Window of Death (Window of Time Trilogy Book 2)

by DJ Erfert

  “Not all of it. I’m only up to when we found the second group of bodies.” Lucy leaned back and stretched her neck to the side until it crackled. “I need a break.”

  “You need a good night’s sleep.”

  “I know, but I want to get this report done before my ride gets here.”

  “Your ride?” Mark put his dinner down and leaned forward. “You’re going home tonight?”

  “Uh-huh. I’ve been gone for over a week.”

  “Without you, this day would have ended completely different. I’m going to miss you.”

  “Just what are you going to say in your report—about me, and about how we found the bandits?”

  Mark grinned. “I’m going to use—on a hunch—where you’d have otherwise had a glimpse into the future. In our business, hunches are taken very seriously.” He gently swept a few strands of her wet hair over her shoulder. “Tell me, why did you use a coyote to get back into the US instead of crossing at a port of entry? Your ID wouldn’t have been questioned.”

  “I needed to keep my cover safe in case I wanted to use it again. If I go back, then I can pick up my old job at the cantina like anybody else who had been caught and released.”

  “Caught and released,” Mark repeated. “Sounds like we went fishing.”

  “In a way. Did you call the FBI?”

  Mark nodded. “Yeah. There’s an agent Monroe with one of the suspects right now.”

  “So the bandit who hurt Mariposa is being interrogated?” Lucy turned to her computer again. “Good. Monroe? What’s his first name?”

  “Her name,” Mark said with a chuckle. “Bridget.”

  “Oh, cripes, just shoot me. Don’t they know by now that they need to have a man do this?”

  Mark laughed out loud. “I tried to tell them who we had in lock-up, but they sent a woman anyway.”

  “She isn’t going to get him to cooperate.”

  “No,” Mark agreed.

  “He’s going to clam up tighter than a lover’s embrace.”

  Snorting a laugh, Mark said, “That’s an interesting analogy.”

  “But accurate.”

  “Probably right, although he may make a pass at her.”

  “That would serve her right …” Lucy’s fingers froze over the keyboard. “She’s not in there alone, is she?”

  “The guy’s handcuffed. He can’t hurt her.”

  Lucy looked at the agent sitting next to her. “You know, they’re told in the academy that they are the top one percent of the nation’s best. They graduate cockier than a person has a right to be. That attitude can make you—careless.”

  “Are you worried about her?” Standing up, he asked, “Did you see—a, a glimpse just now?”

  “No, no,” Lucy said as she saved her email. “But I want to go watch the interview—just in case.” After turning off the computer, she got up and crossed the room before remembering she didn’t know her way around the building. “Uh, where am I going?”

  “I wished I had another uniform in my locker,” Mark muttered. “I still feel naked wearing these thin scrubs.” He grabbed his sterilized gun from the desk and headed out the door with Lucy two steps behind him. “Harrison, I need you to come with me,” he said, commandeering the first agent he came to.

  “Nice uniform, Whittier,” Harrison said, falling in beside Lucy. He offered his hand to her. “I’m Clark. Nice to see you again.”

  “Again?” Lucy asked, shaking his hand.

  “Yeah,” Harrison said. “I was outside when you guys went through the showers.”

  Lucy pulled her hand away, tempted to make a fist and throw it at him. “Great,” she said under her breath. “Just great.”

  Harrison used his key card to open two sets of doors before winking at Lucy and leaving them alone in a dark room.

  “I think my humiliation is complete.”

  “You’ll get over it.”

  Looking into a large window, Lucy could see the man in handcuffs sitting behind a small table. He looked as clean as Lucy, but his demeanor looked odd. His eyes were trained on the woman’s face, yet his face lacked any acknowledgment of his being the one in trouble. Lucy felt a chill race up her spine. The woman FBI agent sitting on the opposite side was dressed appropriately in a pencil skirt and matching jacket. A recording device lay in between them on the table. Otherwise the room was empty.

  “Can we hear what they’re saying?”

  “Sure.” Mark turned a dial next to the window. With every soft click the sound of the woman’s voice floated louder over the air. Lucy could hear the confidence in her questions, but the man just stared straight at the woman.

