Returning to Eden (Acts of Valor, Book 1): Christian Military Romantic Suspense

by Rebecca Hartt

  Tears sprang to her eyes. She was too disheartened to answer.

  Miriam dried Sabrina’s paws with the towel hanging in the mudroom. Hearing the front door open and close, she rehung the towel and urged the dog outside, toward the steps to the front door.

  Jonah, who was coming down, slowed his descent, then stopped on the landing where the stairs turned. Miriam’s gaze went from his dismayed expression to the big Navy issue bag he was carrying. He clearly hadn’t wanted to run into her.

  “Where are you going?” she demanded, blocking his way.

  He seemed to have trouble answering. “I have to go away for a bit.” His voice was soft and gravelly.

  “Why?” She wasn’t going to let him off without an explanation.

  “To keep you and your mom safe.”

  “Safe from who?” she scoffed. “An old man?”

  His mouth firmed at her low blow. “From the person who tried to kill me a year ago,” he clarified.

  The extent of his paranoia widened her eyes and made her breath catch.

  “I’m going to stay with my master chief,” he added, hitching his bag and giving her time to digest his news. “I want you to be good for Mom. You know what I mean.”

  One low blow deserved another, she supposed, folding her arms across her chest.

  “Can I call you?” she heard him ask.

  The question put a lump in her throat. She hugged herself and feigned a careless shrug. “If you want.”

  “I want,” he said. Descending another step, he bent to pet the dog’s head, then hugged her stiff figure, kissing her on the forehead. “See you, squirt,” he added, sliding past her.

  He hadn’t taken a step before Miriam whirled and threw her arms around him from behind, halting his progress.

  Please don’t go. The words got stuck in her throat.

  He stilled, putting a hand over hers and squeezing it reassuringly.

  “I’ll be back,” he promised on a gruff note. “Be good for your mom.”

  Pulling gently from her embrace, he stepped off the stairs and, without a backward glance, started for the street.

  Miriam watched him walk away with long purposeful strides that made her eyes sting. He stepped into puddles as if he didn’t see them. It started to drizzle, but he didn’t seem to care. She watched him walk clear to the bend in the road where he disappeared, not once turning his head to look back.

  Rivera looked up from LeMere’s notebook with ill-concealed disgust.

  “We have to tell the CO.”

  Jonah directed his gaze across Master Chief’s living room and out the wall of windows where the slate-gray ocean tossed fitfully beneath leaden rainclouds.

  “I know,” he said, wondering at his reticence. “But Elwood told me not to trust anyone with my memories except him. I trust you, of course. And I’m sure he meant Lowery, but maybe he meant the CO, too.”

  “Dwyer has to be told,” Rivera insisted. “I can’t keep something this big from him.”

  “Let’s just wait and see what Elwood’s assistant suggests,” Jonah said.

  Getting up from the kitchen table, he stepped up to the window to look out the front of the house.

  As if on cue, an emerald green Mustang turned into Master Chief’s driveway, parking behind his antique Ford, which sat in the carport beneath them.

  “Here she is now.” Jonah had texted Patterson his location only thirty minutes earlier.

  He caught a brief glimpse of short red hair as the woman dashed through the rain from her car up to Rivera’s front door. Letting Master Chief open his own door, Jonah stood back, assessing the young investigator as she introduced herself to Rivera and received his handshake.

  “Charlotte Patterson,” she said, leaving out her title.

  Jonah hadn’t been mistaken about the investigator’s youth. She was probably in her mid-twenties. Still, she carried herself with confidence. Standing about six feet tall in pumps and dressed in a handsome black pantsuit that accentuated her athletic frame, she struck him as eager and ambitious, two traits that endeared her to him.

  Cherry-brown eyes, bloodshot from grief, assessed him as he stepped up to greet her.

  “Lieutenant Mills,” she said, gripping his proffered hand firmly. He watched her absorb the scars on his face. “Welcome home,” she added, not with pity but with a glimmer of determination. “Let’s catch the bastard who tried to get rid of you.”

