Love Inspired Suspense May 2015 - Box Set 1 of 2: Trail of EvidenceGone MissingLethal Exposure

by Lynette Eason

  She turned the corner onto Charles Road and saw her familiar, gleaming white house come into view. The smile slowly slid from her face as she saw who was standing outside.

  SIX

  “Hi, Mrs. Harper,” Rebecca said wearily, stepping out of the van in her garage.

  Her neighbor came bustling over. “Oh my, Rebecca,” she said, taken aback at her filthy appearance. “What on earth happened to you?”

  “Jack and I were involved in a car accident,” she replied, deciding to keep the explanation nice and easy. “But we’re okay. Jack needed some stitches in his head.”

  Mrs. Harper inhaled sharply and grasped Rebecca by the shoulders. “What an awful time this is for you. I’ll say a prayer for you both.”

  Rebecca smiled. “Thank you, Mrs. Harper. You’re very kind.”

  “No thanks necessary,” her neighbor said. “The true kindness comes from the One who answers the prayer.”

  Rebecca looked over at Jack, who was lifting his bag from the trunk. “I need to go inside and get washed up,” she said, looking down at her dirt-covered clothes. “I must look like a bag lady.”

  “Nonsense,” Mrs. Harper said with a wave of the hand. “You always look beautiful.”

  “I totally agree, Mrs. Harper,” Jack said, slamming the trunk closed.

  Rebecca felt her cheeks redden. Jack had never before mentioned the fact he thought she was beautiful. But why would he?

  Mrs. Harper turned to leave and walked halfway down the drive before turning again and holding up her finger. “Oh, I almost forgot why I came over. There were some men here. They knocked at your door for a very long time.”

  Jack dropped his bag to the ground. “How many men?”

  “Two of them.” She looked Jack up and down. “They were big men like you. Old navy friends, perhaps?”

  Jack ushered Mrs. Harper back into the garage, out of sight of the street. “Did you talk to them?”

  “Oh, yes.”

  Jack waited for her to elaborate, but her attention was clearly caught by his large bag next to the car. “Will you be staying with Rebecca a while, Mr. Jackson?”

  He nodded. “What did the men say?” he asked. “Did you get their names?”

  She shook her head. “No, I didn’t get their names.” She raised her eyebrows. “Now, why would your friends be looking for you at Rebecca’s house?” She looked slyly between Rebecca and Jack. “Is this a permanent move? Should I be expecting the ringing of wedding bells?”

  “No,” Rebecca said quickly, anxious to dispel any hopes that Mrs. Harper seemed to harbor of her and Jack becoming man and wife. “Jack is just staying here while he recovers from his head injury. There’s nothing more to it.”

  “What did the men look like, Mrs. Harper?” Jack asked slowly. “It’s very important you try and remember.”

  She put her hand on her chin. “Now, let me think…” She raised her eyes upward. “All I can remember is that they both kind of looked like you, Mr. Jackson—tall with wide shoulders, one with dark hair, the other blond. I told them you were both out of the house after being burglarized, and they thanked me and left.”

  Rebecca and Jack exchanged a glance of concern—one that didn’t go unnoticed by Mrs. Harper. “Is something wrong?” she asked, suddenly wide-eyed. “Should I have called the police?”

  Jack touched her arm to reassure her. “No, please don’t worry.” He smiled. “You’re probably right about them being a couple of old buddies from the navy. If they come back, why don’t you call me right away?” He pulled a business card from his pocket and handed it to her. “My numbers are right here. Call anytime, okay?”

  “Of course,” she said, taking the card. “It’ll be nice to have you staying on the street for a while, Mr. Jackson. It’s always a pleasure to see you playing with the children in the yard.”

  Jack picked up his bag. “Thank you, Mrs. Harper. I’ve always liked this part of town.” He leaned in closer and dropped his voice playfully. “It’s so much more glamorous than my own neighborhood.”

