Eye for an Eye, an (Heroes of Quantico Book #2): A Novel (15 page)

The renewal of vows had been far more moving than Mark expected. The couple had appeared serene and happy, and the sermon by the minister had been inspiring.

As the service concluded with an instrumental meditation piece on the harp, Mark glanced at Emily. She looked gorgeous tonight, in a short-sleeved, peach-colored silk suit that was simple but elegant. Her hair took on a burnished luster in the candlelight, and a faint smile hovered at her soft lips as she looked toward the couple being honored.

After two weeks, she bore little physical evidence of the trauma that had nearly taken her life, Mark noted in relief. The bruise on her temple was gone, the remnants of the abrasion on her cheek masked by makeup. While the bandage on her arm remained, peeking below the edge of her sleeve, the bulk had been reduced to Band-Aid thickness. In another few days it would be gone.

And in two weeks, so would he. For good. Unless he chose to stay.

Tonight, the minister had talked of courage and commitment. Mark had always thought he possessed those qualities in abundance. In fact, he was called upon to use them every day in the HRT.

But they took on a whole different meaning when applied to his personal life. And in that realm, he wasn’t at all certain his supply was adequate.

“Mark? It’s over.”

At Emily’s soft comment, he looked up. She had risen, and the other guests were moving toward the exit. Standing, he took her arm as they left the pew. “Sorry. I was lost in thought.”

She smiled and tucked her arm in his. “That’s what a meditation is for.”

Coop was waiting for them in the vestibule. “Nice service.”

“I’m sorry you couldn’t sit with us,” Emily told him.

“I had a better view of the interior from the back.”

At the subtle reminder of the reason for his presence, Emily’s brightness dimmed a bit. “This has to be getting old for you.

Not to mention boring.”

“Boring is good in this case,” Mark interjected.

“You know, considering how quiet it’s been, you guys are going to have to let me start going places alone again soon,”

Emily told them.

“We’ll talk about that in a few days,” Mark said.

“Is that a stall tactic?” Emily directed her question to Coop.

“I’m afraid I’m not at liberty to discuss tactical issues.” He winked at her.

“I should have known you two would stick together. Okay, I’ll let it go for tonight. But this subject isn’t closed. Will you join us for dinner, Coop? Mary said you’d be welcome.”

“I appreciate that. But after sitting through that ceremony, I’m in the mood to call Monica. It reminded me of our wedding. I think I’ll hover in the background and chat with my wife.”

“That’s right. Your first anniversary is coming up, isn’t it?” With all that had happened, the date had slipped Mark’s mind.

“Next Sunday.”

“You need to be there.”

“Tell that to Les.” As Mark frowned, Coop laid his hand on his partner’s shoulder. “It’s okay. Monica knew the odds were good I’d be away on some assignment. And she’d rather have me here than in a lot of places I could be.” He looked around the vestibule and motioned to a side door. “Wait there and I’ll bring the car up.”

As Coop disappeared, Emily touched Mark’s arm. “It’s not your fault about the anniversary. There’s no reason to feel guilty.”

Looking down at her slender fingers resting against his sleeve, he smiled. “You know, I could get used to having a psychologist around. I think it’s good for my mental health.”

“You don’t strike me as the type to need a psychologist except on rare occasion. You project a great sense of self and purpose.

Not to mention confidence. I suspect you work too hard, but that’s a common problem these days.”

“Yeah. I know someone who does that too.”

“Guilty as charged.” She gave a sheepish shrug.

“Sometimes I think people who work too hard are trying to avoid addressing an issue.”

“Now who’s being the psychologist?”

Her tone was teasing, but he heard a wary note in the background. “Am I wrong?”

“We all have our coping mechanisms, I guess.” She shifted her purse on her shoulder, avoiding his question. “Besides, I do lots of other things besides work.”

“I know. You don’t leave a spare hour in the day.”

“Look who’s talking. Coop told me you’re very involved with a basketball team for at-risk kids when you’re home.”

“Coop has a big mouth.”

“I’m glad he shared that. I think it’s great. But I don’t see that you have a lot of downtime, either.”

“I don’t. But I’m beginning to understand why I maintain a hectic schedule. And to search for a way to fill up the empty places in my life that busyness masks.”

