Seconds to Live

by Susan Sleeman

  Now all she had to do was figure out how to take the top off the yurt, because she was certain she would never survive a night in the small space with this man who had totally and completely captured her heart.

  “Be right back.” Sean smiled at Taylor and jumped from the Jeep, excited from the ride with the wind blowing in his face. Thankfully his wig was tightly secured and hadn’t even budged.

  He stepped into the campground’s small registration building near the road and took a moment to gather his thoughts. He might have enjoyed the ride over here, but he needed to focus on the undercover assignment facing them. He’d reserved their site and paid online, but he still had to get Phantom’s campsite number. The ranger he’d talked to stood behind the counter. Average height and build, she had a pleasant smile and mousy brown hair under a broad-brimmed hat.

  He stepped up to her and displayed his official ID. “Agent Sean Nichols.”

  “Ah,” she said. “So you’re the guy who called. Been wondering when you’d get here.”

  He stowed his creds. “Which site am I looking at?”

  “A01.” She handed him a campground map.

  Sean had memorized every inch of the campground and the exact location of their site. Now he could place A01 in the right spot without even looking at the map. Yet he took it anyway to keep the ranger from asking questions.

  “Just so you know,” she said, “I drove past that campsite a few times today on my rounds, and the guy’s truck isn’t there.”

  “You didn’t approach his tent, did you?” Sean asked, hoping the woman didn’t scare Phantom off.

  “After your warning? Are you kidding?”

  He slid his business card across the counter. “Thanks for your help. My cell’s listed there. If he contacts you, don’t try to apprehend him, but call me.”

  Her firm nod gave Sean confidence that she would follow his directions. Jonesing to get his eyes on Phantom’s site, Sean hurried outside. He joined Taylor in the Jeep, tossed the map on the dash, and pointed the vehicle toward the A loop.

  “Everything go okay?” she asked.

  He nodded. “We’re in A18, and Phantom’s in A01.”

  She picked up the map and clutched it tightly. “This is all happening so fast. Maybe we should’ve given it more thought before rushing out here.”

  “Seriously, I would’ve liked to have been here hours ago.”

  She frowned and studied the map. He understood her reason for being cautious, but he had to admit he hoped she could let it go for her own sake.

  He wound around the campground, the Rogue River running through the middle, separating the property. This time of year, the park closed the camping loop bordering the river, and he could see why. The winter rains had swelled the river, and the nearby rapids were faster than normal and unsafe. Thankfully, it didn’t affect their yurt site, which included a picnic table, campfire ring, and tall pines soaring to the sky.

  Sean parked and looked at Taylor. “Our yurt faces away from Phantom’s campground so we should be good to unload without worrying about him seeing us. Still, keep your eyes peeled for him.”

  She nodded, and they hopped out of the vehicle, their feet crunching over fallen pinecones as they carried sleeping bags, a cooler, and bags of food into the yurt. He took a moment to breathe in the fresh air. Taylor joined him, and he could almost believe they were on an actual camping trip.

  An older couple strolled by hand in hand, telegraphing how at home they were with each other. Sean imagined himself at that age. With his current take on relationships, he’d be alone. A lonely old man. No wife. No children.

  He didn’t want that. Not anymore. He put an arm around Taylor and pulled her close.

  “Look, honey,” he said, loud enough for his voice to carry. “That’ll be us in a few years.”

  The couple looked their way, smiled and waved, reacting exactly as Sean had hoped.

  He turned Taylor to face him and kissed her tantalizingly slowly. Her lips were soft and warm, igniting a firestorm in his body. She had to know he was playacting, but she threw herself into the kiss, matching him and even deepening the intensity. Her hand came up behind his neck, her soft touch adding fuel to the fire, and his muscles tensed under her touch. His heart filled with joy, but he had to end the kiss to keep his wits about him. He lifted his head, and she honestly looked grieved over the end of their contact.

  “I’m not sure what I think about the wig,” he whispered as he tucked a strand of dark hair behind her ear. “You’re beautiful no matter the color of your hair, but it’s what’s inside that counts.”

