by Liz Lee
Riley’s eyes narrowed as he watched her, his own gun ready at his side. “I can think of worse comparisons for situations like this.”
She breathed deeply, sited the gun as she pushed the curtain to the side.
The dog walker was there. On the dock. Watching the house. Waiting.
She was done running. She had to be.
“I’m going out there.”
“No, Callah.” Riley’s hand shot out, grabbed her wrist, but she pulled away.
“He wants me, and I want to know why. This running away, putting innocent people in danger has to stop. I’m the only one who can do that.”
Riley’s phone rang, the Pink Panther ring tone completely at odds with the man in front of her. But he wouldn’t let go of her hand.
“Let me go, Riley.”
“This is Rand. Let me talk to him. Tell him the situation. See what he says.”
She looked at the man on the dock. He’d found her. How could someone in D.C. help? But then what could a couple more minutes change?
“Fine. But when I go out there, you have to promise me you’ll get out of here.”
“No way in hell, Babe.”
Pink Panther kept right on playing and she wanted to laugh or cry or both.
“I mean it Riley. Agree now or I’m out the door.”
Riley just laughed and held the door shut with his foot.
“You’re not going anywhere, Callah. Not yet.” He snapped his phone open, practically growling “We need some help here, Rand. Now.”
She was pissed, but no way was Riley letting Callah walk out that door.
Someone had trusted him to keep her safe. After the last couple hours, he knew he had a mission. A mission he couldn’t fail.
When he snapped open his phone, Rand started talking immediately. And as he spoke, Riley knew, all bets were off. All of them. Rand didn’t waste time.
“Riley, you need to listen to me very carefully.”
“You’ve got my full attention, Rand. What did you learn?”
“Not a lot. At least not about who’s after Callah or why. But I found someone willing to talk and it’s not good.”
“Spit it out, Rand. We’re aware nothing about this is good. What did you find out?”
When Riley closed the phone, he knew what they had to do. They were out of time. The dog walker reached the edge of the property. Started forward. And Callah tried to push him out of the way.
“Wait, Callah, just wait a damned minute.”
“For him to knock on the freaking door again? No way, Riley. I’m out of here.” Her voice broke and her hand trembled as she reached forward, but Riley refused to move. She needed to know.
“Stop. You have a choice. That man’s not here to hurt you. He’s here to help.”
“What?” Callah tried to make sense of his words.
“We’ve got to make a choice, Callah. Rand hasn’t been able to see your dad. But he’s found one answer. The dog walker isn’t out to hurt you. He’s assigned to your case. He was in Burkette to keep you safe.”
Shocked silent, Callah looked at Riley wordlessly. Just one more thing on the never-ending list of things that didn’t make sense.
“He’s there to protect me? But who’s after me then? Why don’t I know this?”
Riley moved his foot from in front of the door. “Good questions, Callah. Questions we can still get answered.”
Callah looked out the window, but she didn’t see a savior. She saw the cold eyes of a man on a mission. A man intent on harm.
“This is insane, Riley.”
Riley nodded. “I agree. And for protecting you, Mr. dog walker out there did a lousy job. I’m helping you, but he certainly couldn’t have known that. You tell me what you want and we’ll do it. We can go back or we can walk out there together and try to get to the bottom of this, shoot him if we have to. The choice is yours.”
We.
Callah latched onto the word. She wasn’t in this alone. At least not yet.
“You’re supposed to be some sort of investigative reporter, Riley. Help me out here. What do I do?”
Riley’s laugh was bitter, and she wondered what nerve she’d hit. “The last big investigative piece I broke had to do with embezzling at the public library, Callah. It was a five hundred dollar mistake and was settled in minutes. We’re not talking Bob Woodward here.”
As Callah watched Riley, something shifted inside her. He might not believe in himself, but she believed in him. Riley had saved her from something, she wasn’t sure what. “Someone wants to hurt me, Riley. And someone else thought you were the man to save my life. There’s got to be a reason.”
And as she spoke she realized she’d come to her conclusion. “The answers are in Burkette.”
“Someone certainly thinks so.”
“Then we’ve got to go back.”
“We’re not going to be able to do that without him seeing us.” Riley nodded to where the man who was supposed to protect her was standing. The man who’d talked to Charlie.
“I won’t leave with him.” She couldn’t. Of that she was certain.
“Fine. Just put down the gun and we’ll talk to him, Callah. If you go out there with that thing, there’s no telling what will happen.”
“What if your brother’s wrong, Riley? What if that man out there won’t tell us what’s going on?” The cold metal felt good in Callah’s hand. For the first time since she’d run out of her house with Riley that morning, she felt like she was in some sort of control. She couldn’t put the gun down without knowing the man outside wouldn’t hurt them.
The decisions made, Callah opened the door just as the dog walker reached the sidewalk.
“Don’t come any closer.” She held the gun behind her, ready to use it if she had to. But then Riley stepped close enough she could feel the heat of his body. When he put his hand over hers, she didn’t bother fighting. She needed to focus on the man in front of her.
The dog walker’s startled eyes met hers. “Ma’am, I’m Special…”
“I know who you are.”
