A Secret to Die For

by Lisa Harris

  “Did I ever tell you I thought about becoming a detective?” she asked, feeling the need to break the tension engulfing them. “Between Magnum PI and Remington Steele, I figured it would be the perfect career.”

  “What changed your mind?” he asked.

  “For starters, my dad assured me that I would never make enough money to buy my own Ferrari.”

  Nate actually cracked a smile. “That had to have been a major letdown.”

  A second later, the elevator beeped and the doors slid open. Nate’s hand was on his weapon as he stepped out of the elevator to the left and surveyed the area. The second officer moved to the right, doing the same thing.

  “My car’s one row over,” he said.

  Her black boots clicked against the cement floor as Gracie stepped outside the elevator and into the darkened garage. She might be dressed in Paige’s clothes, but what she really needed was the detective’s street smarts and a whole lot more courage.

  Nate’s radio buzzed and he snagged it out of the holder.

  Sarge’s voice came through. “An attempted ambush was just made on Carl Macbain’s detail. They’re fine, but watch your six.”

  Before Nate could respond, a bullet shattered the window of the car to their right. An alarm went off.

  “Get her back inside. Now.” The other officer ran forward, ducking behind a large cement support.

  Nate pulled Grace back into the elevator, punched on the button to close the doors, then hit the button for the sixth floor. A moment later a second bullet slammed into the doors. She could hear men on the other side of the metal door shouting. Nate was yelling into his radio, securing backup to the garage. Her heart hammered inside her chest. Nausea washed through her. Three days ago, she was grieving the death of her daughter, while at the same time finding a bit of solace in the fact that life was slowly getting back to normal again. If there really was such a thing. She’d learned to thrive on keeping her life simple. Control the stress as much as she could. Find ways to take care of herself . . .

  The elevator still hadn’t started up again.

  Today, she was running for her life.

  “What is it about these people and elevators?” Nate jammed his finger against the button again.

  “What?”

  “Nothing . . . Just stay against the wall. I’ve got to get you somewhere safe.”

  Her heart pounded. She didn’t want to ask him if it was possible for a bullet to penetrate the metal doors. As far as she was concerned, there was no place safe.

  The elevator started moving.

  Another question surfaced. If she’d agreed to make the exchange, why come after her now? Someone must have realized she wasn’t the one who was going to be bringing the flash drive. But still, why come after her? This triggered another thought. What was going to stop them from coming after her again? They’d found her at her house. On the road. Knew she was here at the hospital. There was nowhere left to run.

  She turned to face Nate. “What’s going on?”

  “Besides the fact that they attacked Macbain’s detail, I honestly don’t know.”

  “Why come after me here? I promised them the flash drive. Unless they found out—”

  “I’m sorry, Gracie. I don’t have the answers. Let’s get you to safety and then worry about the rest.”

  “But where is safe? They’re planning to take down the grid, Nate. Finding me—wherever I am—can’t be that hard for these people.”

  Sarge’s voice boomed over the radio again. “We’ve called off the plan. We’ll try to grab whoever arrives to make the exchange, but this shouldn’t have happened. Get back up here now.”

  “There has to be an explanation why they’re targeting us,” Gracie said. “Something must have changed on their end. I told them I’d give it to them. Paige hadn’t even shown up yet.”

  He took her hand and squeezed it. “I don’t know, Gracie. I just don’t know.”

  The elevator stopped, and he pulled her out, still holding her hand.

  “What’s going on?” he asked his boss.

  “Your guess is as good as mine.” Sarge ushered them down the long hallway, past a dozen hospital rooms. “We’re taking the stairwell and moving to plan B. We managed to catch a helo waiting on the roof.”

  “What about the officer who went down with us?” Nate asked.

  “He’s fine, but the shooter got away. Hospital is on lockdown and a full sweep of the building is being conducted. This seems like the safest way to get you out of here.”

  Grace tried to keep up. Nate still had her hand as they hurried down the hall. “Nate . . . Where are we going?”

  He pulled open the heavy metal door, then stopped just inside the stairwell. “To the roof and then somewhere safe.”

  She hurried up the stairway with Sarge in front of them and Nate at her side. At the top of the stairwell, Sarge opened the door and stepped out onto the windy landing, where there was a helicopter sitting on the pad.

  “You coming with us?” Nate shouted at him above the noise of the helo’s rotors.

  “No, just get her out of here and to safety. The pilot knows where to take you. Go to the fifth floor once you get there. An FBI agent will meet you. I’ll be in touch as soon as I can.”

  Nate helped Grace up into the bird, then sat down next to her before buckling up his seat belt and checking hers.

  “You okay?” he asked.

  “Yeah.”

  For now, anyway.

  The helo hovered above the rooftop for a few seconds, then swooped to the east over the city.

  “I will say this, though.” She leaned back against the seat and closed her eyes. “I’m not sure if this is a typical day for you, but if it is, I’d ask for a bigger paycheck.”

  “I think you’re right.” Nate laughed. “Though I’m not sure my boss would agree.”

  “Speaking of your boss, did he say where we’re going?”

