Living in Shadow

by Georgia Florey-Evans

  Haley raised her hand. “I’ve met Wyatt Millan, thank you, and he is not my type.”

  “Wyatt Millan?” Missy's eyes were perfect circles. “Don’t tell me Wayne and Lori tried to set you up with that Romeo wannabe.”

  “Lori said he doesn’t tell stories at work like he did this evening.” Haley felt the need to defend her friends.

  A very unladylike snort erupted from Missy. “That’s because Lori is his boss. Believe me, those of us at the teller windows with him have heard it all. The man has a split personality, one minute all kissy face and friendly, and the next patting himself on the back for being such a wonderful person. And I’m pretty sure he’d hang a mirror in his space if he could figure out how.”

  “Well, at least we agree I shouldn’t ask him to Mitch and Tessa’s wedding.” Haley turned the page and began looking at another dress.

  “I think you should ask Beau Harding,” Melissa announced matter-of-factly. “He’s single and very handsome. He must be lonely, too. It would be nice to invite him to join in something like a wedding.”

  “Beau Harding?” Dress forgotten, Haley examined her friend’s face. “You’re kidding, right? Because I don’t even know him. Just this evening, I practically knocked him silly in the drugstore. He looked at me like I was an amoeba. Even if I did ask him, he’d say no.”

  Missy looked up from the magazine with a piercing expression. “Are you telling me you've decided to avoid him because of one event? He might have been in a hurry or had a hundred different things on his mind."

  Expecting Missy's usual follow-up, Haley wasn't surprised by her next words.

  "You’re too pretty for him not to notice you unless something had him distracted. Those dimples of yours alone stop men in their tracks.”

  Haley’s face grew warm, and she knew she was blushing. “Not every man thinks dimples are attractive.” She relied on her usual rebuttal. “And besides, I never see him. How can I ask him if I don’t see him?”

  “We’ll go out to the farm after church on Sunday, and you can ask him.” Before Haley could protest, Missy held up a picture. “Do you like this one?”

  Haley looked at the dress. “It’s pretty. What does the back of it look like?”

  It wasn’t until after Missy had gone home, and Haley was lying in bed that she remembered her friend’s ridiculous suggestion to invite Beau Harding to the wedding. His first response would be to ask her who she was. No, she didn’t think she’d ask him. She would just go by herself as she’d planned. If Missy wanted to invite him, she could ask her brother for a special invitation for him.

  Haley turned over and plumped her pillow. When she closed her eyes, she found herself looking into silver eyes that seemed bottomless. Missy was right about one thing. The man was very handsome.

  But, even if she knew who he was, he had no idea Haley Johnson was alive.

  Chapter 5

  Hardy walked silently into the hospital room. His eyes immediately concentrated on his father and all the tubes and wires hooked to him, with machines beeping and humming. The man lying in the bed was a mere shadow of the strong, sturdy dad Hardy had always looked up to and tried to emulate. Until Kari, he planned for a relationship like that of his parents. He prayed for someone like his mom, who understood the reality of being a police officer’s wife and not only accepted it, but supported it.

  “Beau?” The most familiar voice in the world to him drew his attention to the woman sitting on a chair by the window. “Is that really you? I’m not dreaming?”

  He redirected his steps and walked over to her. “I’m here, Mom.” Before he was barely finished speaking, his mother was standing, held tightly in his arms as she softly sobbed.

  “We almost lost him.” She finally managed to speak. “The doctors didn’t think they were going to be able to save him.” Sharon Davis pulled back and looked into her son’s eyes. “Your father almost died. It was only through God’s grace he survived.”

  Hardy carefully supported her as she sat back down before he settled himself in the chair next to hers. She held on to his hand tightly, as if she were afraid he’d bolt. Once they were sitting side by side, he looked at his dad.

  “What happened?”

  Her breathing was ragged as she spoke. “He was watching a football game at a friend’s house. He was all right when he left home, Beau, so I don’t know how this could happen.” Her fingers tightened on his. “Phil told me he had come back to the room after visiting the bathroom. H.B. began to say something to Phil, and then he just collapsed. Thank God John was there.” Hardy knew John Tarp was a retired physician.