  Mrs. Harper gave a high-pitched giggle and smoothed down some wispy strands of hair that had escaped her curls. “You are a real charmer, Mr. Jackson.” She turned to walk down the path. “Call me if you need anything.”

  Once Rebecca’s neighbor was safely inside her own house, Jack dropped the playful act. “We need to be on our guard more than ever. If these men come back, I want to be ready for them.”

  “Is there a chance they could actually be old navy buddies?” Rebecca asked hopefully. “We shouldn’t jump to conclusions.”

  “Perhaps,” Jack said. “But we need to treat everything with suspicion. If anybody knocks on the door, or you see anyone approach the house, come get me right away.”

  Rebecca fell silent and looked at the ground while considering the severity of their situation. It made her belly flutter with a dull ache. Who were these men and what did they want with her? She comforted herself with the thought that killers were unlikely to announce their presence with a knock on the door. Then another thought occurred to her—what if they actually wanted to be seen? Could they be letting her know that she was being watched? Striking fear into her mind could be their way of stopping her pursuing her investigation.

  It might be possible that her photographs were the only evidence that could ruin the thieves’ master plan. They had waited twelve years until feeling safe enough to sell the pieces at public auction—it was highly likely that their patience couldn’t be stretched much further.

  Her body shivered at the thought of the lengths the thieves might go to in order to protect their ill-gotten gains. Jack immediately began to rub her shoulders.

  “Are you cold?” he asked.

  She shook her head, but in reality she did feel cold, all the way to her bones. “I think I need a hot shower and a change of clothes. I’ll feel a whole lot better after I wash away the day.” She brought her hand up to her disheveled hair, usually sleek and straight but now wild and straggly. The look on her face must’ve said it all.

  “Mrs. Harper was right, you know,” Jack said softly.

  “About what?”

  “About you being beautiful.”

  She gave him a punch on the arm, guessing that he was trying to lighten the somber mood. “Quit it. I’m a mess.”

  He moistened his lips. They looked dry and chapped. “Beauty can’t be spoiled by a bit of dirt.” He pointed his index finger directly at her chest. “Especially beauty that comes from here.”

  Rebecca’s heart skipped a beat. Jack had complimented her plenty of times in the past, but his comments usually focused on her strength and determination. This level of praise felt new, deeper and more intimate. She felt that he was opening up new territory in their friendship. And she didn’t know where to tread.

  “There’s no way I would be even half the woman I am now if it weren’t for you, Jack,” she said. “You helped me stay strong when my life fell apart, so if I have any inner beauty, you should share the credit.”

  He smiled widely. “You had it long before I came along.”

  He turned and unlocked the door leading to the house.

  “Jack,” she said, calling him back, deciding to seize the moment. “Can I ask a question?”

  He turned back around. “Sure.”

  “What was Dark Skies?”

  A look of surprise flashed over his face. He put his bag down again.

  “I heard Chief Finch mention it in the car,” she continued.

  Jack took a deep breath. “Dark Skies was the code name for the last mission I went on with the SEALs.”

  “The one in Afghanistan,” she said. “Where Ian died?”

  “Yes,” he said quietly. “The one where Ian died.”

  There were so many questions she had never asked about that mission, so many details she had never wanted to know. But something had recently changed. Her desire to know the facts surrounding Ian’s last hours was growing steadily more persiste
nt.

  “What was the mission?” She instantly shook her head. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t ask. It’s probably classified.”

  He took a step closer to her, and she saw his chest rise and fall with deep breaths. “You have a right to know,” he said. “I was the leader of a six-man assault team tasked with terminating a terrorist group that was responsible for wreaking destruction across the region. The Afghan police asked for our help in preventing any more deaths.”

  Tears sprang to her eyes as she thought of her own wonderful town where she was blessed to be able to walk freely. “Was the mission successful?”

  He looked into her eyes. “Yes, it was.”

  Her heart lifted a little.

