The Reunion Mission: The Reunion MissionTall Dark Defender

by Beth Cornelison

  She brushed the cigarettes and empty package into the trash and jammed the key into her apron pocket.

  Would Farrout be looking for that key? Would he suspect her when he found it missing? Did the key unlock something here at the diner or was it part of Hardin’s personal property?

  She wondered if Jonah would stop by the diner today and what he’d make of the key she’d found. The key she’d stolen.

  Her heartbeat thundered in her ears.

  Stolen. If Farrout or the other men involved in this money-laundering scheme found out—

  “You have any grape jelly? I’m allergic to strawberries,” a woman at the counter asked, jarring Annie from her disturbing thoughts.

  “Oh, uh, sure.” She wiped her sweaty palms on her apron and took a moment to redirect her thoughts. As she turned to the tray where they kept the condiments, another man at the counter caught her eye, and her stomach dipped. The businessman who’d ogled her earlier in the week was back, his weighty gaze following her every move.

  Her skin crawling from his discomfiting scrutiny, Annie found the grape jelly and handed it to the woman with the strawberry allergy.

  She cast a surreptitious glance to the businessman as she moved the pot of decaf coffee that had finished brewing to a warming burner. He caught her eye and lifted his eyebrow and his mug. “I’ll take some of that, doll.”

  Squelching the uneasy jitter that he elicited, Annie crossed to him with the coffee just as a handsome, familiar face arrived at the counter. Relief and pleasure spun through her as Jonah took his seat at the counter.

  When had she decided his face, with his broken nose bump, the scar over his black eyebrow and his perpetual five-o’clock shadow, was handsome rather than rough-hewn? Comforting instead of daunting?

  She’d have been the first to deny she’d formed any attachments to Jonah, yet the leap in her pulse and the lift in her spirits when she spotted him were undeniable. He held a central role in her thoughts lately, too, whether she was at home or at work, thoughts that had her lying awake at night with a restlessness stirring inside her.

  He shook his head slightly, a subtle reminder of the warning he’d given her last night not to greet him with more than normal, businesslike attention. He wanted to keep their association as low-key as possible when at the diner.

  “Morning,” she greeted him casually. “Can I get you coffee?”

  She wanted desperately to tell him about the key she’d found but knew now was not the time or place.

  “Sure. And I’ll have the sunrise platter.” He lifted a corner of his mouth in a polite grin, but as she filled his mug, his attention shifted and his countenance clouded. She turned, curious to see what had darkened his mood.

  Martin Farrout stood just outside the kitchen door, casting an imperious glance over the dining room like a ruler surveying his land. Her new boss’s gaze lingered on Jonah, then skipped briefly to the businessman beside him before moving on.

  “Our new manager,” she told Jonah under her breath.

  She could almost see the wheels in Jonah’s head clicking, figuring how Farrout’s appointment as manager fit into the money-laundering scheme and Hardin’s murder.

  Lydia returned from the tables, brushing past Farrout, and clipped new orders up for the cooks. “I could use some help out there if you can, Annie. Notoriety over Hardin’s murder has brought out the morbidly curious this morning, and tables are filling up fast.”

  “Of course.” Annie surrendered to the frenzy of the breakfast rush but kept tabs on Jonah’s progress through his meal. She needed an opportunity to talk to him before he left.

  He’d cleaned his plate and had nodded to her for his bill before inspiration struck. In tiny printing at the bottom of his order ticket she wrote Meet me at restroom. Jonah gave no visible sign he’d noticed her message as he checked his total and handed her his cash. She held her breath as he left his seat, glanced at the morning paper on the rack beside the cash register and took a toothpick from the dispenser on the counter. She tried to hand him his change, but he waved it away.

  After pocketing his tip, she picked up a rag to wipe the counter and watched him make his way to the back hall that led to the bathrooms.

  Relief unfurled in her chest, and she wiped her hands on her apron as she made her way toward the back hall, using the employee entrance from the kitchen.