  “They’ve switched the location of the safe house for security reasons, but even I don’t know the location. The pilot has instructions.”

  She sat in silence the rest of the short trip. The city spread out beneath them, giving them a bird’s-eye view of downtown. She’d only been on a helicopter one other time. She and Kevin had splurged so they could see Maui and Molokai from the air on their honeymoon. Views of the falls and the incredible green vegetation of the islands had taken her breath away. At the time, it had seemed the perfect ending to a fairy-tale wedding and honeymoon. Little had she known at the time that their happily-ever-after life was one day going to be shattered.

  Her gaze shifted to Nate. He’d had his own struggles this past decade. He was, in a sense, a wounded warrior. A man who’d dedicated his life to making a difference for his country. First in the military. And now for the police force. But because of what he’d experienced, he was also a man who’d closed off his heart. She had no idea how much the bombing had played in changing him, but she knew how hard it was to heal sometimes. Life wasn’t easy. She’d seen over and over in her own clients how loss had affected them, together with the guilt and blame that often came along with it.

  But healing took time, and sometimes, people—like Nate—closed themselves off. She’d discovered, though, that it was always better not to take the journey alone. She’d had Becca. Who did he have?

  Ten minutes later, the helo began its descent, then made its landing on a pad on the roof of another building. The pilot opened the door, and moments later, they were ducking beneath the rotors and hurrying toward the stairwell.

  A man in a gray suit met them in the hallway three flights down.

  “Detective Quinn . . . Agent Mac Brown.” The man flashed them his ID. “If you’ll both come with me, please.”

  Three doors down, he led them inside an industrial loft that had been made into a safe house. Cement floors, brick walls with two-story vaulted ceilings. A loft took up a fourth of the room, with access by a metal ladder. Underneath the loft were two me
n working at a row of computers. There were a couch and chairs in one corner, but no pictures on the wall. Nothing personal.

  “Where exactly are we?” Nate asked.

  “An FBI safe house.”

  “FBI?” Grace asked.

  “Because of the urgent nature of this case, the FBI has just completely taken control of operations. We requested both you and Mr. Macbain to come here so we can interview you as well as guarantee your safety.”

  Grace glanced at Nate, not sure she was happy with the situation. It wasn’t as if she’d been given a choice, but she had no desire to go through another interview. She’d already told the police everything she knew about Stephen, and they’d taken detailed notes.

  “If you’ll wait here, Detective, Agent Fulton and I will get started with the interview in the adjoining room.”

  Grace looked at Nate one last time before following the agent. She wanted to tell Nate how vulnerable she felt. How she wasn’t ready for him to leave her in the hands of the FBI.

  Instead she just nodded.

  “Of course,” she said. “Anything I can do to help to catch Stephen’s killer.”

  And to stop the country’s grid from going down.

  25

  Nate finished the call with Sarge as Gracie stood up on the other side of the room where the two agents had been interviewing her. He was unhappy with the fact that he wasn’t the one doing the interviewing, but the agents had asked him to spend the day working as the bridge between the department and the FBI, and he’d agreed.

  At least she was safe. For now.

  Macbain was working with a couple of intelligence analysts on the computers, trying to decipher if they’d missed anything in the flash drive Gracie had managed to swipe. She walked over to where Nate stood in the living area and sat down on one of the worn, overstuffed chairs.

  “How did it go?” he asked.

  “I feel like I’m just repeating the same things over and over again, and I don’t have the answers they want.” She slumped against the back of the chair and closed her eyes.

  He sat down across from her on the matching couch. “Are you done?”

  “They’re giving me a break.” She opened her eyes. “In his phone message Stephen said he left everything I needed to end this. They’re convinced Stephen said something to me or left me some kind of clue I’m supposed to know how to interpret.”

  “How can you do that if what we need was in the safe-deposit box, which we don’t have?”

  “I know, but if these people had everything they needed, why come to me, offering me money?”

  He rubbed the back of his neck, wishing they had as many answers as questions. “And why try to grab you at the hospital before you even tried to make the swap?”

  “Exactly. I feel like I’m on one of those merry-go-rounds at the park Hannah used to love. We’re going in circles and not getting anywhere.” She let out a low laugh. “And all I want to do is get off.”

  He nodded, understanding exactly how she felt. All he wanted to do right now was whisk her away from all of this.

  “Here’s something you might be interested in. I just got off the phone with Sarge,” Nate said. “You remember the third guy, Eddie Sumter, who Stephen’s sister told us about?”

  “Yeah.”

  “We know he died about seven months ago under suspicious circumstances, but as of today there have been no arrests. Now here’s the interesting part. Kelli’s been looking for a connection between the two deaths and just found one. Remember when we were wondering if whoever was paying Stephen for the work he was doing had also been paying Eddie before he died? We were spot on.”

  Gracie’s eyes widened. “All I can say is that whoever they are, they’re definitely an employer I’d want to avoid working for.”

  Nate laughed. “Agreed. Kelli’s working on following the money trail, hoping it will lead us in the right direction.”

  “I don’t know how you do this. All of this”—she waved her hand—“chasing clues and killers just gives me a headache.”

