She swiped her eyes. “I know, I know. Sorry. Guess I just needed to whine a moment.”
Ian brought her hand up and kissed her knuckles. “You’re entitled.”
Face flushed, she pulled her hand from his and gave a jittery laugh. “Well, let me look at this for a bit.”
Mentally, Ian gave himself a kick. What’d he go and do that for? He watched her and decided she didn’t seem to mind too much. Encouraged, he scooted a little closer to see the paper even as he examined his heart.
Yes, he still loved Gina. Now more than ever.
Did he feel guilty that he was picturing a future together with Gina once all this was over? Assuming they made it through alive?
Yes, he did.
He moved his chair back a bit. Sorry, Mario.
And yet, Mario was dead. He’d loved Gina. Surely he wouldn’t want her to mourn him forever. Would he?
Not the Mario Ian had once known, but it looked like Ian hadn’t known the man as well as he’d thought.
His phone rang.
Mac.
He looked at Gina, who’d raised her head at the sound. He said, “I’ll just be over here. Go ahead and keep doing what you’re doing.”
She nodded and Ian headed to the other side of the room, clicking open his phone. “What do you have for me, Mac?”
“Mario was undercover. I’ve figured that out. Only he was undercover on his own. I don’t know what he was working on. All the unit guys are being tight-lipped but are admitting that Mario was being a rogue, going off on his own.”
“Great.” Ian sighed and looked at the ceiling. Mario, how could you be so stupid?
Or was it stupidity? Ian had a feeling Mario had acted the way he had because he felt as though he didn’t have a choice. Because he didn’t trust his guys.
Mac said, “His grandmother left him a tidy sum of money and that farm out in the country, but as far as I know he never set foot there once she died.”
“Huh.”
“And, uh…”
“What?”
“I’ve got some pictures.”
“Of?” Cold dread curled in Ian’s belly. Somehow he knew he wasn’t going to like this.
“Mario and some chick. We’re looking into it, trying to figure out who she is.”
“Where did the pictures come from?”
A pause. Ian clutched the phone a little tighter. “Mac?”
“Jase gave them to me.”
The cold dread turned to a sick hollow feeling. Jase? Those pictures? The ones Mario had threatened to kill him over? And for some reason Jase had given them to Mac. Interesting.
He cleared his throat. “All right. Thanks, Mac. Call me back if you find the identity of the woman in the pictures, will you?”
“Absolutely.”
A gasp from the table caught his attention, and he turned to see Gina on her feet, working on the piece of paper from the box. “Gotta go, Mac.”
He clicked off and walked over to Gina. “What are you doing?”
Excitement thrummed through her. “I think it’s a puzzle.”
“What do you mean?”
“Oh, you know Mario. He loved puzzles, codes—and origami.” She folded one piece to match up two arrows. The seemingly random lines connected, forming one long one.
“Okay, what’s next?” she muttered, almost to herself. “Which ones go together next?”
“Try these.” He pointed to two arrows.
She folded, then gave him a look of approval. “Good job.”
He shot a smile at her, one that glowed with warmth. The place on her knuckles where he’d pressed the briefest of kisses still tingled. She rubbed her palm against her jeans and focused on the paper.
“Here, let me try this one.” She folded it. “That doesn’t look right, does it?”
“No. I think all the lines are supposed to connect.”
“Yeah, you’re right. They are.” She tried another one and felt a surge of satisfaction when the lines merged, this time to curve around the edge of the page. Another fold. “It’s a picture!”
“A drawing,” Ian agreed.
Gina looked at the clock. They’d been in the room for forty minutes. She started to sweat. Staying in one place too long caused her nerves to jump.
“What did Mac have to say?” He grimaced and she paused, pinning him with her gaze. “What?”
“Mario was definitely working on something on his own. Something he didn’t want to share with the guys in the unit.”
“We already knew that.”
“Right, but apparently he was doing something deep undercover.”
“But how is that possible? How could he do the job he was supposed to be doing and do something on his own? He couldn’t be in two places at the same time.”
Ian paced and motioned for her to keep working.
“He must have been called out of cover for something. Something serious enough to warrant blowing his cover.”
She turned back to the paper, but her mind clicked through this new information. “That training session he was supposedly killed in…Is there any way to find out for sure how he really died?”
“I’ve asked Mac and he’s sticking to the story.”
She shook her head. “I just have a feeling it was something else. With all of this going on and the guys after me…I’m not buying the training exercise. If he was running for his life, setting up this crazy—” she waved a hand searching for the right words “—scavenger hunt,” she finally blurted, “then what was he doing going back to participate in some training exercise?”
She folded another section of the paper.
Ian ran a hand through his hair. “I know. I’ve wondered that myself. And all this craziness was smart, believe it or not. He was making sure you stayed useful. Just in case you were caught by the guys who were after whatever he had. All of this stuff—” he gestured toward the paper “—it’s all something only you could figure out. At least in a timely manner. If anyone else had been able to get into that box, they would have been stumped. But you…you’ve already figured it out.”
She studied the paper again. “Yeah, I guess you’re right.”
