by Cindi Myers
Afterward, she lay in his arms, spent and satisfied. “No more bombs tonight,” he murmured, pulling the blankets over her shoulders. “I feel too good to move for at least the next eight hours.”
She tried to think of a reply, but drifted to sleep before the words came to her.
Then she was in a house full of dark rooms, running from some unseen pursuer, barefoot and panicked, up steep flights of stairs and down long, narrow hallways. She stopped at the door at the end of the hallway, but it refused to open, no matter how hard she pulled on the knob or shoved at the swollen frame. Meanwhile, her pursuer came closer, his footsteps heavy on the bare wooden floors, his dark silhouette filling her with terror.
“Laura, wake up. It’s all right. It’s only a dream.”
She came to with the sensation of landing hard on the floor, though she was safe in bed, Jace holding her to him. “It’s okay.” He smoothed her hair back from her face and kissed her forehead. “You’re safe,” he said.
“I dreamed someone was chasing me,” she said. “And I couldn’t get away. The door was locked and I couldn’t escape.”
“It doesn’t take Freud to figure out that one,” he said. “You’re pursued by the case you can’t solve.” He pulled her closer. “Don’t be so hard on yourself. You’re doing all you can. We all are.”
She nodded, but she didn’t believe him. Yes, everyone on the team was working hard, but was it hard enough? Was she letting her personal life—her relationship with Jace—distract her from the job? Her father’s voice echoed in her head: Duty before self. Service to your country demands no less. That was the life he had lived, reminding her whenever she whined about not seeing him enough that he had a whole company of soldiers who depended on him, and she was just one little girl.
“No more bad dreams,” Jace said, rubbing her shoulder. “I’m here with you.”
Her eyes stung, and she closed her eyes to hold back the tears, breathed in deeply his clean, masculine scent, and fell asleep in his arms, not dreaming, not afraid, not alone.
* * *
JACE WOKE AT first light and slipped out of bed without waking Laura. He went into the kitchen and started coffee, then stood at the back window and watched the sunrise filter through the trees. The world looked so peaceful this time of day. Even in the worst of the fighting in Afghanistan there had been a kind of peace at sunrise, as if everything was pausing, taking a deep breath before the next bad thing happened.
The rich aroma of coffee drifted to him and he turned to pull a mug from the cabinet. The sound of water running told him Laura was awake, and he took down a second mug for her, then smiled to himself. He had begun this assignment thinking it might be difficult to pretend to be married to her. Instead, he had fallen into the role so easily it frightened him sometimes. She was so fierce, and prickly, strong yet sensitive. He felt protective of her, though he was aware she didn’t really need him at all. She wasn’t his type—he liked simple women who didn’t demand a lot from him. Laura was complicated, the type of woman with high standards he had no hope of meeting.
Yet here they were together, and it felt good. It felt right. He swallowed coffee, almost burning his tongue, glad of the pain to clear some of the sentimental fog from his head. Being with Laura right now was great, but he’d be a fool to think they had a future together. Sooner or later the lust would wear off and they’d go back to being two people with different ways of looking at the world.
Laura shuffled into the kitchen, damp hair curling around her face. “Good morning,” he said, and filled a mug with coffee and handed it to her.
“Thanks.” She closed her eyes and drank deeply, then sighed. “I’ve been thinking about the case,” she said.
And here I was hoping you were thinking about me. But he didn’t say it—the words were too close to the truth. “Did you come up with any new angles?” he asked instead.
“Whoever Leo made those bombs for, it’s someone who knew he had the ability to make them,” she said. “Someone he cares enough about to risk breaking the law for. Someone he won’t give up, even to save himself.”
Leo didn’t have siblings or children of his own. “A lover?” Jace asked.
“I think so.” Laura sipped more coffee.
“Man or woman?” Jace asked.
“It could be either,” she said. “We need to dig deeper.”
“He’s not that old,” Jace said. “I can’t think he would have had that many serious relationships.”
“We should start with high school,” she said. “He went to school here in town and sometimes young relationships are extra intense. Maybe he reconnected when he came back here following his mother’s death. His old flame saw the chance to even some scores with the Strouds.”
“You’re thinking someone who works at the plant?” Jace asked. “All the evidence points that way.”
“Right. So we go to the school, ask questions, check the yearbook. He was the mad bomber, so he has that reputation to build on, even if the bomb he made back then wasn’t real.” She set her cup aside and straightened. “It’s your turn to make breakfast while I get dressed. Then we can visit the high school.”
And that was that. No good morning kiss. Nothing about last night. The ardent lover of last night replaced by all-business Special Agent Smith.
Complicated.
* * *
MAYVILLE HIGH SCHOOL—Home of the Mayville Wild Cats!—had the institutional appearance shared by schools and prisons, the former usually with a large sports complex nearby, the latter encircled with razor wire. On this late-spring Saturday, the campus was nearly deserted, and their steps echoed as they crossed the empty parking lot to the front entrance.
“Were you a jock in high school?” Laura asked. “Quarterback of the football team, basketball star?”
