Forged in Fire

by Trish McCallan

  The very fact he believed in such fairy tales was a clear indication of how unsuited they were. Soul mates were nothing more than prepubescent fantasies. Real relationships flourished by getting to know each other, by learning when and how to compromise, by learning your partner’s quirks and habits, by accepting their tastes and brushing off the idiosyncrasies people accumulated through the years.

  Real relationships took work.

  They didn’t depend on some lazy, mythical connection to hold a couple together. Putting faith in the soul mate theory was the surest path to divorce court, the surest path to raising a family on your own.

  She couldn’t believe—could not believe—that Zane put stock in such complete and utter nonsense. Soul mates? He was a SEAL, for God’s sake. To survive such life and death missions he had to have a core of common sense.

  Where was that common sense now?

  She took a deep, calming breath, vaguely aware the new agent—Chastain—was watching her with puzzlement. Perhaps he’d expected a confession by now, but then he wasn’t aware of the two-ton white elephant Zane had dropped on her head. Although, to be fair, Zane wasn’t the one who’d pitched the soul mate bomb. His butthead of a boss had. So maybe the whole predestined-mate rubbish wasn’t even true. Maybe Mackenzie had been spewing a boatload of crap.

  She breathed easier. Okay, yeah, that made sense. Zane was too sharp to believe something so foolish.

  “Miss Brown,” Chastain said, apparently tired of waiting for the silence to jolt a confession from her. “It’s come to our attention that you work for PacAtlantic.”

  With a slight nod, Beth settled back in her chair. “That’s right, going on thirteen years now.”

  Her relaxed reply earned a narrow-eyed look from the agents across from her. Apparently, suspects were not supposed to chill out once the interrogation started.

  “In the engineering department.” He opened a manila folder and consulted a paper inside.“Yes,” she agreed placidly.

  Chastain frowned and rubbed his chin. The poor man looked awful. Huge circles shadowed the skin below his eyes. Grooves were carved into his forehead and alongside his mouth. His skin almost looked gray. From the way his suit hung off his shoulders, it was obvious the man had lost weight. Maybe he was ill.

  “You listed yourself on standby for Flight 2077 an hour before the plane was due to board, but there’s no record you checked any baggage, or asked for time off work,” he said abruptly, his tone an accusation.

  So Zane had been right. Her behavior had been flagged as suspicious.

  “I didn’t intend to take the flight. I only listed myself on standby so I could get into the departure gate and see Zane off.”

  Before she could continue with the rest of their story, the agent nodded. Obviously the explanation made perfect sense to him. Why hadn’t they gone with that excuse in the first place?

  Chastain leaned back in his chair, absently reaching into his pocket. His brow suddenly furrowed and he pulled his fingers out again. With casual interest he unfolded a slip of paper and glanced down, only to freeze—the muscles of his chest, shoulder and arms visibly contracting. His lips tightened until a white line ringed his mouth. For what seemed like an eternity he sat there, rigid, eyes locked on that slip of paper.

  “John?” The other agent, a slender, almost effeminate man with slicked-back red hair and a fastidiously trimmed goatee, leaned to the left with a frown and glanced at the note.

  The movement snapped Chastain out of his trance. He crumpled the paper and shoved it back into his pocket.

  “Sorry. Shopping list,” he said in a voice that lacked breath.

  As Chastain turned back to her, she caught something raw and haunted in those sunken eyes. Something hurting.

  “You work in the engineering department?” he asked again, jotting something down inside the file.

  From the confused frown his partner sent him, Beth wasn’t the only one wondering why he’d asked that question a second time.

  “Yes.” She left it at that.

  His fingers tightened around the pen. “Are you familiar with a Todd Clancy?”

  She stiffened. Why were they asking about Todd? Something told her this sudden interest in her co-worker had serious ramifications.

  “Why?”

  He regarded her with complete flatness. “Are you friendly with Todd Clancy?”

  “Yes. It’s through him I got my job,” she whispered through suddenly dry lips.

