He rubbed his head and resumed his pacing. Since that could go on indefinitely, she looked back at Clay who was staring at Sam. Then his head swiveled back to her and he lifted a brow.
“I know. I have some explaining to do.” She waved him into the den. “Have a seat.”
“What’s going on, sis? Who’s the kid? Lance called and demanded protection for the family, and I see that it’s because you’re in town.”
She clasped her hands together and tried to figure out how she would break the news to him. “The kid is Sam Pirhadi. He’s the son of my best friend. Or former best friend. She’s dead.”
His hand automatically reached for her. “Whoa. Amber, I’m so sorry.”
She blinked back sudden tears. “I am, too. She had an aggressive cancer that she was in the US for treatment of. But that’s not what killed her.”
“What did?”
“Not what. Who. Her husband. He shot her in the head and I saw him do it.”
“What!” Clay gaped at her. Amber almost felt sorry for him. She knew she was laying a lot on him. He had to be feeling a bit broadsided.
“And he was going to kill Sam,” she said. “So I grabbed Sam and ran and here we are.”
Clay shook his head as though it would help process the information she’d just laid on him. “But Amber, I... I don’t even know where to start. I mean, obviously you’ve left out a few details so we’ll come back to those, but for one, taking Sam, that’s kidnapping.”
“No, it’s not. I have custody of him and the papers to prove it.” She glanced at the backpack in the chair and knew she needed to find a safe-deposit box or something to keep them in.
“How?”
She looked at Sam again. He didn’t look like he was paying attention to their conversation, but she never knew with him. She lowered her voice while Sam paced. “Sam’s father never wanted him once he found out he had autism. Nadia said he was going to kill him.”
Clay’s jaw dropped once again.
“I know. Just bear with me. Nadia begged him not to, pleaded with him, told him to completely disown him and give her full custody. Legally. She had her own money and promised Yousef he’d never have to spend a cent on Sam. He finally agreed, but she knew if she died, Yousef would kill him anyway. Once she had everything done and in her name, she gave custody to me when she realized she was so sick. Just in case,” she whispered.
“Why didn’t you call or ask for help? Something?”
“Because I couldn’t.” She palmed her eyes then looked at him. “Clay, I’m not a travel writer.”
He blinked. “What are you talking about? Of course you are. I’ve read your articles.”
“I didn’t write them, someone else did.”
“What are you saying? If you’re not a travel writer then what are you?”
“You seriously haven’t figured it out yet?”
“Would you just spit it out already?” he half yelled. Sam jumped. Clay narrowed his eyes. “Sorry,” he said in a softer tone. Sam went back to his pacing.
“I’m CIA.”
He froze. His stare never wavered. “A Certified Internal Auditor?” he finally said.
Amber lifted a brow. “Really?”
“Yeah really, because the only other meaning I can come up with for that acronym isn’t an option.” She stared. He stared back. Finally he shook his head. “I don’t believe it.” She said nothing. “You’re serious.” It wasn’t a question. He planted his hands on his hips, opened his mouth, then shut it. He rubbed a hand across his jaw and blinked again. “CIA.”
“Yes.”
“I...I just don’t know what to say.”
“I know. It’s okay.”
“My baby sister? CIA?”
“Are you going to keep saying that?”
“Then again, I suppose it makes sense,” he said as though she hadn’t spoken. “A lot of things make sense now.” He continued to speak as though to himself. Like she was no longer in the room. “Could it really be true? My sister? CIA?”
Amber sighed. “Stop it, Clay. It’s true.”
“How... When...?”
“I was recruited in college when it was apparent I had an affinity for languages.”
“How did you find that out?”
She shrugged. “I had a Middle Eastern roommate who spoke Farsi. I picked it up.”
“You picked up Farsi.”
“And you keep repeating me.”
He scrubbed a hand down his cheek. “I’m sorry. You can imagine this is a bit much to take in.”
“I know. I’m sorry you had to find out this way.” Actually, she was sorry he had to find out at all.
The radio on his shoulder crackled. He tilted his head toward the mic and pressed the button. “Go ahead.”
“Shots fired at the Landers cabin again,” dispatch said. “Rachelle Michaels called it in. She was out walking her dog and heard the pops. She also reported that she saw someone fall off a snowmobile. Are you in the vicinity?”
Amber gasped. “Lance!”
SEVEN
Lance crouched behind the tree and scanned the area. The first bullet had slammed into the back of the snowmobile. The second one had puffed up ice and snow near his left foot. He’d thrown himself off the machine and rolled behind the tree where he now found himself watching for the shooter.
The bullets had come from the road, but that didn’t mean the shooter hadn’t moved by now. Lance gripped his weapon in his right hand and fumbled for his phone since his radio was on the snowmobile and he wasn’t in uniform. He glanced at the screen of the phone. No signal. Great.
He drew in a deep breath. Now what? Wait and watch until they left. He didn’t think the bullet had damaged the snowmobile badly enough that it wouldn’t start. If he could get back to it, he could probably get away.