“Tight end,” he said. “And I played baseball, not basketball. Pitcher.” In those days, he had dreamed of going pro, but he’d never had that kind of talent. “Let me guess, you were valedictorian.”
She stared. “How did you know?”
“How could you not be?” He held open the door to the front office. Principal Mike Caldwell had agreed to meet them here.
The burly man with the gray crew cut who emerged from a back office to greet them reminded Jace of every drill sergeant he had ever met. Caldwell shook both their hands, examined their IDs, then ushered them into his office. “I’m guessing this has something to do with that mess over at Stroud,” he said, settling his big frame behind a desk almost obscured by neat stacks of papers. “How can I help?”
“We’re trying to find out more about a former student,” Laura said. “Leo Elgin.”
“I heard you’d arrested him. I suppose you heard about that whole mad bomber fiasco. It wasn’t a real bomb, just a hotheaded kid being stupid.”
“Did you know Leo?” Laura asked.
“Oh, I knew him. I coached football and track and taught civics. I had Leo in one of my classes.”
“What was he like?” Jace asked. “Other than hotheaded.”
“He was smart. Too smart for his own good. What I mean is kids like that get bored, then they get into trouble, like that fake bomb thing.” He leaned forward, hands clasped on the desk. “Leo had a beef with the teacher he’d given the thing to. She’d marked him down on an exam for getting an answer wrong. Something to do with a higher mathematical theory. Turns out, Leo was right and she was wrong, but he never forgave her for the mistake.”
“So he held grudges?” Laura asked.
“Yes, I’d say so.”
“Was he popular?” Jace asked. “Who were his friends?”
“He was popular enough. Not in the most popular crowd, but most people seemed to like him. He had a reputation as a kind of a rebel and some kids admire that.”
“Any girlfriends?” Jace asked.
Caldwell
nodded. “He was surprisingly popular with the girls. I don’t remember him being involved with anyone in particular, but he had quite a few female admirers, considering he wasn’t athletic or all that good-looking.”
“Can you think of anyone he dated who still lives in the area?” Jace asked. “Anyone who works at Stroud?”
Caldwell rubbed his chin. “I can’t, really,” he said.
“Do you have yearbooks from when Leo was a student here?” Laura asked. “We’d like to look at them.”
“I do.” He rolled his chair to the bookcase that filled most of the back wall, selected four thick volumes, then rolled over to the desk and slid them to Laura.
“The Beacon,” Jace read the name on the cover of the top volume.
Caldwell stood. “I’ve got to attend a graduation rehearsal this afternoon, but you’re welcome to use my office to look at those.”
“Thanks,” Jace said. “But we might want to take one or more of them with us.”
“Just promise to return them, please. We have a complete set dating back to 1926 and I’d hate to break up the collection.”
“Sure thing. We’ll give you a receipt.”
Laura was already engrossed in the first volume by the time Jace pulled the truck into the driveway of the trailer. “The index has a list of every student by class,” she said. “Start there and see how many names ring a bell. Later, we can compare them with the employee list from Stroud.”
In the next hour they found the names of a dozen former students who now worked at Stroud, including Parker Stroud. They looked at Leo’s picture. He stared into the camera directly, an approximation of a sneer curling his lip. “Tell me the truth,” Jace said. “Would he have done it for you when you were a high school girl?”
She shrugged. “Hard to say. I liked smart guys. And there’s something about a bad boy.” Laughter danced in her eyes and he fought the urge to lean over and kiss her.
Instead, he shut the book. “There are pictures in here of Leo with groups of kids, but nothing that says ‘big romance’ to me.”
“To me, either.” She studied the stack of books and shook her head. “I don’t think there’s anything here. We need to try college.”
“He attended West Virginia University,” Jace said. “That’s about three hours from here.”
Laura shoved back her chair and rose. “Then it’s time for a road trip.”
Chapter Seventeen
Merry logged on to her online bank account Saturday morning and smiled to herself when she saw the balance. Parker was so generous. Too bad things weren’t going to work out the way she had hoped. But a smart woman knew when to cut her losses.
She signed out of the bank’s website and clicked over to the travel page she had bookmarked. Where should she take her dream vacation?
Her phone rang. Annoyed at the interruption, she checked the display. Why was Donna Stroud calling her? Maybe all the bad press had guilted the Strouds into offering to pay the employees who’d been put out of work by the sudden plant closure. It wasn’t like the family couldn’t afford it. “Hello?” Merry injected an extra note of pleasantness into her voice.
“Merry, it’s Donna Stroud.”
Had the woman never heard of caller ID? “Hello, Mrs. Stroud. How are you doing?”
“I’m as well as can be expected. I called because I’ve decided to operate Stroud Pharmaceuticals out of my home office until the plant reopens. I’ll need you to report there for work at nine Monday morning. You know where that is, don’t you?”
Did she know where that was—really! The Strouds only owned the biggest house in town, a white-columned monstrosity straight out of Gone with the Wind. “I can’t come in Monday,” Merry said.
“Why not?” Donna asked.
“I have two weeks’ time off due. While the plant is closed, I decided to take a vacation.”