  Jonah stood by the pay phone at the end of the hall thumbing through a well-worn phone book. Glancing about to be sure they were alone, she hurried over to him and pulled the key from her pocket. “I found this in a cigarette pack in Hardin’s desk.” She kept her voice low, kept an eye on the door to the dining room. “Guess it’s Farrout’s desk now.”

  Wrinkling his brow, Jonah took the key from her palm and examined it. “Any idea what it goes to?”

  “None. I didn’t find it until after I left the office. Farrout caught me in the office earlier and asked what I was looking for. I had to make up a quick excuse and get out of there. I told him I was there for the cigarette pack, so I grabbed it and left. But I could try to get back in there later when he’s not around and see—”

  “No! If Farrout is already suspicious, it’s all the more dangerous for you.” Jonah bounced the key in his hand. “Besides, this looks more like a locker key. Like the ones at my gym or the kind at the bus depot.”

  She nodded her agreement. “So how do we find the locker it goes to?”

  He shrugged. “I’ll look into that today.” He held the key toward the light and narrowed his gaze, studying it closer. “There’s a number on it—223. That should help narrow the search.”

  “I want to go with you when you open the locker.”

  As soon as Jonah started shaking his head, Annie snatched the key from his hand and shoved it down the front of her waitressing dress and inside her bra. “You promised not to shut me out. I found the key. I want to go with you when you open the locker or whatever the key goes to.”

  Agitation shaping his expression, Jonah clenched his teeth and sighed.

  She saw the businessman from the counter before Jonah did and cut off his protest, saying, “Yeah, that phone book is way out of date. You’d do better to just call information. Sorry.”

  Jonah’s gaze flicked to the man in the pressed suit who strolled past them into the men’s room. “Okay, thanks anyway.”

  As soon as the men’s restroom door swished closed, Jonah whispered, “Annie, give me the key. I never promised you could be involved in every aspect of my investigation.”

  She backed toward the kitchen, whispering back, “I can get off at two, if Susan will cover my last hour. You can meet me at the bus stop on Third Street, and we’ll go together from there to start looking for the locker this goes to.”

  “Annie.” His tone dipped in warning. “Give me the key.”

  “I will.” She backed to the kitchen door, mouthing, “At two.”

  * * *

  At five minutes until two, Jonah sat in his car waiting for Annie at the Third Street bus stop stewing over her stubbornness and the cheap tactic she’d used to keep the key from him. If it had been anyone besides Annie, he’d probably have gone after the key without blinking. But he figured Annie was the last person who needed to be manhandled and groped—even if she’d all but dared him to with her ploy. He chuckled despite himself. Her moxie had caught him off guard, but he wouldn’t be so easily outmaneuvered again.

  The show of gumption also encouraged him. Beneath the layers of shame and intimidation her ex had heaped on her with his abuse lurked a strong, vibrant woman waiting to be freed. She just needed a safe environment, the right timing and the encouragement of people she trusted to revive the side of herself she’d forced into hibernation.

  A few minutes later, Annie opened his passenger-side door and slid onto the seat. “So where do you want to start?”

  He cranked the engine. “Not the gym. I checked, and those lockers are numbered one to one hundred. We’ll try the bus depot
first.”

  When they reached the bus station, Jonah took a gym bag inside with him. He placed a proprietary hand at the small of her back as he ushered her into the dingy brick building. They located locker 223 easily, and she handed him the key.

  “Bingo,” he said when the metal door opened.

  Annie huddled in close as he examined the locker’s contents. The light, feminine scent that clung to her was distracting. With effort, he focused his attention on the locker and not the thrum of his blood and the pounding desire to pull Annie into his arms.

  Gritting his teeth and shoving down the hum of desire, Jonah pulled out computer CDs that lay on a top shelf and shoved them into his gym bag. Next he rifled through printed files stacked below. He handed Annie one of the files stuffed with pages of data. “Read through some of this and see what it is.”

