by J. J. Stone
Every part of him bucked at the thought of dredging up his past, especially to someone like Ada. Even Dade had only been told the bare minimum about his past. He hated revisiting his family’s time in New York. As much as he wanted to help distract her, this was more than he could do. He pointed at his arm and gave her an impressed smirk. “I’d much rather hear about how you’ve all of a sudden become a field medic.”
Ada cracked the faintest of smiles at his joking prod and he mentally congratulated himself on deflecting her. “You know there’s an instructional book in that med kit, right?”
——
“We need to get out there!” Dade shouted, despite being a foot from the chief. He had been verbally duking it out with the middle-aged grump for the past half hour and his supply of patience had hit rock bottom.
“For the last time. You will not get two yards in that snow.” Chief Benke crossed his arms as tight as he could against the padding of his parka. “What part of ‘historic blizzard’ do you not understand?”
“What part of an FBI agent and a civilian are missing do you not understand?” Dade felt the tendons on his neck twitching and hoped the chief noticed them.
“I’m not going to put the lives of my men at risk because of a hunch you and your partner cooked up.”
“A hunch? The witness lied about where he picked up Jake. He lied about who he was. That doesn’t seem strange to you?”
Chief Benke chuckled at Dade. “Son, listen. I think you’re getting ahead of yourself. Do I think something weird might be going on? Sure. But I don’t think we have a hostage situation. Just look outside and you’ll see why your colleagues aren’t back yet.” He swept an arm to the window for dramatic effect. “Even if Agent Deacon did walk into something, don’t you think he could handle himself?”
Dade’s fists curled up so tight he was waiting for drops of blood to start pattering on the floor. “He was the only one with a weapon. There’s no telling how many people could have been waiting—”
A small but firm hand pressed into his chest, breaking his concentration on the chief’s infuriating smirk. He snapped his head down and almost head-butted Brenda. She looked at him with the perfect mix of sympathy and sternness. “Let’s get you a coffee. OK?” She waited for him to nod then she turned to the chief. “We’ll be in the conference room if you need us.”
Chief Benke gave her a relieved two-finger salute and trudged off toward his office.
“I’m going crazy in here,” Dade said as he shoved his way through the hallway door.
“No kidding.” Brenda led him a few strides down the hallway before she clamped a hand around his elbow and yanked him, hard. He stumbled to a halt and glared back at her. “If you and your mouth get us kicked out of the station, we lose our direct connection to any updates.” Her face was completely steeled as she gave him one of the more intense stare downs he’d seen from her. “Want to keep acting like a temperamental brat?”
Dade studied her for a moment, waiting for her to crack a grin or give him some indication she was messing with him. When she kept her stony grimace pointed up at him, he straightened, drastically emphasizing their height difference. “Fine, little lady. I can behave.” He held up his hands in surrender, fighting to keep a straight face.
Fury flashed through Brenda’s amber eyes but she slipped him a tight grin. “Good.” She let go of his elbow and smoothed the front of her shirt. “Let’s go check out the coffee situation.” As she walked past him, her left fist flew out in a quick jab to Dade’s stomach. He flinched and bent forward a few inches. “Call me little lady one more time,” Brenda whispered then gave his stomach a few pats right where her fist had been and continued down the hallway.
CHAPTER 14
“We need to look around.”
Ada opened her eyes and glanced back at James. He was holding a half-eaten peanut butter sandwich in his good hand while staring out the window. They hadn’t said a word in what felt like at least an hour. Ada had taken the opportunity to attempt a nap. With James conscious again, she felt safer. She had just gotten her eyes to stay closed when he had spoken.
“I’ll do it.” Ada looked pointedly at his ribs.
James dismissed her with a wave of his sandwich, which he then made disappear in two chomps. “I’ve walked through worse.” He started to scoot toward the door behind Ada, ducking his head to try to hide the string of winces that resulted from moving.
