Had they ever thought to look beyond the beauty of the land, beyond their home state of Virginia, to see what else the world had to offer? He shook himself free of that thought. It didn’t matter that his father and grandfathers had chosen the same path. That path was theirs. He had his own to forge and follow, his own future to live.
Somewhat reluctantly, he turned toward the house, choosing the route that would afford him his favorite view. He rode for several minutes before he reached the tree-lined driveway and white split-rail fences separating it from the pastures on either side.
He crossed through an open pasture, reining his horse in as soon as the house came into view. Its main section had changed little over the centuries. The wide lawn and mature trees set a simple stage for the stately white structure, complete with the columns that were so common in the South during the colonial period.
His father had gone to great efforts to preserve the original personality of the manor. The kitchen had been modernized over the years, and ultimately two additions had been constructed as well, one off the back right corner of the house where a breezeway connected the manor to a four-car garage. On the opposite side, an identical structure had been built, this one as a two-bedroom bungalow for Jake to live and work in. The two new structures, along with the manor itself, created a three-sided courtyard that framed the original gardens behind the house.
Jake had already settled into the master suite in his bungalow, and he was sure his sister and her husband, Scott, had taken up residence in one of the upstairs rooms in the main house. He headed for the stables, hoping to put off dealing with family drama as long as possible.
As he drew closer, he recognized the lanky figure near the pasture gate as Max Bucknell, his father’s foreman. Jake guessed Max was in his midfifties, but the sun and weather had aged him a bit more, the wrinkles beside his eyes well defined, his hands calloused from constant work.
“Jake. I was wondering where you’d headed off to.” Max opened the gate for him, held it while he rode through, and latched it once more behind him. “I figured if Flame was out of his stall, the two of you must be together.”
“It’s good to see you, Max.” Jake swung down out of the saddle, shifted the reins over the horse’s head, and reached out to shake the older man’s hand.
“Good to have you home,” Max said. “Wish it was under better circumstances.”
Jake swallowed his emotions before speaking. “That makes two of us.”
“Do you want me to see to your horse?”
“Thanks, but I can do it. I don’t think I’m quite ready to head back to the house yet.”
“Which means your sister must have arrived,” Max said with a hint of disapproval.
“You got it.” Jake took a step toward the stables, noticing the doors had recently been painted. He turned to look behind him, appreciating once again the clean look of the yard and the well-tended fencing. He knew firsthand how hard it was to keep up with the basic maintenance of a farm this size, even with a half dozen farmhands, yet when he had arrived at the stables earlier, everything had been in place and all of the tack clean and ready to use.
Before Max could make his way to whatever task he had planned next, Jake called out to him. “Hey, Max?”
“Yeah?”
“I want you to know how much I appreciate the work you do around here. The place really looks great.”
“The men do a good job.” Max blinked hard, and his voice was gruff when he added, “Your dad put in a lot of hours keeping it up.”
“With a lot of help from you,” Jake said with a sense of nostalgia. “Thank you.”
“Just doing my job.” Max gave him a nod and headed toward his pickup.
Jake watched him go, wondering for the first time what would become of the farm now that his father was gone. He wasn’t in a position to take over for his dad, not without sacrificing the career he loved. Yet Max wouldn’t be able to handle managing the place on his own either; he was most definitely shorthanded now.
“One thing at a time,” Jake muttered to himself. First he had to get through the funeral. Then the family would face what came next.
* * *
Charlotte watched the tractor in the nearby field drive away from her. The moment it disappeared from sight, she hurried into the stables. She opened her mom’s satchel and rummaged through it until she found a pair of gloves. They had been intended to keep her mother’s hands warm, but they would serve Charlotte’s purpose today by preventing her from leaving any unwanted fingerprints.
She made her way past the first several stalls, debating her options. Mr. Carter bred some of the top quarter horses in the area, but she wasn’t looking for a prize today. She stopped when she reached the bay gelding Mr. Carter’s grown daughter rode on her visits home.
“Come here, boy. How would you like to go for a ride?”
His ears perked up, and he slowly moseyed to the stall door.
Unlatching the door with her gloved hand, Charlotte took hold of the horse’s halter and led him to the tack room near the entrance of the building. Quickly, she slipped on a bridle. After securing the buckle around the horse’s neck, she chose a pad and saddle, going through the routine with the efficiency of frequent practice and a sense of determination.
Once she finished tacking the horse, she edged closer to the open stable doors and slipped her purse over her head so it hung securely across her chest and at her side. She then slid the satchel across her body the other way.
Not seeing anyone nearby, she mounted while still inside the stable. Praying she would go unnoticed, she urged the horse forward and headed for the closest trees located along the edge of the drive thirty yards away.
The sound of an engine grew nearer, and instantly her heartbeat picked up. She pressed her heels into her mount’s sides and took off at a canter until she reached the trees. Slowing to a walk so she wouldn’t draw any attention to herself, she followed the tree-covered ridge to avoid whoever might be searching for her, as well as the Carters, who would undoubtedly be out working in the fields.
