Operation Mountain Recovery

by Justine Davis

  “That may well be part of it.”

  Brady drew back slightly. “Wait...you think...but she’s got a psychiatrist—”

  He stopped when Quinn held up a hand. “What I should have said was that we will verify her exact situation.”

  “How? Doctor-patient privilege and all?”

  “We’ll work that out if and when Ashley gives us the go-ahead. But let me ask you something. The way she reacted in the crash, did that seem to you like someone mentally incapable of handling herself?”

  Brady sucked in a deep breath as Quinn landed upon exactly what had been bothering him the most. “No. And people usually show their true colors under that kind of stress. But how a mental disorder might affect that, I don’t know. I just don’t know enough about it.”

  “Exactly,” Quinn agreed. “And so we will dig into that, as well. We have people who do know.”

  He didn’t say any of this, Brady noted, like someone who was winging it. He said it like a man with a plan, and more, the wherewithal to carry it out.

  “What, exactly, is Foxworth?” he asked warily.

  “Just what we told you.”

  He thought about that takedown of the governor, and the other cases he’d read about when he’d done that bit of research. Including Quinn’s role in taking out a cop killer. “And you have what, endless resources?”

  “Not endless, but sufficient,” Quinn answered. Then, with a half grin, he added, “Let’s just say our finance person is an utter genius.”

  He gave the man a doubtful frown. And then Hayley said proudly, “Quinn and his sister founded Foxworth on their parents’ life insurance and built it into something amazing. And now, between that financial acumen and the goodwill and eagerness of those we’ve helped to help others, we have as close to endless resources as is possible for a private entity.”

  “Life insurance,” Brady murmured. “The bombing.”

  Quinn nodded. Brady thought a little more, searching his memory. Quinn stayed silent, letting him.

  “That back-room deal, where they let the guy go back to the warmth and welcome of his terrorist buddies,” he said slowly. Quinn lifted a brow, but still said nothing. “That was...so wrong,” Brady said. “And all his victims couldn’t do a thing about it.”

  “Exactly,” Quinn said, nodding his head in apparent approval.

  “That’s the kind of thing you fight? Try to make right?”

  “It is. The circumstances vary greatly, but that is what we do.”

  Hayley offered him more coffee. He thought he might need the jolt to wrap his mind around all this, so he said yes. She poured, and he thanked her. Ordinary. But there was nothing ordinary about any of this.

  Then Hayley said with a smile, “As one of our recent clients put it, we help people in the right turn lost causes into wins. And we do it without taking anything more from them.”

  It seemed impossible to believe that there were people who made that their business, yet sought no glory or fame for it.

  “So, what do you say?” Quinn asked. “In or out? Or do you need time to think about it?”

  Brady sighed. Set down his coffee mug. He didn’t really need time. He knew he’d already made the decision when he’d brought Ashley here instead of taking her in.

  “I think I’ll go get my civvies out of my unit. Maybe I’ll feel less guilty about this if I’m not in uniform.”

  Quinn grinned at him. “Whatever works.”

  “You can change in the media room,” Hayley suggested, gesturing to a doorway that closed off a room that was apparently better for the purpose than the multiwindowed great room. “Ashley’s going to take the second bedroom, but there’s a foldout bed in there that’s probably a lot more comfortable than the floor,” she added.

  Brady was still shaking his head—whether at the existence of Foxworth or his own craziness at accepting all this, he wasn’t sure—as he opened the back of the unit and grabbed his go bag.

  He headed back inside. Saw that Cutter was back down the hall, sitting beside the bathroom door. As if he knew Ashley would be coming out soon.

  Brady closed the media room doors behind him and quickly shed his gear and uniform, then got out the jeans and sweatshirt he always carried in the bag. Silly as it was, it did make a difference, he thought as he pulled the jeans on and reached for the sweatshirt.

  And tried not to think of possibly similar actions going on just down the hall. Tried not to picture Ashley naked, or in some lacy confection, as she pulled on her borrowed clothes.

  He failed utterly, and zipping up his jeans was an interesting proposition.

  Chapter 15

  Ashley felt decidedly odd. As if she were living in the snow globe her father had given her, complete with the snow. A small, contained world where nothing bad could ever get in. Peaceful, quiet and safe.

  And remember what happened to it.

  It had been the first day she’d truly had to face the truth about her father. She’d come home from school to find her mother cleaning up the shattered globe, giving her the saddest of looks as she explained that Ashley’s father had once more lost control and this time destroyed her most precious belonging, which he himself had given her.

  And he had committed suicide barely a month later.

  She shook off the painful memory as she stood staring out the window at the fresh snow that had fallen overnight. But that only made room for more painful thoughts—that she was following the same path. That she had lost control enough to have attacked her own mother, then manufactured an innocent scenario that her miswired or off-kilter brain seized upon as reality, so vividly it was impossible for her to believe it wasn’t true.

  Delusional. That’s what she was.

  She turned around to face where Quinn, Hayley and... Brady were waiting. The Foxworths were seated, but Brady was on his feet, pacing, as if he were too restless to sit. She was startled by how much different he looked in civilian clothes. Minus the bulk of his gear, she was able to clearly see how lean and trim his waist and hips were, and how broad his shoulders and chest. The jeans he’d put on did crazy things to her pulse, and as he turned to go back the way he’d come, she found herself watching those back pockets in a way that would no doubt embarrass both of them if he turned around and caught her.

