She owed Adam an apology. That bit with the rose and the coffee had not been handled tactfully at all. It had been downright insulting, now that she thought about it.
He didn’t mean anything threatening by his actions. But after so many years of trying to stay out of someone’s sights, to suddenly have someone focused on her was not only wonderful, it was also terrifying.
Dave didn’t know about the requests. She had managed to talk him out of changing her office location, but just barely. If he had even the suspicion that Adam was trying to get in touch with her, her office would be relocated. She did not want to move. It had taken a lot of time to put together her studio. The regional FBI office was in the same building; a fact that made life easier on her entire security team. She didn’t want them having to live with all the hassles that came with working at two locations. She had worked at the office complex for three months without meeting Adam. There was no reason to believe she couldn’t continue to slip past him.
And if she did see him again, what then? It bothered her that she couldn’t envision what she would say. All these invitations were making her freeze.
Adam’s first note had been a surprise. His handwriting was strong, sharp, clear, except for his signature, which showed the result of having signed autographs for twelve years. Sara had looked repeatedly at that note during the following two days, tempted to call and yet always pulling back when it came time to dial the number.
The invitation to lunch had come next. The fact he was so interested in seeing her again made her hesitate even more.
She had spent a long time sitting in the rose garden behind her home that night, looking at the stars, talking to God, trying to figure out what she should do.
She wasn’t a coward. If she were, years before she would have retreated back into her shell and pulled back entirely from life. She was a fighter. Life knocked her down, and she coped by getting up and moving on. But right now she was on ice so thin she had no idea how to step without crashing through. Guys didn’t exactly appear in her world. There were safety concerns. Background checks. Precautions to keep her out of the public eye.
She didn’t have the option of accepting. Her position put her in the situation where nothing in her schedule happened spontaneously. To accept would open doors she simply did not want to open with Adam. She would have to trust him with an awful lot of information in order to let him into her life. She winced just imagining that initial conversation. Sometimes playing it safe was the smart and only thing she could do.
She didn’t trust Adam’s reaction—that was the bottom line.
At times she had to struggle to trust God, and He was perfect in all His actions. Even events like getting stuck in the elevator figured somewhere in His sovereign plan. With a few days to shake off the aftereffects of that evening, she was willing to trust that there was some good purpose behind the event.
It was interesting, reading her own faith journey as captured in her journal. Fear was a nasty problem to overcome. She thought she had made progress, then got hit with another challenge. And she found she wasn’t on quite as solid ground as she’d thought. It wasn’t a battle she could win once and get past. She longed for the day when she could face a crisis without the panic winning.
She had to live with life as it was. Security. A very real threat sat waiting in the shadows. Her faith sometimes met the challenge and sometimes did not.
Her decision for today wasn’t that difficult. Adam might want to have lunch. There was no likely reason he would want to see her again after that. Taking so many risks for a single meal was a bad idea. The best strategy was to simply keep the door firmly closed.
There had been a brief glimmer of hope in the last week. News of the packing tape discovery had come at a vulnerable time. After all these years, she was careful to take news for what it was, not to go beyond the actual information.
This time, the hope had been in full bloom before she could stop it. Dave had burst that bubble last night. The tape had been a general lot number shipped to twenty-two states. She had wanted the freedom to answer one of Adam’s requests without having the baggage of her past hanging over her head. It wasn’t to be.
She needed to apologize to Adam for that rose. Avoid him, but apologize.
“No gray sedan license BI 691. She didn’t come to work today,” Thomas reported at 3 P.M.
Adam tried not to let his disappointment show. The way his luck was going, Sara was a writer who frequently got sent out of town on assignments.
Lord, should I just drop this? Everything is conspiring to keep me from meeting her again.
He didn’t feel a hard-and-fast conviction one way or the other. He just knew he wanted to see her. He wasn’t ready to give up trying.
“Take the rest of the day off and try again on Monday, Thomas,” Adam said quietly.
All I want to do is talk with her. Is that too much to ask?
He tried to push aside the disappointment and stay focused on work. It had been a full day of meetings and more still to come, but at least the next one was with former teammates over at the sports club. It wasn’t easy. His thoughts kept drifting to the plans he had. Lunch with Sara had become a mission, and not one that was easily set aside.
Four-fifteen finally came. Adam gathered up his notes and slid them into his briefcase, glad the meeting gave him an excuse to get out of the office.
The message was waiting for him at his car.
The note was on white linen paper, slipped into a matching envelope with a deep blue border around it. The windshield wiper left a slight smear across his name.
“My mother never approved of rudeness. Forgive me for giving away the rose? Keeping it would have generated questions I could not afford to have asked. Sara.”
There were two tickets to the sold-out Friday night charity basketball game along with the note. Good seats too. It was quite an apology.
He scanned the garage and felt a deep sense of relief when he saw her car. She was somewhere in the building.