The thought crossed her mind that a couple hundred years ago, horse theft had been a hanging offense. Despite the twinge of guilt, Charlotte assured herself that she wasn’t stealing, only borrowing. As she crested the top of the ridge a few hundred yards from the stables, she heard a car engine once more. She reined her horse in and came to a stop where she could just barely see the curve of the road below. As she suspected, she caught a blur of movement, and the color was beige.
Chapter 5
Nelson stood at the barn entrance and watched the black SUV drive up. He wondered for a moment if dark SUVs were a requirement for government types or if it was just coincidence that the feds always seemed to show up in one. His call to the FBI had been intended to be a simple courtesy, one initiated because of the unusual computer equipment he had discovered in Dwight’s hidden office.
Little had he known someone would show up to check it out, and in a matter of a few hours, no less. The coroner had removed the bodies a short time earlier, and Nelson had an abundance of crime photos on his digital camera, copies of which had been downloaded and sent in to the office with one of his deputies.
The SUV pulled up beside his squad car, and a man in his thirties climbed out, his blue eyes skimming over Nelson before taking in the location of the house, barn, and pastures. Shifting his attention back to Nelson, the man reached into his pocket and flashed his credentials.
“I’m Nick White. NSA.”
“Good to meet you.” Nelson shook the man’s hand, appreciating the firm grip. “Sheriff Nelson Hendricks.”
“I understand you came across some equipment that may belong to my organization.”
“That’s between you and the FBI. I called them, and now here you are.” Nelson led the way inside.
Nick looked down at the chalk that outlined where a body had been. He rubbed his hand over his trim red beard. “Any idea what happened?”
“Do you think they were successful?”
“Since the system appears to be locked down, I doubt it.” Nelson shook his head. “Knowing Dwight, he’s the one who locked it up to keep these guys from getting what they wanted.”
Nelson motioned across the barn to where the other body was found. “We think that guy was Dwight’s assistant of some kind. It looks like he was trying to get to the house to warn Charlie.”
“Charlie?”
“That’s right. Charlie Martin, the kid Dwight and Belinda adopted. Lived with them the better part of twenty years, except for a few years in college,” Nelson said. “Charlie called right after I found Dwight, but I haven’t heard a peep since.”
“Any idea where we could find Charlie now? I’m sure we all have a lot of questions we’d like answered.”
“That’s the truth, but your guess is as good as mine. Belinda’s car is missing, and I’ve seen Charlie driving it around town the past few months since Belinda died.”
“Any sightings of the car?”
“Not yet, but we’ve been pretty busy here.” Nelson waved in the direction of the house. “Found a couple glasses of lemonade on a tray in the kitchen. Best we can figure, Charlie was in there when the shooting started and hightailed it out of here.”
“Have you tried tracking the car’s GPS signal? That might be the easiest route,” Nick suggested, looking over at Nelson as though he might not be sure if he was familiar with such capabilities.
Nelson bristled a little. “That’s a little beyond our capabilities here, but I’ll put a call into the state police as soon as I get back to the office and see if they can help us track it down.”
“Let me know if you hear anything.” Nick moved farther into the office. “For now, I’m going to need to load all of this equipment up and get it back to headquarters.”
“I’ll need a written authorization for that.”
“I’ve got it right here.”
Nelson took the paper Nick handed him and looked over the document that clearly stated the National Security Agency needed to take possession of the equipment. At the top of the page, Nick White’s name was listed as the authorized agent to retrieve it. “Looks like everything’s in order.”
“My business card is clipped to the front there. I would appreciate a copy of your report and updates on your investigation. My office needs to stay informed on this.”
“I’ll make sure you get copied on everything. Can you tell me what all this stuff is? Or what ‘failsafe’ means?” Nelson asked, trying to stamp out the inevitable resentment that came anytime the feds tried to take over a local problem.
“I’m afraid not.” Nick leaned down and started unhooking one of the monitors, glancing over his shoulder as he added, “All of this falls into the category of need-to-know.”
Nelson stepped out of the office and started through the barn, muttering as he went. “Blasted feds.”
* * *
Charlotte dismounted near the bank of the creek. She guessed she had already traveled eight or nine miles, taking the extra precaution of riding through the shallow part of the creek for over half a mile to make sure her tracks wouldn’t be easy to follow. Weary both physically and emotionally, she tied her horse’s reins to a fallen log and sat beneath a large oak tree a short distance away.
She tugged her gloves off, relieved to feel the fresh air against her clammy skin. Though the day was relatively cool for late May, the leather gloves were not intended for this time of year. Setting them aside, she slipped off her purse and satchel and started sorting through her purse.
Three ballpoint pens, a travel pack of tissues, her wallet, and a plastic bag filled with almonds. Charlotte regarded the contents of the wallet as useless, except for the thirty-six dollars she’d found. She couldn’t use her credit cards for fear of being traced, and her dad had warned her not to use her ID when under emergency protocols.