“That’s the only door that opens.” Ada pointed to the door directly behind the driver seat.
James looked across the car at the door and Ada could clearly see him lamenting the thought of moving down the entire length of the seat. He took a deep breath and planted his left hand against the seat then sidestepped his feet across the floor in time with his hand slides. By the time he reached the door he was almost out of breath.
“Let me get out first so I can help you stand.” Ada stowed her blanket in her seat, grabbed the flashlight from the floor and maneuvered into the middle of the car. She squeezed between James’s legs and the back of the driver seat and shoved the door open. She hopped out of the car and wished she had brought her blanket. Even though the SUV was cold, the air in the shed was drastically colder. Her breath formed continuous puffy clouds.
James eased his feet out of the car and placed his boots on the running board step. He grabbed onto the handle directly above the door and pulled up as hard as he could. Ada moved to help him. “I got it,” he said through clenched teeth. He got one foot down on the ground before his trembling arm gave out and he started to slip the rest of the way out of the car.
Instinctively, Ada dropped the flashlight and lunged at him, wrapping her arms around his torso to stop his fall. As her arms clenched around his ribs and jostled his injured shoulder, he shouted directly against her ear and fell back against the car seat. Ada released him and cupped a hand over her ringing ear while her other hand covered her mouth in dismay. She watched as James remained propped against the seat, caught between standing straight and falling to the ground.
“I’m so sorry—”
“Shut up,” James gasped, “and help me back in the car.” He reached back with his left hand and got a firm grip around a seatbelt. His feet scuffled for traction against the dirt floor as he tried to pull himself into the seat.
Ada crouched down and circled her arms around his lower legs. She pushed him up and back in tandem with his pulls against the seatbelt, and together they got him safely back into the seat. She let go of his legs and stepped back, leaning against the open door. As he fought to regain his breath, James waved her away from the car. “I’m fine. Go check the shed door.”
She didn’t move. “I just didn’t want you to fall.”
James fixed his eyes on her and raised a brow ever so slightly. “If you don’t move, I’m going to kick you.” His voice carried the slightest amount of levity, just enough for her to know he was at least halfway kidding.
She rolled her eyes but pushed away from the door and bent down to retrieve the dropped flashlight. She shone its beam toward the large double door holding them in the shed and made her way to it. “Just feel for a seam. The handle is probably on the outside,” James said from the SUV.
Ada pawed around the doors but to no avail. “I can’t find anything.”
“Push against it. See if it moves at all.”
A few heaves later, she grunted and stepped back, feeling cold and frustrated. “Nothing.” A strange whistling sounded from beyond the door. She leaned an ear against the door’s rough surface. “You should hear the wind, though.”
James sighed. “Which means it’s still coming down. Awesome.”
Ada trudged back to the car. “What else do I need to check?”
“What does the back of the car look like?”
Confused, Ada frowned at him but con
tinued on to the rear of the SUV. “The back window is about to fall apart but nothing else seems damaged.” She stepped away from the car until she caught James’s line of vision.
“The back window is safety glass.” James leaned out of the car more and raised his voice. “Carefully open the trunk and pull up the floorboard.”
Keeping an eye on the crackled back window, Ada slipped her hand around the trunk handle and smoothly pulled the lift gate toward her. It rose toward the ceiling and stopped just shy of a shattered dangling light. Ada waited a few moments to see if the movement had loosened any glass. When no glass showered down, she stepped underneath the lift gate and pulled up the layer of carpet lining the trunk. She yanked on the handle in the middle of the trunk and it lifted up a panel to reveal the spare tire and a black rectangular box.
“Is there anything on the spare tire?” James asked.
“Yeah, a box.”
James chuckled. “God bless Dade.”
“I guess I’m taking the box,” Ada said to herself, reaching for the object. She carefully shut the trunk, pressing it closed at the end rather than letting it fall down on its own. The last thing they needed was a way for more cold air to leak into the car. She walked back to James and held the box out to him.