Ian rubbed the back of his neck and said, “I can probably get my hands on the autopsy report.” He looked at his pack, which held the laptop courtesy of Mac.
Gina shuddered. “Can you do that without jeopardizing anything? Like your job?”
“Don’t worry about it. I’ll make a few calls first before I use…alternative methods to gain information I need.”
She raised a brow. “You mean ‘Rangerish’ methods?”
Ian gave a chuckle. “Right. Now, what have you got there?”
She looked down and made one more fold.
The picture was complete.
“It’s a map,” Ian offered.
“Yes. There aren’t any buildings or anything. It’s just the layout of some land.” She pointed, saying, “See, here’s a small lake or a pond. And over here, this looks like some kind of a barn or something. Then over here is a property line? But what prop—” She cut herself off with a gasp. “Wait a minute. I know where that is. That’s the farm!”
“The farm?”
Excitement oozed through her. “The one Ian’s grandmother willed to us.” She gave him a spontaneous hug, then stepped back, not embarrassed one bit, just grateful he was by her side, walking with her through all this.
“Then that’s where we go next, right?”
“Right.”
SIXTEEN
The thirty-minute drive to the farm had Gina nibbling her nails and looking over her shoulder. Ian drove with a focused concentration, watching his tail while following her simple directions. His cough seemed better, so she was guessing he hadn’t inhaled as much smoke from last night’s fiasco as she’d feared.
“Do you have the key?” he asked as he turned onto the gravel drive.
She slapped a hand to her forehead. “No. I can’t believe this. I didn’t
even think about the key.”
He shot her an amused look. “It’s all right. I don’t really need one, but it does make things easier.”
“Ha-ha. Cute.”
Then all joking stopped as the house came into view. “Somebody’s been taking care of this place. It looks exactly like it did the last time I saw it. Better than last time, actually.”
“How long ago was that?”
“About a month after Mario’s grandmother died. Toward the end she was pretty sick, and we had to come take her to the hospital.” Gina stepped out of the car. “She never came home. Mario didn’t want to touch the place for a long time, but I finally convinced him we needed to pack some stuff away and take care of…those things you take care of after someone dies.”
“It was hard for him.”
She nodded. “First, his mother willingly abandoned him to social services when he was eleven and Patrice, his sister, was just a year old. Mario told me she didn’t even put up a fight when they came to take them. Then Patrice was killed by that monster in Colombia….” She shook her head. “He was never really the same after that, I don’t think. At least according to his grandmother’s stories. I met him shortly after the fact.”
“Yeah, he never talked about his sister, just that he’d like to get his hands on the guy that killed her.”
“Unfortunately, he never had that chance.” Gina stepped out of the car and walked toward the front door of the house. “I wonder who’s been watching over this place.”
“Mario probably hired someone.”
“Sure, in the beginning, maybe, but he’s been gone six months. I doubt he paid someone that far in advance.”
“A friend of his grandmother’s maybe?”
“Possibly.”
She tried the door. Locked, of course.
“Here, let me help.”
He stepped in front of her. She couldn’t see what he was doing, but within about five seconds the door swung open. Chilled air greeted her and she shivered.
Ian entered and went straight to the stack of wood next to the fireplace. “This is a great house.”
“I know. Mario loved it.” She swallowed hard. “We were going to live here after we were married.”
Ian nodded and turned his attention to getting a fire going. “Looks like someone’s had a fire here recently.” He held up a pack of matches and she frowned. Weird.
Gina flipped the switch on the wall. The overhead ceiling-fan light brightened the room. “Huh. The power’s on, too.”
“I gotta admit, it’s kind of strange. I’m going to take a look at the thermostat. If the power’s on, it shouldn’t be this cold in here.”
He wandered down the hall while Gina looked around, soaking in the memories the place evoked. She loved coming here and visiting, had planned her future around Mario and this home. Had pictured herself raising children here.
She blew out a breath and thought about Ian. He’d come to her rescue, no questions asked. What shocked her was the feeling that had erupted inside her. Being around Ian made her feel safe, secure and unsteady all at the same time. Deep down she knew he was an honorable man, one who put God first. And that drew her to him more than anything else. She was falling for him. Hard.
Ian walked back into the room and said, “Well, it was turned down pretty low. I inched it up, so between the fire and that, it should feel good in here pretty quick.”
She just looked at him.
He blinked. “What?” Then narrowed his eyes. “What is it, Gina?”
It was her turn to blink. “Nothing. Sorry. It’s this place…It brings back memories.”
“Good ones, I hope.” Skepticism played across his face as if he hadn’t bought her simple explanation for her weird behavior, but he was letting her get away with it.
That brought a smile. “Yes, mostly good ones.”
A scraping sound outside the door had them whirling toward it; then Ian had her by the upper arm and was pulling her down the hall and out of sight of the door. Finger to his lips, he gestured for her to be quiet. Eyes wide, fear raging once again, she nodded.
Another sound, this time resembling a thud. Something dropped? The sound of a key turning the dead bolt. Some of her terror dissipated. The guys after them wouldn’t have a key to the front door.
