by DiAnn Mills
2. How far would you go to protect a family member?
3. Grief is often a formidable monster. How well does Danika handle the second anniversary of her husband’s death? How do you handle reminders of loss or grief in your life?
4. Jacob is bitter about his brother’s death, and it affects his relationship with his family. How might you react in a similar situation?
5. If you were Danika’s friend, would you encourage her to seek out a relationship with Alex? Why or why not?
6. Should Alex have told Danika from the beginning about his friendship with Toby? How might his doing so have changed the trajectory of their relationship?
7. Alex has his own personal views about undocumented immigrants. How are they different from Danika’s?
8. It’s been said that desperate people do desperate things. What particular desperation motivates Sandra? Lucy? Jose?
9. How do you feel about Sandra’s deceit? Was she justified in what she did?
10. Jacob made a renewed commitment to God and his family. Do you think he will be able to keep his word? Why or why not?
11. At the end of the story, Danika and Alex pledge their love to each other. What have they learned from past relationships? Where does their faith in Christ fit?
12. Before reading this novel, what was your opinion of the Border Patrol and the immigration debate? Has it changed, and if so, in what ways? Do you have any ideas for a solution to the situation with our borders?
Turn the page for a preview of book three in the Call of Duty series.
Available Fall 2010.
The moment Bella accepted the reassignment to the FBI’s field office in Houston, she realized the past had stalked her to the present. And she was ready, or at least she told herself she was. Her training and experience had sharpened her skills and provided the tools she needed to solve crimes the average American deemed unspeakable.
Fear and memories had climbed into her luggage when she relocated to Houston, but she defied their strangling hold. Bella was determined to work hard to build her credentials and help curtail the endless barrage of crime, especially within a city that contained more people than Chicago.
Her BlackBerry interrupted her thoughts and her drive to work with its musical rendition of “That’ll Be the Day.” A quick glance showed the caller was Frank.
No way, super agent. I don’t have a thing to tell you. She answered on the third ring. “Morning, Frank. What can I do for you?”
“Lunch?”
She laughed. “You heard I have an appointment with Swartzer, and curiosity is killing you.”
“Me? I wanted to talk about spending the weekend in Galveston.”
“Right. Frank, it’s been nine months since we dated.”
“Nine months, huh? As in giving birth to a new relationship?”
She envisioned a slight smile spreading over his face—a good-looking one, but one that was not for her. “No thanks. Remember, we tried and it didn’t work. I don’t want to put my heart in that place again. See you later.”
“But—”
“Bye, Frank.”
Bella tossed the phone into her purse. Regret over the failed relationship with Frank settled like a day harboring poor air quality. She’d known from the start a relationship with him wouldn’t work. He wanted a wife who’d stay home and raise kids. She refused to give up the bureau, no matter how much she cared for him. The only thing she’d ever formed a lasting attachment to was the FBI, and mistakes in the name of love were not in her playbook.
A promotion had been within her grasp for the past few months, and she desperately wanted it. Ambition always ruled over her logic, but she didn’t view her objectives as selfish. The meeting this morning with her supervisor might be a jump in her career. A coveted opportunity to prove her mettle sounded almost too good to be true, and like a kid at Christmas on this early June morning, she drove toward the field office to see if she had a gift marked “promotion.”
Bella moved into the right lane of 290 to take the exit off the highway. For certain, battling traffic at seven in the morning had hardened her for criminal activity—or destroyed any trace of patience. Her mind raced with anticipation over her meeting with Swartzer. This meeting could be about a number of ongoing investigations—or possibly a new one. No matter, she’d take the assignment and keep climbing the ladder.
She swung into the parking lot of the eight-story, glass and steel building and stopped in front of the guard shack. After displaying her creds, she eased into the covered parking area and hurried inside. Her heart pounded against her chest, and she sensed the familiar excitement of a new challenge. She scanned her badge and keyed in her security code at each door, making her way to the floor housing the violent crimes task force team and the office of Larry Swartzer, her supervisor. While his secretary informed him of her arrival, Bella took several deep breaths in an effort to settle her nerves and will away the anxiety making her feel like a kid sent to the principal’s office.
Swartzer opened the door. “Mornin’, Bella. Come on in.”
Her heavy shoulder bag shifted and slipped from her arm to the floor. Thank goodness it was zipped. She cringed at the idea of her Glock, handcuffs, and all of her other equipment, including her makeup bag and wallet, dropping at her feet.
“Little nervous, are we?” He chuckled, and her confidence suddenly fell to somewhere between diffused and lack-of.
She laughed and hoisted her bag. “Add curious to the mix.”
He ushered her into his office, and she took a seat across from his desk. The wall behind him intimidated her with its framed certificates and honors earned over his twenty-year career. Most likely his wife refused to have them all displayed at home. Bella attempted to read his face, but Swartzer prided himself in being unreadable, and this morning was no exception. Although short and stocky, her supervisor had the neck and shoulders of a man who must bench nearly 275 pounds. He removed his signature black-framed glasses and turned to retrieve a couple of files from atop his credenza. She hadn’t seen him without his glasses. Must be farsighted. Swartzer’s military haircut and polyester pants still made him look nerdish, but then superintelligent people usually were.
Where did that leave her? Shoving aside the bazillion thoughts darting in and out of her mind like mosquitoes over a stagnant pond, she realigned her focus and attempted to give the impression of professional calmness.
“I have an assignment for you.” He tapped the file and eased back in the chair that was made for a much taller man, at least physically.
“What kind?”
“Murder. Three bodies were found Monday afternoon on a ranch in west Texas.” His calculated gaze met hers. “Sixty miles southwest of Abilene.”
He had her attention, and he knew it. “Runnels County?”
“Ballinger area.”
She nodded and forced aside the implications of what the location meant to her. “Why the FBI?”
“It’s linked to a man on our fugitive list.”
Suspicion flared, and she opened the file, complete with photos of the victims. She pressed her fingertips into her palms. “Who?” But she already knew the answer.
“Brandt Richardson.”
“Murder for hire.” She stated the fact while memories slammed against her mind in apocalyptic proportions. “Also obsessed with finding the so-called Spider Rock treasure.”
“The victims were hunting for this treasure and believed their clues led them to the High Butte Ranch, owned by Carr Sullivan. They sought permission to dig, and he refused. Ran them off. One of the victims wrote ‘Spider Rock’ in the dirt before he died.”
“Runnels County doesn’t fall within the triangle of where the gold was supposedly hidden.”
“You know more about it than I do.”
“What were the victims’ names?”
“Forrest Miller, a history professor at The University of Texas. Daniel Kegley, a geologist from Austin, and Walt Higgins, retired oil ma
n from Waco.”
She didn’t recognize any of them. “Family?”
“Miller has a wife and three teenage girls. Kegley was engaged, and Higgins was divorced. The families have all been interviewed. Professor Miller’s wife said a fourth man was in the mix, but that’s all she knew. Nothing else at this point.” Swartzer slipped on his glasses and steepled his fingers. “You know why I want you on the assignment. Or would you rather I brief Frank Benson?”
Not on her life. Both of them were up for the same promotion. “I’ll take it.”
Table of Contents
Praise for the Call of Duty series
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
Chapter 44
Chapter 45
Chapter 46
Chapter 47
Chapter 48
Chapter 49
Chapter 50
Chapter 51
Chapter 52
Chapter 53
Chapter 54
Chapter 55
Chapter 56
A Note from the Author
About the Author
Discussion Questions
