Love Inspired Suspense March 2015 - Box Set 1 of 2: Protection Detail\Hidden Agenda\Broken Silence (29 page)

“Not until next week.”

“Is he staying on the island?” Bailey shielded her eyes against the glare of the sun.

Mr. Jefferies shook his head. “Not that I know of. I'm pretty sure he has a place on the mainland. My impression is that he's desperate for work.”

“Thanks, Mr. Jeffries,” Bailey said. She squeezed the older gentleman's arm.

“No problem, Bailey. You let me know if you need anything.”

“I will, Mr. Jeffries. Thank you.”

Bailey and Ed stepped away, headed back toward Main Street.

“You know, it seems like everyone around here is looking out for you.”

“Just one more thing to love about island life, right? People do look out for each other.”

“I suppose.” He looked in the distance, wondering what it would be like to live in a place where he wasn't simply a shadow or he wasn't living a lie, for that matter. It was a luxury he couldn't afford to think about at the moment. “I'm going to go talk to Mary Lou, the housekeeper. You want to come?”

Something flickered in Bailey's gaze. Could it be guilt? Why would Bailey feel guilty, though?

“I would, but I think I'm going to get back to the house and clean up a bit. I've got to earn my keep and all.” She shrugged, a little too casually.

He nodded. “All right, then. I'll let you know what she says.”

He couldn't help but think that her answer was suspicious. He'd thought that she would jump at the chance to go with him and search for answers. That familiar inkling that she was hiding something returned.

He'd have to address that later. For now, he wanted to talk to his father's old housekeeper, the one who'd up and quit about two weeks before he died.

He walked down the road until he reached a small bungalow. Four tombstones were in the front yard. The island was so small that there was no space for a large cemetery, so many residents buried their loved ones right there on their property. From talking with his dad, Ed knew that Mary Lou's family went back several generations on the island. Her husband had died two decades ago in a boating accident and she'd never remarried.

He knocked at the door. A moment later, a woman with a pouf of bleached-blond hair and oversize tortoiseshell glasses answered. As soon as she saw Ed, she tried to shut the door.

“Wait! I just have a question, Mary Lou.”

“I'm not going back to that house,” she whispered through the cracked door. “I know who you are. You're Bill Carter's son. You look just like him.”

“I'm Ed.” He extended his hand.

She stared at his outstretched arm a moment before hesitantly reaching out, half her body still behind the door, and halfheartedly shaking it. “Why are you here?”

“I understand from Bailey that you quit rather suddenly. I just wanted to make sure everything was okay.”

“Bailey's a sweet girl. She has a heart of gold for staying around, if you ask me.” Her voice left no room for argument.

Ed shifted. “She is sweet, but why did you say it like that?”

Mary Lou pushed her oversize glasses up higher. “Something was going on at the house. I figured I better leave before things got even weirder.”

“How were things weird? Please. I'm trying to figure everything out.”

Wrinkles formed around her lips as she squeezed them together in thought. Finally, she pulled the door open a little more, but still didn't invite him inside. She stared at him with obvious distrust instead.

“Things kept getting moved.” She crossed her arms, as if expecting him to be skeptical.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, someone was going around the house and touching things. And I'm not talking about Mr. Carter or Bailey. Someone took it upon themselves to go in and out of rooms that no one ever went in. It was like they were playing with my head or something.”

“So you quit?”

“Well, because of that and because I kept hearing people walk around at night.”

“Really?” Was she crazy? She had a bit of an eccentric vibe to her. Or was someone really messing around in the house?

“No, I'm not crazy.” She scowled, as if she'd read his thoughts. “Someone was moving around at night, and again—it wasn't Mr. Carter or Bailey.”

“Mary Lou, I'm not doubting you, but how do you know it wasn't one of them?”

“Mr. Carter and Bailey were on the other side of the house. I slept in the west wing. Besides, the footsteps were heavier. Neither Mr. Carter or Bailey weighed that much.”

Interesting observation, but it added to her credibility. “Did you tell the police?”

She shook her head. “No, they'd think I was crazy. Besides, Sheriff Davis isn't equipped to find ghosts.”

He tried to keep his voice even-keeled. One hint of doubt might make her clam up and never talk to him about this again. “Did you ever consider maybe it was a person? An intruder?”

“Who would break into a house on Smuggler's Cove? No one. This is the safest place around.”

That was what most people would think. He wished it was true, but he didn't feel confident. Not anymore.

“Mary Lou, did anything else unusual happen in the days before my father died?”

