Love Inspired Suspense May 2015 - Box Set 1 of 2: Trail of Evidence\Gone Missing\Lethal Exposure (50 page)

Jack looked momentarily confused, like he wasn't sure how to treat this new version of Rebecca. “I'll go get Darius,” he said. “Don't leave without me.”

“Of course not.” She smiled.

Rebecca then walked over to Mrs. Harper and took her by the hand. “Thanks for the chat,” she whispered, ignoring the expression of concern on her neighbor's face. “It really helped.”

“I don't think it had the desired effect,” Mrs. Harper said, rising from her seat. “Poor Jack looks like a rabbit caught in headlights. He has no idea where he stands.”

Rebecca stood tall in her kitchen and lifted her head high. “He'll know where he stands soon,” she said. “I just have to be strong enough to teach him.”

* * *

Jack was overjoyed that his two great friends were sitting with him in Rebecca's living room, sharing a joyful reunion. After being satisfied that the strangers in Mrs. Harper's house were not Darius's attackers, the deputies had spent an hour in Rebecca's home. They interviewed Darius, Rebecca and Jack, trying to piece together the information. They left the house to go pick up Simon and Peter for immediate questioning. Jack just hoped that Simon would come clean. Rebecca's editor had now become Jack's number-one suspect for the art theft, and it looked like he had recruited his newest journalist as a sidekick.

It had been well over a year since Jack had seen his old friends. Cole and Dillon both understood exactly why Jack had retired from the SEALs to make the move to Bristol, Florida. Despite having not seen Jack for such a long time, they easily slipped into their old familiar ways, teasing and mocking each other with good humor.

“Hey, Jack,” Cole said, leaning forward. “We thought you were trying to avoid us. We visited the car dealership and your home, but it was like you disappeared off the face of the earth.” He threw his head back and laughed. “If your neighbor hadn't told us where to find you, we would have gone back to Virginia without seeing you at all.”

“And we'd never have had the pleasure of being almost arrested by the police,” Dillon added with a raised eyebrow. “I didn't realize the police in Florida were so thorough.”

“Sorry about that, guys,” Jack said. “I had no idea you'd be making a surprise call. What brings you to my neck of the woods?”

“We're on our way down to the naval air station in Key West,” Cole replied. “Gotta do some military training.” He punched Jack on the arm playfully. “We can't all be hotshot car dealers like you.”

Dillon slapped Jack on the back. “And we couldn't come all the way to Florida without seeing the one and only Conrad Jackson, right?” He looked over at Darius sitting on the opposite couch next to Rebecca. “Little did we know that Chief Finch was here, too.” He narrowed his eyes in a teasing display. “Did you guys arrange a party without asking us? No wonder you weren't answering your cell phone.”

Jack held up his hands. “I had no idea you were trying to contact me,” he said. “I lost my cell in an accident.” He cast a glance in Rebecca's direction, acutely aware of the fact that she was evading his eyes. She sat next to Darius on the edge of the couch with her legs tucked beneath her, her dark hair cascading over her white blouse in waves. “Actually,” Jack continued, turning solemn, “my car was planted with explosives.”

Rebecca's eyes snapped to his, wide and alert. Cole and Dillon exchanged glances.

“Are you in trouble, Jack?” Cole asked quietly.

Jack looked directly at Rebecca and didn't shift his gaze. “
We're
in trouble,” he said, nodding toward her. “Darius is here because Rebecca called him after I was knocked out cold by the explosion.”

The two men focused their full attention on Jack. “We're all ears,” Cole said.

Jack took a deep breath and started the story from the beginning, watching their faces betray not one hint of emotion as he gave a detailed account of the danger that had been stalking them for the last two days. He occasionally flicked his eyes over to Rebecca, whose expression remained as stony as the SEALs in the room. He couldn't help but feel that she was wearing a mask—one that looked and sounded like her but was nevertheless a pretense. He wished he knew what had happened earlier to give her such a cold exterior, but there would be no time to ask her tonight. The clock was approaching midnight, and they had an important meeting in Tallahassee tomorrow. Jack had called the museum that morning and arranged an appointment for the following day. So whatever emotions Rebecca was feeling, she needed to get some rest.

