Love Inspired Suspense May 2015 - Box Set 1 of 2: Trail of Evidence\Gone Missing\Lethal Exposure (46 page)

“You'll be pleased to know that the house is as secure as Fort Knox,” Jack said, dishing up plates of spaghetti. It smelled delicious, and Rebecca found herself desperately wanting to enjoy this meal.

“We should discuss security arrangements for tomorrow,” Darius said. “I'll be accompanying you to church, although I never thought I'd ever say that to anyone. You'd never normally see me in a church.”

“Enough,” Rebecca said loudly, putting down her fork as her appetite waned. “Could we please talk about something else? Just for one hour of this day, I'd like to feel normal. We can discuss security after dinner.” She looked at Jack. “Earlier on, you said you're full of surprises. So tell me some of them.” She smiled hopefully. “This dinner looks wonderful, Jack. Please help me enjoy it.”

Jack tilted his head to the side, flashed a toothy grin and played along. “I can wiggle my ears.”

Rebecca laughed out loud. “You can?”

“Sure.” He bent his head over the table. “Watch.”

Rebecca continued to laugh as she saw Jack's ears begin to twitch up and down. Sure enough, he
was
full of surprises.

“How come I didn't know this about you before?” she asked in amazement. She tried to wiggle her own ears but found it impossible. “This is a skill you've kept under wraps, Jack. The girls will be so impressed.” She picked up her fork and began to eat, her anxiety lessening with each smile.

“Oh, I do it for the girls all the time,” he said, showing off his ability once more. “It tears them up.”

“Really?” Rebecca asked. “And you never showed me?”

Jack smiled at her, his brown eyes crinkling in the corners. “We figured you wouldn't be interested in silly stuff like wiggling ears.”

“But I would,” she protested. She knew it was ridiculous, but she felt hurt at being excluded from their private playtime. “Next time you do silly stuff, come get me.”

“Sure,” he said. “You can join in. The girls tell me you can do a pretty impressive trick yourself.”

“I can?” Rebecca thought long and hard. “Oh, yeah,” she exclaimed. “I can lick my elbow.”

Both Jack and Darius erupted in loud, spontaneous laughter.

“It's true,” she said, rolling up the sleeve of her long-sleeved tee. She pulled her elbow close to her mouth and touched it with the tip of her tongue. “See?”

“Wow,” Jack said, his eyebrows sliding up in admiration. He then did what everybody did after Rebecca revealed her party trick: he tried to touch his own elbow with his tongue. He failed miserably. “I can see that you keep some secrets yourself, Rebecca.”

“I do,” she said. “Maybe we don't know each other as well as we thought.”

“Or as well as you want,” Darius suggested. An awkward silence descended over the room. Darius scratched the back of his neck. “Sorry, it was just an outsider's observation.”

Rebecca decided to ignore Darius's observation and instead she looked at Jack and smiled. “It's nice that you have such a great relationship with the girls. I'm glad you do all the silly stuff with them. They need to be kids.”

“It's not a chore,” he said, looking her straight in the eye. “I love it. Charlotte enjoys goofing around more than Emily does. Emily likes to think she's more grown-up than that, what with being eight years old and all.” He leaned over and grinned. “But I still find her making mud pies when she thinks I'm not looking.”

“Oh, that sounds like Emily,” Rebecca agreed. “She's a tomboy at heart.”

Jack was clearly now in his element, talking about the differences between Charlotte and Emily and the way they stuck together if one of them got into trouble. Rebecca listened with pleasure as he spoke so affectionately about her daughters, realizing that Jack would lay his life on the line for them. He loved them as dearly as if they were his own children, and she knew that they loved him as much in return. Without her realizing, Jack had become a surrogate father to them, and there would be a void in the family without him. But the longer she allowed their fake family life to continue, the worse it would be in the end when Jack found someone to settle down with.

As she smiled and listened to Jack's stories, she made an important decision. She would take his place in the family. She would do all the silly, fun things that Jack usually did, and she would make it easier for the girls to get used to life without him. Once she was certain that the danger had passed from her life, it would be time for Jack to pass from it, too.