The radio in his hand squawked to life, an urgent sounding call for communication.
He started to pick it up, but Callah shook her head. “Tell them I’ll meet you in Burkette. With Riley.”
“Ma’am, just let me explain.”
His voice was soft, completely at odds with his eyes, and she wanted to laugh. “I’m not interested in explanations,” she lied then continued. “Not yet. We’ll talk in Burkette.”
Chapter Seven
Back in Burkette.
Callah figured there was a song in there somewhere.
Riley’d spent the first thirty minutes of the ride across the lake railing about how lucky she was not to be dead after stepping outside with a gun when they knew the dog walker was a government agent. One part of her knew he was right. But faced with the same circumstances she’d make the same choice again.
Because she wasn’t dead, and the federal agent had followed them across the lake all the way to the offices of The Standard. And now he and some other official looking guy in a suit were sitting outside the office waiting to speak with her. Two Cigarette Smoking Men. Stars in her very own X-Files.
Riley’s editor, Mack, looked at her as if she were the key to Fort Knox. Worse, Riley looked at her in the very same way. Like an object for examination. A subject. A headline. Somehow she’d let herself forget that first and foremost she was a story.
Dang, it was cold in here. Callah wrapped her arms around herself as she tapped her sandal on the floor and wrinkled her nose at the smell of ink and paper.
Reporters kept looking up from their cubicles with curious glances. They circled big stories like sharks around blood.
This was her Jaws.
She tried to ignore the phones ringing, the sound of tapping on keyboards, the occasional curse at computer problems. The men in the hall. Waiting.
She felt exposed in the glass windowed room with its cowboy
and Indian brass sculptures and paintings that looked like they’d come from a Spaghetti Western. Fitting really since her life had somehow turned into the stuff of movies. Riley sat across from her and smiled as if this were the best day of his life. She needed to remember how close to the truth that was.
“Okay, Callah, here’s the deal….”
Callah blew out a pent up breath. “Riley, I’m tired of this. Let’s talk to the men outside this door. They’re the ones with the answers.”
Riley frowned. “I know at some level that’s the truth. But they make me uncomfortable. All the secrets. And we still have the package delivered to me. It doesn’t make sense. I figure if we go to press with your story you’ll be safe.”
Oh yeah. She certainly understood that line of thinking.
“Exposing my life to the world will make me safe how exactly?”
“Not the world, Callah. Burkette. Everyone will know you’re in danger. Danger you don’t know or understand. You’re one of us. People here will do everything in their power to keep you safe.”
One of them. She wanted to laugh. God, she was so tired. She wished she still had the gun she’d left in Riley’s truck. Then maybe she’d feel safe. “And it’ll just happen to sell a few thousand papers too. Nice how that works.”
“I’m not going to apologize for my job, Callah. It’s what I do. The fact that I think it’ll protect you is an added bonus.”
“Whatever, Riley. Whatever. Write the story. Make it killer. Add all the good stuff. The way Charlie totally demoralized me. The way I let it happen. The way I moved back to Burkette to find safety and security in the expected and found instead that my entire life has been constructed on a lie.”
He started forward and she held out her hand. “Don’t touch me, Riley. Just write the damn story. First though, I think we should talk to the nice men sitting out there so we can make sure we have all the gory details. What do you think? It might be good for a few more copies. Who knows? You could get lucky and win a Pulitzer. Get hired by CNN. Write a book and go on Oprah. Throw in all the juicy stuff, and they might even make a movie. Trust me when I say they’d love you in Hollywood.”
As Callah’s angry words slammed into Riley, he tried to let them bounce off. He knew he had to let her vent. Hell, he didn’t blame her. This whole thing sucked. Someone had screwed up. Big time. The men waiting in the hall were just two of those someone’s.
Honestly, in a way she was right. He wanted this story, but more than that, he wanted her safe. Getting the story to the public was one way to make that happen. After her stunt with the gun, she was lucky they even had this chance.
“I just want you to be safe, Callah.”
She smiled in sad disbelief. “You’re a reporter, Riley. It’s okay. I get it.”
He wasn’t going to argue with her. Not now. Later, once the upcoming interviews were over, she’d remember what they’d shared at the cabin, and then she’d know she was more than a story to him.
Mack set a Diet Coke in front of her and she popped the top with a thanks. Riley saw the worry on Mack’s face. Knew his editor was wondering how the suits outside might screw with the biggest story to hit Burkette.
It was time to find out.
“Call ’em in, Mack. Callah needs to know the truth.”
The truth. Right. Callah wanted to laugh. And the whole Callah needs to know thing. Yeah. So selfless of him. Like he wasn’t salivating at the idea of more explosive details for his story.
The dog walker was followed by a trusty sidekick. Younger. Leaner. An all-American golden boy. Her unease didn’t go away as Mr. dog walker flipped open his wallet and introduced himself.
“Ms. Crenshaw, I’m Special Agent Vince McBride with the FBI.” He pointed to the man standing to his side. “This is my partner Special Agent James Conroy. We’re sorry for the scare you had today, and we apologize for any inconvenience our surveillance might have caused you.”
Inconvenience. Callah choked back a laugh. These men standing in front of her had answers she needed, so she wasn’t going to waste time berating them.
