by Liz Johnson
Grabbing his arm, she shook it, trying to get him to understand. “I have to go find Clay.”
“We’ll just waste time if we just go driving around. We have to know where we’re going.”
“Don’t you get it?” Her voice moved up another octave, and trembled on the last word. “I know you don’t understand, but I owe this to Kit. I have to find him. I have to save him.”
Jeremy turned his head and rubbed the hair on the back of his head. “You’re not the only one trying to atone for mistakes, Heather.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” she demanded.
His face turned hard, his features like chiseled stone and eyes like granite. “Nothing.”
He turned away, but Heather grabbed his elbow and spun him back around. “What do you mean, I’m not the only one atoning for mistakes?”
“Just what I said.” He pushed his fingers through his hair and looked away from her. “Listen, I don’t want to talk about this right now.”
The boiling blood in her veins was beyond her control, and she didn’t know how to respond. Anger over the situation with Clay and confusion at Jeremy’s cryptic words, bubbled together in her chest, and she didn’t know how to deal with it.
Once upon a time she would have prayed for peace and direction, but lately her prayers had been as effective as a toy boat in a monsoon.
Putting one hand on her hip and pressing the other to her forehead, she turned around. “I can’t believe this! You lied about Clay, and then you admit to keeping secrets related to the case.”
“No.” In a voice like steel, he said, “I never lied to you about Clay. Everything that happened last night just pushed it out of my mind. I was so focused on your safety that I didn’t remember about Clay. I’m sorry about that.” He shoved his hands into his pockets, turning away from her. “And I’m not keeping any secrets about this case. I promise.”
She crossed her arms over her chest. “Then what are you trying to make up for?”
He groaned and took several steps in the opposite direction from her. Leaning his head back and glaring at the ceiling, he said, “I was engaged once, but she died in a plane crash that I could have prevented. And…I don’t know. When I got this case, I guess, I thought if I could help you find the person responsible for Kit’s death, I’d start to make up for not doing what I should have for Reena.”
Heather’s stomach churned with emotions she couldn’t name and didn’t know where to place. “I’m sorry, Jeremy,” she said as she turned, uncrossing her arms then crossing them again when she didn’t know what to do with them. “But right now the best thing we can do in Kit’s memory is find Clay.”
“I agree. But we don’t know where to go to find him.”
“Fine.” She hated the way her voice shook. “You figure out where he is. I’m going to go start looking.”
Jeremy’s eyebrows pinched together, his features strained with aggravation. “You can barely walk. You can’t possibly drive yourself.”
“Sure I can.” To make her point, she grabbed her car keys from the kitchen counter and strode across the living room, surprising even herself with her mobility. Flinging the front door open, she looked back over her shoulder. “I’ll be back when I’ve found Clay.”
She staggered down the steps, clinging to the railing and was halfway to the curb when Jeremy caught up with her. His hand on her elbow effectively stopped any forward motion.
“You’re not going anywhere alone,” he growled.
“Says who?” she seethed through clenched teeth.
Pointing her hand toward her Saturn SUV parked twenty feet away, she clicked the remote ignition button.
Suddenly the entire world exploded as the Saturn ignited in a blinding, deafening blast.
FOURTEEN
For the second time in as many days, Jeremy lay sprawled on the ground, fruitlessly trying to fill his lungs with air. His forearms felt like they were on fire, and smoke burned his nose.
Heather’s car had exploded.
Confirming that all of his limbs were still attached to his body, he rolled onto his side. When he tried to push himself off the grass, he discovered his arm couldn’t hold any weight. And he couldn’t see Heather anywhere.
“Heather?” The only response came from Heather’s neighbors as they stepped onto their front porches to see what had caused such a commotion. Their voices rose to a frantic din as they spotted the vehicle consumed in flames, but Jeremy couldn’t make out Heather’s voice among them. “Heather!” he croaked, his throat already sore from the blast of smoke.
When she still didn’t respond, the beating of his heart turned painful. Rolling again to his other side, he tried for a second time to push himself up, but barely made it to his knees. At least from that position, he could see Heather’s twisted form.
“Dear God, no,” he croaked, as he crawled fifteen feet to her side. He could muster no other prayer. As he closed the gap between them, he saw the way her singed shirt smoked over her soot-blackened arm.
Breathing heavily by the time he arrived at her side, he sank to the ground by her head, and put his hands on either side of her face.
“Heather, can you hear me?” His thumbs massaged her cheeks, as he leaned closer. With two fingers he checked the pulse on her neck, which beat a steady cadence. Her chest rose and fell in shallow breaths, and he shook her shoulders gently. “Come on, Sloan. I can’t solve this case without you. I need you.”
And he did need her. More than he wanted to admit.
She’d become a staple in his life, a fixture that made him smile more than he had in over five years. Smart and sassy, she forced him to think through clues and didn’t let him get by with anything less than his all.
And when he was around her, he didn’t want to give anything less than that.
He wanted to safeguard her. He just wasn’t able to.
As if Reena’s memory wasn’t enough, he’d proven to Heather three times already that he couldn’t protect her. At the hospital, he’d let the man who tried to give her an overdose slip through his fingers. At her home the other night, he’d missed the man hiding in the dark. And now he’d let her get injured by a car bomb.
