by Lara Lacombe
“No.” His voice broke on the word. “Please, let him go. Take me instead.”
“Perhaps we will,” his contact said shortly. “In the meantime, continue to do your job. Should you find your motivation flagging, remember you still have a daughter and a mother, too. It would be a shame to involve both of them, as well.”
Sensing the man was about to hang up, Paul blurted out, “Can I talk to him? Please, can I just hear my son’s voice?” If he knew Noah was still alive, he might be able to find a way to save him. It was a long shot, but he couldn’t give up on his son without trying anything and everything possible to bring him home.
There was a pause, and for a moment Paul feared the man had already disconnected. Then he heard the man sigh and knew he was considering the request. “He is not nearby,” he said finally. “But I will see what can be arranged.”
“Thank you,” Paul said, but he was talking to a dial tone.
He pocketed his phone, his mind a million miles away. Noah must still be alive—he had to believe it. Surely he would know if his son had died already. Wouldn’t he have felt the ripples in the universe if Noah was no longer here? But how could he save him?
He could call the authorities. Maybe if he explained everything, they could track Noah and find where he was being held. It was a long shot, but it might be the only chance his son had...
Paul ran his finger over the phone, preparing to dial the numbers that might save Noah’s life. But before he could press the first digit, Lisa’s face flashed in his mind. Could he risk the safety of his daughter and his mother, knowing the chances of finding his son were infinitesimally small?
But could he live with himself, knowing his failure to try had condemned Noah?
Paralysis overtook him and he stood frozen in place, trapped between two horrific choices. He had already lost his wife. Would he have to bear the loss of his children, too?
Noah’s situation was dire, and Paul understood the chance of losing his son was unbearably high. Lisa was safe—for now. But Paul knew it was only a matter of time before the Organization targeted his daughter. Never mind that she had no knowledge of his work; ignorance was no guarantee of safety, and she would never stop asking questions about her brother’s disappearance.
Were they watching her even now? They had to be. They must have been spying on his family all along, hiding in the shadows until it was time to strike. He still wasn’t sure why they’d taken Noah in the first place. Had he asked them too many questions or seemed too reluctant to carry out their orders? Or perhaps this had been their plan all along. Either way, he was running out of time to save his kids.
There was only one thing he could do—he had to call the authorities and confess everything. He would probably spend the rest of his life in prison for his crimes, but it was a small price to pay for the lives of his children.
Assuming they believed him.
The thought made his blood run cold, and a trickle of fear slid down the valley of his spine like a rivulet of ice water. What if he called the FBI or Homeland Security and no one believed his confession? They had to get hundreds, if not thousands, of crank tips a week. What if his story was too fantastical to be believed? After all, he was talking about an all-powerful terrorist organization operating in the shadows of a well-respected international charity. It was the stuff of movie thrillers, not real life. He would probably be laughed off the phone, and even if he wasn’t, it would take time for them to confirm his story.
Time his children didn’t have.
Paul sank into his chair, panic starting to set in as he realized he held no power over this situation. One of the reasons he’d agreed to work for the Organization was because he’d assumed that if things got really bad, he could always expose them to the world via the police or the press. He’d thought of it as his “nuclear option” and had figured it was a kind of insurance policy that would ensure that the Organization treated him fairly. What a fool he’d been!
Now he realized he only had two options: call his mother and tell her to pack up Lisa and run, or say nothing and hope the Organization left her alone. If he warned his mother, she would at least be aware of the danger they were in. But it would probably only make things worse. His mother wasn’t capable of protecting Lisa, and the thought of her trying to outrun the Organization would be comical if the situation wasn’t so serious. Furthermore, if he did reach out, the Organization would know and it wouldn’t hesitate to punish Lisa. At least if he kept silent they wouldn’t have a reason to target his mother and daughter.
He should leave well enough alone. It was the smart thing to do, considering how completely outflanked he was.
But he was tired of being smart. And he was tired of being scared.
He’d had more tragedy in his life than he deserved. First, he’d lost his wife. Now he was losing his son and would likely lose his daughter, as well. He was done being a passive victim of fate. It was past time for him to step up and fight for the things that mattered to him.
Starting with his family.
He dialed the numbers before he could lose his nerve. It was only after the phone started ringing that he realized he had no idea what time it was back home. Would anyone be there to answer?
“FBI. How may I direct your call?”
He swallowed hard and took a deep breath. “I want to report a kidnapping.”
Chapter 12
Avery sat in bed and stared at her laptop screen, but no matter how many times she read the email, the words didn’t change.
I’m relieved to know you are recovering from your illness, Harold wrote. I’ve managed to arrange transport off the base, which will bring you back to Atlanta. I’ll feel better once we get you into a fully equipped hospital, and hopefully your antibodies will shed further light on this virus. Safe travels. See you soon.
