Cast the Cards (3 page)

This
job could get to you if you weren’t cautious. Spending so much time up to your
neck in the worst-case scenarios caused erosion on your soul and mind. It was
why she never got too serious with anyone. They wouldn’t understand, and she
didn’t want the vulnerability that came along with love.

Her
mind turned to the event that had shattered her life. Most people were
fortunate enough to live under the assumption they were safe from the horrible
tragedies that happened in the news. She’d learned at twenty-one that was
bullshit.

Quantico
was close enough to her hometown to get back within a couple of hours—the
perfect amount of miles to keep her distance while remaining involved.  She
loved her parents, but they expected her to return to the person she’d once
been, before Clark’s death. She never could.

It
was painful having to choose between whom she needed to be and who they wanted
her to be. Marriage and kids weren’t even a blip on her radar. There was too
much to do. How could she ever be truly happy when Clark’s murderers were still
on the loose, he was in the ground, and the world seemed to go to hell a little
more each day?

When
she reached her black SUV she placed her satchel in the passenger seat, slipped
behind the wheel, and started the car. She connected her MP3 player and pulled
up the playlist simply titled Clark.  “Lost Prophets” came through the speakers
and she was taken back to that golden time when the Three Musketeers were
untouched and happy.

As
the music lulled her into a full-blown case of nostalgia, a fresh wave of regret
and guilt broke over her. She did Carey dirty, abandoned him when he needed her
most. The cowardly act haunted her.
Ironic I can hunt down hardened criminals
but can’t apologize to my childhood friend and move on.

AC/DC
exploded over the speakers and she laughed. This would forever remind her of
the Carr boys. They inherited their father’s love for classic rock and by proxy
passed it on to her. She couldn’t listen to anything pre-1980 without thinking
of them.

As
the tires ate up the road, her happy reminiscing turned somber. The question
she never found an answer for her snaked its way to the forefront.
Why did I
survive when Clark didn’t?

Despite
how bad it made her feel, she couldn’t stop picking apart her life. Had she
done enough with the extra time she’d been given? Clark gave his life for hers.
Did she prove her worth? By the time she pulled into the city limits she was a frazzled
mess.  Her hands trembled and her stomach churned like the water in the sound.

Parked
outside the local florist, she stepped from the car, her wraparound black
sunglasses still in place. The last thing she wanted the people to be flapping
their gums about was poor Savannah West and her puffy, red eyes.

The
scent of freshly-cut flowers and the cheery atmosphere were lost to her as she
scanned the area from behind the safety of her lenses. A large, bright bouquet
caught her gaze from inside the refrigerated case on the far right. The mix of
yellows, reds, and oranges called to her like a homing beacon.

She
opened the case, removed the bundle, and turned on her heel. Chill bumps broke
out over her skin. Déjà vu hit. This extra sensory perception had occurred that
night she’d been kidnapped. Her internal compass had become the catalyst that
led her to her position in the F.B.I. Training kicked in. She did a sweep of
the area from her peripheral, careful to maintain a regular gait and lax body
language. When she came up empty, she chalked the unease up to the anniversary.

I
hate being off my game.
After the dust from the explosion
of life as she knew it settled, she put Savannah West back together, piece by
piece, and decided to dedicate her life to helping victims of crimes and their
families. The work was hard and climbing the ladder was a nasty, no-holds-barred
fight among the ranks.

Still,
she had an affinity for reading people, getting into their psyche and under
their skin. It was a gift she’d previously taken for granted. The nagging
feeling in the back of her head that told her when a situation or a person was
safe or not, the one her mother called her inner voice, served her well. Coached
to listen to her inner voice from the time she was young, she never imagined it
would come in handy. If only she’d listened that night.

Disgusted
by the cycle she allowed to happen each year, she kept her face a blank canvas
when she reached the register.

“Will
that be all for you, dear?” the older woman with salt-and-pepper hair that
curled around her ears asked.

“Yes,
ma’am.” She was a Dale transplant. It gave her the anonymity she craved.

“That’s
going to be $54.30.”

Savannah
handed over her card, lost again in the recesses of her mind. She signed the
receipt, took the flowers, and walked back to her car on autopilot.

The
day was gorgeous. She scowled as she parked her car on the gravel road. It
should at least be overcast. Summer in Dale had always felt wrong after Clark
was taken. It was a big part of why she’d switched colleges. The town that had
once been her cornerstone became stifling and oppressive. The looks, whispers,
and accusing stares from those who blamed her for the tragedy had become too
much.

She
pried her fingers from the steering wheel, grabbed the flowers from the
passenger seat, and opened her door.

Then
she made the walk she could probably do in her sleep. The sun beat down on her
black sports coat, spreading heat across her shoulders and onto her back. The
black pants, practical for work, were sweat-soaked and stuck to her upper
thighs.

There
was a time when she used to get dressed up for this. Now it was too damn
maudlin. She rounded the last curve and paused fifty yards away. The gravesite
was well-tended, the dark gray slab that bore Clark’s likeness waited
patiently, like an old friend. 
I halfway think you’re here with me, Clark.
 
It was why she continued to come. For these brief moments every year she stood
in his presence.

Her
pulse raced. The air filled with anticipation. On the cusp of an intangible
event, she moved forward. In front of the grave she almost expected him to
appear, the sexy smirk that made her forgive all on his lips. A strangled laugh
escaped from her clogged throat.

“Only
you could get me out here talking to the wind.”

“Seems
to me you used to do that sort of thing all the time.”   The deep voice made
her want to cover her ears. Pain splintered her heart and water rushed to her
eyes.

