Deadly Identity (13 page)

Snorting, Dirk paced some more as he smoked. “The bitch is too tied to her brothers not to call. And I want her bad, Malloy. Real bad.”

Waving his hand in a distracted motion, Malloy nodded. “I get it, dude. But we have to be patient.”

“I'm paying for this apartment,” Dirk reminded him. “That's a lot of money. And I'm paying you for your time.”

Shrugging, Malloy said, “Hey, dude, I got this under control. I've logged every incoming and out
going call.” He flipped his hand toward the logbook beside the computer. “Check it out. It's all there. I'm not idly wasting your money. And I can't help it if there is no connection so far.”

Running his hand through his hair, Dirk growled, “Fine. Fine, I get it. But I'm headin' back to Florida. This snow and cold sucks. I got business ties down there that I'm getting up and runnin'. I can't afford to fly up here and look over your shoulder every couple of weeks.”

Malloy grinned. “Hey, I like the company. I have nothing else to do but wait, watch and listen.”

Turning, Dirk came back over to his desk. “The phone company can't track you. Right?”

“Right. They don't have a clue I'm listening in. I'm very good at what I do. I'm pure stealth, Payson. You're gettin' your money's worth.”

Snorting, Dirk turned, sucked on his cigarette and muttered a curse. “Do you think in a month's time you'll hear from them?”

“Dunno.”

“What
do
you know?”

Malloy scratched his itchy jaw. He hadn't shaved in three days. “I know my business. You hired me to wiretap and that's what I'm doing. I can't
make
something happen. That's why private investigators get paid so much money—to sit and wait. Patience is the name of the game, Payson.”

Dirk stared at the twenty-three-year-old computer
genius. In his world of drugs, Malloy was well-known to deliver the goods. He didn't come cheap, but he was the best. “What about trying to hack into the FBI witness protection base?”

“I can try. Never did that before, but it probably can be done.”

“Has anyone else done it?”

“Not that I know of,” Malloy said, dragging in a deep breath of smoke from his cigarette. He flipped the ashes into a yellow ceramic ashtray beside the computer. “The feds are gonna have layer upon layer of firewalls and security to ensure their source info doesn't get snatched.”

“So what? Can you try?”

“Well,” Malloy said, sitting up in his chair and dropping the cigarette into the ashtray, “that's gonna cost you more green.”

“Figured that,” Dirk muttered. “But at least you aren't just sitting on your ass here waiting for a call.”

“True,” the computer wizard said, smiling. “But I'll need another computer and that comes out of your green, not mine.”

“Why can't you use the same one?” Dirk demanded, angry.

“Different tasks. Each one demands a lot of RAM and memory. No, you gotta cough up the bucks for me to go get what I need.”

Pulling out his billfold, Dirk stubbed out his
cigarette in the yellow ashtray. “Okay,” he growled, irritated, “this ought to start the ball rollin'.” He handed him a wad of one-hundred-dollar bills.

Taking them, Malloy counted through it all. “I need more than that.”

Dirk never used credit cards. He always carried plenty of cash on him. Going to his jacket, which held special compartments inside, he unzipped a couple of pockets and hauled out more money. “Here. Will this meet your needs?”

Pleased, Malloy smiled. “Yep, I think that says it all. Thanks, dude. I'll get to work on it in the next few days.”

“Can you break into it?”

Shrugging, Malloy said, “Won't know until I try. The feds have a lot of hackers of my quality on their payroll. They know how to stop people like me.” Holding up his hand, he added, “But don't look so worried. I'll do my best.”

“Can they follow you, though? Track you to here?” Dirk jammed his index finger down at the wooden floor.

“Oh, they could, but I'll give them such a rabbit chase they'll never find me. Not to worry, okay, dude?”

Dirk wasn't so sure. He donned his jacket and went back out into the freezing March weather. He'd hated coming back to Iowa in order to set up another cocaine ring. Dirk was a city boy and loved the
excitement of the nonstop nightlife. Out here, the only excitement was watching cattle screwing one another in the springtime and that was it.

Sloshing through the snow and slush to get to his gray rental car, Dirk remained vigilant. Yes, he now had a beard, dyed his hair and wore glasses to disguise himself. Coming here wasn't bright, but he had to have face time with Malloy. Sliding into the seat, he closed the door and switched on the ignition. He turned up the heater to high, sat and looked around at the small apartment complex. The cops were looking for him, he was sure. Dirk had seen himself on the FBI's Ten Most Wanted list. Grinning, he pulled out a cigarette and lit it.