  “I shouldn’t have let him go.” Her tear stained eyes looked into his. “I should have seen that something was wrong with him.”

  “You couldn’t have, Mom.” Hardy wasn’t about to sit there and listen to his mom blame herself. “If none of his friends thought anything was wrong with him, why should you?”

  Sharon looked twenty years older than her age of sixty-four. “I’m his wife. Even though H.B. spends a lot of time with his friends, I’m still his wife. I should have known.”

  Hardy slid his hands out of hers and framed her face. “Stop it, Mom. You have to stop blaming yourself and just focus on Dad getting better.”

  His mother slowly smiled through her tears. “Thank you. I needed to hear you say that.”

  Hardy lowered his hands and impulsively kissed her cheek. “I’m sorry I wasn’t here for you, Mom. I’m sorry I still can’t stay. It’s just not—”

  “I understand why Harding Davis had to die. Your dad understands.” Sharon had regained her composure and spoke firmly. “Elliott did a good thing to get you here, and I won’t soon forget it.”

  “Neither will I.” He looked over at his dad. Not that it mattered, but he was curious anyway. “Besides Dr. Tarp, who did you say was with Dad?”

  “Phil Welsh and Rob Weston. You remember Phil. I know. He retired from the force just before H.B. did. He and your dad are still fishing buddies.” The corners of her mouth curled slightly. “Rob was on the force with your dad when you were a baby. He moved away before Callie was born, so you probably won’t remember him.”

  Hardy tried to picture it—four retirees, probably close to his dad’s age of sixty-seven, watching a football game—and his dad just dropped. He didn’t take his eyes off H.B. as he spoke. “Does he sleep most of the time?”

  Sharon reached over and patted his cheek. “Yes, but he can still hear you. It will mean everything to him to know you came. Just talk to him. Let him know you’re here.”

  He rose and and found that his legs were shaking as he walked the few yards to Harding Beauregard Davis Senior’s bed. The older man’s hand felt like a piece of cold leather when Hardy took it in his.

  “I’m here, Dad. I wish I could stay with you and Mom.” Hardy felt his dad’s hand twitch. “I know you understand why I can’t. But you need to get better so you and Mom can be there for each other. She needs you.”

  “B…Beau…” Startled, Hardy looked at his dad’s face. H.B. had his left eye open. Hardy noticed for the first time the entire right side of the older man’s face was drooping and motionless. H.B.’s speech was so slurred it was difficult to comprehend him. Nevertheless, Hardy knew his dad had said his name.

  “I’m here, Dad. I came to see you.” He was suddenly transported back to the day when a seven-year-old Beau stood in front of his dad at the police station, saying those exact same words. Instead of getting on the bus to return home from school, Hardy had decided he’d just walk the twelve blocks to visit his dad at work. He hadn’t understood why, since everybody was so delighted to see him, why H.B. severely scolded him. A little boy had wanted his dad.

  “Beau.” While still greatly slurred, his name was a little easier to understand this time. H.B.’s hand turned under his son’s, and his fingers grasped Hardy’s hand. “He feel turtle.” He drew a ragged breath. “Jesus water.”

  Hardy looked at his mom, comple
tely at a loss for what to say. Something about feeling a turtle and Jesus? His parents were devout Christians, but his dad’s words simply didn’t make sense.

  “Jesus water.” The strain of moving the muscles needed in order to speak showed on every surface of his face. “He feel turtle.”

  “I’m sorry, Dad.” Hardy looked helplessly from his dad to his mom, who smiled sadly.

  “It’s the lack of oxygen, Beau. He isn’t able to say what he means.”

  He looked back, and his eyes searched his dad’s open one. The seemingly pointless words seemed too important to his dad for them to not have some kind of meaning. Hardy wasn’t a doctor, but he didn’t think his father would be repeating the same thing if he wasn’t aware of what he was saying.

  H.B. sighed and closed his eye. Hardy had just about decided he’d fallen back asleep when his dad’s hand tightened once more, and he spoke again. “He feel turtle. Be careful.”