No.
 Frozen
in place she held her position. There hadn’t been anyone around for miles.  She
spun, her heart in her throat. A moment of disappointment preceded the anger.
It was Carey. The years had been kind. His shoulders were broad, and his
muscles appeared sinewy in the khaki pants he’d paired with a dark blue polo.
The hair that used to fall into his eyes had been tamed into a spiky style
reminiscent of a faux hawk. Tattoos covered his forearms. It shocked her
system. In her mind’s eye he’d still been that lanky boy she’d grown up with.

How
could I not have heard him approach? That’s not like me.
 

Silence
stretched between them like a shaky rope ladder that needed to be traveled upon
with care. She licked her lips. It was her mistake to make right.
Time to
man up.

“I
owe you an apology.”

“Really?”
He mocked her with widened eyes that blazed with anger and beautiful lips that
curved into a snarky expression. It hurt to look at him. She wanted to avert
her gaze but he deserved better.

“Yeah.
What I did was shitty, and I apologize.” Shoving her hands into her pockets,
she kicked at the grass.

“The
great Savannah West apologizing? Should I break out my camera phone? I hear
that doesn’t happen too often these days.”

“Are
we really going to hold my job against me?

“Not
your job—the way you’ve become.”

“What
would you know about it? You think rumors circulating around the bureau mean
shit to me? Come on, I’m a woman in a man’s world. Of course they all think I’m
a cold bitch because I don’t spread my legs, or kiss and tell.” Venom filled her
words like poison.

“You
let this job change you.”

“Bullshit.
This,” She gestured toward the headstone with her head,” did that long before
any job in law enforcement.”

“So
you admit it then!”

“I
never denied it, Carey! Why are you arguing with me? I was trying to
apologize.” Yanking her hands from her pockets, she threw them into the air.
Infuriated by the antagonistic behavior he exhibited.

“Because
it never should’ve taken you this long.” The truth cooled her anger like a fire
extinguisher to a blaze.

“Don’t
you think I know that?”  A loud crack rent the air. She jumped. Her body
tensed. She waited for the sound to come again. “Did you hear that?” she
whispered.

“Yeah.”

“You
don’t seem worried. It’s not cloudy and I didn’t see anyone around the
perimeter.” Body stiff, her gaze darted around, seeking out spots where a
person could hide.

“You
can’t even turn it off, can you?” The disgust and sorrow in his words stung.

 “We
both know just because a town is small doesn’t mean bad things can’t happen.”

“Touché,
Ms. West.”

She
growled. “This isn’t how I wanted this to go.”

“I
bet,” he mumbled.

“I
know I’ve been a coward when it comes to you. It’s not something I’m proud of,
but after a time it was just easier to keep moving forward without looking
back. Back then every time I saw you it was like someone ripping open a fresh
wound. It wouldn’t have been good for either of us for me to hang around.” She
beseeched him to understand with wild hand gestures and a direct stare.

“Why
couldn’t you just say that?” He shook his head.

“I
don’t know. You’re asking me for rational when I was anything but that for a
long time.” A sigh passed her lips.

“I
can understand that. It’s why I respected the distance you seemed to want to
keep.”

“Why
break it now?”  

“Because
I asked him to.”  A cold breeze encircled her. She wrapped her arms around her
waist and  turned her head to the right. A face she knew as well as her own
buckled her knees. Her body hit the hard ground with a loud thud. She grimaced,
gritted her teeth, and blinked. No amount of eyelid flutter rid her of the
apparition, if he could be called that. He seemed whole.

“C-Carey?”
 Her mouth wobbled, refusing to cooperate.

“Yes,
I see him too.”

“How?
Why?” She shook her head, shoved her fist into her trembling lips to keep from
blubbering like a newborn babe.

“You’re
in danger, Vannah. I had to come back.” Clark took a step closer.

She
held out her hand, shaking her head like a child throwing a temper tantrum.

“No.
This isn’t possible.” Hyperventilating, she sank her fingers into the ground,
gripping the blades of grass in her fists to stay grounded. “You hate me so
much you’d stage this?”  Her voice cracked, and she rocked back and forth.

“Darling,
David Copperfield himself couldn’t stage this,” Carey said.

“I’m
real, Vannah.” Clark walked over and kneeled in front of her. “You have to
believe me.”  His gaze penetrated as he peered into her soul, the same way he
always had. He reached out and caressed her face with the backs of his knuckles.
His touch was slightly below normal temperature, but real. She could feel the
pressure exerted against her skin. Her chest tightened.

“Oh
God. It’s really you.”

“Yes.”
He nodded. “I hate to rush this along, but you both need to leave here now.” 
The urgency in his tone was a metaphorical slap that cut through her shock.

“Danger?”
Was this why he came back?

“Fill
her in, Carey. There are things happening.” Clark frowned. “I have to go.”

She
pushed off from the ground, gained her balance, and stood to her full height.
The word “danger” had triggered her training. There was no time for fear or
shock.

Clark
disappeared before her eyes and her jaw dropped.
 I knew he was a ghost,
but… Jesus.
She rotated her body and stared at Carey, barely able to
contain her fury. He’d set this up. She was sure of it.

“What
the fuck is going on?”

“Come
on, let’s go get a drink.”

“You
must be out of your mind if you think I’m just going to walk off with you like
that didn’t just happen to go have drinks as if we’re BFF’s out for lunch.” She
balled her fists, digging her fingernails into her skin as she tried to rein in
her anger. The nonchalance he displayed had her spoiling for a fight. 

“It’s
about your kidnappers.”

The
world shifted on its axis, knocking her on her ass mentally. Clamping her jaw
shut, she closed her eyes and struggled against the mass of emotions
threatening to drown her in their depths.  Opening her eyes again, she nodded.