One way or another, he was going to get Susan. He wondered what name she lived under now. Where had the FBI hidden her? Dirk tried to think like the feds might think. If she was a farm girl would they put her somewhere similar? Or just the opposite to throw him off her trail? And what about Mrs. Donovan? Had the feds put them together? Were they living somewhere in the same house or apartment? That would be choice: if Malloy could find them together that would be even sweeter revenge.

Smoking, he looked through the beaded water across the windshield. The clouds were low and gray. The landscape white, with black, naked trees here and there. Dirk thought about going out to the Donovan farm and shooting the brothers, one by one.
If he did that, it would bring the feds here and the manhunt for him would intensify a hundredfold. No, he had to wait. He had to let Malloy do his job. But damn, he wasn't patient. Not at all. Being on the run didn't bother him. Dirk was a master chameleon. He looked nothing like his prison picture. And the photo of him on the Internet and in the post office was a lean, shaved blond.

Rubbing his dark brown dyed beard, which he kept neatly trimmed, Dirk grinned. He turned on the windshield wipers for a moment and cleared the glass. Time to drive to the airport. With his false identification and looking like a worldly professor who taught at a university, he knew he could get past the Transportation Security Administration and anyone else looking for him. Since breaking out of prison, Dirk had flown a lot in order to reestablish his old drug ties and get them back together. He'd created a new network of cocaine drug dealers selling for him once again. The cash was rolling in and mounting higher and higher every week. His Mexican cartel boss in Juarez was more than pleased. Yes, everything was working out according to his plans.

With a savage grin, Dirk stubbed out the cigarette and then sent the butt out the crack of the driver's-side window. Quickly pressing a button to shut it up, Dirk felt the temperature rise immediately within the
car. “Life is good, dude. Just be patient. She'll call home. I know she will.” Dirk put the car in gear and left the apartment complex.

R
ACHEL TRIED TO QUELL
the nervousness that had dogged her all day. Cade would be home for dinner any minute now. Outside the kitchen window, night had already fallen. What would he say? What should she do? How much should she say? Hating the lies, hating the predicament she'd gotten herself into, Rachel felt misery. She worked at the sink cutting up carrots and then stalks of celery for their nightly salad.

Gwen had come over earlier and when Rachel told her about Cade's reaction last night, she became grim. Gwen told her that sometimes being in law enforcement was torturous. Rachel quietly agreed. Gwen had patted her shoulder and told her that over time, Cade would work through his emotions concerning the accident. He always had before.

Cupping her hands, Rachel scooped up the chopped veggies and dropped them into the bowl. When the back door opened, her heart seized momentarily. Looking to her left, she saw Cade enter the room. His face was drawn, his eyes, usually glinting
with life, were a dull gray. Rachel put on her unreadable mask for the sake of keeping things stable between them.

“Your daughter doesn't like carrots,” she told him with a slight smile as she placed the salad bowl on the table. “Does she take after Tom or Lily?” Rachel hoped this small bit of conversation would ease the tension that suddenly inhabited the kitchen with his appearance.

Cade perked up a bit as he shrugged out of his jacket and hung it on the wall peg. Rachel looked incredibly beautiful in her jeans and a white blouse with a pink angora shell over it. “I think that's her father she's imitating. Tom never liked carrots, either.” Cade shook his head and tried to smile, but failed. “That's pretty amazing.”

“Yes,” Rachel said drily, “it was pretty dramatic when she spat them out all over me.”

Chuckling, Cade walked over to Jenny who was happily playing with a cracker in the high chair next to the table. Leaning down, he placed a soft kiss on the baby's head. “Now, Jenny, would you do that to this wonderful lady in your life? Spit carrots out at her?”

Jenny laughed and excitedly waved her arms as she saw Cade.

Warmth eased some of Rachel's tension as she watched Jenny respond to Cade's teasing. An unexpected ache settled in her chest. When she saw Cade
and Jenny together, she wondered obliquely what the lives of her and Sarah might have been like had the child survived. Bad, judging from her experience with Payson. Seeing a positive relationship between a father and daughter lifted Rachel's spirits.

“Well,” she teased lightly, walking to the oven and pulling on mitts, “Jenny thought it was funny. I think she might end up being an abstract artist someday.”

Straightening, Cade nodded. Somehow, he had to be more social with Rachel. He saw how tense she had become. And he knew she was trying her best to make him feel welcome. The heaviness that had plagued him all day miraculously disappeared. He understood why. It was a combination of Rachel and Jenny. What man wouldn't be happy to come home nightly to these two? “Oh? Was there a particular design that engaged Jenny?”

Laughing a little, Rachel removed the pot roast from the oven and set it on a rack on the counter. “You could say that. After she spat them out I had all kinds of orange speckles and splotches across my yellow blouse.”

“That sounds kind of pretty.”