  Jack rested his hand on her shoulder. “We had already terminated the leader and his men by the time Ian…” He stopped.

  “By the time Ian stepped on the land mine,” she concluded. “It’s okay, Jack. You can say it.”

  “He was a good man,” Jack said, his voice cracking. “I miss him a lot.”

  Rebecca saw the way Jack’s face crumpled with the pain of the memory, and she instinctively snaked her arms around his waist and pulled him close. His muscles tensed in surprise, but within a second or two, she felt his body relax. He allowed her to hold him close. He rested his chin on the top of her head and wrapped his arms around her shoulders. Her lips were brushing his Adam’s apple, and she felt it move as he swallowed deeply.

  “I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I forgot that you grieved for Ian too. I shouldn’t be making you relive the memory.”

  He pulled back and put a hand to the side of her face. “Listen,” he said. “You can ask me anything you like, anytime you like, okay? Don’t hold back.”

  She nodded. “I think that’s all I need to know,” she said. “For now.”

  Jack kept his hand resting on the side of her cheek. “I’m here for you. Always.”

  She smiled and gently pulled his hand from her cheek. She knew he was there for her—he had promised Ian that he would be. Jack was fulfilling an oath that was sacred to him. And that wasn’t a good enough reason for him to stay by her side.

  *

  Jack sat at the kitchen table while Rebecca talked on the phone with Ian’s mother, Sarah Grey, and Darius swept the house with a bug detection device. He cradled a cup of strong coffee in his hands, allowing the hot mug to warm his cold fingers. He popped a couple of painkillers into his mouth and gulped them down with a mouthful of coffee. His headache had been gradually worsening since arriving back at the house, and he didn’t want Rebecca to know. He wanted her to think of him as somebody she could rely on, somebody Ian had justifiably chosen to look after her. Except now it seemed that she wanted him to back off and let her become more independent. He wasn’t sure what he’d done wrong or what he could do to put it right, but she was definitely letting him know that she intended to erect an emotional barrier. The thought of following her advice and putting himself on the dating scene filled him with dread. He couldn’t think of a woman he wanted to spend time with more than Rebecca.

  She hung up the phone. “Sarah says she’d love to have the girls for the week, but I need to drop off some clothes and schoolbooks. I’ll do it tomorrow after church.”

  “Do you think it’s a good idea to go to church?” he asked. “We should be lying low.”

  “No way,” she answered. It was clearly a matter that wasn’t up for discussion. “I’m not turning my back on God just because I’m going through a tough time—that’s all the more reason I should go to church.”

  Jack sat back and admired her strength of faith. “Of course, I’ll have to come with you.”

  “You want to go to church?” she asked in surprise.

  He gave a low laugh. “Why not?” He tilted his head. “I am capable of sitting still for an hour, you know.”

  “Sure,” she replied with a smile. “That would be nice.”

  Darius entered the room and held up a small electronic device. “No listening bugs or cameras found,” he said. “You’re clean.”

  Jack recognized the sweeper as a standard-issue CIA device, often used by SEALs to check for covert surveillance. “Did you bring that on vacation?” he asked.

  “Of course,” Darius replied. “It goes everywhere with me. Men like us can’t afford to take any chances, Jack.”

  “What do you mean, men like us? I’m retired now, remember.”

  Darius sat at the table. “SEALs never retire, Jack. When you’re trained for secret warfare, you never look at anything in quite the same way ever again, am I right?”

  Jack reluctantly nodded his head. Darius was indeed correct. Jack looked at every situation from a SEAL perspective. If he saw an argument on the street, or a traffic accident, or people about to lose their tempers, he always stepped in to diffuse the matter and prevent escalation. He always felt that his senses were hyperalert. His only downtime was in the middle of the ocean, riding the waves on his surfboard with nothing but the sky and sea on the horizon.

  He noticed Rebecca looking at him with an intense expression, like she was trying to read his mind. When he locked eyes with her, she quickly averted her gaze.