She couldn’t deny the suggestion of home was comforting—she still felt weak from the virus, and the thought of slipping into her worn flannel robe and curling up in her own bed was unmistakably appealing. She was also touched by Harold’s concern. Based on his previous emails, she knew that he’d pulled a lot of strings to get a plane arranged on such short notice, and it was a testament to his loyalty to her that he’d persisted in the face of bureaucratic resistance. Avery knew she should be grateful for his efforts, and she was. But despite all the reasons she should be counting the hours until the plane arrived, she wasn’t quite ready to leave.
Part of it was professional pride. She’d never left an investigation before it was finished, and doing so now felt like admitting defeat. Her ego demanded she stay and see the case through to the end, regardless of the lack of meaningful progress. None of the samples she had gathered at the bar had tested positive for the virus, which meant she was back to square one in terms of finding a common source for the outbreaks. It was a frustrating setback, but it made her all the more determined to solve the mystery. This was proving to be the most difficult case of her career to date, and she hated the thought of leaving early simply because she’d been unlucky enough to contract the disease. Thanks to the efforts of Grant and his team, she had survived. Now she owed them answers. This wasn’t just a matter of professional curiosity anymore—it was personal.
Speaking of personal... Grant’s face flashed in her mind, and she couldn’t help smiling. Her memories before passing out were a little fuzzy, but she did recall their conversation in his office. Forgiving him had felt good, as if she’d cast off some emotional hobble and was now free to fully experience life again. It was amazing how much of a difference she noticed, despite the lingering effects of her illness. All that anger and hurt she’d held on to had shaded her perceptions, casting the world in shadows. Now that she had released the burden of her pain, things looked bright again, as if she’d taken off dark sunglasses. The color was back in her life, and it was truly beautiful.
She needed more time with Grant. This truce between them was still so new. She wanted to nurture it, to strengthen
it, and see where it would lead them. They had ten years of catching up to do—there was no way to accomplish that in the two days she had left on-base.
Maybe she could take a leave of absence, she mused. She certainly had a good reason for it. As much as she hated to admit it, it would be a long time before she felt back to her old self again. Harold would understand if she wanted to take some personal leave to deal with the physical and psychological aftereffects of coming so close to death. Perhaps Grant could visit her in Atlanta, or she could meet him somewhere and they could get to know each other again. Now that they were on good terms once more, she wanted to discover if there was still anything worth resurrecting between them.
The more she thought about it, the more she liked that idea. The next time she saw Grant, she’d ask him about it. His response would reveal a lot about his feelings on the matter, as well. If he was excited about the plan, she’d know they might still have something. If he was lukewarm to the idea, well...it would be disappointing, but better to find that out now before she fell all the way in love with him again.
In the meantime, though, she needed to turn her full attention to the investigation. Grant had insisted she stay in her room and rest as much as possible, going so far as to bring her meals so she didn’t have to get out in the cold. He had even tried to take her files, saying they would be a distraction and she needed to conserve her energy. It was only after she’d told him she would hike over to the hospital in her bare feet to get them back that he’d relented and left all her notes and patient records. She closed her laptop and turned to them now, hoping that by looking at the information again she’d find some new detail she’d previously missed that would prove to be the salvation of this sinking investigation.
Avery immersed herself in the data, trying to examine it with fresh eyes. She ignored all her previous analyses and started from scratch, thinking that maybe a new approach would reveal the proverbial smoking gun. The work proved harder than she cared to admit. Her bout with the virus had taken a lot out of her both physically and mentally, and once more she recognized how lucky she was to be alive.
She lost all awareness of time as she worked until a knock on the door interrupted her focus. She blinked and cast a quick glance at the alarm clock on the bedside table, surprised to find that three hours had flown by. Not that she had anything impressive to show for it...
Anticipation fluttered in her belly as she shoved the paperwork to the side and climbed out of bed. Only one person came to her room, and even though she had seen Grant when he’d brought her lunch, she was looking forward to seeing him again.
She crossed to the door and had the sudden realization she must look terrible. She’d thrown her hair in a ponytail this morning and hadn’t bothered with makeup since falling sick. It was silly to be so vain when Grant had seen her at her worst, but a small, girly part of her wanted to look nice for him. She smoothed a hand over her hair with a sigh. Maybe next time.
The scent of food wafted into the room, and her stomach rumbled appreciatively. Apparently, Grant had heard the sound—she opened the door to find him grinning down at her, his arms full of bags.
“Hungry?”
“Starving,” she replied. She hadn’t noticed her empty stomach while working, but now that she’d taken a break she was becoming aware of her body’s needs again.
“That’s a good sign,” Grant said. He stepped into the room and nudged the door shut, then put the bags on the narrow desk and began pulling food from their depths. “I brought soup, sandwiches, drinks and, if you’re very good, dessert.”
Her ears pricked at that. “What kind of dessert?” Avery craned her neck to see over his shoulder, but his body blocked her view of the food.
Grant laughed and placed one of the paper bags on the floor, making sure to fold it shut before he did so. “It’s a surprise,” he said. “You have to finish your dinner first.”