Nodding, Rachel pulled the tinfoil off the roast. The odor of curry and other Far Eastern spices filled her nostrils as she inhaled. “Next time it happens, I hope it's you on the firing line. Then we'll see how well you take her abstract art attempts.”

“Fair enough,” Cade murmured with a grin. “I'm going to change for dinner.”

The tension ebbed out of Rachel. Cade came home, said hello to his daughter, changed into civilian attire and then they ate dinner together as a family. To her, it was the most important part of her day. She wondered whether Cade was going to talk with her tonight; he looked exhausted. Had he had another bad day on his shift? She hoped not.

 

C
ADE TOOK A QUICK SHOWER,
unlike the long one of this morning. Changing into jeans, a red long-sleeved fisherman's-knit sweater, his dark brown socks and favorite patched cowboy boots, he was ready to eat. Truth be told, he still wasn't hungry and he sure as hell didn't want a replay of last night. Combing his damp hair into place, he tried to avoid the look in his eyes. They were flat-looking. Lifeless. Well, that's how he felt right now. Still, just having Rachel and Jenny out in the kitchen waiting for him gave him sustenance. They would never realize that, but they did and he was grateful.

Sauntering out to the kitchen, Cade saw that Rachel had everything on the table. Going to the fridge, he asked, “What do you want to drink?”

“Just water,” Rachel answered, settling into her chair next to Jenny. She gave the baby another cracker.

Cade took a plastic water bottle from the fridge. “Makes two of us.”

She watched him as he walked to the counter. He was incredibly masculine, and yet his vulnerability was written across his face. Normally, he wore a hard mask with no expression. Whatever had happened yesterday, he had been unable to hide his real feelings from her. Cade's beard was shadowy at this time of day and gave him a decidedly dangerous look. He was dangerous to her heart. And oh, how Rachel fantasized in her what-if world. What if she didn't have this awful past haunting her? What if she could honestly move forward in a sincere relationship with Cade? Free of the past? Of the always-constant danger? Of the entanglements?

“How are you feeling?” she asked quietly as he sat down on the other side of Jenny.

“Let's put it this way,” Cade confided, pulling his chair up to the table after placing their glasses in front of the plates, “I haven't eaten a whole lot today. I don't want a replay of last night, either.”

Feeling deeply for him, Rachel said, “Then just take a little. How long does this kind of reaction go on for you?”

Cade spooned some of the carrots and potatoes onto his plate. “Usually no more than twenty-four hours.” He met and held her worried gaze. His voice lowered with feeling. “I never got to say thank-you for your help last night.”

Rachel stopped herself from reaching out to touch Cade's arm. “You're welcome. I think you should eat lightly. Just watch some TV and chill out tonight. What do you think?”

Cade watched as she gave him a very small slice of beef and then ladled some rich brown gravy over it. His stomach growled. He knew he was hungry, but he was afraid to overeat tonight. “Sounds good,” he murmured. “I'd like to sit and talk with you sometime after we get the kitchen cleaned up.”

“Sure,” Rachel said. Her heart contracted with absolute fear. What would he say? Do? Trapped, Rachel again felt anxiety riffle through her. The longer she stayed here, the more panic-stricken she felt. How could she balance Jenny's need for a good nanny with the danger of Payson looking for her? Most of the time, she wanted to leave the ranch in order to protect them. And every time she thought of doing that, she wanted to cry. This house had become home. Cade made it like that for her, whether he realized it or not. Plus, her handler continued to tell her she was in the best place on earth to be hidden from Dirk.
Stop worrying,
she chided herself.
Enjoy the moment, instead.

 

A
FTER PUTTING
J
ENNY
to bed, Cade kept the door ajar so that they could hear the baby if she woke up. He walked down the hall to the living room. Rachel had some of the illustrations she'd painted today
sitting on the coffee table between the couch and the overstuffed chair.

“These look great,” he said, meaning it as he sat down in the chair and picked one of them up.

Rachel tried to tamp down her anxiety. “Thanks.”

“How are you coming along on the illustrations for the assignment?” he asked, setting them down on the coffee table.

“I'm on time to meet the class deadline.”

“We still need to get you out of here and go hunt up a moose or two for you to see in person.”

“Well,” Rachel said, “it hasn't exactly been great driving weather. I've never seen it snow so often as it does here.”

Cade sat on the edge of the chair, legs apart, with his elbows resting on his thighs. His hands were clasped in front of him. “You're right. Come early April, though, it begins to change and it's a good time to find them.”

Rachel picked up the material next to her. “I wanted to show you the fabric I've chosen to make Jenny's first quilt.” It was a diversion, but she needed one right now. Her heart was pounding with fear and anxiety.

