by Mary Alford
“Go, Lena.”
Before I could think about answering him, Doren gave me a little push toward the door before turning his full attention to his fallen comrade.
My arm throbbed with pain as I shoved my weapon inside my jacket and left the deserted building, walking as fast as I could away from the terror I’d faced tonight. When I reached the spot where I’d parked my Expedition, the SUV was nowhere in sight.
I glanced around, trying to get my bearings. Minnesota Avenue where it intersected Anacostia was no-man’s-land. No one in their right mind would be caught dead walking through these streets alone at night, but I didn’t have a choice. Whoever had sent the FLA after me tonight wanted to make sure nothing could place me here at the site. I wasn’t supposed to walk away from here alive.
To my left was the waterfront; up ahead more deserted buildings. I opted for the vacant lot that had a small amount of trees I could use for seclusion. There was only one person I could turn to for help tonight. Margaret.
Margaret lived in the Bethany Beach neighborhood, which was at least eight miles from where I was by vehicle. By foot, who knew how many hours it would take to cover but I didn’t dare call her to come get me and I couldn’t risk taking a cab. With my injuries, there would be too many questions and I would be too easy to remember.
I tried to stay out of visibility but it was hard. I lost my bearing several times, having to retrace my steps to familiar areas. By the time I reached Margaret’s affluent neighborhood, I felt close to passing out.
I said a silent prayer that Margaret was home and alone. When I was certain no one suspicious was around, I hurried up the steps to Margaret’s two-story house and knocked softly against her door.
“Lena, is that you?” Margaret whispered anxiously, obviously checking the peep hole.
“Yes, it’s me. Can I come in?”
She opened the door and started to turn on the light but I stopped her. “No. Not here. In your study. It’s on the opposite side of the house from the street.”
When she closed the door to the study and turned on the lights, she saw the extent of my injuries.
“Oh, Lena, you need to go the emergency room. This looks serious. What happened to you tonight?”
“No. I can’t risk it. And don’t ask questions, Margaret. It’s best that you don’t know anything. Just do what you can. My shoulder’s dislocated. Can you fix it?”
“Yes, I think so, but you’re bleeding.”
“I took a hit to the head.”
Margaret retrieved her medical bag and gingerly examined my head wound. “You need stitches.”
“No, just bandage it up. It will be fine. Deal with the shoulder first, okay?”
“You want something for the pain first? This is going to hurt.”
I shook my head. “Just do it quickly.”
“All right,” she breathed in a weary sigh. “I need you to lie down on the floor.”
I did as she asked. Margaret took my injured arm and braced her foot against my side. With one quick movement, she pulled hard and my shoulder snapped back into its socket with excruciating pain. Tears stung my eyes.
“Sorry, I know it hurts.” She left me alone for a second and returned with some pills and a sling.
“It’s okay. It’s only a mild painkiller.”
I swallowed the pills and she carefully placed the sling over my shoulder.
“Do you think I’ll lose the baby?”
Margaret didn’t answer right away, which told me there was a very real chance that I could. I closed my eyes. Please, God, please save my baby…
“Have you had any cramps or spotting? How long ago did this happen?”
“Hours ago. I had to walk here, and no, I don’t think so.”
She nodded. “You take care of yourself and you’re in excellent shape. Chances are good the baby will be fine. I’m more worried about a possible concussion. That head wound looks severe.”
“I’ll be fine, Margaret,” I said with more confidence than I felt. “How long before I’ll have full use of the arm again?”
“Do you have any dizziness, any double vision?” she asked, ignoring my question.
“No, nothing. How long, Margaret?”
“Probably a few days, but it’s going to hurt like crazy for a while. Where’s your vehicle?”
“Stolen.” I took her hand in mine and squeezed it. “Thanks, Margaret.”
“You need to report this to the police.” She stared at me in concern. “You’re shivering. You’re probably going into shock. Let me get you a blanket and then I’ll make you something warm to drink. That should help.”