Acute frustration warred with responsibility. Canceling his meeting wasn’t an option. Some of his friends had flown in to attend. He had already told Thomas to go home, and Jordan was out of the office. There were no good options.
He finally did the only thing he could. Scanning her note, he wrote one in reply. She had cracked her solid wall of saying no. If he could keep her talking…
“Sara, apology accepted. But freelance writers don’t have several thousand dollars at their disposal, and those tickets are going at twenty-five hundred dollars apiece on the street. Take them back, please.”
He put the note on her car windshield and hoped he would be back in time to see her retrieve it.
No such luck. When he got back from his meeting, her car was gone.
When Monday evening came, there was another note waiting for him. He had been somewhat prepared for it. He knew she had been at work today. Thomas had lost her this morning in the lobby shops. He opened it slowly, hoping for the biggest wish of all—a phone number.
“Adam. Enjoy the game.”
Her car was already gone. If he hadn’t been saving her notes like a kid in high school, he would have crumpled the elegant card in frustration.
He drove home, wondering how his timing always managed to be off just enough that he kept missing her. He had hoped to at least get a chance to ask her to go to the game with him, but that apparently wasn’t going to happen.
He let the valet park his car.
He still lived in a condominium, even though since his retirement he’d promised himself a house with several bedrooms, a large yard, and a view of something other than the city skyline. His condo wasn’t a small place. There were advantages to living so close to work; he often walked to the office.
His dog met him, padding in from the living room. Adam greeted the animal with an affectionate welcome.
His sister Mary Beth had helped decorate this place. She managed to turn it into a comfortabl
e home. He liked it well enough, but there were days he wished there was someone else who lived here as well, who would occasionally mess up the place. When he returned in the evening, it was always as he had left it in the morning. It got boring.
Adam dropped his briefcase by the couch and walked to the kitchen to retrieve a cold drink. He was tired. Tired inside where his hopes and dreams lived.
He sank down onto the leather recliner that faced the entertainment center but didn’t bother to turn on the stereo. Instead he sat in silence while he drank the cold soda.
Sara, why do you have to be so stubbornly hard to find? A nice dinner and you would probably stop haunting my dreams. At the moment you are playing havoc with my life.
Sara looked down at her glass, biting her lip, then raised her head. “Ellen, are you sure about this? Being a politician’s wife?” They were having dinner at her best friend’s home, going over the wedding reception plans. Sara had been trying hard not to ask the question all evening. It was unfair, for Ellen was deeply in love with Richard—his occupation shouldn’t matter. But Sara had to ask. Had to raise the warning one last time.
Her friend leaned forward and set her own glass on the table. “Yes.”
Ellen looked back at her with sympathy in her eyes; it had never been pity, or they never would have become friends. They had met in Switzerland as teenagers, both there on vacation. Sara had hung on to that friendship, one of the few she was able to keep despite the frequent relocations.
“Your father was, is, an ambassador, Sara. That’s an entirely different game than being a state official. Richard would be comfortable being a mayor someday, or maybe a state senator. But he honestly has no desire to go into national politics. I won’t let my children be put into that public spotlight.”
“Hold him to that, Ellen. Don’t put your children at risk.”
“What’s going on? This is a lot more than your persistent fear of a child you know getting snatched. You want to tell me what has been going on since that experience in the elevator? You were looking over your shoulder when we were shopping today.”
“I’m jumping at shadows. I thought someone was following me yesterday.”
“What? Where?”
“I was on my way upstairs to work, and I suddenly felt like I was inside a fishbowl, like someone was watching me intently. It scared me badly enough I used one of Dave’s cutout routes to get to my office.”
“What did Dave have to say?”
“I didn’t tell him. By the time I reached my office and realized there was no one following me, I felt like a fool.”
“You should have told him immediately.”
“I feel like a fool just telling you. It was nothing but my nerves. Ever since that elevator ride, I’ve been jumping at my own shadow. What are we ordering in for dinner?”
“Chinese. Quit changing the subject. Your instincts are good, Sara. You have to tell Dave when he gets home tonight.”
“He got called to San Jose for a consult on a case. He’ll be back in a couple of days.”
“Call one of the others on the team.”
“When there is even the slightest evidence to support the feeling—a face I see in different places, someone following me—believe me, I’ll hit the panic button. Until then, it’s nothing but my nerves getting frayed. I’m always like this at the end of a book.”
“You’ve finished it?”
“Two more days. Like to read it?”
“Absolutely. It’s going to be your next international bestseller.”
“It’s the best book I’ve written to date,” Sara replied, knowing it was true, knowing it would likely bring record sales. The money made very little difference in her life now. The story represented more memories put to rest. It had accomplished that—it was enough.
Again she considered telling Ellen about Adam. Ellen was her best friend, and yet Sara had mentioned nothing about the notes or the rose. She was hiding the truth because she was afraid to hear Ellen’s response.
