by C. J. Miller
Brady would have given a fortune for her thoughts. Was she dwelling on the failings of their relationship? Getting angrier about how he had treated her? Was she thinking about the relationship in the present? Was it arrogant to think he would occupy some of her thoughts even though she was grieving for another man? Or were her personal relationships a distant second to finding Justin’s killer and staying safe? “Are we okay with the past? Okay with putting it behind us?”
Susan folded her arms over her chest. “Sure. It’s over. We’ve both moved on.”
Her tone gave her away. She wasn’t okay with it and he wasn’t sure how to fix it. He only knew how to keep going. In his life, in his career, when things hit the skids, he kept moving. Now, he needed to find a way to move in a direction that wasn’t aimless.
Susan reached for the radio dial. “Maybe we should see if the fire at the marina made it to the news.”
Brady had been avoiding the news for that reason. Listening to it might add to Susan’s guilt and stress. “What good does it do for us to hear about it? We know what happened.”
Susan adjusted the station. “We know what happened, but we don’t know exactly who is responsible or why. Maybe we can learn something about the fire.”
They listened to the radio for twenty minutes before the station switched to local news. The boat fire at Cherry Creek was third on the agenda after the weather and a report about an apartment fire that had destroyed twelve family homes, no casualties.
“Maybe I’ll get blamed for that, too,” Susan muttered.
“Another fire broke out tonight at the Cherry Creek State Park marina. The police have received an anonymous tip from a witness placing two suspects in connection with that fire at the scene. The police are looking for thirty-year-old Susan Prescott. The boat had belonged to her fiancé, Justin Ambrose, who went missing a week ago. The police suspect foul play, but no one has been officially charged in that murder. The police are narrowing their suspect list.”
Susan snorted. “Narrowing it? It has one name on it. Mine.”
“Thirty-two-year-old Brady Truman, Susan’s ex-boyfriend and former air force pararescueman is wanted for questioning in connection with the blaze,” the report continued.
Brady swore inwardly. The media had connected him and Susan as intimately involved. Dragging his connection to the air force would stir up more drama. The military would be quick to distance themselves from him. Would Justin’s father speak out against Brady or act on the threat he’d made?
“The mayor had this to say about the suspected arson,” the reporter said.
“Susan Prescott is a menace. I urge the police to complete their investigation and arrest Justin Ambrose’s murderer before someone else is hurt.” The sound bite ended and switched back to the reporter.
“Anyone with information is urged to call the police. A reward of twenty thousand dollars is being offered in exchange for information leading to an arrest.”
The news moved to another story and Brady turned down the volume. “Anonymous tip? Right. Like the men who tried to kill us calling in that we were at the scene.”
Susan appeared so tense he thought she might crack if he touched her.
“We’re okay,” he said.
“We are not okay,” Susan said, whipping her head toward him. “We’re wanted by the police. The entire state is looking for us. You heard the mayor. I’m a menace.”
The mayor was a pompous windbag spouting garbage for his friend the lieutenant general, and Susan was being melodramatic. It wasn’t everyone in the state looking for them. Just the police officers, whichever local citizens wanted to get involved and the men hunting them. It wasn’t a good situation and it was getting worse by the minute. But these were the cards they’d been dealt. “We’ll be fine. The mayor shouldn’t be saying anything about an ongoing investigation.”
Brady set a hand on her thigh and a current of heat ran between them. Susan didn’t move his hand away. Was his touch comforting to her? When they’d been a couple, touching her had been second nature. Were they falling into old habits for sheer comfort? Or did touching mean more? Their physical connection was the one part of their relationship that hadn’t been a problem. He didn’t want to make it one.
Susan jammed her hand through her hair. “This is getting out of hand. Maybe we should turn ourselves in and answer their questions.”
An adamant no sprang to mind. “How do you know the mayor’s pressure won’t force the police to make an arrest? I can’t protect you while you’re in custody. We don’t know who the men are who are looking for you. What if they have connections within the police department?”
Susan’s look of shock almost made him wish he hadn’t spoken the words. But she couldn’t be naïve about this. He’d learned in the military he was in the most danger when he’d underestimated his opponent.
“You’d know the truth if something happened to me,” Susan said, covering his hand with hers.
“It wouldn’t help you be undead. I’d have proof of nothing. I don’t have an alternative theory of the case. I won’t risk your life,” Brady said.
She squeezed his hand. “I’m sorry I can’t give you another theory.”
“I’m not blaming you.”
He didn’t have to turn to feel Susan’s stare. “You’re blaming me for what happened to Reilly.”
“Categorically untrue,” Brady said.
Susan pulled her hand away. “You blame me for Justin’s death.”
Brady shook his head. “Again, untrue.” Where was she getting this?
“Well, if you don’t blame me, you should. I blame myself for this. For making terrible choices. All the signs point to me being involved. I hurt Reilly. I made you come to the crime scene and now the police want to question you.” Her voice broke. “I shouldn’t have been involved with Justin. We were wrong for each other. I knew it. He knew it.”