Taking the cloth, Cade studied it. “I'm really glad you like quilting. And Jenny will love this, too.”

Her heart picked up in beat as he handed the material back to her, their fingers briefly touching one another. “Thanks. Gwen came over this morning and
we were talking about how to cut the material. She loaned me a cutting board, a ruler and a rotary tool to do it with.”

Nodding, Cade drank her in. There was fear in her eyes once more. Fear of him? Fear of their relationship that just seemed to be there no matter how he tried to evade it? Not that he'd helped things last night. “You'll do fine. Mom has always said that quilters are artists with fabric. And you're an artist already so I'm sure you'll find this medium a lot of fun.”

“I already do.” Rachel sobered and held his dark stare. “You said we needed to talk?” She could no longer prolong the agony she felt in her gut. Better to get it over with.

Cade immediately sobered. “I broke the contract I had with you. I don't know what happened last night except to say I was in such emotional shock that I wasn't thinking straight. It's not an excuse,” Cade said, his voice low. Holding her gaze, he once more saw what he thought was desire—for him. But Cade couldn't be sure and didn't want to go there. “The cabin is available to you, Rachel. I went back on my word to keep you at arm's length. You're my employee. I know it's more work to be trudging between the house and cabin, but I want you to feel relaxed and not tense when I come home. I don't want you thinking I'm going to hit on you again. That wasn't my intent last night, I swear it wasn't.”

“Last night,” Rachel choked, “you were hurting, Cade. What you did was human. I didn't see it as breaking our agreement at all. I was glad I could do something for you. Holding someone when they're hurting isn't wrong.”

The softness of her tone flowed over him like sun warming the iciness he still felt inside from the trauma of the accident scene yesterday. Hanging his head, Cade stared at his clasped hands in front of him. “I don't know what happened,” he admitted hoarsely. “I just—came apart. It's shock, that I know. People react to shock in all kinds of different ways. This is my way, I guess….”

Rachel had to stop herself from rising to walk over and wrap her arms around his hunched shoulders. There was such anguish in the lines of his face and body. She had to sit there and not respond, because if she did, her reaction might be read the wrong way. Swallowing hard, Rachel whispered, “Listen, Cade, I did not take what happened last night as a romantic trick to get me into your arms if that's what you're thinking.” She opened her hands, her voice pleading. “You're human. We're all there at some point. I was happy to be here and be able to hold you. I wish, well, I wish I could have done more to help you. I can see how much this hurts you. It hurts me to watch you suffering.”

Lifting his head, Cade melted beneath the warmth of her searching blue gaze. How beautiful Rachel
was—inside and out. He almost told her that, but swallowed the words. She was an employee, not his lover. But, God, how much Cade wanted Rachel to be that—and more. “I'm just afraid—well, I'm afraid I'll drive you off, Rachel. And Jenny needs you so much.”
I need you.
Mouth quirking, Cade went on. “I don't want you thinking I'm stalking you. Or trying to use a situation to manipulate you into my arms.”
Or my bed, next to me where I'll try my damnedest to please you like you deserve….

Her heart tore open a little more over his rasped words. “Oh, Cade, I never thought that for a moment. Everyone needs comfort at bad times. I never saw last night as a manipulation of any kind. You needed to be held.” Rachel forced a small smile, and the look of relief in Cade's eyes made her stomach unknot. He believed her. That was good. A bitter taste in the back of her mouth remained. If he only knew that she was a liar.

“Thanks,” Cade whispered. “I really needed to know how you felt. I never want to put you at risk or take advantage of you. Because I'm not.”

“You're not the type,” she told him, sitting up and stretching her arms to relieve the tension in them. “Why don't you watch some TV? Just rest tonight?”

Cade shrugged. “What about you? I was thinking this morning about the fabric you had on the couch last night. I talked to my mother before I left for
work. I had bought Abby a Bernina sewing machine from my mom's store.” He shrugged. “It never got used. But it's here, in her sewing room. Would you like to use it?”

“Why…sure, if you don't mind?” Rachel searched his expression for any hesitation, but she saw nothing but happiness.

“Mind? No, not at all.” Cade rose. With a gesture, he said, “Come on, I'll get it out for you. My mom had bought the special sewing table for Abby. I'll set it up so you can quilt away.”

Standing, Rachel followed him. “That would be lovely, Cade. Thanks so much for the unexpected gift. Gwen had told me I could use one of the sewing machines they keep for classes at her store.”

“You don't need to,” he said as he walked down the hall. Opening a door on the left, he switched on the light. Cade came into this room once a month to clean it. There had been too many poignant memories of Abby quilting and sewing in here for him to remain in it for any amount of time.