by Regan Black
“Ben and I have seen the best and worst of life. One thing has always rung true for me. Loss pushes everyone around.” Patricia nodded to Grace Ann, paddling out to wait for another wave. “She’s been rattled since her last deployment,” Patricia said. “With good reason, based on what I’ve heard.”
Derek agreed with that as well.
“This nonsense with H.B. and whoever turned him against her isn’t helping.”
“Not a bit,” he said.
“When I saw the news footage of the bombing I had mixed feelings. I was naturally furious at the monster that caused the suffering, but it was clear there was such beauty in the bond between the two of you. Seeing you standing by my daughter was a wonderful illustration of the truest form of goodness in the world.”
“I just did what she told me,” he said.
“Would you take her away from the danger?” Patricia asked. “Until Hank has the real culprit in custody?”
“If I thought for a minute she’d let me, I would,” he admitted. “Even if she wasn’t on a mission to prove the Riley Hunter can’t break her, you know she’d never let the rest of you handle this without her.”
“Sometimes when we’re eyeball-deep in trouble, we can’t see the right path without help. My Gracie is lucky you’re tall,” she added with a wink.
He doubted height would be much of an advantage here. Terror and tragedy had interrupted the one real date he’d tried to create for them. He wasn’t giving up, but he was naturally wary about the next effort.
“I do love her,” he said after a long pause.
Patricia smiled.
Down on the beach, Grace Ann, Caleb and the twins were clustered together. Discussing the water, weather or their boards? Breakfast, he guessed as the surfers turned toward the house.
“Thank you for taking care with her,” Patricia said. “It gives me some peace that you’ve managed to show her it’s okay to need someone.”
Her words, an echo of his own, lurked in the back of his mind throughout the day and kept popping up at the oddest times. The Rileys were formidable one-on-one, but as a group, he didn’t see how anyone would ever wear them down. More, he didn’t understand why anyone would want to try.
It was possible he was awestruck. They juggled the various needs, moods and personalities of each person without any visible hitch or strife. Not by luck or denial, but by design. He’d found himself liking the pace and constant flow of conversation more than he anticipated. He’d grown especially fond of the flat-out defiance the family as a whole exhibited. They refused to cower or dwell on the person gunning for them.
Late one afternoon General Riley brought the boat around and they all piled on for a cruise. He and Grace Ann were at the rail near the stern, watching the coast drift out of sight. In her bikini, with a scrap of sheer fabric tied in a loose skirt across her hips, she made him wish they were out here alone.
“Has the guy after your dad ever made a run at them here?” he asked.
She glanced over her shoulder where her dad and mom stood arm in arm at the wheel. “No.” Her hands gripped the rail for a moment before she released it. “Hank has security nearby, but the prevailing theory is that he isn’t ready to take a direct shot at Dad yet.”
“What will you do after this is over?” he asked her.
“Go home, I suppose. I’ll find something to paint or mow or plant while I wait for the JAG office to get me reinstated.”
“Kevin says he’ll be at least another week in the rehab center.”
Her lips curved into a smile. “Based on the text messages I’m getting, he’s having way too much fun for a guy with a spine injury.”
Derek chuckled. “I was wondering if you wanted to come to my place for a few days. I could put in an appearance at the office and you could see just how boring civilian life should be.”
“Is this another attempt at dating?” she asked.
“I’d rather not jinx that with an honest answer.” Her laughter rolled over him, as warm and happy as the sunlight dancing on the water. “What do you think?”
“I think I’d like that.”
He wanted to push her sunglasses up so he could see her gorgeous, expressive eyes. He wanted to be alone with her to tease and hold and relax. “Why don’t you talk about your deployments with your parents or brothers?”
“Swap war stories?” She frowned. “Not during family time. It really isn’t my style.”
“So your style remains ruthlessly independent?”
“Everyone needs a gimmick,” she quipped. Turning, she leaned into the rail, her mirrored sunglasses providing an uncomfortable reflection of his serious expression. “Which one of them has been bending your ear to get me to open up?”
“All of them, in one way or another.” He took her hand, hoping everyone else was too busy to notice. “They just want you happy,” he said.
She lifted their joined hands, pushing her slender fingers between his. “I want to be happy.” She nibbled on her lip and his body fired in eager response. “I’m happy right now,” she said. “Mostly.”
When he had her alone again, he’d make her pay for the teasing. Out of respect for her family, and the possibility of thin walls, they hadn’t done more than hold hands, only indulging in a few mesmerizing kisses during their private evening walks on the beach. He’d go crazy if he didn’t get her alone again soon.
“Seriously.” His voice cracked and her sultry laughter lit a fire in his veins. “There’s something else I want to run by you.” If he pitched this idea right, it could help everyone. “A reporter has been calling the office, trying to get an interview with me. Preferably with us.”
Her eyebrows winged up over her sunglasses. “The bombing was four days ago. Isn’t our window of fame over?”
“Apparently it’s still wide-open.”
“Is this something you want? We don’t have any real insight to share. How can interviewing us help anyone?”