“Are you serious, Jack?” Dillon asked after hearing the whole story. “You should've called us as soon as you needed help.”

Jack rose from the couch to pace the room. “You guys have your own lives to get on with. I can't drag you all the way to Florida whenever I have a problem.”

“Sure you can,” Cole said. “Especially when it's as serious as this. We'll stay and help.”

“You guys are on your way to Key West for training,” Cole said. “You can't just ditch your duties on my account.”

“Training can always be pushed back a couple of days,” Cole replied. “I'll make some calls to clear it with chiefs, but I'm sure it'll be fine. This is way more important than hanging out of helicopters.”

Dillon rubbed his hands together. The sound of the friction on his rough skin was the only noise in the quiet room, lit by low table lamps. “The men who went on the Dark Skies mission are like a family to us,” he said. “We look out for one another. Always.”

Darius entered the conversation. “Let's not get too sentimental here,” he said. “We already have a plan in place to prove that items were stolen during the Iraq War, probably by Simon Orwell and his accomplice. This matter will be handed over to the FBI as soon as possible.”

Dillon pointed to the bandage on Darius's thigh. “Was that injury part of your plan, chief?”

Darius gritted his teeth. “Watch your smart mouth,” he said. “We may not be part of the same team any longer, but I'm still your superior.”

Rebecca suddenly stood up. “We've arranged to go see a professor at the Museum of Fine Art. He'll study the photographs against the pictures in the auction brochure and assess whether they're the same items. Once we have his expert opinion as evidence, we can hand it over to the FBI, they'll confiscate the artwork and we can all breathe a sigh of relief.”

She turned to Cole and Dillon. “I'm really sorry that you two have arrived at such a bad time, and I hope I get another chance to talk with you when this is all over. But if you want to help, then please stay at my house tomorrow to hold down the fort. The police are putting arrest warrants out for Simon Orwell and Peter Allen for their attack on Darius today, and there's a good chance they'll show up here to finish what they started. I want to put this situation behind me as quickly as possible. I miss my kids, I miss my freedom and I intend to make sure my home is safe before I bring my family back.” Rebecca looked around the faces in the room, and Jack felt his chest swell with pride at her show of strength. “Are we all sure of our roles tomorrow?” she asked. “Because I really need to get some sleep.”

The men each nodded in turn and rose to leave. Jack saw Cole put his hand on Rebecca's shoulder as he passed her. “You're in safe hands with Jack,” he said. “We'll be back first thing in the morning.”

She smiled, and Jack saw her mask slide a little, revealing the pain and tension on her face. He felt her slipping further away from him, shutting herself off even more.

When their visitors departed, he watched her close the door and lean against it, resting her head heavily on the wood. She rubbed her face from top to bottom and let out a long, deep sigh. “Good night, Jack,” she said. “See you in the morning.”

“Good night,” he said quietly. “I'll make sure we're all secure before turning in.”

He made a check on every point of entry, set the intruder alarm and wearily climbed the stairs to bed, feeling an ache in his bones that he knew did not come from physical fatigue. This kind of tiredness would not be remedied with sleep.

As Jack tossed and turned in his bed, his thoughts returned time and time again to Ian. Jack knew that his promise to his best friend had gone beyond his original intention. He had not expected to feel such tenderness for Rebecca, or to grow to love her children like they were his own. Ultimately it did not really matter, as she was moving her life in a new direction, one that didn't include Jack. His role would soon be defunct, and his promise fulfilled once and for all.

He sat up in bed, feeling a sense of helplessness that was entirely new to him. He never wanted to envisage a time when he and Rebecca wouldn't spend time together as a family. Could Sarah have been right after all? He swung his legs over the edge of the bed, picked up his blankets and walked out into the hall. Laying his bedding outside Rebecca's room, he settled down across her door, instantly feeling more comfortable and relaxed. He just needed to be as close to her as possible, acting as her shield. He wished he could do the same thing every day for the rest of his life.