“I am the police, remember?”
She shook her head, forced me back against the cushions of her sofa, and tossed a blanket over me. “You know what I mean. Try not to fall asleep just yet, in case you do have a concussion.”
“Yes, I know what you mean,” I assured her. “But you also know I can’t. Margaret, I need to stay here for a few days. Is that okay?”
She turned in the doorway and looked at me. “Lena, you don’t have to ask. Of course it’s okay.”
“Yes, I do need to ask, because I could be putting you in jeopardy by being here.”
“Does this have anything to do with Roc’s death?” She saw my reaction and added gently, “I thought you were going to get out of this.” She came back and knelt in front of me.
“I can’t get out just yet.” Margaret’s opinion of this was clear. “I need answers, Margaret.”
She stood and left me without another word. When she returned, she carried two cups of hot chocolate.
“It’s better for you than coffee.” When I wrinkled my nose at it she added, “Just drink it.”
“I’m sorry, I really don’t want to get you involved in this.”
“Lena, you’re my friend and I love you. You can stay here as long as you need. I have to leave for a medical convention tomorrow, but the place is yours and the fridge is stocked.”
“Thanks, I can’t go home just yet. My place is being watched. I need to borrow some of your things.”
“Of course. Come on, I’ll make up the guestroom for you. It’s late. I think we can rule out any concussion. You need to try and get some sleep.”
~
When I awoke the next morning, Margaret was already gone. She left me a note telling me she would check in with me later that day and asking me to feed her fish. I spent the rest of the day roaming around her empty house, trying to fit the pieces together.
All the evidence seemed to point to Roc being a member of the FLA, but this went against everything I believed to be true about Roc Branson. He loved his country. He would never sell out no matter what. Which meant someone was trying to either frame him or make sure those closest to Roc—namely me—didn’t check too closely into his death. The question was, who didn’t want me learning the truth? Ed? Doren? Without my computer, I was working on blind assumption. I desperately needed to get to a computer to try to get in touch with someone from the team. I didn’t dare use Margaret’s system.
Margaret had left the Washington Post on the kitchen table. I sat down and began searching its contents, looking for some hint that what happened last night had hit the news. There was nothing. I flipped through every local TV station, but no one was reporting an unidentified death. Had Doren been there as he claimed to protect me, or was he the true leader of the FLA? Nothing was adding up.
I waited until I was certain no one was watching the house and then I dressed in Margaret’s jeans, a baggy sweatshirt, and dark sunglasses. I pulled my hair up into a bun and hid it beneath Margaret’s prized Washington Redskins baseball cap.
I left the house and walked a couple of blocks over to an internet coffeehouse. I’d only have a few minutes of obscurity online before those watching out for me became suspicious. I typed a brief e-mail to Mark and told him about my situation in vague broad strokes, asking him to contact me via e-mail so that he could bring me safely in
, which meant I would have to risk checking e-mail again very soon.
Then I tried to find out something about Doren Alderees.
One of the first lessons Roc taught me was never overlook the obvious. I started with a quick Google search of Doren’s name but turned up nothing. I was in the middle of scanning the Free America website for possible clues to his true allegiance there when two men entered the coffeehouse.
Although they were dressed casually, they were federal agents sent there for me. I didn’t recognize either as CIA personnel. I hadn’t heard from Mark so I didn’t dare trust them. I slipped out of my chair close to the back of the coffeehouse and ducked out the back door. When I was a safe distance away, I circled around so I could get a better look. Soon, the two men left the building and got into a black Suburban with dark tinted windows.
How had they tracked me so quickly? Was it my online presence or had Mark tipped them off? For the first time in my career, I felt completely alone. I was in the wind. I couldn’t trust anyone, not even those I’d once called my own.
Chapter Eight
I spent the next few days at Margaret’s house, never daring to leave for fear of what might be waiting for me out there.
