Winter's Secret

by Mary Stone

  She didn’t know Eric Dalton at all, so she couldn’t assess if he was lying, but if the man wanted to rush into the arms of the FBI in hopes of special treatment, he was about to be sorely disappointed.

  “He must think he’s in danger, right?” she asked.

  Noah nodded. “He sounded like it too. At least as far as I could tell from a phone conversation. He was talking really fast.”

  “If he’s in danger, then we’d better bring him to the office. Make it official so we can open up a proper investigation.” Winter had never met Eric Dalton, but she already knew she didn’t like him.

  Noah was one of the best people she’d ever met. He was kind, honest, smart, and funny. There was a certain down-home charm that came with his charming smiles and his folksy comments, but behind those green eyes was an unmistakable keenness that most people tended to underestimate.

  Though Noah brushed off Eric’s sudden reappearance as an annoyance, Winter knew that much of his aloof demeanor was feigned. To be sure, he held no sense of affection for his father, but the man’s betrayal still stung even after all these years.

  He has enough on his plate.

  Plus, the email was probably a dead end, anyway. During the first leg of their initial investigation into Justin’s whereabouts, Winter had been hopeful that they would find a substantial clue to point them in the right direction.

  Instead, they ran headlong into one dead end right after another.

  Why would the email be any different?

  She didn’t want to get her hopes up again only to have them dashed, and she didn’t want to heap more conflict onto Noah’s plate for no good reason. For the time being, she would keep the email to herself until she was sure the message had the potential to actually lead them somewhere.

  But despite the rationalizations, the pang of guilt was persistent.

  If she was keeping the news about Justin a secret for the benefit of Noah’s mental health, then why did it feel so much like she was lying to him?

  3

  There was little more than a tinge of light blue on the horizon when Noah and Winter pulled into the parking garage at the Richmond airport. Aside from a short nap, neither of them had managed any more sleep.

  The coffee shop had only just opened when he’d pulled into the drive-thru, and he had entertained the idea of ordering a cup of espresso. Instead, he settled for an extra shot of espresso in his seasonal drink.

  Winter’s lips curled into a smile, and the ruddy orange lights of the parking garage caught the shine of her glossy hair as she turned her attention to him. “Pumpkin spice. I wouldn’t have guessed.”

  The smile and the comment came as a relief. Ever since he’d been woken up by Eric’s phone call, Winter had seemed edgy. At first, he attributed the tension to the mention of Eric Dalton, but now he wasn’t so sure. She had gradually relaxed since they left for the airport, but the anxious glint in her eyes remained.

  Rather than give voice to the concern, he flashed her a grin. He had to trust her, to trust that she would tell him if something was wrong. “It’s the next best thing to drinking a pumpkin pie. Have you ever even had one? They’re great.”

  Nodding, she sipped at her mocha. “I like them, but nothing will ever surpass chocolate in my book. So, are we going into the airport, or are we going to wait for him out here?”

  He leaned back in his seat and took a drink of the festive latte. “I told him where we are.”

  There was only so much effort he was willing to expend for Eric Dalton and sifting through the early morning crowd at an airport far surpassed his limit.

  “What does he look like?” Winter grinned, lifting his spirits. “Just so I don’t pull out my weapon and point it at him when I see a stranger wander up to your truck.”

  He bit back a derisive comment about Eric and nodded his understanding. “Little over six foot. Full head of hair, at least last I knew. Lighter than mine, probably some gray by now. And I think he’s usually got a beard, or at least he’s got one in every picture I’ve ever seen of him.”

  “You’re taller than him then, right?”

  “Yeah. My sister and I got our height from mom. She’s almost six-feet even and my sister’s five-eleven. We both got Mom’s eyes too.”

  Another smile tugged at the corner of her mouth. “That’s good. I like your eyes.”

  At the compliment, he could suddenly recall the warmth of her body curled against his, the slow cadence of her breathing, the faint scent of strawberries and vanilla. In the low light, he hoped she didn’t notice the movement in his pants as he returned her smile.

