by Dani Pettrey
“Goodness knows I tried. Hired him the best tutors. Sent him to the best schools, but he was just like his father—mediocre.”
“How terrible for you,” Finley said, knowing how to play the interrogation game, how to get to the heart of people, even if it was an ugly heart down deep. She had a way of encouraging them to share what mattered most.
Veronica sighed. “It certainly wasn’t easy being surrounded by those who couldn’t rise up to the privilege afforded me.”
Finley tilted her head. “The privilege?”
Veronica reached across the space separating them and placed her age-spotted hand on Finley’s for a moment. “The money, dear. I came from it. Not my husband. I came from a family with a grand heritage of accomplishment.”
“How nice for you.”
“It was a marvelous upbringing. We had the best of everything. We were the best. But Howard, Joel’s father . . .” She rolled her eyes, not even bothering to refer to him as her husband. “Fool that I was, I married him for love—or what a silly seventeen-year-old girl thought was love—but he turned out to be nothing but a disappointment.”
“And Joel?” Finley asked.
“Ha!” Veronica released an amused exhale. “He was even worse. Oh, he put in the work. Got decent grades. Worked while he was in college—as a travel agent, of all things. He dreamed of traveling. That was his problem. He was a daydreamer rather than a doer. Then he met Stacey Marsden and everything shifted. He became distracted and obsessed.”
Griffin arched a brow. “Obsessed?”
“He needed to be with her every moment. Followed her around like a dog. It was ridiculous. Be a man, I say.”
“And Stacey? I take it she didn’t like all the attention?” Finley said.
“How could she? She was a lovely girl. Smart. Talented. I would have loved having her as a daughter-in-law, but even her influence on Joel wasn’t enough to bring him up to our level.”
“Our?”
“Stacey’s and mine.” Veronica shifted, lifting her teacup she’d ignored until then. “As I said, we were very much alike.”
And one day Joel snapped and decided he didn’t want to be looked down upon or bossed around by an overbearing mother, let alone a girlfriend—one who Griffin bet he’d discovered was cheating on him. Question was, where did he kill her and what had he done with her body?
“Mrs. Hood,” he said, scooching forward.
“Veronica, please.”
He nodded with a smile. “Veronica. Do you know if there was someplace special he liked to take Stacey? A barn, perhaps?”
“The barn?” she laughed. “Why would he ever take her to that old place?”
Griffin looked at Finley, then back to Veronica. “What old place?”
“Our family grounds are extensive, and far out on the property there’s an old barn where we used to keep horses while my husband was alive. I had no desire to keep those animals after Howard passed, so I sold them, much to Joel’s anger, but that boy didn’t know what he really wanted or needed. That stupid barn has stood empty ever since.”
“How long ago did you sell the horses?”
“Close to twenty years. Howard had a heart attack in his early forties. I wasn’t surprised, considering the way he ate and how he never exercised.”
“And the barn is still on your property?”
“Yes. Just because my son put me in here doesn’t mean I sold the estate. You’re welcome to go see it, if you’re in the area. Albert is still managing it all for me, and I’ve left everything to him in my will. At least I can trust he’ll take good care of it, unlike Joel. . . .”
She appeared to consider something for a moment. “No, I doubt Stacey ever stepped foot in that rickety old barn. They spent most of their time down at the boathouse and out on the water on one of our boats. They typically chose the rowboat. Though why, when we have so many other options, I don’t know. I think, in his feeble mind, Joel thought it romantic. Who knows? Perhaps he thought that stupid barn was romantic too.”
A flirtatious smile widened on her wrinkled face. “It did hold nice, soft hay. I imagine to two young people in love . . . or at least Joel was in love. Stacey was too smart for that. She quickly saw Joel wasn’t the man she needed. Wasn’t really a man at all. More a boy trapped in a man’s body.”
Ouch. Mom of the Year. But thanks to her, they’d just discovered Joel’s connection to a barn and to water. Now they just needed to politely excuse themselves and head for the Hood estate. And thanks to Veronica Hood, they’d just been given permission to explore.
32
Go on,” Luke said, anxious to hear the rest of David’s intel. How had he been assigned to Ebeid all these years and never known the entirety of Ebeid’s past when David did? Why hadn’t Malcolm read him in to the intel? Or had Malcolm himself not been read in?
“I’m piecing together years of recon and bits of information that I was able to obtain,” David said. “I’d wager there’s a top-secret file somewhere in the vaults at Langley on all this, but this much I know . . .”
David proceeded to fill them in on Ebeid’s past, his relationship with Caroline Ladew, and the discovery of her role as a CIA agent.
“He tracked Caroline down to where she was living under a new alias in South America. He killed her, but he learned after the fact that they had a son who she gave up for adoption. He started searching, but quietly through a third party, and after years of searching, finally discovered that his son—Matthew—had enlisted in the Marines at a young age and was killed overseas by friendly fire within months of graduating from basic training.
“Ebeid’s rage toward America grew, and it’s rumored he believed the Americans killed Matthew outright and covered it up as ‘friendly fire.’ I have no idea if he was correct, but I’ve heard whispers he vowed revenge for Matthew’s death. So he moved forward with his plan to punish ‘the country of liars and pigs’ via terrorist attack—and he plans to do it on the anniversary of his son’s death.”