In the darkness of the hallway, Jack did something he had never done before in his life: he prayed.

TWELVE

R
ebecca sat in the backseat of her minivan, watching the world pass by in a whirl. She had waked that morning and almost fallen over Jack, lying sleeping in the hallway outside her bedroom door. He told her that his odd sleeping place was for added security, but she sensed the explanation wasn't entirely truthful. He had looked at her for a very long time while he had said, “The closer I am to you, the better.”

She felt reassured knowing that her house was being guarded by Cole Strachan and Dillon Harding. She had met them only briefly at Ian's funeral yet had instinctively felt they were as honorable and trustworthy as her late husband. Ian had been surrounded by five comrades as he had taken his last breath, and she had ensured that each one of them received a personal note of gratitude from her. Each one, that is, except Jack, who had received her thanks in person and had never left her side since. But that was soon to change. Today was the first day of her new plan to bury her feelings deep inside and begin the process of becoming truly independent. She knew it wouldn't be easy, but she was confident of her ability to see it through.

“I'll fake it till I make it,” she muttered under her breath, as if saying the words out loud gave them extra credence.

“Did you say something, Bec?” Jack asked, glancing behind from the driver's seat.

“No,” she answered quickly. “Just saying a quick prayer for the day, that's all.”

He smiled broadly, and she averted her eyes to the other side of the car. Darius was sitting in the passenger seat, wearing khaki pants and black boots. He looked as though he was on military assignment, whereas Jack was dressed in his usual casual style of shorts and a cotton shirt. The two men couldn't be more different. At least Darius's presence prevented a recurrence of intimacy between her and Jack. There had been too many times recently when their closeness had almost ignited a spark of a kiss.

Her purse began to buzz on the seat next to her. She rooted around inside to find her cell phone and looked at the display. It was a local number that she didn't recognize.

“Hello,” she said tentatively. “Who is this?”

“Rebecca,” came the reply. “It's Simon.”

“Simon!” she exclaimed. Darius and Jack both turned their heads to look at her. “What do you want from me? Darius told us how you and Peter attacked him yesterday. Whatever you're trying to do, it won't work.”

“I have no idea what you're talking about,” Simon retorted. “I've just been arrested by the police for an assault that I know nothing about. They want to know where Peter is, but he's vanished, and I'm totally clueless about all of it. I'm allowed one phone call before I'm interviewed by the cops, and I'm hoping you can help me out here.”

Rebecca fell silent. She knew Simon well enough to know how slippery he could be. He was accomplished at manipulation, but he sounded so sincere and honest that she didn't know what to believe. “You and Peter attacked Chief Finch last night while trying to break into my house,” she said. “He told us all about it.”

“That's a total lie,” Simon shouted into the phone. “Why would I do that?”

“You tell me, Simon,” she said. “Are you involved with the gang who stole the art?”

Jack's eyes flitted between hers and the road, clearly concerned. She mouthed the words
It's okay
at him.

“No,” Simon replied. “I would never do something like that. Why would I be so desperate to run a story in the paper if I was involved in the theft?”

Darius was staring at her from his seat directly in front. “Just hang up,” he hissed. “Don't let him draw you in.”

“Simon's been arrested,” Rebecca told him. “But he's denying everything.”

“Shall I pull over?” Jack asked.

Rebecca shook her head lightly. She dropped her voice to a whisper into the phone. “If you didn't attack Darius last night, then who did?”

Simon gave a short intake of breath on the end of the line. “Now that's the million-dollar question, isn't it? Tell me something, Rebecca. Was his injury serious?”

“No.”

“Superficial, huh?”

She turned her body away from Darius's eyes. “You could say that.”

“The kind of injury that could be self-inflicted?”

Rebecca's heart began to thud. Was Simon on to something here? The leg wound Darius sustained hadn't been inflicted with severe force—just like the head wound he had suffered while chasing her attacker. If Simon's theory was correct, that could only mean one thing—Darius was lying.

Simon interpreted her silence. “Is Darius Finch with you right now?” he asked.