  Jonah had to smile. “Thanks.” Not only did she carry herself like a man, but she also talked like one. “I’m sorry about Lloyd,” he added, using Elwood first name the way she did.

  Her eyes immediately clouded. “Yeah.” She drew a sharp breath. “He said you would reach out to him when your memories returned. Are they back?”

  Jonah shrugged. “A few. I called because I found something.” He gestured to the journal, still perched on the table behind him. “Something that implicates James Lowery of leaking information.”

  “Excellent.” Her face lit up with interest. Sparing a brief glance around Rivera’s charmingly constructed but poorly furnished A-frame, she followed Jonah past the clunky, mismatched furniture in the living room to the kitchen.

  “Can I get you a drink?” Rivera asked, joining them.

  “Bottled water?”

  As the master chief fetched a bottle from his fridge, Jonah gestured for Patterson to seat herself in front of LeMere’s journal. Taking the chair next to her, he explained who it had belonged to and how the man’s widow had mailed it to him.

  With a thoughtful look, Patterson cracked the cover and thumbed through several pages.

  “So the guy who wrote this is dead, too,” she commented, twisting the lid off her water bottle.

  “Yes. And the last person to be with him before his death was Lowery.”

  She looked up at Jonah sharply. “How did he die?”

  Jonah explained the odd circumstances surrounding Blake’s accident. “Read this here.” He pointed out LeMere’s recounting of how Lowery had been blind-copying emails to dead SEALs.

  Patterson’s russet eyebrows pulled together as she read the entire entry to where it ended.

  “There’s no more?”

  Jonah shook his head. “No. LeMere died two days later in an accident.”

  Running a long, freckled finger over the lines of the entry, the investigator reread it.

  “He must not have had the chance to speak with your CO.”

  “Of course not,” Jonah agreed, “or Lowery would have been arrested by now.”

  She raised her eyes to look at him. “Plus, your commander never mentioned any of this to Lloyd when he interviewed him.” She took a swig of her water.

  “Elwood interviewed the CO, too?”

  “Of course. Everyone from the top brass down, including Vice Admirals Leland and Holland.” She put the bottle back down. “If Dwyer knew about the leak, he would have turned in Lowery as a possible suspect. Instead, he was the one held accountable for your disappearance, since it happened under his command.”

  Jonah hadn’t considered that. “Dwyer was reprimanded for my disappearance?”

  Rivera, who stood nearby, interjected with an answer. “His retirement was postponed six months. He would have been a civilian by now if you hadn’t gone missing.”

  “Huh.”

  “We need to show Dwyer the journal,” Rivera reiterated.

  Jonah looked to Charlotte Patterson for corroboration.

  Instead of answering, she took another sip of her water.

  “It’s unethical to withhold the journal from him,” Rivera insisted.

  “Is there enough evidence here to have Lowery arrested?” Jonah asked her.

  Patterson eyed the journal, then looked up at him. “If we found the emails in question and verified LeMere’s findings, then, yes. A warrant could definitely be issued for Lowery’s arrest, citing the dissemination of classified material. Whether he brought about LeMere’s death is another matter altogether. That wo
uld take longer to prove.”

  Hope pulsed through Jonah’s veins. Once Lowery was arrested, Jonah could cease to worry he’d be targeted without warning. He could return to his home and to the family he longed to be with.

  “Then you’ll take over Elwood’s case?” he prompted eagerly.

  Silence followed his request.

  “I can’t,” she finally said, lifting her cherry-brown gaze to his.

  “Why not?”

  “Because I’m not a special agent yet. I’m an intern.”

  Her confession stripped him of his optimism. “I thought you were Lloyd’s colleague. Why else would he tell you so much, especially if you don’t have clearance?”

  “I have clearance,” she clarified. “I just haven’t gone through the Criminal Investigators Training Program.”

  Jonah covered his eyes and rubbed them.

  “NCIS isn’t going to help you anyway,” she insisted. “Someone way up the food chain has done his best to keep Lloyd’s evidence from coming to light. What I’d like to know is why. Don’t worry, though. Like I told you, I have a powerful contact in the DIA. I can take this information straight to him, and he’ll respond, I promise you.”