  Zane’s hand tensed within her grip, his fingers clamping around hers.

  “Ginny—Todd’s wife—and I have been friends since kindergarten. I’m godmother to their son.”

  Zane’s fingers relaxed.

  “You’ve been to their house?” Chastain bent over the folder, scanned a page and flipped it over. Beth craned her neck, trying to get a look, but he closed the folder over the piece of paper.

  “Of course. What’s this about?” she asked, tired of their games, of the posturing, of the lack of answers. “If you think that Todd had anything to do with this—” She waved her arm around the room. “You couldn’t be more wrong.”

  “Why do you assume we think he’s involved?”

  She snorted. “Because you’re asking about him.”

  His forehead crinkled and he jotted something down on the inside flap of the folder. What had he written? That she was uncooperative? Defensive?

  “You guys are completely off track. Todd is the kindest, most gentle person you’ll ever meet. There is no way, absolutely no way, he’d stash those guns and make it possible for the hijackers to take that plane.”

  Dead silence fell. Chastain stared down at his folder and for a moment his shoulders seemed to hunch. “The east gate login shows Todd Clancy accessed the tarmac at approximately five a.m. His shift didn’t start until eight a.m.”

  Beth relaxed, expelling a puff of relief. “The engineers come in early quite often. If they need to check something on a plane they have to do so preflight or between flights. I’m sure he has a perfectly good explanation.”

  Chastain cocked his head and watched her intently. “We have a witness, Miss Brown. A witness who can place Mr. Clancy outside Flight 2077 with a parts crate. Can you think of a reason why Todd Clancy would show up at the plane with a parts crate?”

  Beth swallowed, retreating into her seat. An engineer hauling around a parts crate was much harder to dismiss. Engineers didn’t touch the actual mechanics of the plane. It was forbidden. Only the maintenance department was allowed to work on PAL planes and even they kept detailed records, per FAA regulations. Of course, it was probably a case of mistaken identity. Yeah, that made sense. Thousands of people worked for PacAtlantic. In all likelihood, their witness had mixed Todd up with someone else.

  She leaned forward again and met Chastain’s grim gaze. “Then your witness is wrong.”

  “Our witness is a camera. The camera focused on gate C18 specifically. It clearly shows Mr. Clancy boarding that plane—with a crate.”

  Her chest tightened and her hands started to sweat. He wouldn’t need a parts crate for any legitimate work he had on that plane.

  This couldn’t be true. It couldn’t be. Her gaze flipped back and forth between the two men before her. “I don’t believe it. I know Todd. He wouldn’t do this.”

  The agent withdrew a photo from the folder, set it face up on the table and slid it across to her. The sibilant hiss of plastic against wood echoed in her ears.

  “Is this Todd Clancy, Miss Brown?”

  She didn’t want to look. Oh God, not Todd. He couldn’t be involved in this. Vaguely, she felt Zane’s hand tighten around her own, but the sensation was distant, out of focus.

  Swallowing hard, she glanced down, instantly recognizing that sandy sprout of hair.

  Oh, Jesus.

  “Is the man in this picture Todd Clancy, Miss Brown?” Agent Chastain’s flat tone made it clear he already knew the answer to that question.

  Beth didn’t ans
wer. Instead, she ran a gentle finger down the face in the photo, grief and shock rolling through her like a tidal wave. Her heart hurt. So did her head. This didn’t make sense, none of this made sense. Todd would cut off his arms and legs rather than hurt anyone—especially Ginny and Kyle—and this—this was going to kill them.

  “Miss Brown, is this Todd Clancy?”

  Beth’s finger trembled as she stroked that glossy face again. “You know it is.”

  He didn’t deny it, just leaned back in his chair and studied her face.

  Zane scooted his chair closer to hers, the plastic feet screeching against the floor, and wrapped an arm around her waist, giving her a one-armed hug. Without saying a word, he leaned in to kiss the side of her temple, his lips gentle against her skin. Beth closed her eyes and breathed in his musky, male scent, tried to push aside the whirlwind of disbelief and confusion.