“Yes.”

“Is Conrad Jackson with you, too?”

“Yes.”

“Good. He and I have never been the best of friends, but he looks after you well.”

She heard voices behind Simon, telling him his time was up. “I gotta go,” he said. “I've got a cast-iron alibi for yesterday. I'll be out of here in no time, but you need to be careful. Don't trust Darius. Stay close to Jack.”

“Leave me alone, Simon,” she said loudly into the phone, hoping he would realize what she was doing. “Whatever you have to say, you can tell it to the police.”

He sucked through his teeth. “You sure can be feisty when you want to be. Keep yourself safe.”

With that, he hung up, and Rebecca held the phone close to her chest, letting Simon's words sink in. What he had just told her put a whole different slant on the situation. Was the chief trying to deflect attention away from himself? She and Jack could be in grave danger.

“What did he want?” Darius growled. “He's got a lot of nerve calling you after what he did.”

“Yeah,” she said, nodding her head. “He's claiming he didn't attack you last night, but he's obviously lying to save his own skin.” She forced a smile. “The police will see through him, no doubt.”

“Don't worry, Rebecca,” Jack said. “With Simon already in custody, it won't be long before Peter and Claire are found. If they're all working together, the police will break them with some tough questioning.”

She nodded in agreement, her mind a whirl of questions all her own. And the main question she needed to answer was this: Was the criminal behind the theft none other than the man sitting barely two feet away—Chief Darius Finch? Had he been cleverly manipulating both her and Jack, trying to steer them off course in an effort to hide in plain sight?

* * *

Jack pulled the car into the lot of the Tallahassee Museum of Fine Art and parked as close to the entrance as possible. They were almost home free, but he didn't want to take any chances until they got back to Bristol with the proof they needed to hand over to the FBI. He wanted to keep Rebecca out of public sight as much as possible just in case any menacing eyes were watching them. She had barely said a word since speaking to Simon on the phone an hour ago. She had simply closed her eyes and rested her head on the seat behind her, occasionally rubbing her temples with her fingers.

He should've known that Simon would try to persuade her of his innocence. Rebecca and her editor went back a long way, and Jack knew she didn't want to believe that Simon could behave so callously. But despite Jack's misgivings about Darius, the chief was a SEAL and, therefore, true to his word. SEALs were men of honor.

The museum was warm, with high ceilings and numerous windows where the sun's rays streamed onto the whitewashed walls. The foyer was filled with beautiful paintings and sculptures on every wall and surface, interspersed with lounge chairs and magazines to peruse. Jack breathed in the tranquil atmosphere, hoping that some of the serenity of the room would seep through to his troubled core. Rebecca was treating him like a stranger, and it hurt him deeply. He pulled a piece of paper from his pocket and approached the reception desk, where a smartly dressed young lady was sitting.

“I'm here to see Professor James Sears,” he said, reading from his note. “We have an appointment at nine-thirty.”

The girl smiled up at him. “Yes sir, the professor is expecting you.” She handed three visitor badges to Jack. “Please attach these to your clothing and make your way to the second floor, where you'll find Dr. Sears in room 106.”

“Thank you,” Jack said, pushing aside a growing sense of unease. This building was vast with many places for someone to hide. He took Rebecca's elbow and steered her to his side. “Stay close,” he whispered. “I've got a bad feeling.”

“I need to talk to you,” she whispered back. “Simon says Darius is lying.”

He pulled her quickly toward the stairs, leaving Darius lagging a little behind. “Do you believe him?”

“Yes.”

Jack stopped in his tracks and looked over to Darius. “Chief, could you give us a minute here? We've got something private to discuss.”

Darius raised his eyebrows and smiled slyly. “Sure.” He pointed to a bronze statue in the corner. “I'll go appreciate the art while you talk.”

Jack waited until Darius was far enough away before he spoke freely. “Darius was pretty clear about who attacked him. What makes you think he's lying?”