She deserved better than whatever he could give her. He wasn’t enough to keep her safe.
Would he ever be enough?
Her lips were the only part of her that moved when Heather whispered, “You smell like smoke.”
Jeremy’s chortle didn’t surprise either of them. “I think that’s you, actually.”
“Figures,” she mumbled.
“Where you do hurt?”
She sighed. “Everywhere.” Finally she flopped her right hand onto her stomach and winced when it landed. “I think there’s something wrong with my arm, but if it’s okay, I’m not going to look at it right now.”
She couldn’t see his bittersweet smile, as he looked around at the bystanders. There were nearly a dozen of them now, most on their cell phones, making their way slowly toward the couple on the ground.
He held up his hand to ward them off. Heather would hate looking this weak in front of all her neighbors. “Did someone call an ambulance?” Three women raised their phones in response, and he nodded his thanks.
As he stretched out on his back next to Heather, she curled into his side, tucking her head into his shoulder. He brushed away a strand of her hair that had escaped from her braid and rubbed at a gray spot on her cheek with this thumb.
Beneath the ash and smoke she still smelled like her coconut shampoo, and he wanted to wrap her in his arms and take her away from this entire nightmare.
Heavenly Father, let me figure out a way to keep her safe. I’ve not done a very good job of it, but I can’t deny that I really care about her. Please, don’t let me lose her like I did Reena.
“I’m sorry,” she mumbled.
“Don’t be.” He ran his hand down the arm that wasn’t injured. He just couldn’t stop touching her.
With her eyes s
till closed, she pressed a soft kiss into the shoulder of his T-shirt. “I don’t know why I was so angry, but I…” She coughed from somewhere deep in her lungs. “I’m just sorry.”
Sirens sounded somewhere along the freeway. It would only be minutes until they arrived, so Jeremy held Heather a little closer. She lifted her face from his neck, and he glanced around at the people holding their phones and the group that had made their way to the burning SUV. With his arm around her, they had just enough privacy.
Ducking his head, he pressed his lips to hers.
Unlike the fireworks of their first kiss, this one was soft and gentle, filled with soothing comfort and exactly what they both needed. She leaned in closer to him, and he savored the moment. Just then he could offer her what she needed, a respite from the nightmare of being so ardently pursued.
Just before the police arrived, he pulled back to see the small smile painted on her face.
Gripping the stomach of his T-shirt, she whispered, “You won’t go anywhere, will you?”
“I’m with you,” he replied just before the police officers descended, bombarding them with questions.
“What happened? Are you all right? How badly are you injured?” asked a baby-faced man in the light blue uniform shirt of the Portland P.D.
Instead of responding to the rapid-fire questions, Jeremy decided to make introductions. Pointing his thumb toward himself, he said, “Jeremy Latham. Sheriff’s department.” Then he twisted his thumb toward Heather. “Special Agent Heather Sloan with the FBI. Her car was rigged with an explosive.”
The officer nodded earnestly. “The fire department is on its way. Paramedics are right behind me. Are you bleeding?”
Jeremy shook his head. “I don’t think so. Heather?”
“My arms burn. But I think it’s because they’re…burned.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
The poor kid had to have been a rookie as he stood all the way up, hands resting on his belt, looking around. His partner seemed to be herding neighbors away from the fire and directing the ambulance into a spot that wouldn’t block the fire truck’s entrance.
When the uniformed paramedics arrived, they practically pushed the young officer out of the way, assessing Jeremy and Heather.
The middle-aged blond woman looked at Heather’s arms. “We’re going to need another ambulance down here.”
“I’m going with her,” Jeremy said.
“Sir, you really should have your own transport.”
“No, thanks. I’ll ride with her.” This time his tone brooked no argument, so the medics prepped Heather, rolling her onto the stretcher and carrying her away.
Jeremy moved to follow them, but his leg buckled when he tried to stand. Sitting on the grass, he waited for the burly male medic to come back to help him.
Glaring at the white bandages covering both of her forearms, Heather cringed at the memory of the red blisters that had been treated and covered to keep infection from growing there.
“Take these,” said the nurse, handing her a plastic cup holding two white pills that looked like aspirin. Heather obeyed, following them with a swig of water. As she set the water down on the table beside the bed in the E.R., she flexed her hands, once again thankful that the car bomb hadn’t burned her hands.
She’d had it with the slime that was hunting her.
The nurse stared at the flashing monitor next to the bed then wrote something down. “You’re really very lucky,” she said, flipping her hair over her shoulder. “You only received second degree burns, and even those aren’t as severe as some I’ve seen.”
“Sure.” Heather couldn’t hold back the sarcasm as she tugged on the shoulder of her flimsy hospital gown. “Someone blew up my car and is trying to kill me, and I’m the lucky one.”
The nurse’s hazel eyes turned huge in her mousy face, and she stuttered, “I—I’m s-sorry. I didn’t know.” She backed out of the curtain partition and disappeared.
Heather hung her chin to her chest, shoulders hunched, as she cradled her arms against her stomach.