“Besides the footsteps at night?” She looked in the distance and pursued her lips. “He seemed a bit preoccupied. He disappeared several times.”

Ed perked. “What do you mean he disappeared?”

“It was usually when Bailey wasn't around—the times when she'd go into town, for example. He liked to sneak off by himself.”

“Any idea what he was doing or where he was going?”

Mary Lou shook her head. “No idea. I figured it wasn't my business and that the man deserved his privacy.”

* * *

More than anything, Bailey had wanted to go talk to Mary Lou with Ed. She wanted answers just as much as he did. But she also needed some time alone at the house so she could look for the information her assailant had “requested.”

Bailey waited until she was inside the house before she let out the breath she'd been holding. Had Ed suspected anything? Did he have a clue what she was hiding? She prayed he didn't.

Reluctantly, she turned and stared at the living room. Where did she even begin? It wasn't as if she hadn't thought about it before. She'd lain in bed sleepless, wondering where to start.

The problem was searching this whole place would take days. She wasn't even sure there was any information here. But she had to look; she had to do whatever she could.

Mr. Carter had spent most of his time in a smaller living room, set up with a comfy recliner, fireplace and TV, or he'd been in his library or bedroom. Were those places too obvious?

She didn't know but that was where she needed to start.

She glanced out the window and made sure that Ed was nowhere to be seen. He was a bright, perceptive man. Certainly he'd put everything together soon. He'd known that she was up to something—looking for something. That was why she needed to work quickly.

She pushed away her fears about being in this house alone and charged down the hallway. She pushed the door open to the den, as Mr. Carter had called it. The room had dark wood paneling and manly brown leather furniture. A single window allowed some light to flood inside.

Her heart thudded as memories filled her mind. She hadn't been in here since Mr. Carter had passed, and right now grief clutched her heart. The finality of death often gave her pause. While she believed in heaven, it was still hard to comprehend never seeing someone on this earth again.

She shook the thoughts off and rushed toward the recliner. She checked all the crevices there. Nothing.

Next, she checked the bookshelves, under the rug, in the table drawers and everywhere else she could think of.

Nothing.

Of course, she had no idea what she was looking for. She only hoped she'd know it when she saw it.

She glanced one more time at the room but saw nowhere else she could possibly look. Instead, she hurried toward the library. Once there, she quickly glanced out the window, just to make sure that Ed hadn't decided to come back early. She didn't see anyone.

The intruder had already done a good job in this room, tearing everything apart. She had a hard time thinking that there was anything in here, but she had to try. She had to know for sure.

She went through the desk, the bookshelves, the filing cabinets. Almost everything she found was of a business nature. Insurance and car titles and HVAC repair receipts and letters from old friends. Nothing that screamed “the information.”

What was she going to do?

She wasn't going to give up. That was what.

She put everything back where she'd found it and then hurried to Mr. Carter's old bedroom. If the information wasn't here, she didn't have any other good ideas on where it could be.

She had no more time to be nostalgic, so instead, she quickly rifled through the drawers, looked between the mattresses, under the rug even. Whatever it was, either she couldn't identify it or it wasn't here.

She paused and put her hands on her hips. What next?

She supposed she would have to search the rest of the house.

But before she could move, she felt a shadow behind her and braced herself for a struggle.

THIRTEEN

E
d stared at Bailey a moment. What was she doing in his father's room?

She twirled around, her fists raised and ready to fight.

Ed caught her before she threw her first punch. He easily overpowered her as he held her hand at bay.

“What are you doing, Bailey?” he demanded.

Her eyes widened before she finally relaxed and lowered her arm. “Ed? What are you doing sneaking up on me like that?”

He let her go, watching carefully to make sure she didn't try to throw any more punches. “I wasn't sneaking up on anyone. It's not my fault if the carpet padded my steps. Besides, I'm not the one who should be answering questions. I want to know what you're doing in my father's room.”

He watched her face for a sign of deception. She stared at him a moment, then lines appeared on her forehead and at the corners of her eyes. Her lips pulled downward and her shoulders tensed again.

She was hiding something.

“I was...I was just having a moment. I straightened up the office some, and I was just checking on his room. It's what I do. It's what I've done since I was hired. Do you have a problem with that?”

As much as he wanted to demand the truth from her, Ed knew there were better ways to go about things. Instead, he shook his head. “You've been here more than I have. I appreciate the help.”

That seemed to relax her. Some of the fine lines on her face disappeared. “Good. I was hoping you'd feel that way. Old habits are hard to break, you know.”

He nodded. Still not buying it. “Mary Lou said she heard footsteps at night.”