Derek leaned on his elbows, putting his face within kissing distance of hers. “Maybe we do the interview to irritate someone.”
Her lips pursed and her eyebrows rose. “Go on.”
“I’ve been thinking about it since you said the person behind all this nonsense wanted to drive you to a breakdown.” He stroked the back of her hand, his gaze on the receding shoreline. “You didn’t break, Grace Ann. I respect why we’re here, but wouldn’t it be nice payback to do an interview and really triumph?”
She hummed a little, mulling it over. She was too kissable and he had to remind himself they were surrounded by her family. Family that was waiting and watching to see how Grace Ann would let him into her life.
The boat rolled and her face paled. She pressed a hand to her belly. “Nerves,” she explained. “The idea has merit.”
They stood like that for some time before she spoke again. “Do you think I have PTSD?”
“We’ve had this talk,” he reminded her.
“Humor me.”
He rose to the challenge. “You’ve been through a lot,” he began. “As a nurse you’ve seen stuff I don’t want to imagine, overseas and stateside.” Her face set in mutinous lines and he hurried on. “I’m not dodging the question. In my opinion, you could use a good, long vacation that doesn’t include investigation updates, but you’re not unstable. Why are you asking again?”
“Lately nothing feels right,” she admitted. “My emotions are too close to the surface.” She sniffled. “The memories and nightmares have sharp new edges and leave me queasy in the morning.”
“You haven’t been restless in your sleep.”
She circled a finger in the air. “Woo-hoo. I guess that’s something.”
“When Hank gets back, let’s ask about the interview,” he suggested. “Maybe you just need to get proactive, as long as we can do it in a way that doesn’t put you
or your family in more danger.”
She turned to watch her younger siblings at the bow. “I hope Hank has something. We need to put a real name to the man behind this nonsense.”
* * *
She was out of his sight. Not exactly out of his reach, but he wasn’t ready to reveal the full scope of his operation just yet.
The longer the general and the yes-men investigating the situation believed he was limited to the resources of urban hubs and hired hands, the better for the ultimate success of his plans.
He kept tabs on the news out of Maryland, waiting for the announcement of deaths related to the bombing. Major Bartles’s name had not been listed as a casualty, although he had confirmation the man was dead.
A wave of resentment swamped him. It had taken months of courting to find the right leverage over Bartles. And the man had chickened out at the last minute, taking the brunt of the explosion meant for Riley’s all-too-perfect first daughter.
He knew from his informants that the entire clan had gathered at the house in North Carolina. The house built on the blood and sweat of soldiers the general had sacrificed for his glorious reputation.
The blind rage he’d successfully suppressed long enough to plan out every detail of his revenge bubbled up to the surface. The general would know pain and loss firsthand.
The general would be disgraced and he would lose the respect and gratitude of the nation.
The Riley children who survived his revenge would forever carry the shame of their father’s mistakes. He would see to the exposure and dishonorable discharge of each of them from military service as he had been disgraced and forced out by the general.
* * *
Hank returned late the next evening, looking as haggard as Grace Ann had ever seen him. This time he didn’t ask to speak with anyone privately, calling a family meeting in the main room. Better this way, she thought, hoping this meant Hank had a name to go with all of the games. Even Caleb had been used by the Riley Hunter, and at fifteen he was old enough to hear hard facts.
“The autopsy proved H.B. was murdered,” Hank began without preamble. “The killer used ricin powder in his oxygen line.”
“Ricin can take days to kill,” Grace Ann said, exchanging a look with her mother.
“I’m aware,” Hank said. “The coroner is trying to figure out if he received an initial dose in the days leading up to the bombing. Either way, we’ve narrowed down a likely culprit who finished him off in the burn unit. One angle shows a tattoo under the sleeve of the lab coat the suspect wore.” He dipped his chin toward Derek. “I’ll want your take in particular on the images we have.”
“Sure thing,” Derek agreed.
Grace Ann watched as he studied the photos. “This could be the man from the stairwell. The tattoo is in the right place and the jawline is the same.”
“Good start.” Hank pulled another folder from his briefcase on the kitchen island. “I brought the pictures just in case any of you might see something familiar.” He handed the stack of pictures to Grace Ann.
She studied the picture of the man in scrubs and a lab coat next to H.B.’s hospital bed. “Were his scrubs the same color as everyone else on the floor that day? It’s a typical security precaution.”
Hank narrowed his gaze as he scanned his notes. “I’m not sure. I’ll find out. Regardless, he’s not the man pulling the strings.”
“He isn’t?” Derek asked.
“No.” Hank shook his head. “Our man has perfected the art of hiring mercenaries to do the work. He checks résumés, assigns testing tasks. Thanks to the notes on H.B.’s laptop we’ve unraveled a few of the communications. The hunter issues specific directions and has rigid compliance standards.”
“Clearly, he doesn’t tolerate errors,” Grace Ann said.
“I’ve spent the past few days picking apart H.B.’s official communications and personal email, looking for motive and contacts.”
“You found something,” Ben said.
“I sure as hell hope so.” Hank turned to Ben. “H.B. was in contact with a former soldier closer to Ben’s age. Do you remember a man by the name of John Eaton?”