  “You know this isn’t something we should be doing or talking about. No matter the reason. We’re here on business only.” She frowned.

  He wanted to trace a finger over her mouth to erase it. “I couldn’t help myself. I try to keep things professional between us, and then you smile at me, and I lose all common sense.”

  She rolled her eyes. “You probably use that line with all your women.”

  What was she talking about?

  “You know there aren’t any other women. No one but you.” He almost added and there never will be another, but he didn’t want to scare her when she was already skittish.

  Her frown deepened, and she pushed against his chest. “Let me grab my backpack, and we can get our surveillance set up.”

  She hurried away as if being chased by a big bad wolf. Was that what she thought of him, or was she running from her feelings? They would be alone in the small space tonight, and he didn’t want to do anything that might offend her.

  He went to grab the tote bags, and after they were in the rustic yurt with the door closed, he made sure the curtains on the door and the two windows were pulled closed. The space held a heavy wooden bunk bed and a futon, all boasting mattresses covered in hunter-green vinyl. The walls were made of wood lattice frames and white canvas backing. The space also had a small dining table with two chairs, and a heater.

  “I’ll set up the surveillance equipment, and we can take turns watching.” He carried the tote to the larger window facing Phantom’s site and unpacked the camera and tripod. He didn’t need a zoom lens to get a good overview of the site but simply peeked out between the curtains. “No vehicle, but a small tent, a few lawn chairs, and the picnic table, which has a checkered tablecloth clipped to it.”

  “Wait, let me see.” Taylor rushed across the room and nudged him out of the way to take a long look before facing him.

  “This guy is really something else, right?” Sean said. “A stealthy hacker who’s evaded the best of law enforcement for years, and he puts out a tablecloth.”

  “Did you bring Phantom’s old pictures?” she asked.

  “No. Why?”

  “The tablecloth that appears in a lot of the camping pictures has a similar melted spot as this one. The lawn chairs are the same too.” She put her hands on her hips, and he loved seeing how much effort she put into thinking about the developments in the case.

  Sean’s phone rang.

  “It’s Kiley.” He dropped into the chair by the camera and answered.

  “You are so not going to believe this.” Excitement had her words nearly tumbling over each other.

  “Hold on. Let me put my phone on speaker so Taylor can hear.” He turned it on and set his cell on the table. “Okay, Kiley, go ahead,” Sean told her.

  “We’ve been searching for Jorgenson’s DNA. Found his profile on an ancestry website.”

  “Good work!”

  “Yeah . . . well . . . kind of. This is crazy, but his DNA is an exact match to the male profile from the bedbugs.”

  “What?” Sean met Taylor’s baffled gaze. “Jorgenson’s dead. How’s that even possible?”

  CHAPTER 30

  SEAN QUICKLY GOT THE TEAM on a video conference call on his iPad while Taylor sat next to him at the table. For once he wasn’t distracted by her closeness. His mind was wrapped up with trying to figure out how a dead man’s DNA could be f
ound in living bedbugs.

  “I would say Phantom could have planted the DNA in the house,” Mack said, “but the bedbugs prove that’s not possible.”

  “Unless Phantom had a vial of blood for them to feed on to throw us off track.” Cam laughed.

  Sean knew Cam was joking, but then . . . “I wouldn’t put it past him.”

  “Maybe Anna was wrong when she said she extracted his DNA from the bedbugs,” Taylor suggested.

  “We need her to join us,” Sean said.

  “I’ll get her connected.” Cam turned away to begin the process.

  “Any other thoughts while he makes the connection?” Sean asked.

  “Like what?” Kiley frowned. “This is just too weird. Impossible even.”

  Sean was starting to lose confidence in Anna, only he wouldn’t let the team know that. “I’m sure Anna will have a logical explanation.”

  “Right, sure.” Mack rolled his eyes. “This is the woman who just said it was impossible for the bedbugs to have the DNA from a man who’s been dead this long.”