He took it from her and slid it across the seat, scooting himself back after it. “Get in here so we can shut the door.”
Ada waited for him to get halfway across the seat before reentering the car. She pulled the door shut, thankful to be out of the frigid air. The car temperature had gone down noticeably in the time that the door had been open, but it was still not as frigid as the shed air. Ada carefully stepped around James’s legs and collapsed back into the passenger seat. “So, what’s in there?” She popped her chin at the black box. “It’s heavy.”
James messed with the front of the box for a moment then it beeped and the lid flew open. Ada grinned as the box revealed a glinting pair of handguns nestled in foam. “I’ve never been so happy to see guns.”
“Same here.” James freed one of the guns from its form-fitted bed and held it out to her. When she didn’t move, he jiggled it at her. “Can you hold this, please?”
Ada took the gun from him, eyeing it like it was poisonous snake about to strike. She lowered it to the driver seat and recoiled.
“Really?” James looked from the gun to her, an incredulous brow cocked at her. “It’s not even loaded.”
“I don’t care. Guns freak me out.”
“Of course they do,” James muttered as he yanked the second gun from the case. He wedged the barrel down between his knees, leaving the bottom of the gun sticking up. He retrieved two clips from the case and put one down on the seat beside him. The other clip he slid smoothly into the gun in his lap, a satisfied grin sneaking onto his lips as the clip locked in place. He picked the gun up and hefted it in his left hand for a moment.
Ada picked up the empty gun and held it back to him. James placed his gun down onto his seat and swiped the second clip up. He held it out to Ada. “Your turn.”
“No.” Ada shoved the gun further toward him, refusing to make eye contact with the loaded clip.
“Get over yourself and load the damn gun.” James reached as far forward as he could and sent the clip slipping down Ada’s seat and into her lap.
She shrieked and plucked the clip out of her lap. She held the gun and the clip away from her with the daintiest of grips. “I’m not touching this.”
James smirked and settled back in his seat. “Looks like you are.” He nodded at her hands. “Come on, just like I did it.”
Pure hatred seeping out of her pores, Ada glanced down at the two items in her hands. She tilted the gun down, positioned the clip over the empty cartridge slot and slowly lowered the clip into the gun. It got to the end and stopped just shy of sealing itself against the butt of the gun.
“Lock it in,” James said. She could hear evil glee dripping off those three words and knew he was enjoying this opportunity to torture her.
Wincing, she placed her palm against the bottom of the clip and pushed down. It clicked into place. Releasing a gush of air, she shoved the gun back toward James and barely waited for his hand to come underneath it before letting it drop out of her hand.
“Well look at that. You lived.” James placed the second gun alongside its brother.
“You’re sadistic,” Ada said, turning away from him and flinging herself back into her seat. She glared out the windshield.
“At least I’m not making you go try to shoot the door down.”
Ada didn’t take his bait. She’d had enough of being his verbal plaything. She grabbed her blanket from the floor and covered herself with it, pulling the edge up over her nose.
The middle seat’s leather creaked, and then Ada felt a quick burst of hot air against her ear. “Stop talking to me and this whole situation is going to get a lot worse,” James said over her shoulder.
Without thinking, Ada slid a hand out from under the blanket and flicked James directly in the nose. She heard him jerk away from her seat and stomp a foot against the floor of the car. Only then did she remember how splotched with bruises his entire face was. Only then did she realize she had just technically assaulted an FBI agent. She had no idea what to do or say. A hasty apology started to form in her mouth, but then her pride took over and she refused to be in the wrong. “I’d rather sit here in silence than have to hear any more of your crap,” she called back to him.
A solid kick to the back of her seat shoved her forward. She gasped, dropping her blanket to her waist. Anger mounting, she twisted around and looked back at James. Barely illuminated by the flashlight’s eerie glow, she saw that he was still cradling the tip of his nose where her fingers had made contact, but there was an unmistakable devilish glint in his green eyes. They glared at each other for a few moments before Ada finally cracked and let out a shaky giggle. “Sorry about your nose.”