  Jonah pulled out a file for himself and began flipping pages. His folder held financial records, long lists of deposits with names and—hold the phone—sports results listed by each entry.

  His pulse roared in his ears as he scanned the list for a particular name. Michael’s. The deposits were listed chronologically, and he skimmed quickly through the past several months until he found the sheet for the last month Michael was alive.

  Beside him, Annie gasped. “Jonah, look at this.”

  She pointed to a page where a name and phone number had been scribbled at the top of the sheet.

  “Joseph Nance?” he said, reading the name. “You know him?”

  “Not exactly. But I know the name. That’s who I was supposed to deliver the package of money to the night I was attacked. Hardin was very adamant that I only give the money to him.”

  Jonah’s heart thundered in his chest. A name. He had a name.

  He closed his file folder and pulled out his cell phone. “Read me that number.”

  As she did, he dialed. His breath hung in his throat as the phone rang once, twice.

  “Lagniappe P.D. Detective Nance speaking,” a gruff voice answered.

  Jonah pulled his eyebrows together, stunned speechless. Nance was a cop?

  “I’m sorry. I have the wrong number.” As he thumbed the disconnect button, Jonah lifted a confused gaze to Annie.

  She frowned, gripped his wrist. “What? Who answered?”

  “Apparently Nance is a detective with the Lagniappe police.”

  “The police? So...Hardin was working with the cops to bust the gambling ring?”

  “Or we have a crooked cop on the force taking payoffs.” Jonah stroked the stubble on his cheek and mulled the turn of events.

  “Or someone ratted Hardin out, and he was being set up for arrest,” Annie countered.

  “Anything’s possible, I suppose.” He nodded toward the file in her hand. “What else you got in there?”

  “It’s an accounting of receipts and expenses for the diner, but...I don’t see how it can possibly be right. According to this, the diner consistently brought in more than five thousand dollars a day. Maybe a large restaurant can do that kind of business, but Pop’s Diner doesn’t do that kind of volume.” She lifted a knowing gaze. “Methinks these are the cooked books you were looking for.”

  He grinned at her antiquated language. “Methinks so, too.”

  Annie’s smile morphed to a frown, and she scowled as she turned her gaze to the locker. “I don’t know, Jonah. This all seems...too easy. You’ve been working this case for months, making only baby steps of progress—”

  “Well, that was intentional. Hard as it was to sit back while the investigation inched along, I didn’t want to send up any red flags, either. I took baby steps in order to gain Farrout’s trust. I wanted to fit in at the diner before I approached him. Impatience can blow an investigation.”

  Jonah studied the way the harsh fluorescent lights of the bus depot danced over the soft curves of Annie’s face. He needed the same kind of patience with her. He had to take baby steps until he’d earned her trust. Annie was worth waiting for.

  On the heels of that thought, a chill unrelated to the hyper-cold air-conditioning skimmed up his back. What business did he have harboring any ideas of a future with Annie? And if he didn’t intend to hang around and be part of her ready-made family, he had no right to give her any misleading cues, either. The absolute last thing he wanted to do was hurt Annie.

  Annie propped a hand on her hip and shook her head. “What I mean by too easy is, it’s as if Hardin had packaged all this information together, building a case against the people involved. It’s all here, laid out with everything except the bow on top.”

  Jonah refocused his thoughts, considering Annie’s point. “True. So maybe he was about to turn it all over to the cops. Maybe that’s why he was killed.”

  “Or maybe this is all a setup. Maybe none of this information is real, and if we take this to the authorities, we expose ourselves to the higher-ups in the operation without having anything that will actually stick.”

  Jonah clenched his teeth and made two decisions. “Regardless of what all this means, I know two things. First and most important, you’re out. I don’t want you connected to any of this if it should blow up in my face.”

  “But—”

  He held up a hand, cutting her off. “Second, we won’t decide anything here and now. I need time to study these files and put all the pieces together.”

  She closed the file in her hands and handed it back. “I can still be of help to you. Let me go over these records with you.”