“Nice to meet you both.” Years of training made the words sound cordial even though she wanted to scream, to rage.
The dog walker, Agent McBride, cleared his throat as he took a seat across from her. “I’m sure you have questions Ms. Crenshaw. We don’t have all the answers, but what we do know, we’ll share. If you’d like this to be private, I’m sure Mr. Sorenson will understand.”
This time she did laugh. Obviously, this guy did not know Riley. Besides private was the last thing in the world she wanted. Because even though she hated it, she figured Riley was right about one thing. The secrets had to stop.
“I’ve decided privacy’s overrated. Besides, I’m sure Riley’s as interested in hearing this as I am.”
The agents looked at each other then finally shrugged and sat across from her. Agent Conroy opened a brief case. He pulled out an envelope similar to the one that had been mailed to Riley and laid out four photos.
“Do either of these people look familiar?”
Her breath caught as she looked at the photos. Younger versions of the people in the wedding photo Riley had shown her earlier. The man in the photo near her looked like he’d stepped off the cover of a Led Zeppelin album. The woman’s big hair and dress made her look like an extra in one of those 80s teen flicks. In the other two photos both were in full military regalia.
“I,” she tried speaking, but her voice cracked, and she had to start over. “I don’t know these people.”
The young agent looked at the dog walker, found the answer he sought in what she figured was some silent secret agent communication, then leaned forward, his face intense as he spoke. “Their names are Olivia and David Duncan.”
She nodded, still not understanding. “They’re in a photo sent to Riley.”
Both men seemed surprised, and Riley produced the photo, laid it next to the ones already on the table.
“We’ll have to keep this. It’s not a photo we have on file.” McBride picked the print up, searched for identifying marks just as she had, then put it back on the table.
She couldn’t stand this any more. “Who are they? What’s going on?”
“The story we’re going to tell involves the Duncan’s, your family and you. When we’re done, if you have questions. We’ll answer what we can.” The older agent, McBride, sounded practically gleeful as he spoke.
Callah wasn’t sure she wanted to hear the story. But she knew she had no choice. She needed to know who these people were. Her life might depend on it.
Holy crap.
Riley looked at the smiling people in the photos from another lifetime and knew what the agent was going to say. He saw the train wreck coming and couldn’t do anything to stop it.
Damn, this was going to hurt her. He grabbed her cold hand in his and waited for the agent to speak, for Callah to react.
Agent Conroy pointed at the young man in the photo. “David Duncan was your natural father.” He pointed at the other photo. “Olivia, your mother.”
Other than clenching his hand and letting out a slight gasp, Callah didn’t react at all, and Riley knew she didn’t believe it. Not yet. But she would soon. These agents had more proof than the mother and daughter’s uncanny resemblance.
As the story unfolded, each layer revealed a darker secret. And he knew when it was over he didn’t have the capabilities to keep her safe, but he’d do his best because she needed him. Judging by what he’d seen of these agents so far, he was all she had.
It felt like an out-of-body experience. Not that she’d ever had one. It was just so completely unreal. Callah sat in the cold room watching the cold men tell their cold story, let Riley hold her cold hands in his.
She was there, but not. Somehow she was watching, listening, even reacting, but not really. Everything echoed. She locked her eyes on the photos on the table as Agent Conroy unraveled his outlandish story, and she let Riley hold her han
d because obviously that’s what he needed to do. Whatever. She didn’t care.
Supposedly her parents were undercover agents in a top-secret military program developed during the cold war.
They fell in love and resigned from active intelligence once they decided to start a family. Straight out of a movie. Callah almost laughed at the irony, except the small pain balled up in her throat threatened to turn into an all-out sob at any second.
When Olivia and David learned of an illegal weapons program at a nearby military base, they set up a meet with an active agent. That agent and Daniel Duncan were found dead in the Duncan residence, and Olivia Duncan disappeared with her young daughter.
Agent McBride pointed to the couple in the photo. “Ms. Crenshaw, new evidence leads us to believe you are Olivia and David Duncan’s daughter and that the man who raised you as his child was involved in the hit ordered on your birth parents.”
Callah shook her head, trying to make sense of the fragments of her so-called life lying on the table. She yanked her hand from Riley’s and looked at the photos of these strangers. Of these people who meant nothing to her.
Agent Conroy reached in his pocket and she wanted to beg him to stop. To leave her alone. To go away and pretend they didn’t know who she was.
Beside her, Riley stood, walked around her seat at the conference table. She wanted to scream at him. To tell him her life was more than a story, but she couldn’t even make her voice work. All she could do was focus on the agent’s hand as he slowly brought out one last photo and let it drop oh so softly to the walnut table.
Callah took one look at the photo and everything happened at once.
“No.” The voice wasn’t hers, but the word was. Her feet hit the floor, the soft soles of her sandals skidding as she pushed the chair backwards.
“No. There’s something very wrong here.”
The voice she heard sounded different from her own. Panicked. Low.
Her hand shook as she pointed at the new photo on the table. “This is some sort of sick joke. I don’t know who you are or why you’re doing this, but there’s no way any of this is true.”