Her father swore at the same time her mother and Matt gasped. Grace Ann turned toward them along with everyone else. “Eaton was discharged after he went off the rails during a mission in Iraq,” Ben explained. “He killed fifteen civilians before his team got him under control. Prior to that, he’d been one of our most reliable snipers.”
“About fifteen years ago, wasn’t it?” Matt asked. “It still has the potential for a public relations nightmare.”
“It was one hell of a mess. We gave the media what we could, though it wasn’t nearly the transparency they wanted,” Ben said.
“Where is he now?” Grace Ann asked.
“We don’t know,” Hank admitted. “His medical record shows he was on the Walter Reed campus for his annual exams last week.”
“How does he still have benefits?” Mark demanded.
“On my orders,” Ben said. “He had family. A wife and daughter. Plus he needed professional help. You said personal? During our years working together, I considered him a trusted friend.” He pinched the bridge of his nose while Patricia moved close to offer comfort.
“Why isn’t he in jail?” Jolene asked.
“He served his time,” Hank told them. “Because his shooting spree happened during an operation to capture a high-value target, the army handled all of the discipline and treatment plans as quietly as possible. He is my top suspect now. From what I can determine Eaton manipulated him, preyed on his basic dislike of you, promising him money and glory if he helped put you in your place.”
“All to torment Dad?” Mark shook his head, disgusted.
The horror of that washed over her. Grace Ann waved her hands as if wiping a chalkboard clean. They had to move forward if she wanted to get back to work. “Okay, okay. Something about this has to work in our favor.” She turned to Hank. “If he was in Bethesda as recently as last week, we must have his home address, current employer, stuff like that.”
“You know, the CID wouldn’t mind having an RN on staff,” Hank said.
“That’s about the only certification she doesn’t have,” Matt joked.
She made a face at her older brother. “You either.”
“The point,” Hank cut in before they got into an argument, “is we’ve sent a team to the home address of record. That’s in Illinois. He isn’t there. Neighbors say he rents out the house. Wife and daughter moved out years ago. No one remembers them.” He passed around pictures of a shabby little house with a sagging porch in a neighborhood that had seen better days.
“What about the emails?” Luke piped up. “Did you get anything helpful about location from the IP address?”
“Not so far. Whatever Eaton’s done since he left the army, he’s a master at flying under the radar.”
“That fits with all the remote feed stuff he did when he attacked us,” Matt said, linking his hand with Bethany’s.
None of this made sense to Grace Ann. “Email or not, if he’s under a doctor’s care those communications have to go somewhere.”
“Hard copies go to a post office box in the same town as the house he rents. We’re still tracking down who collects the mail for him.”
“Why is he targeting my kids? I protected his kid.” Ben’s voice boomed through the room. “I’m the one who ended his career. But I made sure his wife and daughter had benefits until she turned eighteen. He should be coming after me.”
“I believe he will,” Hank said. “In time.”
Ben shook his head. “Family is off-limits, he’d said it himself.”
“Doesn’t sound like that stopped him over there,” Luke grumbled.
“That’s just one reason I didn’t believe the first reports coming up the line,” Ben said. “
I was sure it was a mistake. It wasn’t. He eventually confessed to me, though I never understood what made him snap.”
“What now, Hank?” Grace Ann asked after a long moment of silence.
“That’s about it until we locate Eaton. With luck, we’ll find some evidence he met with H.B. in person last week.”
“Surely you can take the rest of the week with us,” Patricia said. “You need some time to recharge.”
Though her mother spoke to Hank, Grace Ann felt as if the words were aimed at her, a reminder she was supposed to be doing some recharging of her own.
By some tacit agreement, they all moved to cheer up Ben and soon decided a s’mores party on the beach was in order. Graham crackers, chocolate bars and marshmallows were found and the twins had a fire going while others assembled chairs and blankets.
Grace Ann pulled Hank aside while the others settled in. “When can I get back to work?”
“I’m doing my best,” he replied. “Eaton has someone posing as the soldier who insisted you treat the little girl first.”
“That soldier only exists for the sake of the bugs Eaton put in my house.”
“Well, now he’s flesh and blood, complete with a service record. It won’t hold up, but I’m hoping to tie him or the money he accepted for the job to Eaton or H.B.”
She swore. “Hank. I need to work.”
“I know, Gracie. Just hang in there. I need a little more time.”
She shoved the box of graham crackers at his chest. “What if there was another option? A move that would bring Eaton to us?”
“I’m all ears.”
She waved Derek over and as he explained the plan, she started to really believe this next trap would do the trick.
Chapter 13
It had taken another day for Hank to work out the details from choosing the best location for the interview and the transportation and security team for Grace Ann and Derek.
They had consulted the army public relations office and the hospital publicist and eventually agreed to an afternoon taping in Bethesda that would air on the evening news across the country. The station had wanted her to appear in uniform, but she was still officially suspended. Hank negotiated a compromise with a simple, dull gold tailored shirt with a black sweater and slacks. Army colors wrapped up in classic civilian style.