  Dammit. He adjusted himself in his seat, needing to cool that shit down.

  He wanted to continue their lighthearted banter, to swap flattering comments about one another’s appearance, but Winter’s blue eyes snapped over to the passenger side window.

  “Beard.” She squinted at the sideview mirror. “Looks sort of tall, but it’s hard to tell. Well-dressed. Looks like he’s wearing a suit jacket, dress shirt, and slacks. Dark hair, but not quite as dark as yours.”

  Noah let out a quiet sigh. “Dammit. Yeah, that sounds like him.” As he set the barely touched latte in the cupholder, he flashed a quick glance to Winter.

  She replied with a nod as any semblance of mirth dissolved from her expression.

  Noah suppressed a groan as he pushed open the door to step out onto the drab concrete. The scent of car exhaust wafted past on the early morning breeze. For a meeting with Eric Dalton, the obnoxious odor seemed fitting. Crossing both arms over his chest, Noah leaned against the rear fender of the pickup, Winter at his side.

  He grinned. She looked like she was prepared to tackle the man if he so much as said a negative word.

  Sure enough, the man who trudged up the slight incline of the ramp was none other than Captain Eric Dalton.

  After a stint in the Air Force after high school, Eric had landed a position as a commercial airline pilot. The pay wasn’t exceptional at first, but by the time he left Olivia Dalton and her two children, his income had risen sharply.

  Noah could only guess that the increased cash flow was part of what drove him to abandon his first family in search of a new wife and children. By that point, Eric wanted something other than the Texas farm girl he had married right after high school.

  Liv wasn’t refined or polished enough for his new world, for country clubs and skiing expeditions.

  Never mind that Liv Raeburn had come within a couple points of a perfect score on her ACT, or the fact that she could have attended an ivy league school if she hadn’t decided to move to Bellevue, Nebraska when Eric joined the Air Force.

  She had given up everything for Eric, and he returned the favor by abandoning her and their two children.

  As Eric closed the distance between him and the two federal agents, the tension in Noah’s body increased with each and every step. He scowled. With Eric around, the expression was all but involuntary.

  He hadn’t lied or even exaggerated to Winter—he didn’t feel like he had grown up without a father. Chris Alvarez was a great man and an even better stepfather. Noah’s disdain for Eric Dalton had more to do with the way the man had treated his mother than the fact that he had abandoned his children.

  What Eric had put Liv through was unforgivable. He had used her like an accessory to his wardrobe and discarded her just as easily. He had left her to rot in a life that he’d ruined.

  “Noah.” The man’s voice was familiar and alien all at the same time. Eric’s gray eyes flicked from Noah to Winter and then back as he paused to stand in front of them. His expression was harried and weary, and Noah wondered when he had last slept. “It’s, it’s been a long time. You look good.”

  “Eric.” Noah’s tone was cool and crisp. “You look like shit.”

  With a weary sigh, Eric shook his head. “I know. It’s been a long day, and I really can’t wait to get a few hours of shut-eye.”

  “That’s too bad.” Noah pause
d to gesture to Winter. “This is Special Agent Black. We’re taking you to the field office so you can answer a few questions, help us better understand the threat you’re facing.”

  For a split-second, a crestfallen look passed over Eric’s face, but he recovered in short order. “Of course,” he replied. “It’s just, I was hoping…” He left the sentiment unfinished as he looked to Winter.

  “Your safety is our primary concern, Mr. Dalton.” Winter’s response was so polished and cool, it could have chilled an entire bottle of wine.

  “Right.” Eric nodded again. “Yeah, I mean, of course. That makes sense.”

  As the three of them took their seats in the spacious pickup, Noah kept Eric in the corner of his eye. The man’s movements were just short of jittery, and he was more undone than Noah had ever seen, but none of it seemed right.

  Like Winter had asked, why would Eric reach out to his estranged son if he was in trouble?