  “You know, let’s forget about all of this for right now.” He glanced at the coffee table and the box of pizza that one of the agents had picked up for them. He didn’t know about her, but he was starving. “What you need—what we both need—is a break, and something to eat. Pizza’s still hot if you’re hungry.”

  She shot him a smile despite the noticeable fatigue in her eyes. “Thanks, but I’m not sure I could eat. All I can think of is what happens if they don’t find this patch. I’ve just gone over every conversation I can remember having with Stephen, and as much as I’d like to save the world, I don’t think he gave it to me.”

  “Forget about it for now,” he said. “You look tired.”

  “So do you.” She pulled a pillow toward her chest. “When’s the last time you had a good night’s sleep? I mean a really good night’s sleep.”

  “High school.”

  “I’m serious.”

  Nate reached for the box and pulled out a slice of pepperoni pizza. “So am I.”

  He saw her look at his scars, and he automatically pulled down his sleeves. It was a habit he’d gotten used to after the explosion, just like the habit he’d gotten into of wearing long sleeves to cover them. She understood loss. He knew that. But that didn’t mean it was easy to open up about what had happened. The events of that day had been etched forever in his mind and followed him into his dreams at night. He’d yet to find an escape.

  She set the pillow aside and ran her finger across one of the scars. “These are why you always wear long sleeves.”

  Nate stared at the brick wall behind her. There were so many things he admired about her. Her vulnerabilities coupled with her inner strength. She’d shared with him about Hannah and Kevin. But when it came to him sharing his story, something always managed to hold him back.

  “You have nothing to hide,” she said, leaning forward.

  “Don’t I?” He hesitated, then rolled up his left sleeve, revealing his forearm. The red markings, still raised, ran from his wrists to his elbows. A constant reminder of that day. “Keeping them covered helps to avoid questions and the answers they expect me to give.”

  She rested her hand on the back of his hand and caught his gaze. “Paige told me you were involved in the attack. It was all over the news, but I had no idea you were one of the victims affected by the bombing.”

  “To be honest, it’s not something I bring up. ‘Hey. I’m Nate and I was a victim of the Hyde Hotel Bombing.’ Most of the time—okay, all the time—I just try to forget.”

  “Except that doesn’t work, does it?”

  “Are we talking about you or me?” he asked, trying to read her expression.

  Gracie pressed her lips together. “Maybe both. This isn’t exactly how I planned to spend the past couple days. And every time I start thinking about Hannah . . . I just miss her so much.”

  “I’m sorry, Gracie, so sorry, and I know that doesn’t come close to helping.”

  “Thanks for being such a good friend,” she said. “These last few days have been tough for you as well.”

  Friends.

  Which was what he wanted. He’d always teased Kevin that if Kevin didn’t end up marrying her, he would. At the time, he really had just been joking. At least on one level. Gracie had always seemed like the perfect catch. But Kevin had been one of his closest friends and there was no way Nate would have ever done anything to get between the two of them.

  “Can I ask you a very personal question?” she said.

  “Okay.”

  “I saw the details of what happened on the news, but what happened to you when the bomb went off?”

  He pressed his hands together, emotionally back on the couch in his psychologist’s office. How many times had she told him to stop running? “Are you asking as a friend, or a shrink?”

  “You always were good at deflecting a situation with humor.”

  Nate caught the amusement in her voice.
But the only person with whom he’d shared what had happened that day was his own shrink. He hadn’t even talked to his brother or parents about the details, which meant they only knew what the news channels had reported. And what had happened physically to him. Now Gracie was wanting to see what was behind the solid wall he’d constructed around him, and for some crazy reason, a part of him wanted to let her in. Because ignoring what had happened, and continuing to push his feelings aside, hadn’t worked so far.

  “We’d been partners for just over a year. Ashley was smart and tough and knew how to handle herself. She’d just gotten married six months before the bombing, and at their wedding, her husband came up to me and told me he was counting on me to keep her safe. And even though it was a promise I knew I might not be able to keep, I told him I would. We were homicide detectives, not street cops. You know how it goes. In the back of your mind you know it could happen to you, and yet every day you go out there, with the goal to bring justice and make the world a better place.”

  But sometimes, that wasn’t possible.

  He squeezed his eyes shut, shocked at how clearly he could still remember the details of that morning. The smell of burning flesh. The heat scorching his arms. The crunch of broken glass beneath his shoes.

  “We showed up at the scene of a homicide at eight thirty that morning at the hotel where CSI was busy processing the scene.” He cleared his throat. “I stepped outside of the hotel to take a call where it was quieter and I could get some fresh air. As I left, I remember hearing this incredibly loud noise. People said you could hear the blast for miles. The ground shook, and at first I thought it was an earthquake. I turned around. One second the building had been there. The next second all that was left on one side was a blackened crater marking the site. I could feel the heat radiating from the blast. See the bodies strewn on the ground. Everything went deathly silent. I couldn’t hear anything other than my heart pounding in my head. By the time first responders found Ashley and the others, they were all dead. Most of them were killed instantly by the blast. I was close enough to get hit by some of the shrapnel, but not close enough to be hit directly by the blast.”