“No you’re not.”
Ada gave him her own devilish look. “Yeah, I’m not.”
James pulled his hand off his nose and picked up one of the guns. He rested it against his leg and inspected it. “Have you ever shot a gun?”
Ada shook her head and grabbed a bag of chips from the floor in front of the driver seat. “I don’t plan on ruining that winning streak, either.”
James gracefully brought his foot up and cleared the guns down to the door, making room for him to stretch out again. He got as comfortable against the door as he could and looked back at Ada. “You mean to tell me your uncle never taught you how to shoot?”
Ada slid a chip into her mouth and crunched down on it. “He tried.” She chewed for a moment then gulped her mouth clear. “When I was fifteen, he set up some cans in the woods by his house. Took me back there, handed me his pistol and told me what to do.” She sifted through the chip bag for her next victim. “I remember taking one look down the barrel and bursting into tears.”
“The cans wouldn’t have felt a thing, you know.” It seemed that James wasn’t quite done with teasing her.
“It wasn’t that,” Ada said, “I think it just hit me how the thing in my hand could end someone’s life. I couldn’t deal with having that kind of power in my possession.”
“I can understand that.” He waved a hand at their food pile. “Can I have some chips?”
“You can understand that?” Ada asked, reaching over to retrieve his chips. She placed the bag in his outstretched hand then dug back into her own.
“Yeah. When I first started training with guns, I freaked out a couple of times. My mind would play with me, change the paper targets to real people.” He used his teeth to pry open his chip bag. “I told myself over and over that I’d never shoot an actual person. That idea got me through training, at least.”
Ada switched over to the driver seat
to get a better view of him. She was intrigued that he was suddenly willing to talk about something other than the case. “Have you ever shot someone?”
James paused mid-motion in placing a chip in his mouth and gave her an exaggerated eyebrow raise. “I work for the FBI. What kind of question is that?”
“I mean, I know that some cops go decades without having to fire their weapon.” Ada’s tone switched to defensive.
James crunched another handful of chips for a moment then swallowed. “If I’d stayed a cop, that might have been me. But serial killers tend to need a bullet every now and then.”
Ada hid an amused smirk in her bag of chips as she realized what was happening. Whether he was aware of it or not, Ada was getting James Deacon to open up. She decided to see how far her luck would take her. “So, you were a cop?”
“It wasn’t for long.” James tossed his already-empty chip bag into the backseat with the rest of their trash. “It’s where I got this from, though.” He pointed vaguely at his face.
Ada frowned at him. “Got what?”
James slid his hand into his sandy brown hair, right above his right ear, and parted it with his fingers. “See it?”
Ada leaned forward and strained her eyes in the faint light. She could barely make out a white stripe of raised skin streaking from his right temple and across his scalp a couple of inches. “What is that?”
“A gift from a would-be terrorist.” He smoothed his hair back down. “Toss me a water.”
She grabbed one off the floor and twisted the cap free of its locking plastic band for him. Then she secured the cap again and tossed the bottle to him. “A terrorist?”
James took a few swallows before answering. “Would-be. And it’s not as big of a deal as you think.”
“Right.” Ada took another water bottle for herself and opened it. “You need to tell me the whole story.”
James looked at her and she knew that he had caught on. She waited for him to slip back into his new “boss, not friend” role and tell her how they had no reason to talk about stuff like this, but she knew that their conversation before the crash was beginning to count less and less. Maybe it was a shift that only she was picking up on, but the desolate grief she’d felt when she had thought he’d died in the crash was akin to how she imagined she would feel if something happened to Brenda or Dade. They had become her friends, and even though James was convinced that was a road they would never take, she could tell they were headed there, whether either one of them liked it or not.