“I really need you to put that on hold until this situation is resolved,” Donna said. “I know it’s a sacrifice, but it’s necessary for the future health of the company.”
Merry didn’t give a fig about the company. “I’m sorry, but I’ve already booked my tickets.” She hit the Purchase Reservation button.
“How long will you be gone?” Donna asked.
“I’m not sure.” She had purchased a one-way ticket.
“Merry, I can’t allow this,” Donna said. “You should have talked to me before you made your plans.”
“Excuse me, but you’re not my mother. I don’t need your permission to take a vacation.”
“There’s no need to take that attitude. I’m simply saying I expect every team member to contribute one-hundred percent during this crisis.”
“Then I guess I’m no longer a part of the team.” Elation surged through her. She only wished she could see Donna’s face.
“What did you say?” Donna asked.
“I said I quit. I’m going on vacation.” She ended the call and tossed the phone on the desk. Then she hit Print and turned to collect the reservation confirmation from the printer behind her. A one-way ticket to Brazil.
She had always wanted to see Rio.
* * *
THE SECURITY FIRM Donna Stroud had hired to patrol the closed campus of Stroud Pharmaceuticals hesitated only a moment when Merry presented them with a letter on Donna Stroud’s personal stationery, authorizing Merry Winger to access the executive offices for the purpose of retrieving some important documents. “This won’t take long,” Merry reassured the guard when he told her she could go on in. She already had all the papers she needed. This visit was merely so the guard would remember her and verify she had indeed been there.
She unlocked the door and went first to the executive offices. She rifled through all the desks, scoring about forty dollars in miscellaneous coins and bills and a hidden stash of pain pills—you never knew when those might come in handy.
In Donna Stroud’s desk she found a file conveniently labeled FBI. Curious, she flipped through it, a thrill rushing through her as she found the employment paperwork for Laura Lovejoy—real name, Laura Smith. Or rather, Special Agent Laura Smith.
Parker’s new admin was a spy! So, apparently, was her husband, whose name wasn’t Lovejoy either, but Jason Cantrell. Now wasn’t that interesting?
Merry returned the file to the drawer, spent a few more minutes in Donna’s office, then hurried down the hall to Parker’s office.
She felt under Parker’s center desk drawer and found the little lever that released the catch on a second, thinner drawer. She already had a copy of the bank book inside the drawer, but why not retrieve the original, as long as she was here? She smiled at the small black book, and at Parker’s fondness for paper trails. She slid the book into her purse, then left the office with only a small pang of regret. She would have enjoyed being Mrs. Parker Stroud. Parker wasn’t bad-looking, was a decent lover, and his money and name would have eased any dissatisfaction she might have experienced down the road. But maybe she was destined for better things.
She waved to the guard and drove out of the lot, then picked up her phone and hit the button to dial the number she had already typed in. “Hello?” Laura Lovejoy sounded annoyed.
“I need to see you right away,” Merry said. “It’s really important.”
“We’re on our way out of town,” Laura said. “Maybe later—”
“Not later. Now.” Merry was the one calling the shots here. “I’ve found out something important about Parker that the FBI needs to know.”
“Then why are you calling me?” Laura asked.
“Because I know who you are, Agent Smith. And we need to talk now.”
“Fine.” The word was clipped. Impatient. “Where do you want to meet?”
“I’ll come to you. Don’t worry, I know the address.”
Ten minutes later, she turned onto the rutted
dirt road that led to the single-wide trailer set back under the trees. Jace and Laura stood on the porch and watched Merry climb out of her car. “The feds couldn’t find any better place to put you up than this dump?” Merry asked as she made her way up the graveled path that led to the bottom of the steps.
Jace opened the front door wider. “Come in, Merry.”
“How did you find out our identities?” Laura asked as she followed Merry into the living room.
“Because I’m smart.” She sat in the recliner and looked up at them. They took up positions on either end of the sofa. “Are you two really married, or is that part of the play-acting, too?” Merry asked.
“What did you want to talk to us about?” Jace asked.
She reached for her purse and both agents tensed. “Don’t worry, I’m not pulling a gun,” Merry said. She took out the bank book and tossed it to Laura. “Take a look at that.”
Laura flipped through the book, then handed it to Jace. “Where did you get that?”
“I found it in Parker’s desk,” Merry said. “Just now, when I went to pick up some papers for Mrs. Stroud.” If they bothered to check with Donna, the old woman would deny sending Merry on such an errand, but Merry was counting on the cops to be so anxious to get their hands on Parker, they wouldn’t bother to check her story until she was long gone to Rio.
“Thank you for bringing this to us,” Laura said. “We’ll certainly look into it.”
She didn’t even act surprised. Which meant the FBI already knew about Parker’s secret account. Disappointing. But all wasn’t lost. “Don’t you want to know what it means?”
“What do you think it means?” Jace asked.
Merry adopted a sad face. Sad, and a little terrified. “I think Parker is the one who poisoned the Stomach Soothers. Looking back, it all makes sense now.”
Another exchange of looks between the two. “Tell us what you know,” Jace said.