  “How well do you know the Clancys?” the agent to the left asked, his pale blue eyes assessing her, and Beth knew he was wondering if the friendship she shared with Todd and Ginny had extended into a business arrangement.

  “I told you. I’ve known Ginny forever. We grew up together. They’re my best friends,” she said, stunned disbelief solidifying inside her. “Why would Todd do something like this? It doesn’t make sense.”

  The slender, dapper agent with the well-groomed goatee answered. “Money? It’s a prime motivator.” But he didn’t sound like he believed it himself.

  Beth shook her head. “They don’t need money. Todd’s an avid fly fisherman. A couple of years back he invented a lightweight collapsible reel for hikers. Some company paid a fortune for the design. Since then, he’s invented a couple of other things and sold those as well. They’ve got more money than they know what to do with. The only reason he works is because he loves planes.” She paused, stared down at the picture and shook her head again. “If he did this, there’s a reason behind it. A good reason.”

  Chastain glanced down as he slowly closed the folder. “Do you have any idea where he might have gone?”

  With a deep breath, Beth tried to focus. This development meant they’d be looking at her more closely. She tried to stir up some worry over the possibility, but all she could think about was how this was going to shatter Ginny and Kyle.

  “Have you tried his house? Ginny will know where he is.” Oh God, Ginny. Tears stung as she imagined the horror and disbelief Ginny must be feeling. This nightmare was about to swallow her whole family.

  “You can’t find the wife and kid?” Zane asked.

  She was so caught up her own thoughts it took a moment for Zane’s question to register. She must have missed something.

  “He took the family and disappeared?” Zane dropped his arm from her waist and shifted until he was facing the federal agents again.

  The silence in the wake of that question sent chills crawling up Beth’s spine. Neither agent was agreeing with Zane’s assessment. When she caught the brief, haunted skim of emotions across Chastain’s lined face, she suddenly knew why.

  Oh, God. God no.

  Horror compressed the air from her lungs and crawled up her throat until she felt like she was suffocating. She flashed back to the last time she’d seen them. To Ginny’s laughing blue eyes. To Kyle’s shy grin and chubby little body.

  Nonononono.

  “Oh, God.” With a jerky motion she reached into her purse and pulled out her cell phone. She expected the feds to prevent her from making the call, but they just sat there and watched. She tried Todd first. It rang a couple of times and went to voice mail. Ginny next. Same thing. Just like the calls that morning.

  A cold, heavy sludge settled in her chest.

  “What’s happened to them?”

  “We don’t know that anything has. We’re trying to determine the situation,” Chastain said.

  But Beth didn’t believe him. Not with that raw, sickened expression in his eyes.

  “When’s the last time you saw Virginia or Kyle Clancy?” Chastain’s voice was very quiet in the icy room.

  Beth tried to think back, but terror squeezed the memory from her mind. “I don’t… I don’t know. A week ago? We were supposed to have dinner at their place this past Friday, but Todd cancelled. He said Kyle had some kind of….” Her voice trailed off, suddenly remembering how odd the call had been.

  Todd never remembered such things, and Ginny had learned early in their relationship to pass the information along herself, or to check in later and make sure Todd had made contact. More often than not, he hadn’t. So she’d expected Ginny to call later in the day, to make sure Todd had delivered the message.

  When she didn’t, Beth had assumed she’d been busy taking care of Kyle.

  “What about Todd? Have you noticed any changes in his behavior, his appearance, or his habits during the past few weeks?”

  Todd’s face came into focus. Hollow cheeks. Red-rimmed eyes. Getting thinner and thinner every day.

  “He said he picked up Kyle’s flu.” Her voice dropped to a whisper. “He wasn’t sick, was he? I should have known something was wrong.”

  “Hey.” Zane cupped her chin and waited until her gaze shifted to his. “This isn’t your fault. There is no way you could have known.”

  “You would have known,” she said.

  Zane would have sensed that something was wrong immediately. Tracked down the problem, and taken steps to rectify it.