He swiped the back of his gloved hand across his goggles and squinted trying to see past the glare on the snow. The sun was high and flakes still drifted from the white sky, but nothing like last night. He finally shoved the goggles to the top of his head and snugged them up against his hat. Now at least he could see clearly. Of course that meant he was visible to those who were looking for him, too.
Lance scrambled to his feet keeping the tree between him and the direction the bullets had come from. He moved tentatively and another shot rang out clipping the tree. He ducked back down, blood pumping in his veins. He was effectively prevented from getting to the snowmobile. He had no choice but to go on the offensive. He raced to the next tree.
No gunshots came his way.
He looked at his phone again. One bar. Lance dialed dispatch. Tessa answered. When Gretchen wasn’t working either Diane or Tessa was. “Wrangler’s Corner Sheriff’s office.”
“Tessa, I need more backup at the Landers place.” He gave her the address while his heart thundered in his ears.
“I sent Ronnie out there, hon. A neighbor heard the shots and called it in.”
“Is Ronnie on a snowmobile or the SUV?” Lance stared at the cabin and saw nothing. No sign of where the shooter was.
“SUV.”
“Great. He’s going to have a hard time getting up here.”
“He’s got chains.”
“Let’s hope that works.” Lance scanned the area again. No more movement. No more gunshots. But he hadn’t heard an engine start up either.
“The crime scene unit is working on getting up there today,” Tessa said. “Snow’s supposed to stop and the plows can get through.”
“Yeah. Unfortunately, that’s not helping me at the moment.”
“Just stay put. Ronnie should be there any min—” The call cut off. He glanced at the screen. No signal. Lance grunted and tucked the phone back into his pocket. He wasn’t waitin
g on Ronnie. He was going to find the person shooting at him. But was there one or two? There’d been two last night.
However, one had been wounded, which meant he probably wasn’t feeling up to joining his partner in crime today. The sound of an engine caught his ear. Not one starting, but one approaching. Ronnie?
Lance bolted to the next tree and waited. The SUV rounded the curve and pulled to a stop in the middle of the road. Lance was far enough to the side of the house to see past the cabin to the front. Ronnie just sat there and he knew the deputy was assessing the situation. He wished there was some way to communicate with the man. If he rolled farther, the cabin would block Lance’s view of him.
Another engine growled in the distance and Lance shot from the tree to race toward the sound. The snow slowed him. Ice crunched under his boots, but he kept going until he came to the side of the cabin. Ronnie had his door open and was stepping out when the snowmobile swept past him and disappeared around the curve. Lance bolted toward the deputy. “Get back in the car. See if you can follow him. I’m going to get the snowmobile.” He raced for the machine and hopped on. He heard Ronnie leave in the SUV. Lance really didn’t think they had a chance to catch the guy, but he had to try.
* * *
Amber paced the floor of the den, her movements matching Sam’s earlier ones. Clay had wanted to rush to Lance’s side, but Lance had convinced him to stay with Amber just in case. He had Ronnie coming and that was good enough. So Clay had stopped protesting and managed to distract the boy with a game of dominoes. Clay placed them in a pattern and asked, “How many dots?”
Sam would count them then using the remaining dominoes, pull the ones needed to come up with the same number simply by looking at the pieces. He lined them up one after the other. “Seventy-eight,” he said. He tapped the ones Clay had arranged. “Seventy-eight.” He looked at Clay. “Again.”
Clay glanced up at her. “He’s amazing.”
She offered him a faint smile. “I know.”
“He’s adding it all in his head faster than I do.”
“Yes.”
“I’ve never seen anything like it.”
She heard his incredulity, but her mind was on Lance. Ronnie had called in that he’d gotten to the cabin and he and Lance were now chasing the suspect. Or they were. Twenty minutes of more pacing and two different games dealing with numbers for Sam and Clay and she thought she might simply come out of her skin. “Where are they?”
Clay looked up. “Looking for the shooter.”
“It’s just the two of them. What about Joy and Parker and Trent. Shouldn’t you call them in?”
“I will as soon as I know where to tell them to go.” Joy West, Parker Little and Trent Haywood. All Wrangler’s Corner deputies. “They’re still looking for him,” Clay said. He had his radio earpiece tucked into his left ear. Their conversation about her choice of occupation had been put on hold for the moment, but she knew he’d bring it up again as soon as he could. He shook his head then spoke into his radio. “Forget it. He’s gone. Lance, come on back to your house.” Clay’s glance caught hers. “We’ve got a lot to talk about.”
Amber wrinkled her nose at him. Sam rocked back then stood to start his pacing again. “Game.”
“He’s coming with it, Sam.”
“Want it now! Game! Please!” His agitation worried her. She’d seen him in the throes of a fit and it wasn’t pretty. Nadia had always instructed Amber to just give him the game if he got upset and it would instantly calm him. Amber hadn’t had to use it often as he almost always had the game with him, but Nadia had been right. As long as Sam had the game, he was generally fine. Even more out of touch with what was going on around him, but not upset or agitated.
Her eyes roamed the area and landed on a shelf stacked with games. Old-fashioned kind. Not video or phone games. The kind Lance had probably kept from his childhood. She walked over and chose one. “Sam, let’s play chess. It’s a numbers game.” Sort of. Didn’t professionals number the pieces and the squares? Sam was certainly smart enough to learn it. He stopped his pacing at the mention of the word numbers and walked over to her.
