Lifeline

by Christy Barritt

  He’d realized earlier how deeply attracted he was to her. But the past couple of days, though tension over the events at hand always simmered beneath the surface, had been a nice reprieve from the past week.

  In the meantime, they waited for Detective Spencer to call with an update, a confirmation that the man they’d found was Darrell and that maybe this nightmare would finally be behind them. At the very least, hopefully they’d call with an update on Tommy or the insurance fraud or the person behind John’s death. Every time the phone rang, they both stared at each other a moment before one of them would answer.

  Right now, Julianne tapped on the computer, helping him to type up some paperwork before his big meeting. The phone rang. She cast him that familiar glance. He nodded, and she picked up the line. Her eyes widened, and she motioned for him to come into the front office.

  “I’m going to put you on speaker.” She hit the button and Detective Spencer’s voice came over the line.

  “We’ve got some results that we wanted to share with you. Are you sitting down?”

  A shot of adrenaline pumped though his veins. “We’re good, Detective. Go ahead.”

  “We got the autopsy results back. The body we found in the house was not Darrell Lewis.”

  Julianne’s shoulders visibly drooped. Bradley rested a hand there, trying to offer her some small comfort.

  “Ms. Grace, does the name Clayton Roberts means anything to you?”

  She shook her head. “No, nothing. Why do you ask?”

  “He was identified as the man from the fire. He’s from northern Virginia.”

  She tensed under Bradley’s hand. “That’s where I’m from.”

  “Police visited his apartment and found more evidence that he’s connected to you.”

  “Can you share what that evidence is?” Bradley shifted, not liking where this was headed.

  The detective paused a moment as if gathering his thoughts. “I can say this. The man had a lot of pictures of you. And we found the emails you sent him.”

  “The emails I sent him?” Julianne’s voice almost came out as a whisper, each syllable cracking with emotion.

  “You might want to consider hiring a lawyer, Ms. Grace.”

  “But I didn’t do anything.”

  “The evidence is to the contrary.” The detective’s voice sounded firm, leaving little room for argument.

  “Are you going to arrest me?” Fear filled her voice.

  “Not yet, but we’re collecting evidence.”

  She closed her eyes, despair biting deep.

  Bradley pulled her into his arms, realizing that hopelessness was beginning to overwhelm Julianne as more evidence mounted against her.

  The nagging doubts in his mind became stronger, but he pushed them away. No, Julianne wasn’t guilty. She couldn’t be...could she?

  * * *

  Julianne felt as if the whole world had gone crazy.

  Bradley’s arm remained at her waist, holding her steady and keeping her from giving in to the weakness that made her knees want to buckle.

  “It’s going to be okay,” Bradley insisted.

  She shook her head as thoughts collided inside her mind. “Darrell is setting me up. He has to be. Why else would this be happening? I couldn’t have met anyone yesterday. I was here at Eyes. You had a guard outside of my room.”

  “The police will realize that.” His voice sounded firm and steady, but had just a touch of doubt began to creep in? She couldn’t blame him. Someone had done a good job insuring that she looked guilty.

  She ran her hands over her face, reality crushing her. Even her breathing felt labored as she considered the evidence against her. “Oh, Bradley. I just don’t know what to think sometimes. I don’t know how to make sense of all of this. All I know to do is pray.”

  Just then, Bradley’s phone rang. It was Agent Darden. Bradley put it on speaker, and Julianne stepped closer, anxious to hear what he had to say.

  “Mr. Stone, Ms. Grace, I wanted to let you know that we got preliminary results on the body. There was a fifty percent DNA match to Darrell Lewis.”

  Julianne’s hand instinctively went to her heart as his words settled over her. “Fifty percent?”

  “We’re going to run a few more tests, but all of our best guesses are that it’s Darrell in that grave. He is indeed dead.”

  Julianne’s heart twisted as Bradley hung up. The news was both a relief and a disappointment. If Darrell wasn’t alive and behind everything, then who was?

  Bradley frowned beside her. “It looks like Darrell really is dead.”

  She blanched. “Really? I felt so certain...”

  “I was halfway convinced myself, Julianne.”

  “Does this leave us back at square one?”

  Bradley grasped her arms. “Julianne, what did Darrell’s brother look like?”

  “Donald? He looked too similar to Darrell, I suppose.” Realization washed over her. “You think maybe Donald is behind this?”

  “It’s a possibility.”

  And at this point, they couldn’t leave any stone unturned. No, Julianne’s life depended on it. The total irony was that the perpetrator wasn’t literally trying to kill her—instead, someone out there was trying to make her miserable and obliterate anything good that came her way.

  * * *

  That evening, Julianne couldn’t seem to keep her thoughts focused on anything around her. They continued to go back to another place in time. She sat in the lobby at Eyes, staring at that blazing fireplace that seemed to warm the entire room.

  Bradley sat beside her on the couch, and she could feel his eyes on her.

  “What are you thinking, Julianne?”