  Eric was an asshole, but he wasn’t stupid. He knew the differences between federal jurisdiction and local, so why would he be so sure that the threat to his life was a responsibility that fell to the bureau? Or, did he know, and that was why he had sought out a federal agent instead of a local cop? Still, the entire line of reasoning was ridiculous.

  Eric and his second wife and children had lived in Baltimore for more than twenty-six years. Without a doubt, the Daltons had their fair share of contacts affiliated with law enforcement. Plus, Eric was a commercial pilot. Wouldn’t he have regular contact with federal agencies?

  Glancing up to the rearview mirror as he shifted the pickup into reverse, Noah decided Eric hadn’t been entirely forthcoming about his predicament.

  If Eric intended to squeeze any special treatment out of Noah just because they shared roughly fifty percent of their DNA, the man was about to be disappointed.

  As far as Noah was concerned, Eric was just another civilian who had come to the bureau for help.

  No more, and no less.

  4

  Bree Stafford eased the heavy door closed with an elbow before she turned to offer a quick grin to the man seated at a square table. As his gray eyes shifted up to hers, he returned her pleasant expression with a strained smile. The shadows beneath his eyes were more pronounced, though Bree wasn’t sure if the contrast was the result of the harsh overhead light or the two hours he had been in the interview room.

  She held out a paper cup. “I brought you some coffee. No cream or anything, I wasn’t sure how you preferred it.”

  “This is fine.” His fingers trembled a little as he wrapped them around the steaming cup. “Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome, Mr. Dalton.” Metal scratched against the concrete floor as she pulled out a rickety chair to sit across from the older man. His neatly kempt beard was roughly the same color as his hair, though the silver flecks on his face were more noticeable than those at his temples. If it hadn’t been for the gray, he could have passed for a man in his early forties, not his late fifties.

  “Is Noah going to be here?” Eric asked after a tentative sip of the coffee.

  Bree shook her head. “No. This is a formal interview, Mr. Dalton. I’m here to get your statement and ask you some questions so we can better understand what type of threat you’re facing. Agent Dalton’s presence would be a conflict of interest.”

  He mouthed the word “oh” before he took another drink.

  “Why?” Bree arched an eyebrow. Noah and Winter had given her a rundown of their interactions with Eric so far, and both agents were sure that there was more to Eric Dalton’s presence than met the eye.

  “It’s just…” As he paused, she didn’t miss the forlorn shadow that passed over his bearded face. “Nothing. You’re right, it would be a conflict of interest. I guess, I mean, I think I just hoped that he could get it expedited somehow, something like that.”

  “Mr. Dalton.” Bree’s voice was as flat as her stare. “We don’t give priority to people based on their relationships with agents within the bureau. We give priority to the most dangerous and life-threatening issues. Anything less would be unprofessional at best, and outright immoral at worst.”

  With a sharp nod, he shifted his gaze back to the paper cup. “Of course, Agent. I’m sorry. I didn’t realize how that sounded.”

  “It’s all right.” She extended a hand across the table and smiled. “I’m Special Agent Stafford, by the way.”

  “Agent Stafford,” he replied as he accepted the handshake. “You already know, but I’m Eric Dalton.”

  Bree knew little and less about the man seated across from her in the cramped, windowless room, but based on Noah’s irritable demeanor, the younger Dalton didn’t care for his biological father. Bree couldn’t let the son’s impressions blur her own, so she pushed Noah from her mind.

  “Well, Mr. Dalton, like I said. I’m here to get your statement and learn a little bit more about your situation. Agent Dalton said you called him late in the night because your life was in danger.” She settled her intent stare on him as she folded her hands atop the table. “We need to know who’s threatening your wellbeing, and we need your best guess as to why.”

  Clenching his jaw, he nodded. “I’m not proud of this. Of any of it. I made a mistake. I’ve been furloughed for the past six months, and we’ve had to rely on my wife’s income. She’s a small business owner. She owns a yoga studio in Baltimore, and it’s been getting more popular as the years go by. We were worried we’d have to dip into our savings, and that…” he sighed, “would have been fine.”