  “Now that we know the house is clean, I’ll go look for the photograph negatives,” she said, pulling her hair back into a ponytail. She looked down at the dirty bandage on her injured hand. “But I need to wash my hand and change this dressing first.”

  “You want some help with that?” Jack asked.

  “No,” she said quickly. “I can manage just fine.”

  He watched her leave the room, and he lowered his head into his hands. He decided to wait for his throbbing temples to feel the effect of the painkillers before rising from the table.

  “Tough day, huh, Jack?” Darius asked.

  Jack briefly glanced up. “You could say that.”

  Darius jerked his head toward the doorway that Rebecca had just disappeared through. “So how long have you two been an item?”

  Jack lifted his head from his hands. “We’re not an item,” he said. “We’re just friends.”

  “Oh, I’m sorry. You seem so close, I just assumed…”

  Jack narrowed his eyes. “Well, don’t assume anything,” he said. “Rebecca is very sensitive about rumors in the neighborhood.”

  Darius held up his palms. “I apologize for the mistake,” he said, getting up to leave the room. “Seems like a good time for me to run my errand to the hardware store for extra security items. You okay here by yourself?”

  “Sure,” Jack replied, ignoring the pulse that was thumping in his head. “I’ll lock up behind you.”

  As he followed the chief to the door and bolted it behind him, a smile turned the corners of his lips. He knew it was foolish to feel pleased that Darius had noticed an intimacy between him and Rebecca, yet he couldn’t help himself. This meant that she hadn’t yet hardened her heart against him. It meant she would allow him to protect her from the danger ahead. He knew he was on borrowed time. Once the threat they were facing had been neutralized, he suspected that Rebecca would consider his promise to Ian fulfilled.

  The question he was asking himself was this: Why was he so scared of letting her go?

  *

  Rebecca entered the garage and flipped the light switch. The door to her darkroom stood silently in the corner, beckoning her to go inside and allow the familiar scent of chemicals to embrace her. The first thing that she and Ian had done after buying the house was to wall off a portion of the double garage to build a darkroom for developing and storing her photographs. It was unobtrusive and tucked away, which would explain why the intruder had missed it entirely. She had deliberately tried to set it apart from the house, creating a place all her own.

  Back then, the digital age was still in its infancy, and she was required to carry endless rolls of film on assignments. Even though she now used the very best digital cameras, she still loved the developing process and usually relished the opportunity to create her p
rints the old-fashioned way. But this time she wouldn’t be relishing her task—she would be thinking about the person who wanted to find and destroy these negatives at all costs, maybe even at the price of her own life. The garage refrigerator clicked to life with a low hum, and she was startled into jumping almost clean off the ground. She was jittery, and she breathed deeply to steady her nerves, reminding herself that Jack and Darius were watching out for her. She was safe. Wasn’t she?

  She skirted around her minivan, trying to avert her eyes from the boxes and clutter piled against the walls. Among the paint cans and garden tools were numerous cardboard boxes, each one neatly labeled with its contents. She ran her hand along a label that read Pants and Shirts. Another said Shoes, Size 12. These were all of Ian’s things, packed away by her over a year ago, ready to donate to charity. Yet here they were, still sitting in the garage, gathering dust and going nowhere. Each time she thought of Ian’s clothes being put out on hangers, being touched by strangers’ hands, sadness threatened to overwhelm her. Yet she knew this was ridiculous—after all, it was a good thing that others would benefit from the items Ian had left behind. She resolved to take them to the Christian charity center on Fifth Street as soon as possible. “The past has passed,” she whispered to herself, plucking the key to the darkroom from its hook, “and the future is yet to come.”

  As she put the key in the lock, the door gently creaked open, and she furrowed her brow, annoyed with herself for leaving the room unlocked. She worried about the girls straying into the room and coming into contact with the dangerous chemicals that she used inside. It wasn’t like her to be sloppy. She would need to be more careful from now on.