Bailey froze again. “What?”

Ed nodded and recounted the conversation.

When he was done, Bailey pinched the skin between her eyes. “I never heard anything.”

“But you slept in the other wing of the house.”

“It just seems like there would be some kind of evidence if someone was coming and going.”

Not if they were professionals, Ed thought. This only seemed to confirm that theory. “I just wanted you to know.”

“I appreciate it.” She glanced at her watch. “It's been a long day. I think I'm going to finish straightening the library and then turn in for the night.”

Ed nodded. “Good idea. I have a few phone calls to make anyway. I'll see you in the morning, then.”

* * *

By the time Bailey finished in the library and reached her room, she felt both exhausted and on edge. That had been close. Too close.

And even though Ed seemed to believe her story, she didn't feel all that confident.

With her bedroom door closed and locked, she walked to the window and pressed her forehead against the cool panes, trying to calm her racing heart. She couldn't live like this. Being deceitful wasn't in her nature. If anything, she was too truthful at times.

“Did you find the information yet?”

Bailey stifled a scream and twirled around at the sound of the deep, unexpected voice. She made out the silhouette of a man sitting in a chair by the window. It had to be the same man who'd threatened her.

She considered running. Or screaming. Or slamming something over his head. Instead, she stayed by the window, her hand reaching for something to use as a weapon. There was nothing. She needed to make it clear to this man that she didn't have the information he'd “requested.”

“I don't know where it is or what it is or how to locate it.”

He stood and made his way toward her. A mask concealed his features. Bailey shivered, wishing she could disappear.

“You need to find it.” His voice sounded low, rumbling, menacing.

“How can I find something when I don't even know what it is?” Her words came out in a rush. “Why don't you get it? You've had the opportunity when we've left the house.”

“I can't move about freely.”

“Neither can I! Mr. Carter's son is here. He caught me today.”

“He can tell you where the information is.”

Her heart skipped a beat. What exactly was he implying? “Ed doesn't know. He would have it by now. And if you want the information so badly, why are you trying to kill us?”

“That was just a warning to let you know how serious I am.”

“I have no doubt that you're serious.” She pressed herself against the wall, wishing she could disappear. “What I don't understand is why you're targeting me. Why not Ed?”

Not that she wanted to put Ed in danger, either. She just needed to keep this man talking. She needed more information.

“The person you need to question is Ed.”

“Why?” She gripped the curtain as her pulse spiked in anticipation.

“He's not who he claims to be.”

Her throat tightened. “Who is he?”

“Why don't you ask him? Ask him why none of his neighbors know him. Why he has no roots, no past. Where he was when his father died. Ask him.”

What was the man talking about? Ed was a DC lawyer who involved himself with cases of international law. He was into the social scene out there. Into getting ahead. Bailey had him all figured...except, what if she didn't? She'd sensed from the beginning there was something else about Ed.

“Your time is running out. I happen to know that your niece has a soccer tournament this weekend. I'd hate for something to happen and ruin her big moment.”

“Leave my family out of this.” Anger surged in her, making her blood boil.

“Things are going to get ugly and fast. Consider this your last warning.”

The man squeezed her neck, some kind of pressure point there, and then everything went black.

* * *

Bailey woke up the next morning still lying on the floor.

She sat up, rubbing her neck as everything came back to her.

There'd been a man. In her room. Reminding her of the urgency of the situation.

She stood, her legs wobbly at first. She wandered out of the room, looking for Ed.

He was nowhere. Where did he go? Had the intruder last night hurt him?

She didn't think so. Her intuition was that he'd disappeared on his own and would return soon enough. He was doing the supersecretive thing again and shutting her out. Perhaps proving that his kindness all along had been an act.

Just as she grabbed her coffee, the doorbell rang. It was Todd.

“Mr. Carter's son asked me to come over and look at the window.”

“Did he?” Bailey pulled the door open. “By all means, then, come inside.”

“So, how's it going?” he asked, walking toward the kitchen with her. “I thought you'd be gone by now.”

“I intend on leaving; I'm just helping with a few things around here first.” She tried to choose her words carefully. “When did Ed talk to you?”

“He called last night. Said he was going to pick up some supplies today and asked if I could swing by.”

“I see.”

He set his tools on the table and walked toward the plywood that now covered the window. “I never could believe the rumors I heard about Mr. Carter. He was the talk of the town from the day he moved here.”

“What do you mean?” She leaned her hips against the kitchen counter, her interest sufficiently perked.

“I heard he was CIA.” His tape measure snapped closed.