EIGHT

A
loud knock woke Jack with a start. He jumped from his bed, looking at the clock. Six a.m. blinked in the darkness on the display. He pulled open the drapes to allow the light from the early morning sun to flood into his room. Rebecca had given him the guest room at the front of the house, which had a good view of the street below.

The quiet scene was exactly as he would expect on a Sunday morning: tranquil and empty. The wide, tree-lined street was home to many families who looked out for one another, making this a tight-knit community. The neighbors had all rallied around after Ian's death, helping in any way they could, and he had gotten to know them well. Most of them would still be in bed at this time of the morning, yet a visitor was standing by the front door, dressed in a white track suit and a baseball cap. Could this be one of the men whom Mrs. Harper had met the previous day? He picked up his gun from the bedside table and walked out into the hallway, hearing the sound of running water in the bathroom. Rebecca told him that she was an early riser, and the sound of the shower was reassuring, letting him know she was safe inside the house.

He descended the stairs and approached the peephole in the front door. Simon Orwell's large, round face greeted him on the other side of the glass, slightly distorted from the curve of the lens.

He opened the door. “Simon, it's 6:00 a.m. What are you doing here?”

Simon took a step backward. “Do you usually greet your visitors with a gun in your hand?”

“I do now,” Jack said. “Come inside. Rebecca was attacked again yesterday, and we're taking no chances.”

Simon's eyes widened. “Really? Was it something to do with the photographs?”

Jack closed the door and bolted it. “She's fine, Simon. I'm sure she'd appreciate your concern.”

Simon colored a little. “Oh, of course,” he stammered. “Her well-being is the most important thing in all this.”

Jack decided not to take it easy on Simon. “I'm guessing you're not here to check on her well-being. What do you want?”

“I wanted to apologize.”

“At 6:00 a.m. on Sunday?” Jack questioned. “Couldn't it have waited?”

“Ah, well,” Simon said, clearly feeling awkward. “I know she gets up early on Sundays to go for a jog so I thought I'd try and catch her before she leaves. I feel terrible about the misunderstanding with the photographs.”

Jack felt a wry smile creeping over his face at Simon's choice of words. “You took those photographs without asking. That's not a misunderstanding. That's theft.”

Simon looked sheepish. “Well, whatever you call it, I wanted to apologize.”

“Does she know you're coming?” Jack asked.

“No,” Simon replied. “I tried to call, but the phone just rings and rings.”

“It does?” Jack asked, widening his eyes in surprise.

“Yeah, I called a half hour ago.”

Jack opened the door and skirted around the house to the small gray box attached to the wall where he knew the phone cable was fed into the property. It was obvious the box had been tampered with even before he reached it—wires were trailing from the open lid where someone had cut them from their jacks. He held his gun close to his side as he approached the box and checked the damage. The wires were severed beyond repair.

“What's happened?” Simon asked.

“Someone cut the telephone lines into the house,” Jack said, continuing a path on the lawn at the side of the house, looking for further evidence of a trespasser. “Did you see anyone when you arrived?”

“No,” Simon answered, following in Jack's footsteps. “But I only just got here.”

Jack stopped and turned around. “It seems to me that trouble follows you, Simon.”

Simon shook his head. “I had nothing to do with this.”

Jack didn't have the time or inclination to stop and argue. He was too focused on examining the flower beds under the kitchen window. The early blooming flowers had been trampled and destroyed by heavy feet, and the screen on the window above had been finely sliced to gain access to the glass beneath. He inspected the window frame and lock—scratch marks covered the wood where the locking mechanism kept the window firmly shut. Someone had tried very hard to weaken the lock and force entry, but Jack's heavy-duty security bolts had kept the intruder at bay. Or maybe the trespasser had been disturbed before he could complete his task. Whoever had been here had not visited with friendly intent.