  Lucy leaned against the edge of the window. “Oh, no—she’s going to do it …”

  “She’s going to do what?” Mark asked quietly.

  The woman stood up. “She decided to take the cuffs off him. She can’t do that. He’s going to shoot her.” In a fast motion, Lucy charged into the interrogation room just as the woman leaned over the table and reached for the man’s raised hands. Lucy yanked the handcuff keys from her fingers before she could unlock them.

  “What the hell do you think you’re doing?” Agent Monroe asked. She didn’t get another word out before the man let out a fierce yell and pushed back his chair. He charged Lucy with his hands outstretched. One side-kick to his stomach stopped his advance. Lucy jumped, swinging her other foot up under his chin. He landed unconscious on his back.

  “That’s just perfect,” Monroe said. “Now I won’t get any information from this informant.”

  “He wasn’t an informant. He’s a murderer!” Lucy said, raising her voice. “He killed five men.”

  “He can give us the man who paid them to gather the explosive—”

  “He’s not the only source.” Lucy slapped the left side of the woman’s jacket open and exposed the butt of her weapon. In less time than it would have taken to scream, Lucy’s fingers undid the two snaps holding the holster closed and swiped the gun. “Don’t ever interrogate a suspect carrying your weapon again. Where’s your head?” She dropped the gun on the table with a clunk.

  With rounded eyes, Monroe asked, “How did you know—”

  “Are you stupid?” Lucy pointed at the floor. “That man has absolutely nothing to lose. He would sooner kill you as look at you if he thought he could get out of here.”

  “Who are you?”

  Lucy reached for her ID in her pants pocket. She appreciated the surprised expression on the FBI agent’s face.

  “You’re CIA?”

  “Yes, I am.” Lucy pointed at the guy on the floor again. “And you can go through channels to get my report on this case.”

  The icy feeling churning in Lucy’s chest pushed out to her arms and legs in small insistent waves, building with every passing second. She had only moments before talking would be impossible. She headed for the other room but didn’t make it far out into the hallway before she fainted.

  Sixty-seven seconds later, she woke up staring into a pair of amused blue eyes. She was lying on the floor in Mark’s arms. “You just saved her life, didn’t you?”

  Lucy nodded. “Where is she?”

  “She went to find a medic.”

  “For her prisoner?”

  “And for you.” He smoothed her hair away from her face. “I told her you fainted due to dehydration and stress.” He smiled. “She didn’t question anything.”

  “I want to go home, Mark.”

  “Do you want me to drive you there?”

  “That’s okay. My ride should be here anytime now,” Lucy whispered. “But thanks for the offer.”

  ~*~

  The all-black jet helicopter with Steele Reinforcement embellished in gold on the tail boom touched down on the Border Patrol’s helipad as gracefully as a ballet dancer in toe shoes. One man climbed out from the cabin door and ran to Lucy, sweeping her into his arms. Mark and Jason stood near the back door watching.

  “That looks like her boyfriend,”
Jason said.

  “He’s a firefighter,” Mark said.

  “Huh! She would fall in love with a hero. I wonder if we’ll see her again.”

  Mark had Lucy’s bag with her gun and switchblade inside. “I hope so.” He lifted the bag and said, “Come on. Let’s go say goodbye to our secret agent.”

  CHAPTER FIVE

  The helicopter sped toward the sun disappearing behind the Pacific Ocean. Ten more minutes and Johnny would have to wake Lucy from her much needed sleep. She lay limp in his arms wrapped in his jacket, her feet propped up on the seat next to him. He hadn’t been able to talk to her for nine days. She didn’t tell him where she was going or for how long, and Johnny began worrying about twenty minutes after their communications blackout started—until she texted him to come and get her.

  Sawyers’ voice came over the cabin’s speaker.

  “We’re five minutes out, Mr. Cartwright.”

  Johnny pushed a button on the armrest and activated the radio to the cockpit. “Okay, thanks, Captain.” Gently stroking Lucy’s forehead, he said, “Honey, it’s time to wake up.”