Back at the house, she had a nice set of fake credentials, complete with a driver’s license and passport. Of course, those were locked in the hidden safe in the window seat in her bedroom and weren’t going to do her a whole lot of good now.
She thought of what else she had left behind, and grief immediately consumed her. She pressed her lips together, fighting back the urge to cry. Thinking of the years of kindness, love, and support she had enjoyed growing up and contrasting them with a future without her dad left a hole in her heart and an ache that started in her chest and worked through her until she felt like she couldn’t move. At least when her mom had died, Charlotte had had her dad to help her through. Now she didn’t have anyone.
She pressed her fingers to her eyes and wiped away the moisture collecting on her eyelashes. The time would come when she could mourn her loss, but it wasn’t now. She took a deep, shaky breath. First she had to find a way to safety. That was what her dad would want her to do. She wished she knew how to separate her personal loss from her professional life, but the two were deeply intertwined.
Two years ago, after graduating with her master’s degree in mathematics at the age of twenty-two, she had been thrilled to receive an offer from the National Security Agency. Having her own father as her immediate supervisor had been odd at first, but he had already been training her in so many facets of the work he did that providing support and helping him manage the guardian database had turned out to be a perfect fit. Had it not been for the highly classified nature of the program, she never would have been allowed to work with a family member this way, but she was in the small world of need-to-know, and no one wanted to do anything to upset the delicate balance of secrecy.
Her mom had been the only person outside of the guardian program to know anything about the secret office in their barn, but even she hadn’t been given access to the full extent of the work done there. Their role of protecting the identities of all of the undercover operatives working for the U.S. government and preventing perilous situations for them was critical. Never had Charlotte expected to learn firsthand of the danger such secrets could bring.
Shifting the satchel closer, she opened it to find a Jackson Clark novel on top. She remembered negotiating with her mom to be able to read it first when the book came out. At the time, she hadn’t been thrilled that she and her mother shared the same favorite author when she had to wait her turn to read it, but she was glad they shared similar tastes now. She set the paperback aside, pleased to see several water pouches beneath it, along with some emergency ration bars. A couple of large black trash bags, a length of rope, and a folded foil-like emergency blanket appeared to be her mom’s idea of emergency shelter, but it was better than nothing.
At the bottom of the pack, Charlotte discovered several items of clothing. She unfolded the first one to find a white, long-sleeved, button-up blouse. The second blouse was short-sleeved and the color of worn denim. A couple pairs of thin socks were tucked inside a pair of brown lace-up ankle boots that appeared more suited to walking than keeping up with any recent styles. Finally she pulled out the last four pieces of clothing. Two cotton prairie skirts, an apron with wide pockets sewn into the front, and a faded blue bonnet.
Charlotte stared at the ensemble, shaking her head as she recognized the pieces. These were the clothes her mom had worn when she had participated in a Gettysburg reenactment several years before. Apparently she must have decided they would do her more good as part of an emergency kit than they would in her closet.
Humor and grief washed over her, competing with one another as she thought of her mom. Practical, warm, sensitive. Charlotte could almost i
magine her staring down from heaven, a grin on her face at the prospect of Charlotte wearing the old-fashioned clothing.
She looked into the pack once more to make sure she hadn’t missed anything and noticed a flash of white. To her surprise, a second pair of gloves made of white cotton was tucked in an inside pocket, as well as an unopened package of underwear and a thick white envelope.
She drew out the envelope and opened the flap to reveal a stack of cash, the bills ranging in denomination from ones to hundreds. She counted it out, her jaw dropping when she discovered she had nearly three thousand dollars.
“Mom, you thought of everything, didn’t you?” she murmured.
Charlotte started to put the money back in the envelope when she noticed a piece of paper folded inside. Assuming it had originally been used to fold around the money to keep it from falling out, she slid it out, unfolded it, and started to lay the cash in the center. To her surprise, it wasn’t a blank page but rather a copy of a newspaper article. The title of the article read, “Car accident claims lives of young family.”
The first line included the names of the victims: Nikolina Tomov, age 54, Jonah Richardson, age 33, Linda Richardson, age 30, and Hannah Richardson, age 3. When she looked at the date of the article, she discovered the accident had occurred around the same time she had gone to live with Dwight and Belinda.
Why would her mom have kept this article? And why, of all places, would she keep it here in her emergency pack? The little girl was about her age, but none of the birthdates of the victims were listed. Could this have been her family? Her heart began to race. Could she have had a twin? And why hadn’t Charlotte been with the family when the accident had occurred?
She clamped down on the questions that circled through her mind and slid the article and cash back into the envelope. She didn’t have time for any of this now. She had to keep moving until she was sure she was safe. Carefully, she packed the rest of her belongings into the large leather bag, including her purse. After drinking one of the water pouches, she ate a handful of almonds and traded the leather gloves for the cotton ones she had found.
Failsafe Page 3