Simon appeared behind Jack's shoulder and inspected the torn screen. “Did someone try to break into the house again? Do you think they were looking for the photographs?” He pulled a cell phone from his pocket. “Do you think I could get a picture of the window?”

Jack exhaled loudly and turned to face Simon, putting his hand over the cell. “This isn't a game,” he said, finally losing his patience. “Whoever wants the photographs is dangerous and prepared to go to great lengths to get them. If you insist on trying to find a story for your paper, you'll end up making an enemy you don't want.”

Simon slipped the cell back into his pocket and crossed his arms. “Is that enemy you or the intruder?”

Jack turned his back and walked away to check every window and door. “Both.”

As he rounded the corner, his body collided with another, and he recoiled like a cat, raising his gun again. Rebecca shrieked in surprise and held her hands up to her face.

“Oh Bec, I'm sorry,” he said, holstering his weapon and putting his hands on her shoulders. “What are you doing outside? I thought we agreed that you'd stay indoors.”

“I heard voices,” she said. “And when I found out you were gone, I worried. I can't get a dial tone on the telephone.”

“The wires have been cut,” he said. “It looks like someone tried to get in during the night.”

She gasped.

“Don't worry,” he said gently. “They didn't get through our security locks.”

She looked past him to Simon standing on the lawn in his shorts and sneakers. “Simon, what are you doing here so early?”

Jack watched Simon run his eyes over Rebecca's blue tailored pantsuit. She had obviously not yet had time to dry her hair or put on her makeup. The dark luster of her wet hair glistened against the pastel blue fabric of her suit, and her clear, wholesome skin glowed with the benefit of a good night's sleep.

Simon kissed Rebecca on the check and stole Jack's unsaid words. “I must say, you look stunning today,” he said. Jack's jaw clenched, watching Simon envelop her in a hug, beaming widely. “I can see you're all dressed up for church already.”

Rebecca repeated her question. “What are you doing here?”

“I was wondering if you might be going for your Sunday morning jog today.” He looked down at his sport clothes and sneakers. “I thought I might join you.”

Rebecca's face took on an incredulous expression. “Why would I risk going for a jog when my life is under threat?” she asked, narrowing her eyes. “And to my knowledge you've never jogged in your life. What's the real reason you're here Simon?”

“I wanted to apologize,” he replied. “I shouldn't have taken the photographs from your desk. Because of my actions, they're now lost.”

Jack saw her hands close into fists. “And now you're here to find out if I printed some more photos from the negatives, right?”

Simon shook his head, feigning innocence, but Rebecca was ready for him. “I've known you too long for you to be able to pull the wool over my eyes.” She hitched her voice up an octave. “Forget about the big story.” Then she pointed a finger to the street. “Go home, Simon, and stop snooping.”

Simon sighed loudly, clearly exasperated at being thwarted at every turn. “You have no idea what this story could mean for the paper,” he said. “Your name could even be on the cover of
TIME
magazine again.”

“Is that what you think I want?” she challenged him. “To be famous?”

“Isn't that what we all want?” Simon asked, his lips curling into a smile.

Jack had heard enough. He stepped between Rebecca and her editor and gave Simon a gentle push back. “I think it's time for you to leave. Rebecca has made her position clear.”

“I can handle this.” Rebecca's voice was firm and clear behind him. He glanced over his shoulder, and she shot him a look that told him exactly what she was thinking. He knew every nuance about her, every little gesture and every expression. And this particular expression was telling him to let her deal with this situation. He took a step back.

By the time Rebecca finished with Simon, he looked thoroughly dejected and walked toward his car, dragging his feet like a chastised puppy dog.

“You really showed him, huh?” Jack said, standing by her side.

She leaned her body into his as though the emotional exertion had zapped her of energy. “I had to be hard on him,” she said quietly. “He'll stop at nothing to get at a decent story, and I don't want him to get hurt.”

Jack tensed his body to give him extra stability as she used him for support. “Simon saw the window where someone tried to break in,” he said. “But he'll need more than that to run a front-page headline.”