  “Are we landing?” Lucy whispered.

  “Close to it. You should get buckled up.”

  Groaning, Lucy grabbed the strap next to Johnny’s shoulder and pulled herself upright. Clutching his coat tighter around her body, she asked, “What time is it?”

  “Almost seven.” He reached over and buckled her seatbelt. “Are you in a hurry to get home?”

  “Darn right I am.” Lucy took his hand and wove their fingers together. “My bed is calling to me.” She sniffed the ends of her hair, and said, “Right after I take a shower to get this decon water off me.”

  “What?” Johnny whispered, his heart beating faster in panic. “You went though decontamination?”

  “Cripes …” Lucy leaned her head against his shoulder. “I’m sorry. Don’t be upset. I’m really tired.”

  “I guess you must be.”

  The jet engine deepened in pitch, slowing their descent. Johnny had hoped to spend some time with Lucy, but he knew what she might have been exposed to if she had to go through decon. None of the chemicals were very nice.

  He took slower breaths and deliberately calmed his emotions, knowing his anxiety over whatever ordeal Lucy went through transferred straight to her. He didn’t understand how—couldn’t fathom her dealing with her own feelings plus his intruding in on hers, but they could—she’d told him about it after he brought her home from the hospital last month.

  But what she didn’t know was that he could feel her intense emotions, too. He’d finally figured that out while she was gone and would suddenly feel angry, or very sad, when he had no reason. Unlike Lucy, who could build an emotional barrier between them when needed, he didn’t know how to block those sudden feelings. He’d need to have a discussion sooner than later and have her help him learn.

  “Did you eat dinner?” Johnny asked.

  “I had a sandwich earlier.”

  The skids touched down. “I’ll make you something to eat while you’re in the shower.”

  Lucy murmured, “Sounds good.”

  Just as the engine cut out, the door slid open, and a man dressed in a black polo shirt with a small SR logo embroidered in gold near the shoulder reached his hand toward Lucy. His ingenuous smile grated Johnny’s nerves. Since she’d come home from the mission in the Bahamas, Steele Reinforcement had tried to recruit her away from the CIA and onto their payroll at least once a week. She’d turned them down each time, not wanting to work for the agency’s major subcontractor she thought was nothing more than hired guns.

  “Agent James—” the man said, giving Johnny a cursory glance, “Mr. Steele would like to set up a meeting with you at your earliest convenience.”

  Lucy grabbed the handhold over the sliding door and stepped down from the helicopter. “Mr. Sullivan, please send Mr. Steele my thanks for the ride home, but tell him I’m very happy with my job—again.”

  Sullivan said, “Yes, ma’am.” He nodded at Johnny before climbing inside the copter and pulling closed the door behind him.

  They had barely enough time to clear the landing pad before the pilot ignited the engine, sending the rotors spinning. It seemed they were in a hurry to take off.

  “Cripes,” Lucy said, holding the length of her hair in her hand. “I don’t think he liked my answer.”

  “Have you ever met Cooper Steele?” Johnny asked, turning Lucy toward where he parked his truck.

  “No, and I don’t plan on it.” Lucy pulled Johnny’s jacket tighter. “He might take that as an interest in his offer.”

  He stopped before opening her door and asked, “Are you sure you wouldn’t like working for a company where you don’t have to keep what you do a secret?”

  Lucy slid her hand into his. “I don’t keep secrets from you.”

  Stepping in closer, Johnny slid his arm around her waist. “But you wouldn’t tell me why you went through decontamination when you let it slip.”

  “Where were we talking?”

  Johnny looked up over at the black helicopter flying toward the ocean. “Inside Steele’s helicopter.”

  “That’s right. And I fully expected them to be listening in on our conversation.”

  Johnny shook his head. “I didn’t think about that.”

  Grinning, Lucy reached up and played with the short patches of beard on his chin. “It’s a good thing that I’m so devious and you’re so trusting.”

  “It works better that way,” Johnny whispered before he leaned in and kissed her mouth.

