In Harm's Way (Heroes of Quantico Series, Book 3)

by Irene Hannon

  "Don't rush. She may be with a patient. I'll buzz you when I get her"

  Ten minutes later, Mark summoned him to the conference room. As Nick walked in and closed the door behind him, Mark switched the call to speaker. "Nick's here, Em"

  "Hi, Nick. Mark just filled me in. You've been dipping into some unusual stuff on this case. Parapsychology. Psychometry. Now twin telepathy'

  "Is there such a thing?"

  "If you're asking whether there's absolute scientific proof for it, no. But there's a lot of anecdotal evidence suggesting some identical twins have it"

  "Even ones who don't know of each other's existence and have been separated since they were nine months old?"

  "Yes. It's a fascinating subject. There are cases in which one twin is injured and the other feels a physical sensation or pain in that part of the body. Identical twins have also been known to have similar jobs, cars, pets, and favorite foods. There's even a theory that identical twins share a unique language when they're young"

  "Rebecca and Rachel do share gestures, Nick offered. "And they're both into music and art. What about the telepathy part you mentioned? Could it account for the feelings Rachel has been having?"

  "I still think Rachel's reaction to the doll relates to past experience;' Emily said. "Perhaps deep in her subconscious she has a tactile memory of holding it at the time of the accident. As for the uneasy feelings that began the day her sister's daughter was kidnapped, they could be related to twin telepathy-if you accept the theory that it exists. In general, a sense of shared experience would involve some very traumatic, highly emotional incident, and the kidnapping certainly fits that description:"

  "Rebecca has asked to meet Rachel. Do you think there's any chance, once they meet, that Rachel might be able to offer us any more insights into this case?"

  "I wish I could say yes. But her telepathy, if she has it, is related to her sister's experiences, not to her niece's"

  "Okay. Thanks, Emily."

  "Glad to help, Nick. Mark, are you still planning to pick up pizza for dinner?"

  He grinned. "Have I ever forgotten anything food related?"

  "Good point"

  "See you later, Em" He severed the connection, leaned back, and regarded Nick. "Interesting stuff."

  "True. But unless Emily is wrong about the telepathy thing not extending beyond Rachel and Rebecca, it's not going to help us find Megan"

  Rachel had just shoved her bare feet into her fuzzy pink slippers and picked up a load of laundry when the doorbell rang.

  Pausing at the head of the basement stairs, she checked her watch. Almost nine o'clock. Not a good sign. Maybe it was that pushy reporter from St. Louis Scene. Or someone who'd read the article and wanted her to communicate with some longlost relative.

  Neither option was appealing.

  She considered ignoring the bell, but when it rang againtwice in a row-she decided to check it out. Dumping the laundry at the head of the stairs, she edged over to the door and quietly put her eye to the peephole.

  Nick stood on the other side, collar turned up against the bitter cold, hands shoved deep into the pockets of his topcoat.

  A warm rush of pleasure swept over her. After their brief conversation yesterday, she hadn't expected to see or hear from him again until the O'Neil case was solved. But perhaps his trip to Chicago had resulted in a lead that had helped wrap things up. Meaning they could pick up where they'd left off last weekend.

  That thought sent a tingle up her spine and put a smile on her face.

  Rubbing her palms against the worn denim of her jeans, she pulled open the door. "Hi. This is a nice surprise."

  He smiled, and the warmth in his blue eyes told her he was glad to be there. But the crinkles at the corners spoke of weariness.

  "Does that mean I can come in?"

  Stepping back, Rachel created space for him in the tiny corner of her living room that served as a foyer. "Let me take your coat:"

  "Thanks" He shrugged it off and handed it to her.

  The wool fabric was frosty to the touch, and she held it away from her as she slipped the sleeves onto a hanger and stowed it in her small closet. A shiver rippled through her, and she gave him a rueful shrug as he cocked an eyebrow. "The cold goes right through me. I should live in the tropics. White sand, palm trees, warm breezes ... and no more cold feet:"

  "You seem to have found a solution for that problem:" One side of his mouth hitched up as he directed his attention to her slippers.