After allowing my arm a full day of recovery, I tried using it as much as possible. Although the pain was still difficult to bear, I needed full use of it fast because I believed it was only a matter of time before someone tied me to Margaret and came looking for me here. Without my cell phone and no secure access to the web, I was working blind. I needed to go back to my apartment for my laptop and some personal items before getting out of D.C. This town was over for me. I had to get out just to stay alive.
I waited until after midnight before leaving. Margaret told me she kept the Jeep she’d used during her high school years because it was where she’d lost her virginity, although she rarely drove it anymore. I found the keys above the visor and managed to get the engine to turn over after several cranks.
I parked in the neighboring apartment complex and waited. When nothing out of the ordinary appeared to be taking place, I skirted around the side of the complex and ended up at the back of my building.
Within minutes, I’d slipped in and unlocked my door.
I stood for a second, listening to the familiar sounds of my apartment. Nothing appeared out of order, but I didn’t dare turn on any lights.
I felt my way to the bedroom and had just stepped inside when instinctively I knew I was no longer alone.
“Who’s there?” My breath lodged against my throat. I couldn’t breathe. My eyes searched the surrounding darkness and spotted a shadowy figure close by. I tried to run for the front door but a strong arm circled my waist, pulling me back as another hand clamped over my mouth, silencing my scream.
And then he whispered against my ear. “Don’t scream.” Roc!
Roc was so close and yet I couldn’t let myself believe this wasn’t just some twisted dream.
“I’m going to take my hand away but if you scream, I’ll put it back. You understand?”
I nodded and he took his hand away. The second he moved away, I went into his arms and held him close. Roc was alive.
I felt him flinch and I pulled away. “You’re hurt,” I said in concern.
He smiled down at me and my heart did a flip. This was the Roc I knew and loved so much. “It’s nothing. We have to get out of here now, Lena. Get your things.”
“Why? What’s going on, Roc? Why did you let me believe you were dead?” My voice caught. I couldn’t help it. I was crying again. I’d been on a rollercoaster ride since hearing Roc was dead and now I’d found out it was all a ruse.
He drew me closer. “Because there was no other way. I had to make the people watching you believe I was dead...” he stopped as if realizing something. His hands framed my midsection. “You’re pregnant?” he asked in amazement.
As I looked into his startled eyes, I knew it was time to tell him what I should have long ago.
“Yes, I’m pregnant. We’re having a baby, Roc.”
He smiled and then just as quickly it was gone. “Why didn’t you tell me?” he asked quietly.
This was the hardest question to answer. I knew being honest was the only way to go. Too many half-truths had tainted our marriage already.
“Because I wasn’t sure you’d want a child. I wanted to tell you so many times, but…” I couldn’t finish, but the heartbreaking pain in his eyes told the truth. I’d misjudged him once again.
“Not want our child? That would be like saying I don’t want you, Lena. I want you and our child.”
I brushed tears from my eyes and gave the apology he deserved. “I’m so sorry I didn’t trust you, Roc. It’s just that you know I’ve wanted out for so long and I wasn’t sure how our marriage would work with you still on the job and me, well…”
He drew me close and kissed me and I forgot all my worries. “We’ll work it out, Lena, because we love each other. That’s all that matters.”
“Yes, I have you back and I’m so blessed.”
He looked at me funny, but lowered his head and kissed my lips briefly before letting me go.
“We have to hurry, Lena. Get your things. We’re leaving here tonight before it’s too late.”
“Before it’s too late for what? What are you talking about? What are you running from, Roc? Doren? My brother?”
When he didn’t answer, I took a shot in the dark and asked, “Is it The Agency? Is The Agency looking for you or for me? Please, tell me, Roc.”
Outside my bedroom window, a faint noise made us both aware of the urgency of the situation.
“Stay here, Lena, let me check it out,” he whispered tenderly and I nodded. I watched as Roc left the room but returned only a short time later.