  Opening his eyes, Jonah exchanged a disappointed look with Rivera.

  “Wouldn’t it be faster,” Rivera suggested, “to show the evidence to Commander Dwyer? He’ll have Lowery off the squadron and behind bars in no time.”

  Patterson narrowed brown eyes at him. “Do you really think Lowery works alone? He’s the tip of the iceberg. The weak link in the chain.”

  “You’re talking about The Entity,” Jonah guessed. “What do you know about it?”

  “Not much,” Patterson admitted, “but Lloyd was working on a theory. The fact that someone went to the trouble of killing him makes me think his theory was right.”

  Jonah exchanged a look with Rivera. “What was his theory?” he pressed.

  Patterson bit her lower lip. “It’s pretty scandalous. I’m not sure you want to hear it.”

  Intrigued, Jonah bent closer to her. “Yeah, we do.”

  The intern divided a wary look between them. “You need to keep this to yourselves,” she warned. “Lloyd believed The Entity is a group of vigilante warriors; former, maybe even active-duty servicemen who are taking the nation’s security into their own hands.”

  Patterson’s words rocked Jonah on his heels. He and Rivera shared a look of consternation. A sharp pain pierced Jonah’s left eye.

  “My God, that makes sense,” he murmured, then reeled at the implications.

  Patterson pulled her phone out. “Keep that to yourselves for now,” she cautioned. “Mind if I take pictures of these entries to show my contact?”

  Jonah waited for Rivera’s nod. “Go ahead,” he agreed.

  “You can show these entries to your CO if you must,” she added, standing up in order to snap clear shots of the pertinent pages. “But hold onto the original and give him copies. The original will carry more weight if this goes to trial.”

  Slipping her phone back into her jacket, she regarded both men with a grimace of apology. “Look, I’m sorry I’m not what you expected, and I can’t wave a magic wand to get Lowery arrested. But I know someone who can and will. I just have to give him the evidence Lloyd was collecting.”

  “How are you going to do that with Elwood’s hard drive taken?” Jonah asked. “You would have to reconstruct his investigation. That could take months.”

  Patterson’s lips curled toward a smile. “Lloyd had an iPad,” she divulged, pitching her voice lower. “It contains all the findings of his investigation. He told me he had almost cracked the case. If I can find the iPad, I’m positive the DIA will want to finish the work Lloyd started.”

  Jonah glanced at Master Chief, who raised a dark eyebrow. The woman might be just an intern, but she had guts and a plan. Patterson took one more sip of her water. “Thanks for the use of your house, Master Chief,” she said, leaving her bottle on the table. “I’d better get going,” she said to Jonah.

  Escorting her to the door, he held it open as she stepped outside, unmindful of the rain dampening her short red hair. Turning on the landing, she extended her hand for a parting shake.

  “I’ll be in touch,” she promised.

  “Good luck finding the iPad,” Jonah replied. Without it, he couldn’t see how justice would ever be served, at least not in this lifetime.

  “Thanks.” With a nod, Patterson turned and moved smartly down the stairs.

  As she disappeared from sight, Jonah shut and locked the door. He and Master Chief stood a moment looking at each other in bemusement.

  “So much for Lowery going to jail,” Jonah muttered, shoving his hands into his rear pockets.

  “Don’t be so sure,” Rivera comforted. “Anyone as determined as Patterson will get results eventually.”

  Jonah nodded in agreement, but he couldn’t see how a mere intern was going to bring about justice, no matter who her contacts were. “Considering what happened to Elwood, I think we should say a prayer for her,” he stated.

  “I agree,” Rivera said.

  Chapter 17

  Walking the dog on the beach, Eden looked up to realize she had plodded nearly to the other end of Sandbridge, where Master Chief Rivera’s cottage sat between two enormous ocean-front houses.