  ~*~

  The sight of Lucy’s bungalow never seemed so beautiful to her. The big grassy yard encircled by the wide horseshoe driveway beckoned to her heart. She was home. Johnny drove up the long concrete driveway and stopped in front of the garage doors. The brand new automatic opener still sat inside, on the floor, waiting to be installed. It didn’t matter at the moment anyway. Lucy didn’t have a car to park inside. Another detail yet to be resolved.

  Johnny handed her his set of keys. “I know you left yours inside on the kitchen counter.”

  “Thanks.” Lucy held the keys close to her fast beating heart and slid out his side of the truck. She had no luggage, with the exception of a bag holding her gun and knife. She barely had clothes. Johnny’s coat was the only thing keeping her warm besides the thought of a hot shower and cuddling in front of the fireplace with her boyfriend.

  The quarter moon gave little light to navigate her concrete steps, but the darkness felt right. Nobody could see her sneak into her home. With her key in her fist, Lucy reached out with her free hand and ran her fingers down the crack between the door and the door’s frame, starting near the top. When she reached down halfway Lucy caught her breath.

  “Johnny, did you water my plants like I asked you to?”

  “Sure did.” He touched her shoulder.

  “Did you go in the back door or the front?”

  “The back door, like you told me. Why? What happened?”

  Lucy moved back and took Johnny’s hand, leading him down the steps, and stopped after reaching the grass. With her voice low, she said, “You know that little piece of paper I rolled up into a straw and stuck in the door jam?”

  Johnny looked over at the porch. “Yeah, your low-tech alarm. It’s not there?”

  “No, it’s gone.”

  “Could it have fallen out if the wind hit it?”

  “No,” she whispered.

  “What do you think happened then?”

  With a deep sigh, Lucy said, “Somebody went into my home.”

  “You were burglarized? Should we call the police?”

  Lucy felt a panic flow through her chest, but it wasn’t her fright—it was Johnny’s. She should’ve expected his sudden emotional transfer. Fright or stress could break past the barriers she carefully built to protect her senses. “Calm down. Let me call Jim and talk to him first. Can I borrow your phone?”

  Johnny took
in a slow, deep breath, pulled his phone from his pants pocket, and handed it to her. She opened his phonebook and found Assistant Director James Brockway’s number and pressed ‘call.’

  As it rang, she said, “I don’t want to get the local police involved until I know it wasn’t our people first, or something else— Hello, Jim … I just got home. Yes, he tried again,” Lucy said with her gaze on Johnny. “I told him no, again. I’ll be in first thing tomorrow morning. Jim, did you have anybody come over to my house while I was gone, for any reason? … Inside.” She closed her eyes. “Yeah, I’m pretty sure.” She shook her head and looked up at the stars. “No, that’s okay. I’ll do the search … I have one in my drawer, and Johnny’s still with me … I’ll let you know if I find anything. Give Junie my love.” Lucy saw the smartphone go dark, and she handed it back to Johnny, feeling calmer.

  “Well?”

  “It wasn’t the agency.” Lucy opened the cloth bag she had wrapped around her wrist and took out her gun before putting her knife in her scrub’s pocket. “I’m going in. I want you to stay outside so I don’t accidentally shoot you by mistake.”

  “You’re joking, right?”

  Lucy looked up into his serious face and said, “I’m not that funny.” She passed him the little bag and said, “Hang on to this for me and try to stay as calm as possible.” She also took off his coat and passed it to him. While it was warm, it moved around her ears, making noise. Doing a search of any kind, sight and sounds were all important.

  Keeping low, Lucy crept up to the door and quietly tried the knob. It didn’t move under her hand. She had to use her key to get inside. If there was somebody in her house at that moment, they knew she came in—or they were idiots. Johnny’s truck headlights crossed over the front of the windows when they had pulled into the driveway, announcing their arrival, along with the throaty sound of the engine. If there had been someone still inside at that point, and they had an ounce of sense, then they would’ve taken off already—if they had any sense.

  There was another scenario pushing at the back of Lucy’s brain—one she didn’t want to admit. Somebody waited inside—to kill her.