“You sound like my mom,” she grumbled. “That was always her line when I was a kid.”
If the comparison bothered him, he didn’t show it. “She sounds like a wise woman,” he said with mock solemnity.
Avery rolled her eyes. “Well, she always liked you, so I’m not sure what that says about her judgment.”
Grant clapped a hand to his chest and staggered back a step. “You wound me!” he declared dramatically.
“I’m sure your ego will recover,” Avery said primly.
He returned to the table and pulled out her chair, gesturing for her to sit. “I’m sure you’re right,” he said with a wink.
Avery reached for a bottle of water and unscrewed the cap. “You seem in an especially good mood.”
Grant sat next to her and pushed a carton of soup and a cellophane-wrapped sandwich in front of her. “I’m having a cozy dinner with a beautiful woman. What more could a guy ask for?”
His compliment made her glow a little inside, and she smiled. “Good day at the hospital?”
He nodded, holding up a finger that told her he had something to say as soon as he finished chewing. Excitement burned bright in his eyes, and Avery leaned toward him, eager to hear his news.
Grant swallowed with an audible gulp. “Richard woke up,” he announced.
The news was so unexpected Avery nearly choked on her spoonful of soup. “That’s wonderful! What about Bradley?”
“Still unconscious. But I’m not giving up hope yet.”
Avery nodded, and they ate in silence for a few moments. “Do you think Richard feels up to talking yet?”
Grant chuckled softly, and she tilted her head to the side, sensing she was being teased. “What?”
“I was waiting for you to ask me that,” he said, taking another sip of soup.
“Glad I’m so predictable,” she responded wryly.
Grant winked at her. “Just another one of your charms.”
“Indeed.” She set down her spoon and reached for the water bottle. “But seriously, when do you think I can talk to him? I have more questions, especially since none of the samples at the bar gave us anything, and Paul’s blood was a big miss, as well.”
Grant lifted one shoulder and considered his sandwich. “We’ll see how he’s doing tomorrow. You might be able to ask him a few questions if you keep it short. I don’t want to wear him out.” He took a bite and spoke through a mouthful of food. “What’s the rush?”
Avery took a deep breath, hating to be the bearer of bad news. She’d thought Grant would already be aware of her upcoming departure. The base commander certainly knew to expect the arrival of a plane, and she figured he would have told Grant about it. Apparently, that wasn’t the case.
He slowly lowered his sandwich to the table and swallowed. “What’s going on? Why do you have that look on your face?”
The question distracted her, and she smiled. “What look is that?”
“It’s the same expression you wore in college when my mom made you tell me the dog had died.”
“In her defense, she was very broken up about it,” Avery began, but Grant cut her off.
“I’m sure she was. Now spill it.”
There was no sense in beating around the bush—he knew her too well for that. “I’m leaving in two days.”
He went totally still, freezing in the act of lifting his water bottle to take a sip. He held it in midair, his thirst apparently forgotten for the moment.
“Oh?” The casual note in his tone sounded forced, and Avery knew he was more upset by the news than he was letting on. He took a drink from his bottle, then placed it back on the table and carefully recapped it, avoiding her eyes the whole time.
“It wasn’t my idea.” It was important for him to understand that. Avery didn’t want him to think she was running away from him, or that she no longer wanted to see him.
“My boss arranged it,” she continued. “He wants me back in Atlanta, wants me to get checked out at the hospital there.”
Grant’s shoulders relaxed and he met her gaze. “He’s r
ight. You should finish recovering at home.”
“I don’t see why,” she retorted, suddenly annoyed. What made the men in her life feel like they knew what was best for her? It was nice of Harold to have arranged transport off the base, but he could have at least warned her before taking the initiative. And Grant of all people should know that she was now on the mend. “I can rest here, and I’m not done with my investigation.”
“I’ll feel better knowing you have access to unlimited medical care,” Grant began, but she cut him off.
“Don’t sell yourself short,” she said. “You’re an amazing physician. You’re the reason I’m still alive, the reason any of the victims of this disease are still alive.”
Spots of pink bloomed on his cheeks and he looked away. “I got lucky,” he said gruffly.
“No, you didn’t,” Avery said softly. “You saved me.” As she spoke the words the memory of the warm blue light filled her and everything clicked into place. “You sat by me, didn’t you? While I was unconscious. You were there.” It had been his voice, his touch finding her in the darkness. He had been the one to stop her fall, to bring her back into the light when she would have been lost.
Of course, she thought. It’s always been him.
Grant’s eyes widened, but he nodded. “Did one of the nurses tell you that?” He sounded almost embarrassed, as if his vigil had been something he wanted to keep secret. But why? Did he think she wouldn’t appreciate his sacrifices?
Avery shook her head. “No one told me. I heard you.”
He scoffed, but when he saw she wasn’t kidding he grew serious again. “Really?” There was doubt in his voice, as if he couldn’t quite bring himself to believe her. But underneath that was another note: hope.