  “Got her,” Cam said.

  Anna came on the screen. She looked tired and a bit irritated at being summoned. “I hope this is important.”

  “It is,” Sean said, a sense of urgency in his voice. “We found Jorgenson’s DNA profile on an ancestry site. It matched the profile from the bedbugs.”

  “Interesting.” She tipped her head in a thoughtful expression when he expected her to gape at him.

  “That’s all you have to say.” Taylor stared at Anna. “What about ‘I made a mistake, his DNA can’t be in living bugs’?”

  Anna frowned. “I didn’t make a mistake.”

  “I’m sorry,” Taylor said quickly, as if realizing she’d been harsh. “But what other explanation can there be for DNA in a living bedbug from a man who’s been dead for eight months?”

  “Off the top of my head, I’d say Jorgenson donated bone marrow to someone, and they now have his DNA.”

  Sean sat in quiet shock for a moment, and so did his teammates. “You’ll have to explain that to us.”

  “Sure.” Anna took a long breath. “When a bone marrow transplant is performed, the recipient’s bone marrow is destroyed. Either partially or completely. It’s then replaced with the donor’s marrow. The recipient could either have their own DNA completely change to that of the donor or keep some of their own DNA and some of the donor’s.”

  Sean tried to wrap his head around this. “So in the second instance, the person could have two DNA profiles?”

  “Yes,” Anna said. “And this would make sense since it’s Jorgenson’s house.”

  “Jorgenson had to have been close to Phantom if he donated the marrow,” Kiley said. “And it looks like he took over living in the house when Jorgenson died.”

  Stunned, Sean sat back. “This not only has implications for our investigation, but far-reaching ones for law enforcement.”

  “Like what?” Anna asked.

  Sean couldn’t believe she had to ask. “How can you ever be sure the DNA profiles you run actually match the right person?”

  “This is a very rare condition,” Anna said. “In fact, I’ve never personally come across it.”

  “That you know of,” Mack said. “Makes me wonder how many people are behind bars for something like this.”

  Anna crossed her arms. “I doubt it’s a significant number, as anyone who’s undergone a transplant would know their DNA could’ve changed.”

  “Just to clarify, is there any other way the DNA from the bedbug could match Jorgenson’s profile?” Sean asked.

  “The reverse of what we’re talking about is possible. Phantom could have donated marrow to Jorgenson. But otherwise, there’s no other scientific explanation.”

  Sean took a moment to process. “This is good news then.”

  Taylor narrowed her eyes. “How can it be?”

  “From what Anna is saying, odds are now very good that Jorgenson donated bone marrow,” Sean replied, his enthusiasm growing. “All we have to do is locate his medical records for the procedure, and we’ll find the name of the marrow or donor recipient, a man known to us as Phantom.”

  While the team at the office searched for the transplant information, Taylor had spent hours praying and watching through a camera lens, but now Sean was at the window. The sun had made a glorious showing in vibrant reds and blues before surrendering to the moon, with no sign of Phantom arriving back at his campsite. And she was no closer to knowing what to do about her personal feelings for Sean than she’d been before she started her long conversation with God.

  She did know one thing, though. With as much as she now cared for him, she would have to tell him about Jeremy. The telling would be painful, yet Sean deserved to understand her reason for not entering into a relationship with him.

  “Are you hungry?” She squinted to try to make out his expression in the dark. They were keeping the lights out so Phantom couldn’t see the camera in the curtain opening. That was, if he ever returned.

  “I could eat something, sure,” he replied.

  She dragged the other chair to his location before taking sandwiches and bottled water from the cooler and finding plates and chips in a grocery bag. She placed the food close to him so he didn’t have to leave the camera.

  “Thanks.” He reached for the sandwich. “I really expected Phantom to be back by now.”

  “Yeah. Strange, right? Why come all the way out here and not stay?” Taylor had tried not to let her imagination go wild with all the things Phantom could be doing, but she hadn’t managed it. “I checked in at the safe house, and everything is fine there.”