Brady fumbled to process her words. Hadn’t she been in love with Justin? They’d been engaged.
“If you didn’t love him, why did you agree to marry him?”
Susan let out her breath in a rush. “On paper, we looked great together and when he asked, I didn’t have a reason to say no. What was I supposed to do? Wait for you? You made it clear you didn’t want to be with me. You didn’t even want my friendship.”
Again, bringing up the hospital. Which was bothering her more, that they’d broken up or that he’d been harsh with her when she’d visited in the hospital? “I explained to you—”
“No.” Her hand sliced through the air. “You explained you had too much going on to deal with me. Friends aren’t something you deal with. Friends are people who want to help you.”
“I’m not good at asking for help,” Brady said.
She let out a bark of bitter laughter. “At least you can admit it.”
It wasn’t easy to ask for assistance when Brady was used to being the person giving it. It made him feel weak and needy.
“Let me ask you something, Brady. What’s your plan?” Susan asked.
“To get you to Connor’s cabin, do some digging and make our next move carefully,” he said.
“Not your plan for me. Your plan for you and your life. Before you were injured, you had a plan. Your plan was to be in the military and you were great at that. You had a plan you didn’t want me part of. Tell me your plan now.”
He’d never wanted her not to be part of his life. He just hadn’t seen how he could give her the things she wanted and deserved.
“I’m planning to keep us safe.” It was the best he could offer.
“Stop thinking short-term. Tell me where you’ll be in six months.”
Six months was an eternity. His plans from the past were moot. He had limits and obstacles now. “My long-term options are limited,” Brady said, thinking about his kne
e. Frustration renewed in his chest.
“Were you irrevocably brain damaged by the event?” she asked.
Was he acting brain damaged? Loopy? “No,” he said. Where was she going with this?
“Then your options aren’t that limited. You’re an intelligent man. You’ve spent your career in the military, but that’s not all you are. You’re smart. You can do other stuff.”
The problem was that “other stuff” was vague and he had always wanted to serve in the military. He’d spent years chasing that goal and reaching it, and now he had to start fresh. What else did he want to do? What else would make him happy?
Susan. Susan had made him happy. Brady hated to admit it, but she had. When they’d been together, he’d had fun. He’d had a reason to come home. Now Susan wanted him to come up with career options to move past his work with the pararescuemen. What was he trained to do? His entire career had been spent in the military doing a job he loved. “The air force is all I know. It’s all I’ve ever known. It’s shaped my career since I was eighteen years old. I don’t know what to do next.” The words were difficult to speak. Brady liked being in control. He wasn’t in control of his injury or healing. Finding another career wasn’t easy and failure wasn’t a result he embraced. “At least it gives me time to help you.”
Susan pressed her lips together. She was deciding whether or not to continue the conversation. “Your injury doesn’t define you. Everyone has challenges to overcome. I never thought I would see the day you would let circumstances dictate your fate.”
She was making him sound weak, like a jellyfish tossed about by the sea. He didn’t take kindly to that. “I am working within the confines of my restrictions.”
“You’re being emotionally paralyzed by a physical limit,” she said.
Coming from anyone else, he would have dismissed the comment. From her, it hit him hard. Was he making excuses for sitting around, stewing and waiting for physical therapy to return to him the knee he’d once had? His doctors had told him it wasn’t possible. Was he clinging to that hope anyway?
“I’m doing the best I can.”
Susan shot him a disbelieving look. She’d hit the nail on the head and even he didn’t believe his protests to the contrary.
But helping Susan had given him a purpose. She’d gotten him off the couch. Now, he needed to figure out what he could do next.
Chapter 7
They were an hour outside Denver when Brady decided to stop for supplies he hadn’t gotten from Reilly’s. Susan had fallen asleep in the passenger seat.
If they could get to Connor’s cabin undetected, rest his leg and dry out the notebook, they could figure out their next move. If Brady wasn’t in pain for a little bit, he could think clearly and lay out what they knew about Justin’s death and the men following them. The more he knew, the better he could protect Susan.
The white-and-red light from the twenty-four-hour drugstore glared into the dark. At this early morning hour, the parking lot was near empty. Brady parked behind the drugstore and touched Susan’s shoulders.
She woke, mumbling groggily. “What’s wrong?”
“I’m getting supplies. Stay in the car with the doors locked. I’ll leave the gun in case you need it.”
Susan’s eyes opened wide. “Why would I need a gun?”
He didn’t like the idea of leaving Susan unarmed and without resources. “In case someone approaches you. It’s unlikely, but I want you to be prepared.” He pointed to the stash pack on the floor. “Don’t forget about the cash. I only took what I think I’ll need. If I don’t come back in twenty minutes, take the car and get out of here. Find a pay phone, borrow a phone, whatever you have to do, and call Harris. He’ll tell you what to do.”
Susan’s eyes narrowed in confusion. “Why wouldn’t you come back?”
“Just in case. Contingency plan.”
Susan unfastened her seat belt. “Stop. I won’t leave you if you get into trouble. If you think something isn’t right or someone is looking at you too long, get out of there.”
