Hidden Peril

by Irene Hannon

  It seemed he was going to be spending some additional time with the FBI.

  But hopefully not for long. If the artifacts were being retrieved, they might be closing in on the end of this drama.

  And after his unsettling conversation with Rick about the unpredictability of terrorists, that couldn’t happen fast enough to suit him.

  24

  Something was ringing.

  As the noise penetrated her sleep-fogged brain, Kristin groped for the phone on her nightstand and pressed the talk button. “Hello?”

  No response.

  “Hello?”

  The ring sounded again.

  Sheesh.

  It was the doorbell, not the phone.

  She threw back the sheet, swung her feet to the floor, and dashed barefoot down the stairs. Maybe Luke was paying another one of his unexpected visits on this early Thursday evening.

  But neither of the familiar faces on the other side of the peephole belonged to the handsome detective.

  One of them, however, leaned closer . . . and the bell pealed again.

  She twisted the knob and opened the door.

  Colin and Rick took a fast inventory.

  “Were you in bed?” Colin’s eyebrows dipped into a V.

  “Yes.” She combed her fingers through her pillow-flattened shag. “I came home to take a nap this afternoon. Alexa’s minding the store. I guess I slept longer than planned. What brings you two here on a weeknight?”

  “Ted Drewes.” Rick hefted a white bag.

  “The world’s best frozen custard? In that case . . . come in.” She swung the door wide.

  They didn’t need a second invitation—and they made themselves at home, as usual.

  “Why did you need a nap?” Colin headed for the kitchen.

  “Restless night.”

  “More news on your mom?” Rick set the bag on the table and began removing lidded containers, plastic spoons, and napkins.

  “Not since I talked to you both this morning.” She sat at the table and opened the container Rick slid toward her.

  “So why couldn’t you sleep?” Colin plunged a spoon into his custard. Cherry, as usual.

  No way was she telling these guys about the kiss that had kept her tossing until the wee hours.

  “I was thinking about Alice in Wonderland.” Not a lie. The show had crossed her mind during the long, sleepless hours. For a few fleeting moments. “You guys will be at the production meeting on Sunday afternoon, right?” A discussion about their least-favorite summer activity ought to distract them.

  “Yeah.” Rick dived into his usual caramel.

  “Trish has it on our calendar. She actually thinks it will be fun. Maybe she can represent me, now that we’re married.” Colin gave her a hopeful look.

  “Sorry. She’s helping with costumes. You’re on for lights and sound.”

  His face fell.

  “Aren’t you going to eat that?” Rick waved his plastic spoon at her carton. “Or don’t you like Oreo anymore?”

  “It’s still my favorite.” Man, the three of them were creatures of habit—in terms of Ted Drewes, anyway.

  “You know . . . she probably hasn’t had dinner yet if she was sleeping.” Colin stopped eating. “You want us to run out and get you a sandwich somewhere? You could put your custard in the freezer until later.”

  “Nope.” She scooped up a spoonful of the creamy concoction. “Ted Drewes will do fine for dinner. So what gives with the impromptu visit? Not that I’m complaining, you understand—but you”—she pointed her spoon at Colin—“have a new bride at home, and you”—she aimed the spoon at Rick—“are in your busy season.”

  The two men exchanged a look.

  “We just thought we’d swing by.” Rick continued to shovel in his custard.

  “Right.” She didn’t attempt to hide her skepticism. “Want to try again?”

  “Fine.” Colin jabbed his spoon into his cup and leaned toward her. “We ran into Luke in Clayton this morning. It sounded like the case was heating up. He ditched County for the FBI again this afternoon.”

  “Yeah?” She stopped eating. That was news to her.

  “You didn’t know about this?”

  “No. I haven’t talked to Luke since last night.”

  “We wanted to come by and remind you again to be careful.” Rick kept eating, but his focus was pinned on her.

  “My part’s finished.”

  “The terrorists might not realize that.”

  “Gee, thanks for that encouraging thought.” She attempted a teasing tone but couldn’t quite pull it off. If these two had orchestrated a special trip over here to see her, they were genuinely worried. “What do you want me to do? Hibernate in a cave until this is over?”

  “You know . . . that’s not a bad idea.” Rick sat back in his chair. “I have a few on my property that would work. They’re on the cold and damp side, but no one would find you there.”

  He was kidding, of course.

  Wasn’t he?

  “Listen, you guys.” She set her spoon down. “I appreciate how much you care. More than I can say. But I can’t lock myself away until this is over. Luke said there shouldn’t be any . . .”

  Her doorbell rang again.

  “Are you expecting anyone?” Colin shot to his feet.

  So did Rick.

  “No.”

  Before she could protest, they took off for the front door.

  This was getting out of hand.

  “Hey!” She scurried after them. “I can answer my own—”

  “Shhh!” Rick lasered her a warning glare.

  Lifting her chin, she folded her arms.

  Fine.

  Let them answer the door.

  The odds that trouble waited on the other side were miniscule . . . but if it made them feel better to go into protective mode, why complain?

  Colin peered through the peephole. Exchanged a glance with Rick. Pulled the door open.