  She wiggled her toes and grinned. "They may not be fashionable, but they do the trick"

  "I think they're cute:'

  Flushing, she decided it was time to change the subject. "Tell me about Chicago. Since you're here, can I assume you have good news on the case?" She snuggled into one corner of the couch, her feet tucked under her.

  "I do have news. But it's not directly related to the case'

  Some nuance in his tone put her on alert. "What kind of news?"

  "I may have an explanation for the uneasy feeling you've had since the O'Neil baby was kidnapped'

  That snagged her attention. "Tell me, please. I've wracked my brain for answers and come up with zero:"

  "It has to do with Rebecca O'Neil:" He walked over to the mantel and retrieved the photo of her mother, then took a seat beside her. "As she herself just discovered earlier today, the two of you share a very special bond. Rebecca's mother told her this afternoon that she was adopted thirty-five years ago. And that she had an identical twin sister who was badly injured in the car accident that killed their mother. A sister who was put into the care of the foster system" His gaze locked on hers. "You and Rebecca O'Neil are twins, Rachel:"

  Seconds ticked by as Rachel stared at Nick. The only sounds in the room were the crackle of the fire, the hiss of water vaporizing from the damp wood, and the sudden collapse of spent logs as they disintegrated, sending embers flying.

  I have a sister. A twin sister.

  The words echoed in Rachel's mind. She understood Nick's message but couldn't quite absorb it. All her life she'd thought she was alone. That there was no one in the world she could call on in time of need, nor anyone to share special occasions with. So many solitary Thanksgivings and Christmases and birthdays had passed. And all along, she'd had a sister-a sister!-who could have been part of her life.

  Her stomach twisted into a knot at the injustice of it.

  "Rachel? Are you okay?"

  Nick's gentle question pulled her back to the present. His long, lean fingers rested on her arm, his tender touch reassuring yet strong, offering support if she needed it. When she lifted her head, she found his discerning blue eyes fixed on her, and a slight frown wrinkled his brow.

  "Shock doesn't even begin to describe how I feel" Her unsteady reply came out in a whisper. "How could Rebecca's mother keep this a secret all these years?"

  "I think Rebecca is struggling with the same question:" He set the photo on the coffee table. "She bears a strong resemblance to your mother, by the way. But while the two of you share some characteristics, you look nothing alike"

  "I've had a lot of facial reconstruction. The accident did a number on my face as well as my leg" She responded automatically, still grappling with the emotional tsunami.

  "That's what I heard. Rebecca has a photo of the two of you with your mother, and you were identical back then. That photo revealed another interesting fact. The Raggedy Ann doll belonged to you, Rachel. You had it with you in the car when the accident happened. Emily thinks that's why you had such a strong reaction to it"

  Rachel gave a slow nod, forcing herself to focus on the conversation. "I guess I can buy that. I might have a memory of that event on some subliminal level. But what about this uneasiness? Did she have an explanation for that too?"

  "Nothing the world of science recognizes. But she said there have been many recorded cases of telepathy between identical twins. Even between those who've been separated since birth. And you and Rebecca had nine mont
hs together before you were split. Rebecca's mother told her she often had headaches as a toddler, with no physiological basis. And that she occasionally limped, again for no obvious reason. It could have been related to your surgeries:"

  "This is bizarre"

  "I agree. But the anecdotal evidence does suggest you two share some sort of special link" He leaned closer and laced his fingers with hers. "She'd like to meet you, Rachel. As soon as possible. She's offered to drive down tomorrow if you're willing to see her."

  "Of course I am!" She might be confused about a lot of things, but the decision about whether to meet her sister wasn't one of them. "I have a family, Nick! A family." She repeated the words, her voice filled with wonder. "I feel like you probably felt when Dan Foley took you under his wing and gave you a sense of belonging. It's an incredible gift"

  "I hoped you'd look at it that way."

  "How else could I look at it?"

  He stroked the back of her hand with his thumb. "You have every right to be angry. It wasn't fair that you were kept in the dark about your sister."