“I’ll do my best.”
She wrinkled her nose. “Why don’t I come with you?”
Brady hadn’t had time to check out the security situation and he didn’t want to risk revealing her face. He was accustomed to working under the radar. She wasn’t. “Whoever is looking for us is looking for two people and they’ll assume we’re together. It’ll invite less attention for me to go alone. We haven’t been followed. You’ll be okay in the car for a few minutes.”
Susan’s narrowed eyes turned into a full-on glare when he got out of the car. “I’ll make it fast. Doors locked,” he reminded her.
The cold abraded his face and Brady mentally thanked Reilly for buying heavy winter boots and warm, lined clothes. As a police detective, Reilly spent a lot of time outdoors. He didn’t skimp on cold weather gear.
Shoving his hands into the pockets of his coat, Brady pulled up the hood on the sweatshirt he was wearing and hunched his shoulders. He altered his gait to a slow lope to disguise himself.
Stretching his legs, moving his knee and inhaling the cold air was good for him, clearing his tired brain, sharpening his thoughts and taking the edge off his desire for Susan. What they’d had couldn’t be resurrected. Why the kiss? The easy answer: he craved her in his arms. The more complicated one: they had some unexplored emotional fallout from their breakup and neither of them had figured out how to behave around each other.
Brady looked over his shoulder. He didn’t think anyone had followed them, but he didn’t know whom he was up against. If they were former Special Forces, they would have training in covertly trailing someone. Lucky for him, he had the same training and knew what to look for. At least Susan was right on that count. He might be physically incapable of performing at a Special Forces level, but his mind was still sharp.
He entered the store through the double set of sliding-glass doors. Luckily, the store wasn’t crowded at this time of night.
A mom with her two children were in line at the pharmacy counter, a frazzled pharmacy technician was on the phone and a bored-looking cashier waited for customers, inspecting her nails and snapping her gum in her mouth.
Brady scanned the aisle markers. They needed basic toiletries, trail supplies, a burner phone, hair dye and scissors. He’d forgotten to nab a pair from Reilly’s. Susan hair was too long and too memorable.
Brady grabbed a red handcart and strode to the hair-dye aisle. He should have asked Susan her opinion on color before coming into the store. If he left now, checked with her and came back, it was too suspicious. He’d select the dye on his own.
Brady kept his shoulders turned and his head down. The large mirrors along the rear wall of the store were meant to discourage theft, but they gave a good view of the aisles and the people in them.
He grabbed a bottle of men’s hair dye, easiest since the store carried limited options. He picked the box that read “fast and easy.”
For Susan, he snagged a box of black dye off the shelf and tossed it in the basket. Susan would look great with darker hair, too. Maybe it would suit her artist persona. She might like it, or was it wishful thinking? He hated doing more to upset her, but his top priority was to keep her safe and he would do whatever was needed to ensure she was.
He searched the aisles for unlined paper and pencils for her. The best he found was a child’s drawing pad and number-two pencils. He picked them up and tossed them in his handcart.
He found a prepaid toss-away phone, spent another five minutes in the toiletries section and took a trip down the food aisle. Then Brady headed for the cashier.
He froze when two policemen entered.
Were they looking for him and Susan? How would they have known where they had gone? Haley’s sedan was an older model and didn’t have a built-in GPS. Had his
trail been caught this quickly?
Brady scanned for another exit. If he ran for the front door, the cops would see him. He’d told Susan he would be back and he had every intention of keeping his word to her. Letting her down again was unacceptable.
Brady crept closer to the front counter. The cops were talking to the checkout clerk. Brady couldn’t hear what they were saying. Were they questioning the clerk or alerting her they were searching for two suspects in an arson? Were they handing out his picture?
As if sensing he was being watched, one of the policemen turned. Brady ducked into the aisle. He took his time perusing the shelves, keeping his face turned away. Would the police officers go into the parking lot and see Susan? Had the police realized he and Susan had taken Haley’s car? He’d meant for his car, left at the bus terminal, to serve as a decoy for the men following Susan. If the police were also looking for him and Susan, would they see through the ruse?
The cops wandered up the first aisle. Brady had to pay for his items and get out of the store unseen. Or ditch the items and stop elsewhere for supplies. Had the clerk been alerted to the APB about him and Susan? As word spread about the boat fire, finding safe places to gather supplies would become fewer and farther between.
* * *
How long had Brady been in the store? Five minutes? Ten? Susan didn’t wear a watch. After a few more restless moments, she turned on the battery in the car to check the time. She’d wait a little longer and then check again.
If Brady didn’t come out, she was going inside the store to get him.
Brady. His behavior had always been a mystery to her. In some ways, he was an honest, straight-shooting man. He gave his opinion when asked and she never worried what he said would be a lie.
Brady’s dishonesty was about omission. Brady kept parts of his life closed off. Maybe it came from the work he did in the air force and that he had to be private about it. Or maybe it was because a CIA agent had raised him. But that Brady kept closed off from her drove her crazy. She could sense when he wasn’t saying something and she never knew the question to ask to prompt him for more.