“Pack your things. We can’t stay here any longer—it’s too dangerous. I need to get you out of here. You’re being watched.”
I found my suitcase in the closet and threw some clothes into it before grabbing my laptop, then I shoved my weapon into my handbag, while Roc stood next to the window watching.
It was still very early in the morning when we left the apartment and got into a black Range Rover loaded with supplies and a full tank of gas.
“Who’s looking for us, Roc?” I asked again and prayed he would answer, but he simply shook his head and glanced my way briefly.
“It’s best that you don’t know, Lena.” When I stared at him in frustration, he took my hand and added, “Please, just trust me.”
Letting go of my fears was hard to do, but this was my husband and I loved him with all my heart, and so I would trust him.”
I smiled at him. “I do trust you. I’m just so thankful to have you back.”
He squeezed my hand and then focused on the dark road ahead of us. Throughout the journey Roc continuously watched the rear view mirror for any would-be tails.
When we crossed over the Virginia state line, I guessed where he was taking me.
Roc pulled into the vacant parking lot of a small diner, the only thing open at that time of night.
When I glanced his way for explanation, he said, “We both need to stretch our legs and get something to eat.”
I nodded and got out. Already my muscles had grown stiff from the hours of driving and my injured arm hurt like crazy.
Roc took my hand and we stepped inside, the jingling bell above the door startled me. I found myself involuntarily reaching for the weapon I’d tucked behind my jacket. Once a spy, always a spy.
The place was practically empty but the sign on the door said it was an all-night diner. I ordered a sandwich and hot tee while Roc stuck with coffee. The waitress who took our orders looked like she could have stepped out of a sitcom.
Her jet-black hair was piled high on her head. She wore heavy makeup that I suspected was a deliberate attempt to cover her age, which my trained eye pegged to be somewhere mid-sixties at the very least.
“You two aren’t from around here, are you?�
� she asked and I found myself suspicious of her motives right away.
“No,” Roc answered after a moment’s pause. One glance his way told me he shared my fears. “Why?” When she simply laughed at this, I realized our years in the trenches had made us jaded.
“Well, now, no reason in particular. I’m just making conversation. It gets kind of lonely round these parts this time of night. You have to make the time pass any way you can. We’re not exactly on the usual tourist path. You and your wife aren’t lost, are you?”
“No. No, we’re not lost.” Roc’s eyes met mine for a moment, his filled with tenderness. “We just decided to take the scenic route this time. You know, see some of the countryside for a bit,” Roc said with a smile.
“Kind of hard to do in the middle of the night, isn’t it?” the woman asked, not really buying Roc’s explanation. “Where you two heading, anyway?”
Even though we didn’t have anything to fear from this woman, Roc’s sharp instincts wouldn’t let him leave any evidence behind.
“Oh, just on our way to Texas. How long have you lived here…” A quick glance at her nametag identified her as Gladys. “How long have you lived round here, Gladys?”
She waved her hands in front of her. “Way too long, honey. All my life. Never moved away. Well, not for any length of time, anyway. I left home once when I was a young kid but came back after only a week. I was so sure this place here couldn’t exist without me and that my life wouldn’t amount to anything anywhere else. But you know what? That was the biggest mistake of my life. Because I was wrong.”
I smiled as Roc invited Gladys to sit with us for a while. Roc had a soft spot for a good romance. He was a true romantic at heart.
“What happened?” I found myself asking, being pulled into Gladys’ story.
“I left here years ago with my boyfriend. We moved out west to California. He wanted to marry me, but I was so homesick for my little town, my family, and my job here that I couldn’t go through with it. I came back home, settled in to my life again, and never left. And you know what? There’s not been a day that went by that I didn’t think about him. He was the love of my life. You only get one chance at that kind of happiness. And I blew it.” Gladys stopped speaking for a moment as her eyes focused on us. It was as if she were talking directly to me and Roc. We’d come close to blowing our marriage. Was it too late for us? Not with God’s help.