“Chess. It’s a numbers game. It’s a good game.”
“Yes.” She set the game on the table and handed him the directions. “Here, use this. Read how to play then set up the board.” She could have read it to him, but it would distract him and take him a little longer to do it himself. Maybe. He hesitated then settled himself in the chair to read. She should have tried all of these things before sending Lance after the game at the cabin. She grimaced. She’d panicked. She’d never had to deal with Sam without the game. It was like his security blanket and he always had it with him and she had to admit to feeling a bit overwhelmed. Mentally, she knew that was normal. She’d gone from zero to one special-needs kid in the blink of an eye. A little panic was understandable, right? She drew in a deep breath. She could do this. She loved Sam, she’d prepared for this once they’d learned Nadia’s cancer was too far spread to have much hope of a remission. She shook her head at the irony. Yousef had brought his wife to the United States to seek out the best oncologist. He would pay whatever it took to make her well. And then he’d shot her and killed her himself. She’d never understand men like him.
“What’s wrong, sis?” Clay asked, his voice soft, the tenderness in his eyes making her want to cry on his shoulder like she’d done as a teen after her prom date had dumped her for another girl—and left Amber stranded at the dance. Clay had come to her rescue then, too.
The door opened and she didn’t have a chance to answer. Lance stepped inside and kicked his snowy boots off in the foyer. He shrugged out of his heavy coat and hung it on the rack next to the door. His gaze caught hers. “We lost him.”
“I heard. Also heard there were shots fired.” She went to him. “Are you all right?”
“Yes. He got my snowmobile, though.” His jaw flexed his displeasure. “Won’t keep it from running, but it doesn’t look pretty.”
“The department will take care of any repairs,” Clay said.
Lance nodded. “Thanks.” His gaze darted between hers and Clay’s. “So, are you two okay?”
“How long have you known she was CIA?” Clay asked. His nostrils flared and his eyes narrowed belying his calm question.
Lance blew out a breath. “Known for sure? Since yesterday. Suspected? Since she came home for Hannah’s birth.” Clay’s wife, Sabrina, had given birth to a baby girl a year and a half ago. Amber had managed to come home and be there for that event. She’d also been instrumental in finding her sister-in-law, Zoe Starke’s, brother while she’d been home. “There were several clues that I picked up on,” Lance said.
“And I didn’t.” Her brother looked dumbfounded.
“You weren’t looking for it.” Lance shrugged. “I knew there was something different about her, I just couldn’t put my finger on it. Then I remembered Mitch.”
“Mitch?” Clay asked.
“Mitch and I were buddies in high school then college roommates. He went to work for the CIA right out of college. He had an ear for languages and they snatched him right up. He let me in on his little secret so that I could help cover for him with his family when he needed me to. Amber had a lot of the same...” He paused as though looking for the right words, “whatever...that Mitch had.” He shrugged. “And I didn’t know for sure, it was just an educated guess.”
“Good guess,” Clay grumbled.
Lance handed the game he’d retrieved from the cabin to Amber and she looked over at Sam who was engrossed in the directions for chess. He had the game set up exactly like it was supposed to be and was practicing moving the pieces accordingly. “He’ll be an expert by dinner.” She slid the electronic device into her pocket. “We’ll use it in emergencies.”
Lance nodded. Clay rubbed his forehead and looked at
Amber. “So what’s your next move?”
“I need to get some stuff from the barn at home and then Sam and I need to get out of here. And probably fast. Your deputy ran my plates. They’ll know where I am now—or at least the vicinity. They’ll probably check Mom and Dad’s home first then spread out looking.”
“What stuff? And who’s ‘they’?”
“The stuff that’s hidden, but it’s fake passports, twenty-five thousand dollars and some other items that will allow us to disappear. As for the ‘they,’ probably my handler and Pirhadi’s henchmen.”
Clay blinked. “Twenty-five grand?”
“Yes, it’s there for emergencies.” She gave him a tight smile. “I’d say this qualifies.”
“So that’s why you came back here,” Lance said.
“Yes—and why I’m not staying.”
EIGHT
Lance flinched at her words. Why, he didn’t know, but the thought of her leaving didn’t sit well with him. There was just something about her...something he hadn’t noticed before. Truthfully, since she’d gone off to college, he’d had very little interaction with her other than a brief moment here and there. He’d always looked at her as a little sister.
But this time—
“Lance?”
He blinked. Clay was looking at him with a strange look in his eye. Lance flushed. “Yeah?”
“Are you all right?”
He cleared his throat. “Yes, of course.”
“Okay, because you—”
“I said I’m fine,” Lance barked.
Amber merely raised a brow then shook her head and turned to Clay. “So can you get the stuff for me and get it back to me in a hurry?”
He sighed. “I wish you’d let us help you.”
“You’ll be helping by getting that stuff for me.”
He rubbed a hand over his head then placed his Stetson on it. “All right. Tell me where it is.”
“You remember where I used to go to hide from you boys when I was around ten or so?”
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