Bailey's throat went dry. “What?”

Todd turned to face her. “What? Don't tell me you didn't hear those rumors.”

“I didn't, no.” Never. Ever. She'd had the inkling he wasn't a number cruncher, but wow.

“Yeah, it's just island scuttlebutt. I know he told everyone he was State Department, but everyone knows that CIA falls under the State Department. People say that's why he was so mysterious and that's why he came here to Smuggler's Cove. What better place for someone with a shady past to retire to? No one would find him here.”

Except, what if someone did? What if Ed was right?

“Be safe around that son of his. I don't trust him.” Todd raised his chin and pulled his shoulders up.

“Why wouldn't you trust him?” Bailey put her hand on the counter, trying to steady her teetering thoughts.

Todd shook his head, turning back to the window and jotting down some notes. “There's just something about him. He seems too big-city, you know?”

Yeah, Bailey did know. But she'd been beginning to think that Ed was different. She'd started to think her judgment of him was wrong. Maybe she should have trusted her initial impressions.

Maybe she'd been blinded by another corporate-ladder climber again. Though she was in no way interested in him romantically, she needed to remember that most people were out for themselves. To think anything differently, she'd just be fooling herself. For future reference, she needed to remember that all of those guys she read about in her novels were unobtainable. The ones who were loyal, kind and strong only existed in fiction. To dream about them in real life was to set herself up for failure.

“So, what do you think?”

At the sound of Todd's voice, Bailey snapped back to reality. “What?”

“You were in another world there for a second, weren't you? I said, before you head on to a new job, we should get ice cream or something.” He closed his notebook and turned to stare at her.

She forced a smile. “Sure. Ice cream is always good.”

He grinned. “Great. I'll see you around, then. I got the measurements I needed.”

* * *

Bailey searched the house again while Ed was gone, but she could still find nothing. She had no idea where that information might be. She looked for papers and files or anything that might trigger a reaction in her. She came up empty. Each time she searched, her despair seemed to grow deeper. How was she ever going to find what that man needed?

She finally gave up and decided to go on a walk. Maybe some fresh air would clear her head. She started down the path, headed toward Samantha's place. She always enjoyed catching up with her friend.

When she cleared the live oak trees, she spotted her friend playing Frisbee on the shoreline with her son. Samantha paused when she saw Bailey and waved her over. “Good to see you! What brings you out this way?”

“Just getting some air.”

“Can I get you a drink? Some lemonade maybe?” Connor and his dog, Rusty, took off scurrying down the shoreline, chasing away some seagulls.

Bailey smiled. “I'd love some.”

They went inside Samantha's cozy cabin and her friend poured a nice, icy glass of the drink. They sat down at the kitchen table. Outside, John chopped wood.

Samantha leaned toward Bailey, her eyes sparkling. “So...who knew Mr. Carter's son was so hunky?”

Bailey laughed. “You get right to the point, don't you?”

“Why beat around the bush? Is he as nice as he seemed?”

“He's...” What was the word? Bailey shrugged, unsure how to answer. “I'm not certain. Sometimes I think he's unfeeling and other times I think he's everything I assumed he wasn't.”

“He sounds quite mysterious, then. Like his father, perhaps?”

Bailey swallowed hard before asking her next question. “Did you hear the rumor that his father was a spy?”

Samantha nodded with hesitation. “Yeah, I heard something like that. You know how people like to make up stories, especially around here. That doesn't mean there's any truth to them.”

Bailey had the urge to spill everything, but she knew she couldn't. Not if there was any possibility that someone was listening. She kept checking her clothes, her watch and her belt for a sign that she'd been bugged. She probably wouldn't recognize a listening device if she saw it, though. That meant she needed to stay quiet.

“Well, I won't tell Todd that he's got some competition.” Samantha grinned again.

“Todd and I are just friends.” Bailey absently fiddled with the apple-scented candle at the center of the table.

Samantha raised her eyebrows. “You might feel that way, but does he?”

Bailey shrugged. “I have no idea. I haven't tried to lead him on. In all honesty, I'm surprised he's back in town.”

“I know. I ran into him a few days ago, right before the storm. He told me his mom is doing much better.”

Bailey tensed. “Before the storm?” Certainly Samantha had misspoken.

Samantha nodded. “That's right. We were in town getting some supplies. Why do you look so surprised?'

“Because he told me he just got back yesterday.”

Samantha twisted her head in confusion. “Are you sure?”

Bailey nodded. “Yes, I'm positive. For some reason, he lied to me. But why would he do that?”