She looked up into Jack's face. “Who's doing this to us, Jack?”

“I wish I had all the answers for you, Bec, but we have to take each day as it comes.” He glanced around. The neighborhood was still quiet except for the melodic sound of the birds. On any other day, this scene would be idyllic—a perfect picture of small town family life. But this wasn't any other day. It was another day to be on his guard, another day to watch over Rebecca and another day closer to the inevitable time when she would ask him to withdraw from her life and go his own separate way. He knew the day would soon come, but until that time, he would enjoy the feeling of her warm body pressed into his.

* * *

The large wooden church was packed with a full congregation. Rebecca was seated between Jack and Darius, trying to listen intently to the words that the pastor was saying, but it was difficult. Darius was fidgeting like a child on Christmas Eve. He hadn't wanted to be part of the morning service but was unwilling to wait outside while she and Jack attended worship together. Jack had changed into an open-necked white shirt paired with black pants, but even when he took the trouble to dress a little more formally, he still couldn't quite shake his laid-back, casual appearance. His hair was in his usual tousled style, perfectly covering the gash on his head from the car explosion, and she noticed that he had trimmed his goatee into a neat, smooth shape. Her knee brushed against his as she crossed her legs and a sensation of warmth traveled into her skin. Jack appeared to feel it too and turned to her and smiled. With the distractions from both Jack and Darius at each side, her attempt to listen to the lesson for the day was futile. But at least she was there. She took strength from being with her spiritual family for the hour. It always put her on a solid foundation for the week ahead. And she certainly needed something solid to rely on in the days to come.

She wasn't surprised to see Darius sneak away from his seat before the offering was taken. She sensed he wasn't a man who gave freely of himself in any way, in contrast with Jack, who dug deep into his wallet to contribute. It made her feel proud of him.

After the service, her pastor headed them off at the door as they attempted to make a quick getaway. “Rebecca,” he said, clasping her hand in a tight squeeze. “I was told about your recent break-in.” He looked down at her other hand, still bandaged over the cut. “I can see you're hurt. Can we help in any way?”

“No, thank you,” she replied warmly. She gesticulated toward Jack. “I'm being looked after by my good friend Conrad Jackson.” She turned to Jack. “I'd like to introduce you to the pastor, Roger Yates.”

The two men shook hands. “I've heard a lot about you, Jack,” Roger said with a smile. “I can't believe we haven't met before now. I feel as if I know you already.”

Rebecca shifted awkwardly. She hadn't realized she had talked about Jack so often in church circles. But Roger was chatting with him as though they were long-lost friends, asking about his car dealership, his love of surfing and his retirement from the navy SEALs.

As the congregation began to drift toward the door, Roger patted Jack on the shoulder and left him with some parting words: “When we lost Ian from the church, it left a hole in all our hearts.” He smiled widely. “But I can see that the Lord has sent you to fill it.”

Jack shook his head. “Oh, I'm just a visitor today,” he said. “I'm not a regular churchgoer.”

Roger's eyes twinkled. “We'll see,” he said, turning to greet some worshippers heading his way.

Jack and Rebecca stepped out into the bright winter sunshine, and Rebecca linked her arm through Jack's, giving a small wave to Darius standing guard nearby. “Thanks for coming with me today,” she said to Jack. “It means a lot.”

“It was nice,” he said, sounding surprised. “I enjoyed it. I really did.”

She nudged him with her elbow playfully. “Maybe the pastor is right after all.”

“No,” he said, bowing his head. “I could never take Ian's place.”

Rebecca stopped walking, and they stood together at the top of the church steps. “I don't think Roger meant you should take Ian's place,” she said. “He was talking about you filling a gap with your own presence.” She swallowed away a lump. “Nobody could take Ian's place.”

Jack looked skyward. “Sometimes I worry you think I'm trying to do just that.”

She stepped a little closer. “I've never thought you were trying to fill Ian's shoes,” she whispered. “You have a place all your own.”

He brought his head down, level with hers. “I do?”

She smiled. “Of course.”