Rebecca rubbed her palms on her jeans nervously. She was wearing a turquoise sweater that emphasized the opaque blueness of her eyes, and the V shape exposed her long, elegant neck where tendrils of hair fell down from her loosely piled ponytail. She looked more beautiful than ever.

“Don't you think it's odd that Darius's injuries have been very minor?” She glanced nervously over at Darius, who was walking around the sculpture, clearly bored. “And Simon may be ruthless and hard-nosed sometimes, but I've never known him to be a violent man.”

Jack touched her arm gently. “Maybe you don't know him as well as you thought.”

Rebecca shook her hair, and more strands fell from her ponytail. “I've known Simon for twelve years.” She fixed Jack with a stare. “That's longer than I've known you. I believe Simon when he says he didn't attack Darius, and he says he has an alibi. I think the chief is lying, and I don't trust him anymore.”

Jack moved in closer. He smelled her sweet perfume. “Darius has a knife wound on his thigh. If Simon wasn't responsible, then how did it happen?”

“I think Darius inflicted it on himself. It was a very superficial wound, clearly not intended to do real damage.” She took a deep breath. “I don't want him to come into the room when we meet with Professor Sears.”

Jack rubbed his chin, pulling at some beard strands with his fingers. Rebecca was talking a lot of sense. Darius's story
was
full of holes, but Jack had never doubted the chief's word because of his status as a SEAL. Jack simply didn't want to believe that a navy SEAL could be capable of behaving so shamefully. But Rebecca had seen what he had missed, and he was thankful for her level head.

Darius cleared his throat loudly. Jack turned to look at him, and the chief tapped his watch impatiently.

Jack turned back to Rebecca and gripped her by the shoulders. “Give me two minutes.”

He walked over to Darius and spoke quietly in the silence of the gallery. “Listen, Chief,” he said, putting his hand on Darius's shoulder and leading him back to the entrance. “Rebecca is really nervous that somebody followed us here. She'd feel a lot happier if you guarded the entrance to make sure that no one comes in after us.”

Darius looked over at Rebecca. “Then why don't you guard the entrance?” he asked, clearly irritated.

Jack smiled. “She wants me to go see the professor with her.” He shrugged nonchalantly. “I guess she feels more comfortable with me by her side.”

The look on Darius's face turned suspicious. Jack found himself seeing the chief in a new light. “We'd really appreciate it,” he said with a bright tone. “We should be back in an hour.”

After a few seconds of silence, Darius gave a curt nod of his head. “I guess I don't have a choice,” he said, relenting. “I'll wait for you here.”

Jack patted him on the arm. “Thanks, Chief,” he said, holding his hands out toward the display of art around them. “It's the ideal opportunity to improve your knowledge of the arts.”

“It's amazing, isn't it?” Darius said with a tiny shake of the head. “Some of this stuff is worth millions of dollars, and it all looks like trash to me.”

“One man's trash is another man's treasure, I guess,” Jack replied.

Darius raised an eyebrow. “Ain't that the truth.”

Jack began to back away from the chief. “We'll be right back,” he said, pivoting around to return to Rebecca. He put his arm protectively around her shoulders and led her toward the stairs, glancing back to ensure that Darius remained in the foyer. In a matter of a few short minutes, his trust of Darius had evaporated into thin air. After meeting with the professor, Jack would need to decide whether Rebecca could be safe anywhere in the vicinity of the chief. He couldn't afford to make any mistakes. Her life might depend on it.

* * *

“Please come in,” Professor Sears said, extending his hand toward a trio of upholstered chairs around a low coffee table. “I made a pot of coffee for your arrival.”

“Thank you so much for agreeing to see us,” Rebecca said, stepping into his large office with bookshelves on each wall, full to the brim with enormous reference manuals. “Your expertise is very much appreciated.”

“No thanks necessary,” he replied with a smile. “From what I understand, you have some photographs for me to study.”

“We do,” said Jack, reaching into his jacket pocket to pull out the photographs along with the auction house brochure. “As I said on the telephone, we'd like your opinion on whether the artworks in these four photographs match the items in this brochure. We did have a lot more, but unfortunately they were stolen.”