  "I am. But I learned long ago that life isn't always fair, Nick. And being angry doesn't change anything:" She fingered the cross at her neck, recalling the minister's comment in Sunday's sermon about leaving judgment in the hands of the Lord. "Instead, I'm going to try to focus on being grateful for this amazing blessing. It's almost big enough to inspire me to pray"

  She was only half joking, and Nick seemed to recognize that. "You already made a start on that last Sunday. Maybe we can go together again once this case is settled"

  "I might take you up on that"

  He squeezed her fingers and released her hand. "What time shall I tell Rebecca to arrive tomorrow? I promised to call her back tonight, after I talked with you"

  Rachel tucked her hair behind her ear. "Do you think she'd want to come here for dinner? Or should I meet her somewhere?"

  "I suspect she'd prefer the privacy of your house:"

  "Okay. But ... could you come too? At least for a while? Join us for dinner, maybe. Stay until the ice is broken?"

  "If you want me here, I'll be here. And now"-he glanced at his watch-"it's time for me to head home. And for you to get some sleep"

  He rose, and she trailed behind him toward the door. "I doubt I'll sleep a wink tonight"

  "Why do I think Rebecca feels the same way?" He smiled as he retrieved his coat from the closet.

  "Nick? Is she nice?"

  At her soft question, Nick slid his arms into the sleeves and turned toward her. "Very. Just like her sister" He touched her cheek ... let his fingers linger against her skin ... then retracted his hand and shoved it into his pocket. "And you'll have a lot to talk about. She's into music and art, like you are"

  A sudden cloud robbed some of the joy from Rachel's heart. "Do you think the main reason she wants to meet me is because she hopes I can help with the case?"

  Searching her eyes, Nick closed the distance between them and took her upper arms in a light but reassuring grip. "I'll be clear about that with her tonight. But I doubt it will make any difference. I think she's as happy to discover a sister as you are."

  "I hope so" A wistful longing crept into Rachel's voice. "I've done okay on my own, but it gets lonely sometimes when you don't have anyone who really cares about you. You know?"

  "Yeah. I do:"

  As Nick looked down at her, Rachel watched his eyes begin to smolder. Felt the spark of electricity zap between them. And knew he wanted to kiss her.

  Perhaps as much as she wanted him to.

  But he was a professional through and through. A man who didn't believe in mixing business and pleasure. So while he might be tempted to make an exception tonight, she wasn't surprised when he released her and stepped back.

  "I'll call you later, as soon as I talk to Rebecca"

  "That would be great:"

  She followed him to the door, waiting as he pulled it open.

  "Lock up behind me"

  Once more he touched her face.

  Once more he pulled back.

  Then, stepping into the night, he lowered his head against the icy wind and strode toward his car.

  A gust of frigid air chilled Rebecca's cheeks as she watched him retreat, but she hardly noticed. Because her heart was warm.

  "Hi, Claudia. Got a minute?"

  Claudia tucked her cell phone under her chin and kept typing, trying to block out the noise in the newsroom as she responded to her sister. "That's about it, Keri. I'm on deadline. What's up?"

  "There was an article in the Tribune this morning I thought you might find interesting"

  "Yeah? What about?"

  "You know that psychic piece you emailed me last week? I thought it was a hoot. But the Tribune ran a follow-up today on the O'Neil kidnapping, and guess what? The baby's doll has been found. A beat-up Raggedy Ann, like the one in your story. Think there's any connection?"

  Claudia's fingers froze on the keyboard. "It's a long shot"

  "When has that ever stopped you from following a lead?"

  "True. Okay, I'll pull up the online version of the Tribune story and take a look. How did you happen to notice this, anyway?" Claudia loved her sister, but Keri was a bit of a flake. She was usually more interested in going on auditions for dog food or deodorant commercials than reading her city's daily paper.

  "I was at my agent's office and the paper was lying there. It was a front-page story. I noticed the picture of the baby-cute kid-and skimmed the first few lines. The reference to the doll was at the beginning"

  "If this pans out, I'll owe you big time"

  "Just invite me to the ceremony when you win the Pulitzer Prize."

  "Yeah. Right" She had about as much chance of that as Keri had of winning an Oscar. "Any good gigs lately?"