“Which is?”
“Two days from now.”
Luke sat back, stunned, trying to process it all and wondering why he was never informed of such pivotal information—and why, if David had known all along, he was just now deciding to share.
David looked at Luke. “I’m sorry, friend. I was ordered to remain silent until we had proof Bedan possessed a working dispersal method. Told it wasn’t pivotal to your mission.”
They seriously felt two days was enough time to combat this level of threat? “How could you not tell me?” Luke asked.
David hung his head. “Orders, my friend. Orders and timing are essential to what we do. You know that.”
Luke exhaled, remembering all the information he’d been asked to withhold or to falsely plant over the years. It was part of the life of an agent. A part he could no longer play.
But first he’d make sure Ebeid was stopped.
33
Griffin and Finley drove to the Hood estate located outside of Annapolis proper. Veronica hadn’t been exaggerating when she used the term expansive. Looking at the map, Griffin estimated the estate covered over one hundred acres. In that area of Maryland, they were talking major money. The wrought-iron entrance gate was locked, and apparently Albert wasn’t home, because no one answered when they pressed the call button.
Finley gestured to the ten-foot-high brick wall running along either side of the gate and as far along the property line as they could see. “I doubt a property so vast is completely surrounded by a brick wall.”
“Excellent point,” Griffin said, and sure enough they found where the brick wall ended and a simple three-rail horse fence began.
Griff glanced down at Finley’s red heels. “Might want to grab your tennis shoes out of the trunk before we go trudging about.”
“Good idea.”
She changed her shoes, and Griffin held out his hand and helped his wife, who wore a coastal blue and crisp white striped dress and purple Treks ten
nis shoes, climb over the wood fence. She hopped down on the grass, the lawn still surprisingly green and plush considering the time of year and the cool nights they’d been having.
Griffin hated to imagine the cost of maintaining such expansive grounds.
Finley pulled her cobalt blue cardigan tightly about her and buttoned it up as a brisk wind fluttered through the autumn leaves overhead.
“You want my jacket?” he asked, pulling his fleece over his head without waiting for an answer.
“It’s not necessary.”
“Please humor me,” he said, handing it to her. She needed it far more than he did. There was a crisp bite in the air.
“Thanks.” She slipped the charcoal gray North Face fleece over her head, the sleeves hanging at least four inches beyond her fingertips.
He smiled as the wind rustled her red hair, so striking in the golden shafts of sunlight streaking through the light cloud coverage. “You look adorable.”
She smiled back. “This smells like you,” she said, zipping it up and burrowing further in.
“Shall we?” He smiled, loving that he could provide her with comfort.
She nodded, and they headed toward the bay. Having no clue where the barn sat on the property—they’d been hoping to ask Albert—at least they could locate the boathouse by following the shoreline.
Within a half hour, they found it. A beautiful white and Nantucket-blue boathouse, the structure larger than Griffin’s oversized three-car garage, where he worked on his refinishing projects.
The motorboat was up on a dry ramp and seal-wrapped for the end of the season, but the rowboat simply sat against the far wall, where one could easily flip it onto the launch ramp and into the greenish-blue bay.
“I can see why this would be a romantic spot,” Finley said, looking out across the Chesapeake, small whitecaps occasionally fluttering along the otherwise smooth and still surface.
Griffin opened his mouth to speak as something smacked the back of his head with a pain-searing thwack. Then everything went black.
Tanner walked beside Declan as her dad examined the warehouse with Luke.
David strolled methodically, observing, touching with gloved hands. According to Luke, Bedan was nothing if not meticulous. In addition, nearly all the evidence had been cataloged and moved to FBI headquarters, but her dad took time to sit on the high stool where Bedan had no doubt sat while working. David inhaled, exhaled, and tapped the white lacquer countertop. “Still no idea where they moved Bedan to?” he asked Luke.
Luke shook his head. “No. I spoke with Malcolm before we headed over to see if the Agency has learned anything new, but unfortunately when it comes to Bedan, they still know very little.”
“Malcolm.” David chuckled. “I haven’t heard that name in a long time. How is he?”
“Hard to say,” Luke said.
Tanner shifted. At times, most times, Luke spoke just as vaguely as her dad. Perhaps a tool of the trade.
Her father studied Luke for a moment and then asked, “I don’t believe you had a chance to respond to my earlier question. Do you believe Ebeid had an alternate location ready, or do you think you gained some time while they’re trying to regroup?”
Luke shrugged, his hands in his tan pants pockets. “Considering both Bedan and Ebeid’s thoroughness and meticulous attention to detail—” Luke sighed, raking a hand through his brown hair—“I fear they had a backup location. And in all honesty, we have to face the possibility that we might not find it in time. We need to focus on determining the deployment locations and intervening before they release the anthrax into the air.”
David rubbed his chin. “I agree. You have to plan for that contingency, but let’s pray we find the new location so it doesn’t come down to the wire.”
“We?” Tanner said. Had her father just said we? As in, he was planning to join their efforts? She had expected him to declare he was off on another case—posthaste.