  “I just can’t believe that Darrell really did die. This whole time I thought that he’d secretly survived somehow. I should have listened to you when you said that could never happen.” She shook her head.

  Bradley’s hand rested on her neck, his fingers gently massaging the kinks away. “I even believed that he might be alive, Julianne. Anyone in your shoes would consider the possibility.”

  She swallowed, her throat burning as she dared to glance over and meet his gaze. “What about Vanessa? How does her death tie in with all of this? And the Amigos? There are still so many puzzle pieces that don’t seem to fit.”

  “I keep coming back to Tommy. We need to find him. As soon as we do, we’ll have some answers.”

  Tommy. Could he really be the mastermind behind all of this? Or maybe it was Donald? Was he secretly still alive? Why had Diane gotten involved? There were so many questions. “So maybe Tommy killed Darrell’s parents and then collected the money? Maybe he was mixed up with the Amigos, as well—maybe Darrell got him involved. Maybe that’s how he could afford that watch.”

  “I have to wonder if he got himself so far into debt that he’s trying to get his hands on the plans I’m developing. Enemies of the United States would pay big money for them. Tommy always asked a lot of questions about my uncle’s work. Maybe that wasn’t a coincidence.”

  Bradley pulled her closer, and her heart unwillingly soared. Although she’d secretly dreamed of being held in his arms just like this, there was too much uncertainty right now to truly savor the moment. “Maybe the end’s finally in sight,” he murmured softly into her hair.

  She nodded, unsure of what else to say.

  He reluctantly stepped back. “What are you going to do when this is over?”

  She shrugged. “I don’t know.” And she didn’t. She had no idea, mostly because she didn’t really have time to think about anything other than the present.

  “You should stay.”

  His words caused her heart to swell. Had she heard him correctly? Did he mean what she thought he did? She raised her gaze to his, afraid
too much truth would show in her eyes. “You think?”

  His gaze latched onto hers. “I do.”

  A million doubts and uncertainties seemed to flutter through her mind, each trying to find a place to land permanently. She shooed them away, searching for an honest response. “I’m not very good with relationships, you know. I always pick the wrong guy.”

  “Is that what you think about me?”

  His eyes just looked so sincere, so earnest and trustworthy. Even with everything she’d been accused of, he was still having this conversation with her. He still believed in her, and that meant the world to her. “No, I think you’re perfect. And that scares me. I’ve got to be able to stand on my own two feet.”

  He still didn’t break his gaze. “But you can’t be afraid to rely on other people. That’s what life is about. Holding other people up. But not trying to control them.”

  “You’ve really showed me that, Bradley. You’ve never tried to make me fit a mold. I appreciate it.”

  “I would never make you try to be someone you’re not.”

  She believed him.

  But believing in him scared her to death.

  She looked at her hands, at the way they were laced together in her lap. She swallowed, her throat burning. “I should go to bed,” she croaked out.

  “Let me walk you up.” He started to stand.

  She shook her head. “No, please. I can walk up by myself.”

  Confusion gleamed in his eyes. “I don’t mind.”

  “Really. I’ll be okay. I should...go.”

  Before he could argue, she hurried up the stairs and into her room. No sooner had she closed the door, did her phone buzz. Had Bradley texted her?

  Steal the plans or Bradley dies. D.L.

  The blood drained from her face.

  D.L.

  Donald Lewis?

  SIXTEEN

  Steal the plans? She couldn’t possibly steal the top secret plans that Bradley had developed. She had no clue where they were even. He’d said something about keeping them under lock and key—which probably meant they were at his house—but she hadn’t the faintest idea where to start searching.

  Would D.L. make good on his threat? If she didn’t deliver something to him...would he really kill Bradley?

  Meanwhile, she was being set up to look like the culprit in all of this.

  The noose seemed to be tightening with each second.

  What was she going to do?

  She threw her head back into the pillow atop her bed.

  Was there a way to win in this situation? It didn’t feel like it.

  The police thought she did it. Now, if she didn’t get involved then Bradley would die. If she did get involved, Bradley would never trust her again.

  Lord, what am I supposed to do?

  She closed her eyes.

  She had no idea. She had absolutely no idea.

  * * *

  Bradley rolled over in bed, his thoughts pounding at this temple.

  Someone was setting Julianne up to look like the bad guy. They wanted to ruin her...but why?

  Could Donald Lewis actually be alive and be behind this?

  Or was Tommy Sanders involved somehow?

  How had Diane gotten tangled up in this mess? Had she been involved before Bradley hired her? Had she wanted the job in order to get an inside track into what was going on here?

  There were so many unanswered questions and the clock seemed to be ticking. He didn’t know what would happen at the end of this. Would Julianne be arrested? Was someone trying to get their hands on his weapons?

  He sighed.

  He just didn’t know. And he didn’t like not knowing. He was the kind of guy who found solutions. He didn’t let problems hold him back. Yet, in this case, he didn’t know how to find the solutions.