A flash of headlights interrupted them, and Emily looked toward the door. “You’re on the right track in your faith journey, Mark. The presence of God in your life will fill that spiritual void.”

“That’s not the only part of my life that’s empty.”

She turned, clearly taken aback by his admission.

He was no less surprised. He hadn’t intended to be that candid. Nor imply that he was looking to her to fill the void in his life. He didn’t think she was ready to hear that. And her suddenly uneasy expression confirmed his conclusion.

The door to the vestibule opened, and out of the corner of his eye Mark saw Coop step inside.

So did Emily. And she latched on to him as an escape route.

“Looks like our chauffeur is ready.” Adopting an artificially bright tone, she turned away from Mark and walked toward the door.

She didn’t look back as she joined his partner. When he hesitated, Coop sent him a questioning look.

Prodding himself into action, Mark moved forward, aware that Emily had just sent him a powerful message: She wasn’t ready to get serious about their relationship.

Truth be told, he wasn’t sure he was, either.

But he was sure about one thing.

Before his assignment in St. Louis ended, he intended to do some serious thinking about his life—and to figure out where Emily Lawson fit into it.

15

As Mark slipped his arms into the sleeves of his jacket on Sunday morning, his BlackBerry began to vibrate.

“Sanders.”

“Mark, it’s Steve. We’ve got a lead on the shooting.”

Signaling to Coop, who was heading toward the door, Mark drew the notepad on Nick’s kitchen counter toward him and pulled a pen out of his pocket. “It’s about time. What do you have?”

“Oakdale got a call from a guy who lives near the church. He left on a two-week vacation the morning of the shooting and just found out about it from a neighbor. He thinks he saw the shooter’s car pull out of the church parking lot. Carl’s sending a detective over to get his statement and thought you might want to join him.”

“We’re on our way. What’s the address?” Mark jotted down the information as Steve recited it. “Can you let Oakdale know we’re coming?”

“That will be my next call. Fill me in afterward.”

“Will do. Thanks.” As Mark reholstered his BlackBerry, he looked at Coop. “We may have a witness to the shooter leaving the scene. An Oakdale detective is heading out to take a statement now. He’ll wait for us to join him.”

“What about Emily?”

They’d been on their way out the door to escort her to church,

Mark suddenly recalled. Frustrated, he checked his watch.

“Where’s Nick?”

“He had a call on another bank robbery lead. That case sounds as if it’s heating up.”

Raking his fingers through his hair, Mark shoved the bottom of his jacket aside and propped a fist on his hip. “I need to be there for this interview. You want to take Emily?”

“And risk Les’s wrath for letting you out of my sight? Not a chance.”

“Emily’s not going to give up Sunday services.”

“She has to go out by herself eventually, Mark.”

At his partner’s quiet reminder, Mark tilted his head and regarded him. “You think I’m being overprotective?”

Coop lifted a shoulder. “I understand your concern. But we’ve already given her a lot more coverage than normal policy would dictate. And based on her comment last night, I suspect she’s about to revolt, anyway. She doesn’t strike me as a lady who likes to be smothered.”

Smothered. Mark hadn’t thought of it that way. But he could see where Emily might view their protective efforts in that light.

And Coop was right. She was beginning to get antsy. Maybe he needed to ease off a bit. Especially if there was a break in the case.

“Okay. But I’m going to suggest she attend a different church today, just to keep our shooter off balance in case he’s watching her.”

“She might buy that.”

Five minutes later, after a quick call to Emily, Mark joined Coop in the car.

As Coop put the car in gear, he glanced at his partner. “Was she okay with the revised plan?”

“I don’t think she was thrilled with the suggestion to go to a different church, and I picked up a little nervousness about being turned loose with no warning, but she was happy about the break in the case. She’s going to page me when she gets there.” Mark buckled his seat belt and checked the address Steve had given him. “This guy must live across the street from the church.”

“Did Steve have any details?”

After passing on what little he knew, Mark directed him to the house. Fifteen minutes later, they pulled up in front of a two-story brick home one house down and across the street from the exit at the far end of the church lot. An unmarked car was parked in front, and as they rolled up behind it, Sergeant Bill Montgomery stepped out.