  “Dad?” Hardy had understood the last two words. “Don’t worry about me. I’m being careful. Nobody in Shadow knows who I am. I just wish you 'd take care of yourself and get better. Please.”

  There was no response this time. Hardy felt his dad’s hand go limp and saw his breathing even out.

  “He’s fallen back asleep.” His mom spoke quietly from beside him. She put her hand on his arm. ”He was just telling you, he’s worried about you. The words that came out weren’t the ones that left his brain. Dr. Gillespie explained that to me.”

  Hardy gently placed his dad’s hand on the bed and pulled his own away.

  “Come sit over here and tell me what it’s like to work on a farm again after all these years.” His mom smiled gently. “I know it’s been a big change for you.”

  He shrugged as he returned to his chair. ”Luke had three good kids working for him all summer. What I didn’t remember from Pop’s, they reminded me of. I was back on top of things within a few weeks.”

  “We’ve all been praying for you.” Sharon reached up and placed her hand on the side of his face.” I know what happened shook your faith. But just remember, Beau. God never moves away from you. He’s right where he’s always been, waiting for you to come back to him.”

  “Mom, I wish I could . . . ” He didn’t want to have this conversation with his dad lying so deathly ill less than ten feet away. ”I’ll remember.” That was the only thing he could give her.

  She patted his cheek before lowering her hand. ”Callie will be glad to know your dad woke up while you were here.”

  Hardy was relieved his mom had switched the subject. ”Has he been able to speak to her?”

  “A couple of times.” Sharon’s eyes were on her husband. ”He was able to ask about the kids. At least that’s what we think he asked.”

  “How are they?” Hardy felt the familiar twinge of guilt as he thought of the niece and nephew who probably wouldn’t even recognize him.

  A genuine smile lit his mom’s eyes. ”Blake won the first grade spelling bee—out of all four classes. He’s quite a reader, like his mom. And Tabby’s preschool teacher told Callie that Tabby was going to be bored in kindergarten next year since she already knows most of what they’ll be taught.”

  Hardy thought back to the last time he’d seen the kids. ”Does Blake still look so much like his mom?”

  Sharon nodded. ”It’s ironic, isn’t it? That Blake would have his mom’s brown hair and coloring while Tabby ended up with Elliott’s blonde hair. At least they both have Callie’s brown eyes.”

  “I should have gone and seen them more when I had the chance.” Hardy spoke the words before he’d thought them out.

  “You would have been exposed.” Sharon seemed genuinely perplexed. ”If those men who thought you were Joe Ryman had ever found out about your family, the kids would have been put in danger. Beau, you unselfishly kept all of us safe.”

  For the first time, Hardy saw the last five years of his life through the eyes of a son and brother. ”I shouldn’t have done it, Mom.” His eyes met hers. ”I should have never gone undercover. Living a lie for that long made me miss too much of my own life.”

  “You did a good thing,” his mom assured him. ”If it weren’t for you, Teddy Dohner would still be running a network of drugs that were killing people. Think of all of the lives you saved.”

  Hardy could only think of the one he hadn’t. ”I’d better go, Mom. I don’t want to take any chances of being spotted.”

  Sharon looked like she was going to press her point about his achievements, but then she smiled. ”Thank you for coming. I’ll make sure to let you know if your dad’s condition changes.”

  “I love you, Mom.” Hardy stood up. ”Don’t forget the emergency signal.”

  “Call and let it ring twice before I hang up. Then call right back, and you’ll answer,” she recited.

  Hardy nodded. "I’ll see you when I can.”

  “I love you, Beau.” His mom started to cry. ”Stay safe.”

  “I will.”

  The two FSA agents looked uncomfortable on their chairs when Hardy walked into the hall.

  “Ready, Mr. Davis?” The one named Warburton asked.

  “As ready as I’ll ever be.”

  After fifteen minutes of cloak and dagger moves worthy of a James Bond film, Hardy found himself once more in an FSA car.

  The agent driving him to Shadow told him his name was Tyler Rawlins, but then remained silent, leaving Hardy to his thoughts.