  “Well, if it isn’t Detective Carter. Fancy meeting you here.” Colin stepped back and waved him in. “It appears the second shift has arrived.”

  “What?” Kristin gaped at the three of them. “You guys coordinated this?”

  “No . . . but great minds must think alike.” Rick gave her a one-sided grin.

  “Very funny.”

  “Someone want to let me in on the joke?” Luke entered and scanned the assembled group.

  “It’s not a joke.” She gave her two friends the evil eye.

  “No. It’s not.” Rick looked at her with one of those penetrating stares of his that had probably been a useful asset in his military days. “Remember that.”

  “We made our pitch about being careful . . . again.” Colin called over his shoulder to Luke as he returned to the kitchen to retrieve his and Rick’s concretes. “Time for you to provide some backup.”

  Rick pulled her into a hug. “Watch your back—and listen to what Carter says.”

  She squeezed him tight. Hard to be annoyed at people who had your best interest at heart. “You guys are the best—even if you do have a tendency to butt in.”

  “I heard that.” Colin handed Rick the remains of his concrete and gave her a one-armed hug. “I prefer to think of it as watching out for each other.” He lowered his voice and spoke close to her ear. “Although I think someone is waiting in the wings to take our place.”

  At the subtle hint of melancholy in his words, pressure built in her throat.

  “No worries on that score—guaranteed. Our bond has been tempered by fire and is too strong to break. Now go home and enjoy your evening with Trish.”

  After one more squeeze, he released her and followed Rick out the door with a “see you at the office” to Luke.

  As they started down the walk, Luke shut the door behind them. “I didn’t mean to interrupt a Treehouse Gang get-together.”

  “It was impromptu—and you can interrupt anytime. The guys like you.”

  “I wasn’t so sure ab
out that today.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Long story. What did Colin’s second-shift remark mean?” He strolled over to her.

  “Their real agenda for tonight was to warn me to be vigilant. I told them to stop worrying, that my part was over. I think they hoped you’d reinforce their warnings.”

  “As a matter of fact . . . that’s my plan.”

  Not what she’d expected to hear.

  “You want to explain that?”

  “Let’s sit while I fill you in.” He motioned toward the couch. “It’s been a long, tiring, and unprofitable day.”

  “Okay. Would you like a soda while I finish the frozen custard the guys brought for me?”

  “No thanks. I’ve been slugging coffee and soda all day.”

  “Have you eaten dinner?”

  “I did a drive-through on the way over. I’ll wait for you in the living room while you get your custard.”

  After she retrieved the frozen treat, he took her hand and tugged her down on the couch beside him.

  “Is there a glitch with the case?” She studied the fine lines beside his eyes, the weariness in their depths.

  “Not so much a glitch as a zilch.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “Better finish that or you’ll have soup instead of custard.” He motioned to her melting concrete.

  “I’ll eat while you talk.” She scraped up some more of the dissolving confection.

  “The packages were retrieved from the locker around noon. We followed the guy all day, trading off tails to keep him from getting suspicious. He went to a dozen places. Nick had people on foot who followed him into stores, a restaurant, a bank, the men’s room. The daypack he put the packages in never left his shoulder.”

  “So he still has them?”

  “Unless he used some sleight of hand one of the agents missed.”

  “Could be he’s going to pass them on tomorrow . . . or the next day—unless he’s the main man.” She finished her concrete and set the cardboard cup on the coffee table.

  “We don’t think so. We ran his background. Another Syrian national, here on a visa. We can’t find even a remote link to any terrorist group.”

  “Did Bishara get any instructions yet?”

  “No. Nick talked to him yesterday. But he’s had a tough week. Apparently he was in a fender bender a couple of days ago, and Nick said he sounded rattled.”

  “I can imagine. A car accident on top of worrying about his son and dealing with a terrorist—doesn’t seem fair for one person to be dumped on that much.” She pulled a cushion onto her lap. “So what does all this have to do with me being careful?”

  “I ran into Rick and Colin in Clayton today.”

  “They mentioned that.”

  “I had a minute alone with Rick. He told me he’d been a Night Stalker.”

  She raised her eyebrows.

  Luke must have impressed him if he’d offered that personal tidbit.

  “He doesn’t share that with many people.”

  “Why not?”

  “There are a lot of incidents from his military years he’d rather forget.”

  “I can understand that—especially in light of his dealings with extremists. Because of his experiences, I listened when he reminded me that while we might think the danger is past in your case, terrorists aren’t predictable. I can’t see why they would have any interest in you, but I second what Rick and Colin said. Use extra caution until this wraps up.”

  She kneaded the edges of the cushion. “Message received. Tell me what happens next.”

  “The FBI is continuing to watch the guy who raided the locker. Nick says he’s at a rock concert tonight with a woman friend.”

  “It must be tough to keep track of someone at an event like that.”

  “There are pros and cons. It’s easier to blend into the crowd—but you can lose sight of your subject for brief moments. That’s why Nick has a full contingent on the job at the venue.”

  “Do you think the handoff will happen there?”

