You seem pretty stressed over this.”

  Sean just gave him an impatient glare. “You have no idea,” he said, stalking away.

  “Where are you going?” Vinny asked as his friend headed for the exit.

  “To find the sons of bitches who took those boys,” Sean called back.

  “No!” Jerking awake, Ellie found herself seated in a bed in a darkened room, her heart hammering in the wake of her nightmare. She dragged in a cleansing breath, fighting to shake off the vision of her car sinking into water with her three boys’ faces plastered to the rear window.

  It was only a dream. Her boys weren’t dead; they’d just been taken away. At the memory of their abduction, she kicked off the damp sheets in a panic. She couldn’t afford to just lie here. But where was here? Oh, yes, Sean’s room.

  Through her haze of despair, it hadn’t escaped her that he’d put her in his house, in his room, in his bed, wearing a shirt that smelled like him.

  Hearing voices, she tiptoed across the room and slipped into a hallway filled with late-afternoon sunlight. Her heart raced with residual fear as she started down the stairs, her ears tuned to the discussion under way.

  One voice was Sean’s, and the other belonged to . . . Sergeant Peyton! She froze, afraid to take another step, terrified he’d come to arrest her.

  “After what you did to Ellie’s house?” Sean’s tone was incredulous. “You’re gonna have to come up with a warrant to do that, Sergeant.”

  “I’d be more worried about how it looks not to let us look around,” Peyton warned.

  “Like I said, if you have any more questions, you can call my lawyer,” Sean insisted. “I think we’ve chatted long enough. Why don’t you take off and do something more productive, like find Ellie’s boys.”

  “That’s exactly what I’m doing, Mr. Harlan.”

  “Chief Harlan,” Sean corrected him. “And from what I understand, the FBI has taken over the investigation since the car was found out of state.”

  “The FBI,” Peyton retorted, his tone dripping with scorn, “can’t keep us local boys from doing our job. By the way, you can tell Miss Stuart that her cell phone turned up under a pile of leaves.”

  “Whose blood was on it?” Sean asked.

  Cell phone? Blood? Something had happened that Ellie didn’t know about. Her knees folded beneath her, and she sat abruptly on the sixth step.

  “Dunno yet,” Peyton replied. She could picture the sergeant squinting up at Sean, weighing his words with care. “Maybe you could tell me. Just where were you the night the boys were taken?”

  The air seemed to freeze like glass, then split and crackle.

  “You need to leave,” Sean said in a voice Ellie had never heard before—a voice that sounded dangerous. It pulled her from her own fears.

  “Are you threatening a police officer, Chief Harlan?” Sergeant Peyton boldly countered.

  “What do you think?” she heard Sean murmur. His cold, menacing tone sent goose bumps skating over Ellie’s skin.

  “Hmmph.” She could picture Peyton taking a swaggering step backward, pretending Sean’s bristling didn’t faze him. “We’ll be in touch,” he promised. She heard him retreat down off the stoop. His car throttled and pulled away, and only then did Sean shut the door.

 
For a long minute, the house remained completely quiet. All Ellie could hear were her own shallow breaths. Just then, Sean slid silently around the partition, his bright blue eyes pinning her with a look of dismay. “How long have you been there?” he asked.

  “Long enough,” she whispered hoarsely. “Where’d they find my car?” she demanded, trembling from head to foot.

  “Come on down,” he urged, pulling her gently down the rest of the stairs.

  Ellie spared the slightest thought for what she was—or, rather, wasn’t—wearing. Sean’s soft shirt hung to her thighs, and all she wore beneath it were her panties. Fortunately, Mr. Silverman was gone.

  “Where was the car?” she demanded again. Sean’s silence only fed her fear.

  “Sit.” He swung her around the side of his sofa and pushed her gently onto its plush cushions. “They found the car in North Carolina,” he stated, hunkering before her. He kept his hands on her wrists, as if feeling her pulse. “Someone drove it into a lake at a state park.”

  Just like her dream. The room started to whirl. “The boys!” she heard herself cry. They were dead. She knew it.

  “The boys weren’t in it.”

  “They were in it?” The blood was roaring in her ears too loudly for her to hear.

  “They were not in the car, Ellie. No one’s found your boys yet.”

  His words penetrated her despair, and Sean’s handsome, worried face came abruptly into focus. Ellie’s relief was equally sharp. Alive! Not dead. To her chagrin, she burst into tears.

  With a sound between a groan and a mutter, Sean pulled her head to his shoulder. “It’s okay, sweetheart,” he reassured her.

  But it wasn’t okay to cry, because her boys still needed her. She drew a shuddering breath and pulled away. “Let’s find them,” she replied, dashing the wetness from her face. “Let’s go right now.”

  Sean could only marvel at Ellie’s strength. If she were any other woman, she’d be sobbing uncontrollably. Instead, her tear-filled eyes gleamed with determination. A touch of color bloomed in her cheeks, relieving her stark pallor.

  “It might not look good for us to leave the area,” he replied. “The wife of one of my lieutenants works for the FBI. She’s going to call me and tell us what to do.”