Her father’s brown eyes fixed on her. “Yes, Tania. I plan to stay and see this through. To be of any help I can.”
“So, you’re staying?” she asked.
“As long as I’m able, but that depends on my boss.”
Before she could react—or most likely overreact—Tanner politely excused herself and moved into the main warehouse storage area, her ballet flats nearly silent as she walked along the concrete floor.
Her chest constricted. Her dad in her life, daily, after all this time.
Declan’s footfalls echoed behind her, the soles of his loafers tamping along the floor. He wrapped his arms around her from behind, engulfing her in the big bear hug she loved so much, and rested his head on her right shoulder, nuzzling his cheek against hers. “You okay with this? With your dad staying on with the team?”
“I don’t have a choice.” It was nice in some ways to see her dad, but in others, it only brought hard memories of her childhood flooding back.
“I know.” Declan sighed. “And I’m sorry, but on the plus side, it appears he has a lot of intel to offer.”
“Yeah.” She swiped the moisture from her eyes.
“Hey.” He squeezed her tighter. “I’ll walk right beside you through whatever his being here brings.”
She leaned her head against his strong chest, his muscular arms and six-foot-three solid frame making her feel safe, protected, and most importantly, loved. A line from her favorite psalm floated through her mind.
“He will cover you with his feathers, and under his wings you will find refuge.”
Declan had her, but even more importantly, God had her, and her Savior would never let go.
Calm settled in her soul as she reflected on God’s presence and protection in her life. She wished her parents knew Jesus. After she became a Christian, she’d tried sharing the abundant, overflowing joy she was experiencing as a new creation in Christ, but her parents had only attempted to shame her for leaving her Jewish faith behind. By believing in Jesus and His truth, she’d severed the threadbare string that had connected her to her parents. And they’d effectively disowned her.
It’d been a decade since she’d seen them, and now her father—her stern, secretive father—was here in her space, in her life. And his stoic demeanor indicated his hard heart hadn’t softened much in their years apart.
Deliberate footsteps sounded behind them, and then her dad stood before them. After pressing a kiss to her temple, Declan straightened and moved to clasp her hand, interlocking their fingers.
“May I have a word with my daughter?” her dad asked.
At least he still acknowledged she was his daughter, though he hardly treated her as such.
Declan looked to her and lifted his brows.
She nodded in affirmation, unable to stem the curiosity of what her dad wanted—would it be another chastisement or lecture this time?
Either way, she’d stop it in its tracks.
“Thank you,” her dad said as Declan excused himself, giving Tanner’s hand a reassuring squeeze before leaving.
“I’ll just be in the kitchen,” he said, assuring her he’d be within earshot if she needed him.
Her dad slid his hands into his trouser pockets, watching as Declan walked away. “He’s quite protective of you.”
“Yes, he is.” But in a respectful, loving, supportive way—so unlike her dad’s authoritative and controlling protection.
“You two are serious?” her dad asked, gesturing back toward Declan’s retreating form.
She couldn’t believe her father was taking an interest in her life. Or perhaps he was just assessing the situation as he always did—trying to determine the dynamics of the relationships of those around him, and summing people up.
“Yes,” she said.
“I see.” He rocked back on his heels.
She waited for him to condemn her. Declan was far from Jewish.
“He appears to be a good man.”
She gaped at him. Had he just given a sign of approval for a choice in her
life?
“Does he take care of you, treat you well?” he asked, shuffling his feet.
She narrowed her eyes. Was her dad nervous?
“Yes, he does, but I also know—”
“How to take care of yourself,” he finished for her.
And for that, she had to give him credit. Being the only child of a Mossad agent, she’d been taught self-defense and combat skills from a young age. She’d always assumed it was because he wanted a son . . . but perhaps, just perhaps, he’d worked her so hard because he loved her?
He’d never showed signs of affection, but maybe he felt them all the same, or maybe she was reading far more into his questions than existed.
“Yes. You taught me well,” she finally said.
“You were a spirited learner, a fierce fighter for such a little thing.”
“I didn’t have a choice.” He had trained her every day he was home, save the Sabbath—and instructed her to practice two hours a day every day, save the Sabbath.
“I wanted to make you strong.”
And I wanted to be loved.
“You always had such a soft heart,” he continued.
“That’s not a weakness.”
He frowned. “You believe I viewed it as one?”
“You said I was little, gentle—that I needed to learn to be strong.”
“Yes. You were already gentle. I wanted you to be strong too. To be both strong and gentle.”
“What?” Shock radiated through her. Was he actually saying he approved of her gentle side?
“I knew the tender heart you possessed, and if not paired with the skills I taught you, I knew if my enemies ever got a hold of you . . .” His jaw tensed.
“But I thought . . .”
“Thought what, Tania?”
That you didn’t love me. “That I was weak.”
“No, weak and gentle are two very different things. Gentle has its own strength, but gentle, unfortunately, does not protect you from enemies.” He shook his head and his features softened. “You were so tiny when you were born. I held you in the palm of my hand, your legs resting along my forearm. I knew when I looked in your beautiful brown eyes you were spirited, and I knew it would serve you well.”