  He took a drink from the water bottle. “You really do worry a lot, don’t you?”

  Here it was. The opening she needed to tell him about Jeremy. Her mouth was dry. So very dry. She grabbed a water bottle and chugged. She sat across the table from him. “My worry. It’s . . . Jeremy. What happened to him. It was my fault.”

  He swung his head around to stare at her. “Seriously? I asked you if you had something to do with his death, and you said no.”

  “I lied. I couldn’t tell you,” she rushed to add before he could respond. “I’m sorry, Sean. It’s just . . . I wasn’t ready to talk about it.”

  He shook his head. “You lied to me. You really lied to me.”

  “Yes.” She was thankful for the yurt’s low light, as she couldn’t make out his expression. She’d rather see nothing than witness his deep disappointment in her.

  He put down his sandwich and swung his focus back to the camera.

  Was that it? Wouldn’t he give her a chance to explain why she’d lied?

  “Okay. Tell me about it,” he finally said, his tone sharp and unyielding.

  She didn’t want to talk to his rigid back, but she had to explain. “I was sixteen and was going to the mall with my friends to shop for prom dresses. Jeremy owed me twenty bucks. So I went to his room to get it. I found narcotic pain pills in his drawer. I figured he was just getting high on them, you know, and I could tell my parents when they got home. Never did I think he was planning to take the whole bottle.”

  “But something happened and you couldn’t tell them,” he said without looking at her, that inflexible tone still clinging to his words.

  “Right. This was my first formal dance. I forgot all about the pills and stayed out way too late. Blew off my curfew.”

  Memories she’d kept at bay for years now pummeled her brain. Vivid, bright, technicolor memories. Of Jeremy. Lifeless. In a casket. The box being lowered into the ground. She tried to inhale, but it felt like the world sat on her chest, and she could barely breathe. She wanted to crawl in a hole and not go on, but she needed to explain.

  “It shouldn’t have mattered,” she said. “Jeremy had football practice and wouldn’t be home before our parents. But he’d planned things out. Came home early and swallowed all the pills. My mom found him when she got home from work. It . . . it was too late.�
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  Taylor shuddered at the memory as tears flowed down her cheeks. She hoped Sean would at least look at her, but he didn’t move.

  “Later,” she continued, her voice barely a whisper, “at the hospital when the doctors said he’d died, I told my parents about finding the pills. They blamed me for his death. They were right. It was my fault. If I hadn’t gone shopping for the stupid dress, he would still be alive.”

  She hoped Sean would turn and tell her it was okay, that she wasn’t to blame. But he sat there in silence.

  “Sean?” she asked.

  He shook his head, just one solid shake telling her he didn’t want to talk. Yeah, he was very angry at her. She got it. There was no point in dragging this out, only to end up with the same result. She’d done the one thing he detested most. Lied to him.

  His phone rang, and he grabbed it like a lifeline.

  “It’s Kiley on a video call.” He quickly answered.

  Despite the turmoil between them, Taylor moved closer so she could see the screen.

  “Boy, am I glad you’re still up and answered.” Her face was bright with excitement. “I located the girl in the picture with Jorgenson.”

  Taylor gaped at the phone. “How?”

  She sat forward. “I had an age progression done on the picture and ran it through facial recognition.”

  “You didn’t mention doing that.” Sean sounded suspicious, probably the result of learning Taylor had lied to him.

  “I didn’t want to get your hopes up if it didn’t pan out.”

  “So who is she?” Taylor asked.

  “Patrick Jorgenson’s cousin and, wait for it—” she grinned—“the person he donated bone marrow to.”

  Taylor jumped to her feet and stared at Kiley. “She’s Phantom? Phantom’s a woman? But who’s the guy I saw? The guy we thought was Phantom?”

  Kiley shrugged. “Not sure on that, but I can tell you her name. Natalie Primm. She got leukemia six years ago, and Jorgensen donated marrow. We got his medical records, and he died from lung cancer. Mack interviewed nurses via phone, and they remember Primm being there with him.”