Lord, I am sorry for snapping at her. But why is all of this happening to me now, right when I feel so far removed from You? It’s just that ever since the crash… I don’t know. I have to find Kit’s killer. I have to. I think that’s what You want from me. And I sure know that I won’t have any peace until I find him and make sure that justice is served. You gave me this desire for law enforcement, after all. That’s how I ended up in the FBI. You must want me to use it now. Right?
“Hey, you.” Jeremy’s unannounced entrance made her jump, but she quickly recovered, offering him a pained grin at his odd getup. He wore the traditional white hospital gown over his broad shoulders, but his legs were still covered in the blackened jeans he’d been wearing that morning. “How’re you feeling?”
She shrugged. “All right. You?”
He covered his mouth with his hand, as a hoarse cough shook his shoulders. “I’m supposed to be breathing pure O2. Apparently your lungs aren’t made for breathing smoke.”
She shot him the smile she knew he was hoping for. “Any burns?”
“Singed off my arm hair, and a little first degree on my arm, here.” He pointed to the gauze-covered spot just below his elbow. How about you?”
She held up both arms. “Second degree burns, but the nurse says they’re pretty minor. Aren’t I lucky?”
He sat down on the bed next to her, putting his arm around her back, so her only option seemed to be resting her head on his shoulder. “Do they hurt?”
“Yes.” She sighed.
“Well, that’s good. The doctor told me that really serious burns will injure the nerves so badly that you can’t feel anything for a while.”
“Well, rest assured. I’m in significant pain, and all they gave me was some over-the-counter painkiller. I kind of miss the morphine drip at Immanuel Lutheran after my knee surgery. I didn’t feel much for days.”
She could feel his cheeks moving into a smile as he leaned into her hair. “How’s your knee?”
“Fine. The doctor X-rayed it, and I didn’t tear anything in it. She said I may be a little sore for a couple days, but I should just keep doing my physical therapy.”
He nodded and squeezed her a little closer. “Heather?”
“Hmm?”
He paused for a long time, and what she could see of his jeans-clad leg seemed to be flexed with tension. “We need to call Nate.”
“No.”
“We’re out of options. We can’t find Mick Gordon—if that’s even his real name. You’re injured. Again.”
“I’m just fine.” She twisted to glare directly into his eyes. How dare he imply that she wasn’t ready to continue this investigation? “I am completely capable of solving this case.”
“Listen to me, Heather. We have nothing more to look into. Everything is a dead end. I just checked with the hospital, and Clay never came back last night. Geoff’s lawyer got him out this morning, and he’s definitely not talking. We can’t figure out Kit’s notes. We need to broaden our search base.”
With considerable pain in her arms, Heather pushed herself off the bed and maneuvered to the opposite side of the mattress so that Jeremy had to stand as well.
“I’m not having this conversation with you here,” she said, waving the flimsy sheet partition at him. “But this discussion is not over.”
His forehead wrinkled as his eyes narrowed to slits. “Fine.” He spun and strode toward his own room.
The ride back to Heather’s house after they’d both been discharged was marked by a pregnant silence. The cabdriver tried to make casual conversation, but the curt responses from the steaming couple in the back was enough to discourage further attempts.
As Jeremy paid the cabbie, Heather ambled toward her front door. A glance over her shoulder confirmed that her designated parking spot was now empty. The police had picked up her car, probably to see if there was evidence that would lead to the bomber.
&nbs
p; But who would it lead to?
Who could have planted it when Jeremy’s friend had been parked outside her house the entire afternoon and evening before?
“Jeremy?” she called absently over her shoulder as she stared into a rare cloudless sky.
“I’m not in the mood to argue about this right now.” He sighed, walking several paces behind her. “Can we talk about something else?”
“I’m not thinking about that.” She dismissed their heated discussion earlier with a wave of her hand.
“What’s on your mind?” he asked, jogging to catch up with her.
“Why would someone put a bomb in my car? I can’t drive.” She gestured to her knee brace.
He looked to the empty parking spot, then back at her, shaking his head. “I don’t know.”
She squinted up at him, letting the spring breeze blow her hair off her neck. “Either they put the bomb in my car before the crash, or they didn’t know I can’t drive.”
An unexpected chill made her shoulders shake, and the trembling only got worse at his reply.
“Or they’ve decided they don’t want you dead quite yet.”
FIFTEEN
“I’m going to call Tony and see if he has any information on Clay’s disappearance,” Jeremy said as he picked up his phone and stalked through the living room. “I’m sure the hospital reported him as a missing person. Maybe they have a lead.”
For the first time since they’d arrived back at her house, Heather realized that Jeremy’s gait had a noticeable limp.
“What’s wrong with your leg?” she called as he reached the front door. He shrugged and pointed to his cell phone as he stepped outside.
She glared at his back as he disappeared, then sank farther into the couch, resting her elbows on her thighs and her chin in her hands. This investigation was not working out the way it was supposed to. At all.
Jeremy clearly hadn’t told her about his leg injury, and she might have exaggerated her own perfect health to him at the hospital. At the rate they were collecting injuries, if the case dragged on even another day, they might not even be able to stand at that point.