  “It’s possible. But if there’s no clear indication it has, I’ll be back at County tomorrow. They don’t need me for routine surveillance.” He clapped a hand over his mouth as a yawn snuck up on him. “Sorry. I think I’m going to make this an early night.”

  Too bad. She wouldn’t have minded his company for another hour . . . or two . . . or three. Thanks to all the warnings that had been lobbed at her this evening, odds were high it was going to be another long, restless night.

  But asking him to stay would be selfish. He looked exhausted.

  “Walk me out?” He stood and held out his hand.

  “Sure.”

  It took far too few steps to reach the door in her small—or cozy, as the realtor had called it—condo.

  “I’ll call you tomorrow. Will you be at the shop all day?”

  “No. Alexa’s covering for me in the afternoon. I have some errands to run.”

  “Stay alert to your surroundings.”

  “I learned to do that long ago. It was a handy skill to have in the Peace Corps.”

  “It’s a handy skill in any walk of life these days.” He looped his hands around her waist. “I hate to leave.”

  “Maybe we could sweeten up the parting a little.”

  He grinned. “You know . . . I’m glad you’re not the type who likes to play hard to get.”

  “I don’t play games with people I care about.” She met his gaze straight on, no trace of levity in her tone.

  His expression sobered. “I already figured that out. That’s one of the things I lo . . . I admire about you.”

  He’d almost said the L-word.

  A tiny shiver of delight spiraled through her.

  “I have other fine qualities too.”

  “I know—and I plan to explore them all in the coming months. But I’ve already discovered a few . . . including the fact that you’re a world-class kisser. Care to demonstrate that skill again tonight?”

  “My pleasure.”

  He dipped his head, and she rose on tiptoe to meet him.

  When he at last backed off, she had to hold onto him until her world steadied.

  “You make it very tough to say good night.” He clasped her hands, his grip firm yet tender.

  “The feeling is mutual. But I’ll be here tomorrow . . . and the day after . . . and the day after that. We can pick this up when you’re not dead tired.”

  “I don’t feel all that tired anymore.” He stroked his thumbs over the back of her hands, giving her a slow smile.

  He’d stay if she asked him to.

  But that would be selfish, Kristin. Let the man go home and get some rest.

  “You’ll be tired tomorrow, though, if you hang around. And you need to be at the top of your game on the job—especially with all that’s going on.”

  He exhaled. “I’m glad one of us is maintaining perspective.”

  “Only with superhuman effort. Save some of your energy for our big date.”

  “No worries. I’ll be fully charged.” After one more quick kiss, he walked through the door. “I’ll call you tomorrow night . . . or sooner, if there’s any news. Lock up while I wait.”

  “I don’t think anyone is hiding in the bushes by my front door.”

  “Humor me.”

  “Okay. Be safe.” She closed the door, clicked the lock into place, and moved to the sidelight.

  Luke was already halfway down the walk to the parking lot.

  The man must be super tired.

  She, however, was wide awake after her long afternoon nap.

  An early night wouldn’t hurt her, though. And until she fell asleep, she could cuddle up in bed with that suspense novel she’d never finished during her trip East.

  And pray that her three visitors tonight were way off base, and the only danger she’d encounter in the days ahead would be in the pages of her book.

  The noise was deafening.

  How c
ould anyone call this music?

  While the powerful bass beat pounded his ears and ricocheted through his body, Amir checked on his courier again, a few rows below him. The man was in the seat designated on the ticket he’d provided, with a date beside him, as planned. Positioning himself for the handoff wouldn’t be difficult after the stupid concert ended and the masses were thronging toward the door.

  He just had to endure the din—and sacrifice a few decibels of hearing—until the racket was over.

  As he’d done every few minutes during the so-called concert, he gave the crowd a casual perusal.

  Anyone in the audience could be an FBI agent or detective in undercover mode. They came in all shapes and sizes. Most likely there were more than a few here, hanging around the fringes, since all seating in the venue was assigned. But they couldn’t fill the theater with agents, and the handoff had been meticulously choreographed. It would happen in the blink of an eye. So fast and out of sight that the agents who had the courier under surveillance would never notice.

  There was no reason to think his plan wouldn’t work.

  Even if he himself was on law enforcement’s radar—and there’d been no red flags to indicate he was—no one would recognize him. In his cargo shorts, black T-shirt with a peace sign on the back, garish temporary tattoo, baseball cap, and fake glasses, he bore no resemblance to the man he’d created for his cover life.

  His own mother wouldn’t know it was him—if she had any idea what he looked like now. Which she didn’t.

  The eight-year-old she’d abandoned and the grown man he’d become were two different people in every way.

  The reverse was true too. He had nothing except hazy memories of her.

  But that was of no consequence.

  His father had done an excellent parenting job alone. They hadn’t needed her.

  He took a sip of the overpriced Bud Light he’d bought from a vendor. Not his first choice of beverage . . . but a necessary prop if he wanted to blend into this crowd.

  The band wound down its last set to thunderous applause . . . then launched into an encore after the crowd demanded more.

  Amir gritted his teeth.

  The bone crushing noise was pure torture.

  But he forced up the corners of his lips and boogied to the beat with everyone else until the band mercifully finished for the night and the theater lights came up.