  Lord, I’ve relied on myself too much. Now I’m in a situation where You’re the only one who can help. Please, clear my thoughts. Make the truth evident.

  He closed his eyes, scenarios still turning over in his mind.

  But any way he looked at it, the ending wasn’t happy.

  * * *

  Jack met Bradley in the hallway the next morning when he was on his way to get Julianne for breakfast.

  “I got an odd message last night. Someone emailed me and suggested I search the cushions in the apartment below your house.”

  Bradley stopped. “Who was the email from?”

  “Unsigned.”

  “Julianne’s being set up.” Anger surged in him at the thought.

  “I’d still like to send a couple of guys over to check. Is that okay with you?”

  Bradley pulled his lips into a tight line before offering a terse nod. “Of course.”

  “Just keep your eyes open, Bradley. I like Julianne. I really do. But we have to be careful in this line of work.”

  “Agreed.” They’d see she was innocent. Bradley had no doubt about that.

  So why was it that when he knocked on her door five minutes later an unseen weight pressed on his chest? Her eyes fluttered around, hardly meeting his, and the weight pressed harder.

  They barely said a word through breakfast. Just as they went up to his office, his cell phone rang. Jack. He sucked in a deep breath and stepped away from Julianne before answering.

  This would be good news. It had to be good news.

  “I hate to be the one to tell you this, but there were some documents tucked into the couch cushion, Bradley.”

  “What kind of documents?”

  “They weren’t exactly your plans and drafts and prototypes, but there was information on your designs. Enough that it would give terrorists an idea of what you were doing. Enough to make the Department of Defense nervous.”

  “I understand.”

  “You’ve got to question her, Bradley. Do you want me to do it?”

  His heart twisted until finally he shook his head. “No, I will. But thank you.”

  He hung up and drew in a deep breath. This was one conversation he didn’t want to have. But there was no other choice.

  He walked over to Julianne’s desk. She looked up, those eyes—deceitfully innocent?—stared back up at him.

  “Is everything okay?”

  “No, it’s not. We got a tip that you had taken some documents from our headquarters, Julianne. I knew it couldn’t be true, but we had to send some men to double-check. Sure enough, the documents were there in the couch cushions.”

  Her eyes widened and she shook her head forcefully. “I didn’t leave those there. I’m being set up. I don’t have any of your plans. I don’t even know where you keep them.”

  “Can I see your phone?”

  Her face went white. “My phone? Why?”

  “Because I just need to check your messages. It’s the easiest way to prove that what you’re saying is true.” His face softened. “This isn’t just about me and you anymore, Julianne. They’ve gotten Jack involved, as well as the Department of Defense. I’ve got to rule out every possibility.”

  She shook her head, tears glimmering in her eyes. “Sure.” She pulled it out of her back pocket and slapped it into his hand.

  Her obvious hurt made sorrow clutch at his heart. But he had to check—he had to do what he could—to prove to Jack that she was innocent.

  She crossed her arms over her chest and stared in the distance as he pulled up her text messages. There would be nothing there and they’d be able to put all of this behind them. This was just a formality, he rationalized.

  He blinked at the message he saw.

  Got the plans. Thanks for your help, Julianne. You’re one in a million.

  He had left Julianne alone in his house and in his office. She had been asking
a lot of questions about his projects. Could his initial thoughts have been correct? Was her appearance here simply a ploy?

  All of the events of the past several days flashed back to him. How in all of those dangerous situations, she’d never once been injured. How the killers always seemed to anticipate their next move. How easily she could put people at ease and captivate them.

  Was that because Julianne was feeding someone information?

  The truth crashed into his heart. He didn’t want to believe it, but the evidence seemed to confirm his worst fears. Julianne had been playing him this whole time.

  Her face seemed to show sincere confusion. But he’d fallen for her charms before. She knew how to fool people, knew how to appear innocent.

  “How do you explain this?” He held up her phone.

  Her eyes scanned the message and she shook her head, looking briefly toward the sky as her eyes continued to brim with unshed tears. “If I told you the truth you wouldn’t believe me. I’m not a part of this vast conspiracy, Bradley. How could you think that?”

  “I don’t know what else to think. I don’t want to do this, Julianne, but I think I should take you down to the police station for questioning.”

  She stared back at him and raised her chin. “Whatever you think is best.” Her words were said with a level, even tone that conveyed her hurt.

  They stared at each other, all the beautiful trust between them shattering like fragile glass in a windstorm.

  * * *

  A mixture of fury, outrage and grief washed over Julianne. How could Bradley think she’d do something like this? Did he really think that she set all of this up as a means of obtaining his classified plans? His life may have a touch of James Bond and Mission Impossible, but hers certainly didn’t. She wasn’t a spy embarking on a lethal mission. Silence stretched between them as they cruised down the back roads of Virginia Beach toward the police station. With each turn of the wheel, her brooding became deeper and a hopeless feeling claimed her.

  “I’m going to be arrested, aren’t I?” she whispered.