  She took a deep, shuddering breath and pulled her chin free. Bracing herself, she turned back to Agent Chastain. “The hijackers have them. That’s why Todd put the guns on board.”

  “We don’t know that. All we know for sure is no one’s at home. According to Kyle’s elementary school, his father called earlier in the week and told them Kyle was going on a trip with his mother. No timeframe was given.”

  “Is it possible Mrs. Clancy took their son and left? Was the marriage in trouble?” Chastain’s partner asked.

  He was speaking in the past tense. Her breathing hiccupped.

  “No. They have a strong marriage.”

  A true partnership. They’d been together since high school and knew each other inside and out. Their relationship was the kind Beth hoped for. The kind based on respect, understanding, and an endless depth of love. The kind of marriage in which to raise children.

  Chastain rubbed his palms down his face. “We need you to walk through the Clancy’s residence. Since you’re familiar with their home, you may notice if anything is missing.”

  Although Beth nodded her agreement, she was already certain they’d been taken and used to force Todd to smuggle the guns on board. It was the only thing that made sense. There was no way Todd would have planted the weapons unless he’d been trying to protect his family.

  What would happen to them now? With the hijacking plot exposed, and the guns discovered, would Ginny and Kyle become excess baggage to dispose of as soon as possible?

  Were they already dead?

  A rush of nausea climbed her throat and her scalp started to tingle.

  What if, by stopping the kidnappers and exposing the guns, she’d caused the death of her best friend?

  And Kyle. Oh, God.

  Kyle could be lying dead somewhere. Those shy blue eyes empty of life. That chubby little body still.

  A hot, heavy pressure settled in her chest.

  Because of that damn dream, a plane full of strangers was safe, but her best friends and her godchild were, in all likelihood, dead.

  Because of that damn dream.

  Chapter Nine

  By the time Cosky and Rawls returned from their debriefing, Mac had fielded multiple questions from a variety of agencies. Michael Brita of Homeland Security was the most insistent, demanding to know the circumstances under which the intel had been acquired, and how they’d identified the hijackers. Since no passengers had survived the Argentinean incident, there was no record what the terrorists looked like.

  Christ, the clusterfuck swirling around them threatened to swal
low the whole team. He could hardly admit the information had come from a fucking dream.

  As soon as Cosky and Rawls stepped inside the room, he activated the jammer and got down to business. “SITREP?”

  Cosky shrugged and leaned a shoulder against the wall. “Lots of questions we couldn’t answer. We cited classified and held fast.”

  Mac grunted, watching as Rawls perched on the edge of the lunch table. “They’re pushing for the source. It won’t be long before they hit up Command Central.”

  “What did you tell Gillomay?” Cosky regarded him with a level stare.

  “I told McKay that Zane had a dream.” Mac stomped on another surge of betrayal.

  Captain Gillomay wouldn’t have accepted Mac’s interference and confrontation with the FBI without busting him back a rank, which was exactly why Mac had gone to McKay. The Admiral had personal experience with Zane’s visions. Or at least his grandson did, since one of Zane’s flashes had saved the kid’s life during his first deployment. McKay had called Gillomay and smoothed the waters.

  Of course Admiral McKay had been going on the same false assumption as Mac. Namely, that Zane hadn’t lost his fucking mind and been lying through his teeth.

  Cosky cocked his head, and watched him in silence. “So he knows our information didn’t come from a source we can hand over?”

  Mac wouldn’t go that far. He had every intention of handing over the fucking source, but after he’d cleared his team from potential fallout. He practiced some deep breathing to counter his spiking blood pressure.

  Cosky and Mac stared at each other for one throbbing moment.

  “How the hell could you let him do this to us?” Mac finally asked through gritted teeth.

  Cosky didn’t flinch. “It was the only viable option.”

  “Bullshit.” Mac unclenched his teeth long enough to force the words out. “He should have told the truth. You know damn well I would have moved on the plane.”

  “And her.”

  The two words hung there, an accusation in the charged air.