  Five years. For five years, he spent the majority of his time being Joe Ryman. ”Joe” had started at the bottom of the Dohner organization, and made it to within one step away from working directly for Ted Dohner himself.

  Then, his son, Teddy, had discovered a way to ensure even more money on the lucrative drug trade he ran. He laced his drugs with additional ingredients, simply to stretch the product further. And if those ingredients had deadly side effects, Teddy didn’t care. He had enough customers; what did the death of a few dozen people mean to him?

  By the time Hardy discovered what the young Dohner was doing, Teddy had his pushers marketing the contaminated drugs in schools. Children died before Hardy could do something about it.

  Of course, he’d let his handler know as soon as he had the chance. Then Hardy had waited for what seemed like forever to see how Teddy would be stopped. Someone above Hardy’s pay grade made the wise decision to take the son down before he killed any more people. Joe Ryman had even been arrested in the bust, so Hardy’s cover was still viable.

  Then the trial began. Ted Dohner’s money had bought a very fine lawyer with very low morals, and it looked like Teddy was going to get off. The prosecution was built on circumstantial evidence. The only hope had been eyewitness testimony, which came from known drug addicts and pushers—not exactly the most credible.

  So, the decision had been made to bring Hardy in to testify. He’d blown his cover and became a wanted man the moment he entered the courtroom. They kept him in protective custody and safe houses during the trial, and his testimony had put Teddy Dohner away for the rest of his natural life.

  Then, after the trial, Hardy reluctantly assumed a new identity and settled in a small city just over the state line in Wisconsin. His new name was Ron Knox, and he lived in a small house on the outskirts of town. He was just settling into the routine of his new life as a grocery store clerk when disaster struck.

  He was nearly home when he realized he was out of coffee. Instead of driving clear back across town to the store he’d just left, Hardy decided to stop at the convenience store on his way. The coffee can hit the counter just as a gunshot rang out.

  His police training immediately kicked in, and he’d gone for cover behind the counter, where the store employee crouched, crying. Hardy looked at the young woman and spoke softly. ”Just stay down. It’ll be okay.”

  “Stand up or I’m going to start shooting.” The calm matter-of-fact voice sounded about twenty feet away. Instead of taking a chance on the store clerk being shot, Hardy
chose to stand up. Just as he moved, the young lady pushed something into his hand. He glanced down to see a pistol.

  “What do you want?” he calmly asked the man, who looked like someone he’d pass on the sidewalk without a second glance. With his short-cut hair and standard jeans and T-shirt garb, there was nothing about him to indicate that he was a thief. Hardy figured he’d want him to empty the cash register for him, though.

  “Take care of the girl!” A second voice came from the back of the store, followed by the dull thud of a heavy door slamming shut.

  “You heard him.” The man waved his pistol. ”Stand up, doll-face, or I’ll just have to come over there and get you.”

  Hardy put his free hand on the woman’s head to stop her from rising. ”Listen, I’ll give you whatever you want. Here. We’ll empty the register.” He made a movement toward the machine.

  “Freeze.” The crook’s gun stabilized, pointing directly at Hardy.

  Hardy stood still. ”What do you want?” he repeated.

  The other man sneered. ”I want that girl to stand up right now, or you’ll both look like Swiss cheese.”

  “Stay down,” Hardy urgently instructed the woman. ”Just stay down.”

  The young lady moved her head out from under Hardy’s hand and slowly stood, her legs shaking so badly her entire body was quivering. ”I-I can’t open the safe. It’s-It’s on a timer.” A tear ran down her cheek.

  “Who told you I want money?” The crook kept his gun trained steadily on Hardy. ”Maybe I just came in to see you, Sweet Cheeks.”

  Hardy gripped the pistol tighter. ”Listen. You can have all the money in the register. Just take it and go.”

  “But then I won’t have done my job.”

  Job? “What are you talking about?” Hardy had an idea of what the man planned, but he hoped he was mistaken.

  “I have to do what I’ve been paid for.” The man could have been discussing the weather, he was so calm and cool.

  “What are you going to do to me?” The woman’s voice shook as she asked, tears now streaming down her face.