“Carl called to let me know you were coming,” the detective said. “This could turn out to be a wild goose chase, but the guy sounded legit and the timing’s about right.” He withdrew a notebook from his pocket and flipped it open. “Name’s Frank Purnell. He’s waiting for us.”

Mark nodded. “Let’s see what we’ve got.”

A man in his late thirties, with sandy-colored hair still damp from the shower and dressed in shorts and a golf shirt, answered the door seconds after they rang the bell.

“Mr. Purnell?” The detective took the lead.

“Yes. You’re from Oakdale?”

Montgomery introduced himself and flashed his badge. “This is Mark Sanders and Evan Cooper with the FBI.”

The man did a double take. “I’m not sure the information I have merits this kind of attention.”

“Mark has a vested interest in the case,” Montgomery told him. “He was one of the shooter’s targets.”

“Oh. I’m sorry to hear that. Come in, gentlemen.”

As he stepped aside to usher them in, Mark caught sight of a youngster hovering in the background. About nine, he had the same sandy-hued hair as his father. And he looked awed.

No surprise there, Mark reflected, suppressing a smile. The presence of detectives and FBI agents in his home would have impressed him as a nine-year-old too. The kid would have stories to tell his friends for months to come, depending on how long he could milk it.

Montgomery flipped his notebook open again and took down the basics, then asked Frank to run through the events of that morning.

“We were leaving on vacation, and as we backed down our driveway, a car pulled out of the church lot,” he said.

“Can you give me an approximate time?”

“I can do better than that. We never leave on schedule for vacation, but this year everything went smoothly. I remember looking at the clock on my dash and thinking we were only thirteen minutes late. It was 8:13.”

“That fits,” Mark said. “Did you see the driver?”

The man gave a regretful shake of his head. “No. I’m sorry. I didn’t pay any attention to him.”

“He was wearing a baseball cap.”

The men in the room turned to look at the boy hovering in the doorway, the soft uncertainty in his voice betraying his nervousness.

“Come on in, David.” Frank motioned for him, and the youngster moved into the room. “This is my son. To be honest, he’s the one you have to thank if this information turns out to be helpful. I was so busy wondering whether we’d forgotten anything I doubt I would have noticed the car if he hadn’t pointed it out.

It caught his attention because it was exactly like ours. Same make, model, color. It might even have been the same year. It was like looking in a mirror. A silver Toyota Camry LE.”

A midsized car. That fit the tire impression the ERT had found, Mark noted. A surge of adrenaline shot through him, and he leaned forward. “Did you happen to get a look at the license plate?”

“No. I’m sorry.”

“I did. I had my binoculars out. But it was muddy.”

Once again, all eyes turned toward David.

“Did you see any of the numbers or letters, son?” the detective asked.

“There was an eight. I remember, because that’s how old I am.”

“Good work, buddy.” Mark smiled at him, and the kid fairly glowed. “Could you tell if it was a Missouri plate?”

“Uh-huh. It was white at the top and kind of faded to blue near the bottom.”

“Do you remember where the eight was? Near the edge or more toward the middle?”

He scrunched up his face in concentration. “No. I’m sorry.”

“That’s okay. You did good. Was there anyone in the car except the driver?”

“No.”

“Was there anything else unusual about the car? Did it have a special antenna or any damage?”

“I don’t think so.”

“I take it this isn’t a car you remember seeing before or since?”

Montgomery’s question encompassed father and son.

“No. It was new to us,” Frank replied.

“You guys need anything else?” The detective turned to Mark and Coop.

They exchanged a look. “We’re good,” Mark said.

The three men rose to shake hands with both Frank and David.

“You’ve got good observation skills,” Mark told the youngster, resting a hand on his shoulder as they prepared to exit. “That’s important for an FBI agent. Think about that when you get older.

We’re always looking for good men.”

“Yes, sir. I will.”

As they stepped outside, Coop grinned at Mark. “You made that kid’s day.”

“Never hurts to begin recruiting young. And we have him to thank for our most solid lead to date.”

“No argument there.”

They regrouped around Montgomery’s trunk.

“I suggest running a check for registrations containing the number eight for zip codes within a hundred-mile radius of St. Louis,” Montgomery said. “Considering our shooter hangs around cows, he could be in an outlying area.”