Ellen would tell her to accept, to open the door. She didn’t understand the emotional pain that came with always having to say good-bye. Sara had learned to protect her heart from that constant bruising.
No, it wasn’t something she wanted to discuss with Ellen. Whatever possibilities there had been were over. Even Adam was unlikely to persist much longer.
“Has Richard hinted at what kind of honeymoon arrangements he’s making?”
“His only instructions have been to pack for ten days. I can’t get a clue from him as to our final destination.”
Sara wished the envy would fade. Her journey with Adam was over. Her final destination had been a dead end.
“Mr. Black, I think I know why it’s been so hard to find her. She doesn’t work in this tower,” Thomas said, his face flushed with excitement.
“I was on my way back from delivering those papers to the Pratt and Getty law firm in the next tower when I saw her step out of the elevator carrying her briefcase. She crossed the concourse to this tower. I followed her down to the garage and watched her leave.”
Adam leaned back in his desk chair. “You’re kidding.”
“No, sir. I can’t explain why she’s been taking this tower elevator to different floors in the morning, but I’m convinced that if I wait on the sixth floor concourse, I’ll pick her up on her way to work.”
“Good work, Thomas. Great work, in fact. Try it again tomorrow.”
“Yes, sir.”
Adam got up and moved to the office window to look down at the street.
Sara, you and I are going to be saying hello tomorrow. I hope you’re ready for it, because after the past weeks of trying to find you, I certainly am.
CHAPTER 4
Someone was following her.
Sara’s heart rate jumped. Her steps accelerated. It was just a glimpse. Just a glimpse of a color. A man’s suit jacket. A man’s face. But every sense in her body suddenly focused.
She had seen him before.
Several times.
Like last week in the garage.
Two days before in the other tower elevator.
Yesterday.
Yesterday he had followed her down to the parking garage.
Her hand was already pushing the panic pager in her jacket pocket. She was on the concourse standing in front of the elevators. She had three prearranged routes to choose from. She chose the second, slipping into the ladies’ rest room with an abrupt move.
She had never thought any one of these contingencies would ever be used. Her pulse pounded in her ears as she rushed to the other rest room entrance. Lord, it’s been three years since he’s gotten this close. Why now?
The elevator across the corridor was just opening.
Go, or not? What should she do?
He knew she was in this room. She raced for the open elevator.
He’d seen her.
“Thirty-four, I’m late,” she gasped out to the other occupant of the elevator—needing the doors to close—desperate to have the doors close.
At the last minute, she knew she had made a fatal mistake. The elevator doors were not going to close in time.
God is my refuge in times of trouble. The words first memorized in her childhood flooded her mind as someone bumped into the man she feared.
The elevator doors closed.
She was safe. For the moment. The lady with her in the elevator gave her a curious look but Sara ignored it. The cut outs and the safety routes, changing floors and using the stairs, would only delay her from getting where she was to where she needed to be. As soon as she pushed that panic page, her entire life had changed.
Her sole objective now was to reach the thirty-fourth floor. They were already responding. They knew which elevator she was in, knew she was moving up. They would be coming to meet her.
She was beginning to shake, but now it was with anger. For three years she had been safe, and now he was on her heels again. She deserved to be angry.
&
nbsp; Come on, follow me, she prayed as she rocked on her heels, watching the floor numbers tick by. If they could catch him, her nightmare would be over.
The elevator doors opened on the thirty-fourth floor. Sara stepped out. A glance up showed one other elevator moving up, now passing the thirtieth floor.
Let it be him. Please, let it be the guy following me. The last thing I want is a drawn-out search to find the man I saw.
She walked at her normal pace down the hall to her office suite, adrenaline pounding high, passing a man waiting to get on the third elevator. A lady was arranging a large bouquet of flowers in the hall display. The agents had been fast. They had made better time than in any of their frequent drills.
She heard the elevator door open behind her just as the security lock on her own office door clicked open and she stepped inside.
A voice behind her called her name. She ignored it.
A hand on her left shoulder moved her silently to the side and another body moved in front of her.
“How many?”
“One,” she whispered back. The hand on her shoulder gave a gentle squeeze.
“FBI! Freeze!”
“Down on your knees!”
It was over.
A panic page from the daughter of a U.S. ambassador, with a known stalker still active against her, could and would bring down the wrath of more than a few agents. Sara had left a very scared young man who could not be more than twenty-three sitting cuffed on the couch in the reception area of her office suite, answering questions coming at him from five very protective agents. She escaped downstairs to the FBI offices on the eighteenth floor. She paced the private office of the FBI regional director.
“Would you care to explain how you can now recall four encounters with this man who followed you, yet you mentioned none of them to your brother?” He leaned back against his desk. He wasn’t mad; he was furious.
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