  She stopped abruptly, ignoring Sabrina’s tug on the leash. The dog whined, wanting to join a family playing Frisbee nearby. The sun had fallen beyond the horizon, turning the sky behind the houses oyster-pink. Water swirled about Eden’s ankles, shifting the sand beneath her feet until she sank into it. This was as far as she would go. A hot summer breeze lifted her hair and plastered her capris and T-shirt to her body.

  Searching the lit windows of the master chief’s little A-frame, Eden wondered if Jonah could see her, and whether he might run out to talk to her if he did. A wave of loneliness rolled through her. Two days had never seemed so endless.

  Who could have guessed she’d have gotten so accustomed to his presence in so little time? Every moment spent with him had felt like an awakening. She had rediscovered him, falling in love with the man that he’d become. Yet, just when she’d realized she wanted her marriage to work, Jonah’s PTSD had taken him away from her.

  Even that would be acceptable if Jonah recognized he needed help. Instead, he’d turned his back on counseling and refused to accept that his suspicions were a product of the trauma he’d sustained.

  Dr. Branson, whom Eden had called for advice, was surprisingly understanding.

  He lived with more horror than you or I can imagine, Eden. His mind is accustomed to a constant threat. Just give him time.

  Time was what she wanted to give—the rest of her life, as a matter of fact, but only if they were together. She had pledged herself to standing by Jonah through his recuperation, but the fact that he’d pulled away for reasons that were only in his head was too painful to tolerate.

  The fear that nothing would ever be normal between them had usurped her faith that God would find a way. Although she’d received a clear sign from Him that Jonah was a changed man, Jonah himself refused to acknowledge there was anything wrong with him. If he didn’t love Eden enough to attend his counseling sessions, what hope was there for their marriage?

  In her heartbreak, she had stopped taking Jonah’s phone calls—not because she didn’t want to talk to him but because she could think of nothing else than the issue that was keeping them apart, and Jonah refused to budge from his decision.

  Pulling her feet from the sand, Eden was startled to find the sun had dropped behind the rooftops, casting irregular shadows on the shore.

  “Let’s go back, Sabby,” she said, urging the dog to turn toward home.

  It wasn’t much of a home now with Jonah gone. Miriam was there, of course, as sullen and morose as she’d been before Jonah’s reappearance. Eden cringed to think what her daughter might do next in response to his recent desertion.

 
; Poor girl. All she’d ever wanted was a father who loved her. Try as Eden might, there was nothing she could do to fulfill that basic need.

  Don’t desert us, God, she prayed as she trudged across the damp sand. The wind whipped her hair into her eyes. As she raised a hand to pull it back, the cell phone in her pocket rang. Daring to sneak a peek at it, she felt her heart squeeze when reading the caller’s name.

  As much as she longed to talk to Jonah, she couldn’t bring herself to listen to his reasons for keeping his distance. His conspiracies about Jimmy Lowery were simply too far-fetched.

  Declining his call with a push of her thumb, Eden accessed her favorites and placed a call of her own. If not for Nina’s support and encouragement, she’d have fallen to pieces already.

  Bracing herself for an encounter with Santiago Rivera, Nina Aydin drew a deep breath as she rapped on the door of his home.

  Morning air, redolent with the scent of sand and sea, filled her nostrils. Waiting for him to answer, Nina turned her head to admire the sunrise. Santiago’s home might be tiny, but the waterfront property had to be worth a pretty penny with such a view. Squinting at the golden sunrise, she listened for the sound of approaching footsteps.

  To her relief, the door opened and there stood the man she’d come to see: Jonah Mills—not Santiago. His hair was still rumpled from sleep, and the jeans he’d obviously just tugged on were only halfway zipped.

  “I’m sorry,” she said, realizing she’d awakened him. “I thought you’d be up by now.”

  He blinked at her with evident confusion and not the slightest sign of recognition, causing Nina’s eyebrows to shoot up.

  “Oh, you don’t remember me.” It hadn’t even occurred to her that might be the case.

  “No, I’m sorry.”

  She’d never liked Jonah Mills, but his earnest apology roused her immediate sympathies, especially considering his amnesia wasn’t his fault.

  “I’m Nina Aydin,” she said. “Eden’s friend.”