  Jonah started shoving the contents of the locker into the gym bag and shook his head. “I’ve already involved you more than I should have.”

  She put a hand on his, and his heart fisted when he met her pleading gaze.

  “I need to do this, Jonah. I need to feel I’m doing something to make my life better, safer. For too long, I’ve drifted along letting life happen to me and suffering because I gave others too much control over my life. Please don’t ask me to sit on my hands now. I am involved whether I like it or not.”

  He drew a slow breath, his respect for Annie blossoming inside him. He grazed his fingers along her chin. “I appreciate what you’re saying. I understand and applaud you for wanting to change your life. But if I allowed you to get mired deeper in this muck...”

  “I’d still be in danger, through no fault of yours.” Turmoil swirled in the depths of her dark eyes, landing a sucker punch to his gut.

  Before he could counter her argument, she glanced at her watch and bit her bottom lip. “Which reminds me...I want to go to that self-defense class at the police station that you mentioned. It starts in thirty minutes. Can you drop me off?”

  Jonah nodded, relieved to hear she was taking her personal safety seriously. “Of course.”

  Studying the rest of the locker’s contents would keep until that evening. Making sure Annie stayed safe was his top priority, and the class was, for the time being, the best means to that end.

  Besides, he was headed to that class himself—though he decided it was best that Annie not know of his role.

  Chapter 12

  Jonah let Annie out at the door to the gymnasium housed at the back of the Lagniappe Police Department. A hollow ache filled her as she waved goodbye to him and watched him drive down the block and out of sight. She’d see him again soon enough. At the diner tomorrow, if nothing else. So why did parting from him cause this bittersweet emptiness inside her?

  She wasn’t falling for him. She couldn’t be growing attached to a man at this delicate crossroad in her life. She’d only been free of Walt a little more than a year. Too soon to give her heart again. But since when did love follow any prescribed schedule?

  She barked a harsh laugh as she turned from the street. Love? Now she was really rushing things. Jonah was a friend. Nothing more.

  With a cleansing breath, she faced the large brick building that housed the city police department. The name they’d found on Hardin’s file flashed in her mind. Joseph Nance. Detective Nance.

>   If she marched inside the station now and found Detective Nance, told him everything she knew, could this whole frightening scenario finally be over?

  Or would she create an even bigger nightmare for Jonah?

  “Impatience can blow an investigation.”

  She owed it to Jonah to do things his way. She trusted him to figure out the whos and whats of the criminal activity at the diner in his own time.

  Warmth flooded her veins as she turned that truth over in her head again. She trusted Jonah. No small feat.

  The class had already gathered around a set of floor mats in the center of the gym. She hesitated, remembering how intimidating the private lessons with Jonah had been. Even knowing he wouldn’t truly hurt her, his strength and sheer masculinity had resurrected so many vivid memories of Walt’s power over her.

  Annie was having second thoughts about joining the class when the instructor spotted her lurking by the door and waved her in. “Hi! You’re not late. We’re waiting for our practice aggressor to arrive. Please have a seat.”

  Taking a deep breath for courage, Annie walked toward the mats.

  “I’m Jan, the instructor, and you are...?”

  “Annie.”

  “Welcome, Annie.” Jan flashed a warm smile. “Feel free to join in or just watch today. Whatever you feel comfortable with.”

  Annie sat cross-legged on the floor next to the other women and pressed a hand to her jittery stomach. As much as she wanted to leave, wanted to crawl into a safe cave somewhere and pretend Hardin hadn’t been murdered, she hadn’t been mugged and she hadn’t divorced or ever been married to Walt in the first place, wishing didn’t make those things true. “Do it for your kids.”

  She only had to think of the years she’d let Walt intimidate and hurt her, think of any man doing the same to Haley, to know she had to do something now to turn her life around. She wanted to pass on strength and courage to her daughter, not a legacy of fear and doubt. Putting Haley’s innocent face front and center in her mind’s eye, Annie raised her gaze to the instructor and squared her shoulders.