  It didn’t sound like the man was “fine” with it. Bree just looked at him, keeping a carefully neutral expression.

  “With your many years of experience, may I ask why you were furloughed, Mr. Dalton?”

  He lifted a shoulder. “I made the mistake of changing airlines a couple years ago, grass is greener, that kind of thing, so while I have seniority as a pilot, I don’t have seniority with the airline, so when cuts needed to happen…” He made a slicing motion across his throat.

  Bree pulled a pen from the pocket of her canvas jacket. Septembers in Virginia were far more moderate than what she’d grown accustomed to in Maryland, but she was always freezing when she was in the FBI office. She made a note to double-check his story, then nodded for him to go on.

  “Kelly, my wife, she’s good with money. She always has been. She made it work, and I drove for Uber for some extra cash. We couldn’t afford quite everything we’d been used to, but we were okay. The airline still gave insurance options for those of us who were furloughed, but I couldn’t afford the same plan we’d been on. I had to drop it down to one of the really basic ones. You know what I mean, right?”

  “I do.”

  “Kelly and I figured we’d be all right for a few months with just bare-bones insurance.” His eyes shifted back down to the tabletop. “We just said we’d have to cut back on all those extreme sports we’d been planning. No more BMX or cliff diving. We were kidding. Those were just the type of jokes we made to one another.”

  He paused, clearly waiting for Bree to laugh. When she didn’t, he cleared his throat and took another sip of coffee before continuing.

  “But then, back in May, Kelly got in a car accident. The cops and the insurance company ruled that she was at fault, but it wasn’t like she was being negligent or anything. It was just one of those freak things, you know. The other driver had a concussion, but otherwise, they were okay.” The shadows shifted along his throat as he swallowed, but he didn’t meet her gaze.

  “What happened to your wife?”

  “Kelly got hurt pretty bad. She had to be life-flighted, and they had to do a few different surgeries just to get her stabilized. She lost a lot of blood, and for a second there, it was pretty scary. But once they told me that she’d pull through, all I could think of was how we were going to pay for this.”

  “That’s understandable.” Bree nodded slightly.

  “My son, Ethan, he had to have his appendix re
moved when he was in high school. I had insurance at the time, but I still got the statement from the hospital. It was something like ten thousand dollars, just for that. I couldn’t even imagine what the bill would look like for six days in the ICU. And multiple surgeries. Plus, they…they had to amputate her leg.”

  As she scribbled down a couple notes, she glanced up to Eric. His vacant stare was fixed on the coffee cup, the sadness in his gray eyes plain to see. But there was more to that forlorn look than just sadness. Bree kept her attention on him until he finally met her gaze.

  She had a suspicion where his tale was headed, but even then, she wondered if he would tell the whole truth. Or was he just ashamed that he had to crawl back to the son who so clearly disliked him? Was he disappointed because he hadn’t been able to handle his wife’s accident like he had hoped?

  There was a distinct possibility that the reason for Eric’s wariness was due to a battle the man fought in his mind, that the explanation was as innocuous as lingering guilt.

  Bree was not one to assume the simplest explanation. No one in the FBI was.

  “What happened then?” Bree made sure to keep her tone calm and reassuring.

  “I had to do something,” he managed. “I couldn’t let us lose everything just because I didn’t have a job. I thought about a loan, thought about selling all my expensive watches, but none of that would’ve come close to touching the number on that first bill.”

  “How much was it?”

  “Eight hundred thousand,” he answered.

  In spite of the air of professionalism she had maintained so far, Bree’s eyes widened. “Eight hundred thousand dollars?”

  “Yeah. That’s everything, at least for right now. Kelly’s been to a few different specialists, and she’s still going to physical therapy. That bare-bones insurance I told you about, it didn’t cover stuff like that. I tried to apply for some assistance through the hospital, but even though I was furloughed, Kelly’s income made it so we didn’t qualify. Filing bankruptcy would have ruined my wife’s business, and that business is Kelly’s livelihood.”