Right?
She peeked around the corner. Ian stood to the side of the door, gun drawn. As the door opened slowly, he shifted, reached out his left hand, grabbed the knob…and yanked.
A hoarse yell greeted his efforts and a rifle skidded across the wooden floor to bump against the wall. Gina raced for it and snatched it up. Spinning, she took aim, only to stop and stare. Ian had his gun against the head of the intruder.
SEVENTEEN
Ian saw shock blanch Gina’s features white. She yelled, “Ian, stop! It’s Mr. Carswell.”
He snapped the pistol up and away from the man’s head. “Who are you?”
Bravado tried to overcome the fear on the weathered face without much success. “Jesse Carswell. I’m taking care of the place.”
“Why?”
“Because Mr. Anthony paid me to do so.”
Gina stepped forward. “When did he set that up?”
“A couple of months before his grandmother died. She was real sick and couldn’t keep the place up. So he set up arrangements for me to come in and do it on a regular basis.”
“And you’ve continued to do it without getting paid?”
The man gave a phlegmy chuckle. “No, I still get paid. Or I will through the end of the year. After that,” he shrugged, “I don’t know.”
“You do know that Mario…um…died, don’t you?”
He flinched. “Yeah, I’d heard that, but the money keeps getting deposited into my account each month, and I figured someone would be back one day to do something with the place, so…” Thin, bony shoulders lifted in another shrug.
“So you just kept honoring your bargain,” Ian finished for him.
“Yup, that about sums it up.”
Ian walked over and picked up the rifle from under the far window. “What are you doing with this?”
“Ya never know who—or what—you’re going to run into these days. I saw your car out front and figured I might need to chase you off.”
He reached for the weapon and Ian handed it over to him. Gina spoke up, “Thank you. I appreciate you taking care of everything around here.”
“My pleasure, ma’am. It sure would be a shame to see this old place go to ruin.”
She gave him a gentle hug. “It’s good to see you again, but you don’t have to worry about this place anymore. I’m here and I’ll take care of it from now on.”
Mr. Carswell nodded. “As it should be. I’ll just get on back home, then.”
“Tell Mrs. Carswell I said hello.”
The man nodded and waved as he stepped back outside, making his way down the well-tended path. Ian sighed and shut the door only to turn and open it again. “Hey, Carswell.”
The man spun around. “Yeah?”
“Have you seen anyone around here? Anyone who looked like they didn’t really belong?”
He rubbed his stubbled chin. “Well, now that you mention it, there was a guy who came by asking some questions about this property.”
Ian’s eyes sharpened. “What kind of questions?”
“Oh, just how to get in touch with the owner, that kind of thing. Said he was a Realtor and that his clients had driven by and decided they just had to have the place. I told him I didn’t have a clue how to contact you.”
Thank goodness for that.
“Did this guy give you a hard time about not knowing? You know, was he persistent?”
“At first he didn’t seem to want to take no for an answer, but I finally convinced him I just didn’t know.”
“What happened then?”
“He left and ain’t been back as far as I know.”
“Can you describe him for me?”
“We
ll, let’s see. He was big, like he worked out a lot. Dressed in a nice suit, he had dark hair and…and I think his eyes were blue.”
“Did he have any tattoos? Earrings?”
Mr. Carswell scratched his balding head. “Yeah, seems like he had a tattoo on the back of his hand.”
Suspicion leaped inside of Ian. “What kind of a tattoo? Did you see what it was?”
“I think it was some kind of dragon or…um…a reptile. Maybe a snake?”
“If I get a picture of him, do you think you could positively identify him?”
A shrug. “Probably.”
Ian nodded. “Thanks.” He pulled out a card. “Give me a call if you see him again, will you?”
“You got it. Take care.” He pocketed the card, then disappeared over the far hill that led to his neighboring property. Ian turned back to find Gina studying the pictures on the mantel. She picked one up and traced the photo with a fingertip. “Patrice was Mario’s pride and joy. He never got over her death, I don’t think.”
Ian looked over her shoulder, inhaling her spicy scent. “She was beautiful.”
“Yeah, inside and out, from what I understand.”
She replaced the picture and turned to look up at him. He cleared his throat and stepped back. “Mr. Carswell’s story about a Realtor’s clients picking this place to inquire about is just a little too coincidental to me.”
Gina frowned. “Do you think it’s one of the guys looking for us?”
He blew out a sigh. “I think so. I can’t say for sure until I confirm a couple of things, but…1 don’t know. I need to—” he broke off “—I’m going to call the sheriff and see if he’s noticed any strangers around town asking questions.”
“If they knew I inherited the house, they may have come here looking for me. Finding the place empty, they would have gone into town. Is that what you think?”
He nodded, impressed at her ability to reason things through almost as quickly as he. “That’s what I think.”
Pulling out his phone, he called information to get the sheriff’s nonemergency number. The operator put him through and the phone rang several times before it was picked up.
He identified himself and asked to speak with the sheriff.
“He’s not in the office right now. I can patch you through to his cell.”
“Thanks.”
Silent Pursuit Page 12