  "I'm up for a spot in a toothpaste commercial:"

  "Break a leg, kid. Talk to you soon"

  As Claudia flipped her cell phone closed, she checked her watch. Five o'clock. Stacy would still be around. The editor never left before the end of the official work day, and often stayed late. Good thing. Because Claudia needed her permission to put the people-with-unusual-pets piece she was working on aside and focus on a follow-up to last week's psychic article. With copy due at noon tomorrow, she would need every single waking minute to glean enough new information to write an intriguing story.

  Rachel smoothed a tiny crease out of the linen tablecloth, adjusted a spray of the baby's breath she'd salvaged from Nick's roses and worked into a fresh bunch of carnations, and refolded a napkin at the table set for three. A pork tenderloin was roasting, homemade biscuits were sitting on a baking sheet on the kitchen counter ready to be popped into the oven at the last minute, an apple pie was cooling on a rack. From the second she'd left school she'd been in a frenzy of preparation for tonight's momentous meeting.

  But that was okay. Activity helped dispel some of her nervous energy. Sitting around waiting would have stretched her taut nerves to the breaking point.

  The bell chimed, and Rachel's hand flew to the cross around her neck-a gesture that was becoming instinctive at times of stress. Where once she'd looked upon it as no more than a lovely piece of jewelry and a link to the mother she'd never known, more and more she was beginning to recognize it as a symbol of a far greater truth. One she didn't yet fully understand but which drew her in a compelling way. And, thanks to Nick, she intended to explore it further, as soon as her life quieted down a bit.

  Taking a deep breath, Rachel crossed the living room. Nick had said he would arrive first, at six, and a quick peek through the peephole confirmed he'd kept that promise.

  When she opened the door, he smiled and gave her green silk blouse, slim black skirt, and classic black pumps a quick but thorough inspection. "Nice"

  Her pulse quickened at his appreciative perusal. "It's not too dressy?"

  "It's perfect:" A gust of wind buffeted him from behind, and he took a step inside, chuckling. "I think that's my cue to c
ome in"

  As he shrugged out of his coat, she opened the closet door. Fumbled with a hanger. Dropped it.

  He bent to retrieve it, his eyes inches from hers as he rose. "Nervous?"

  "Is it that obvious?"

  "It's normal:" He hung the coat himself and closed the closet door. "I'm sure Rebecca feels the same way. Is there anything I can do to help you get ready?"

  "Pray?" Her tone was half teasing, half serious.

  "I've already done that:" There was no humor in his response, and she was touched by his concern. "Anything else?"

  I could use a hug.

  In the silence that followed his question, Nick's eyes darkened, and an ember flared in their depths. Had she actually spoken the words? No, of course she hadn't. But she began to suspect Nick might have some psychic abilities himself. She had the distinct feeling he'd read her mind.

  Thrown, she took a step back and tried for a conversational tone. But the slight catch in her voice gave her away. "I j-just need to put the salad together"

  She watched, mesmerized, as he slowly tamped out the ember, admiring his self-discipline even as she had an irrational wish that he had a little less self-control.

  "I'm good with salads. Let me take care of that for you"

  His mild reply was a stark contrast to the electricity zipping between them. But she did her best to follow his lead as she led the way to the kitchen. She had enough emotions to deal with tonight. Adding a romantic encounter would not be a good idea.

  But it sure was appealing.

  Interesting.

  Very interesting.

  As Claudia slowed to a stop several houses away from Rachel's bungalow, she scrutinized the dark sedan parked in front, her lips tipping up into a smug grin. Pulling out her notebook, she flipped through the pages. Yep. It was the FBI agent's car, the one she'd seen in the restaurant parking lot when the man had met Rachel for lunch. The description and license plate number she'd jotted down that day matched. It always paid to be thorough. You never knew when those kinds of details would come in handy.

  Before driving to Rachel's house, she'd also done some research on the O'Neil case. Scanned back issues of the Tribune, studied the photos of the infant and parents. It was a sad situation. The baby had been gone for eight weeks. A long time in the world of law enforcement. Claudia doubted there was much chance the FBI would find her unless they got some kind of big break.