“Sounds reasonable,” Mark concurred. “How much detail are we likely to get?”

“With the computer search, not much beyond license plates containing the number eight. A lot of the registration information isn’t in the database. It will take a hand search to drill down on the records.”

Things hadn’t changed much since his field agent days, Mark reflected. Computerized record-keeping at the state level was still archaic. And there were often frustrating gaps in the paper records.

“That could take days,” Coop noted.

“If we’re overwhelmed with matches, we could always pare down to a fifty-mile radius,” the detective said. “I’ll get this in the works right away. We won’t make much headway with the Department of Revenue folks on a Sunday, but a call from Carl and your boss might speed things along.”

“We’ll work our end,” Mark promised. “Thanks for taking the lead on this.”

As he and Coop headed toward their respective sides of the car, Coop tossed a question over the hood. “I saw you checking your BlackBerry during the interview. Emily get there okay?”

“Yes. I also got a page from Nick. He could use our help on the bank robbery case. You up for that?”

“Are you?”

“To be honest, I’d rather spend the day with Emily. But considering Nick’s been picking up some escort duty for me, and with Steve cutting me some slack at the office to work the shooting, I haven’t been around to help on the bank case as much as I should have. I owe him.”

“Okay.” Coop slid into the car. “At least it gets me out of the construction zone for a while.”

“Feel like some company?”

At the sound of Mark’s voice on the other end of the phone, Emily smiled. “That would be nice. Are you sending Nick over?”

“Cute. What did you do all day?”

“Caught up on case files.”

“Sounds exciting.”

“Necessary.”

“Boring.”

“Your word, not mine. Besides, I kept hoping you’d call to tell me about the latest on the shooter and I wanted to stay close to the phone. Or is it top secret?”

“I would have called sooner, but Coop and I were out all day tracking down new leads for Nick on a bank robbery case.

And no, it’s not top secret. But I’d rather tell you about it in person.”

“It’s kind of late. And tomorrow is a work day.”

“I won’t stay long.”

“Is this just an excuse to come over?”

“Yep. I’ll bring ice cream.”

“Sounds like a bribe to me. But make it double chocolate anything and you’ve got a date.”

“Look for me in fifteen minutes.”

“Buy some for Coop too. That’s the least you can do, considering all the chauffeuring he’s done.”

He chuckled. “Duly noted. See you soon.”

Long after the line went dead, Emily’s smile lingered as she sat on a stool at her kitchen island, elbow on counter, chin propped in hand. Mark had that effect on her. He always had. The warm, husky cadence of his voice alone was enough to brighten her day.

And today it needed brightening. Her solo trip to church this morning had left her on edge. While she’d told Mark and Coop last night that it was time they cut her loose, she’d found herself looking over her shoulder and hurrying to and from her car, her pulse hammering with every step. Although she knew she was vulnerable even with Nick or Mark and Coop by her side, she’d felt far more exposed and at risk on her own.

The experience had left her unsettled and fidgety, and working on boring case files, as Mark had called them, had been her best antidote to that jitteriness. Not that she’d admit that to Mark. If she told him her excursion had freaked her out, he’d insist on continuing the escort service. But she needed to get used to going out alone. Besides, whatever lead had surfaced today might put them on track to solving the case. She knew Mark was hoping for a resolution before he had to return to Quantico.

Thoughts of his departure in less than two weeks erased the last remnants of her smile. She’d like to stay in touch, but after their kiss, and after Mark’s revelation last night following the renewal ceremony, she knew his intentions were serious. How he expected to explore their relationship when he was a thousand miles away at best—and often much farther on far-flung missions—she had no idea. Nor had she asked him to share his thoughts on that subject. If she did, he would take that as encouragement. And she wasn’t ready to consider offering that to another man in a high-risk profession.

How could she, after losing Grant?

While the pain of his death had diminished, the memory of the night the chief had arrived at her door, soot-stained and choked with emotion, was as vivid as if it had happened yesterday. Even now, five years later, there were nights she reached for Grant sleepily in the pre-dawn darkness, only to touch cold, empty sheets and be reminded that abject loneliness was the price to be paid for loving too much.