  She yanked her gaze away from him and sat down as Quinn and Hayley started to explain in detail who they were and what they, and their foundation, did. She was puzzled but listened because it was fascinating. Who’d have thought there was a group dedicated to such a thing? Lost but righteous causes?

  It wasn’t until Hayley paused and asked if she was with them so far that she realized this wasn’t just getting-to-know-you chitchat—this was specific.

  “I’m following. And I think what you do is wonderful. But why are you telling me all this?”

  “We’re offering Foxworth help, Ashley,” Hayley said.

  She blinked. “To me?”

  “Yes.”

  “But...nobody can help me.” It sounded so forlorn, it embarrassed her. And that put an edge into her voice. “I don’t have that kind of problem. Don’t you understand? I’m going crazy, just like my father did, and there’s nothing they can do about it.”

  Brady spun around on his heel, startling her. “Did you get a second opinion?”

  She stared at him. “What?”

  “First thing you do when you get a killer diagnosis is get a second opinion. Did you?”

  “I... No. I mean, we know Dr. Andler. He treated my father.”

  “Not very successfully,” Brady said sourly. She stared at him. He couldn’t have chilled her more if he’d thrown her out in the snow. He grimaced and closed his eyes for a moment, then met her gaze. “Sorry. That was a lousy way to put it.”

  He meant it. She could hear it in his voice, see it in those clear blue
eyes. The chill faded. “Yes,” she agreed. “But you have a point.”

  “I freely admit I don’t care for the man.”

  “I... You know him?”

  “Two years ago I was involved in a trial where he was called as an expert witness for the defense.”

  “Mind telling us what bothers you about him?” Quinn asked, his tone casual.

  Brady looked at the other man and said flatly, “He manipulated the jury. Cleverly, but still. His testimony was instrumental in getting a rapist off.”

  “You were the arresting officer?”

  “I was.”

  “But if he was found innocent,” Ashley began with a slight frown.

  Brady’s voice went harsh then. “He felt invincible after he walked free. So he raped three more women in the first week he was out, one of them a fifteen-year-old girl. And that’s in large part on Dr. Joseph Andler.”

  She felt herself go pale. “My God. No wonder he practically ordered me to get a birth control shot after one time I ended up in...a bad place, with two strange men.”

  “Of course,” Brady said, still with an edge. “He knew there were men like that out there, because he put one out there.”

  “But naturally,” Hayley said sourly, “being only a witness giving his opinion, there were no repercussions for him.”

  “Naturally,” Brady said, echoing her tone.

  “I...didn’t know this,” Ashley said, sounding as shaken as she felt.

  He turned to look at her then. And his voice was gentle, with that soothing tone that eased her fears, when he said, “Not your fault. You trusted his credentials.”

  “And my mother’s recommendation,” she murmured, almost to herself. At Brady’s sharper look, she realized how that had sounded. “She said he truly tried to help my father and that he was devastated when he committed suicide. Took it as a personal failure.”

  “Maybe your father couldn’t be helped,” Brady said, then looked as if he regretted saying it. She lowered her gaze and softly voiced what she guessed was the reason for that feeling.

  “And maybe I can’t be, either.”

  She sensed him move, then felt the gentle touch of a finger under her chin, tilting her head back.

  “I don’t believe that,” he said, quietly but firmly.

  She looked at him, thinking it amazing that a man in his job could have such warm, kind eyes. Beautiful, deep blue eyes. She remembered with sudden vividness the first time she’d looked into them, as he’d pulled her from the car in the moment before it had slid down the mountain. She remembered thinking then—rather inanely, given the circumstances—that those eyes promised she would be safe, that somehow he would get her out of this.

  And he had. At no small risk to himself.

  She couldn’t let him risk himself even more.

  “I can’t tell you what that means to me,” she said softly. “But you’ve already done enough. More than enough. I don’t want to...entangle you in my mess when there’s nothing to do about it.”

  His tone went harsh. “Except jump off a cliff?”

  She didn’t even wince. “Most of my life I’ve been hurt and angry about my father. Angry at my father, because I thought he was a coward. Because I couldn’t understand why he did it. How he could leave me. Now I do.”

  “Ashley—”

  “It’s too much, Brady. And if the alternative is being locked up somewhere, drugged up but always knowing every day I’ll lose a little more reality, then...” She ended with a shrug.

  Hayley rose and came to her. The woman’s eyes were warm, gentle. “You’ve been alone, Ashley. You’re not anymore.”

  “I’ve had my mother. She tries so hard, but—”

  “Your mother has your father haunting her, as well,” Hayley said. “What happened has to color her thinking, just as it does yours.” Ashley had never thought about it in quite that way. The tumult inside her calmed a little as Hayley continued. “But it doesn’t color ours. At least let us try.”

  “But why? Why would you?”

  Oddly, the woman glanced at Cutter. But she said only, “It’s what we do.”

  “And what if you conclude I can’t be...fixed?”

  Quinn spoke for the first time in a while, and his voice echoed with both certainty and command, just as Brady’s sometimes did. “Then we’ll still be there with you, every step of the way.”

  Ashley was certain she looked as doubtful as she felt. But then Brady said, very quietly, “Ashley, if there’s even a chance...you have to take it. You can’t give up until you do.”

  Her gaze shifted to him. He was looking at her with those eyes, steadily, with none of the wariness or repulsion she often saw in the expressions of people who knew she was having mental issues.

  “Brady,” she began, but her voice faded away as no more words came to her. As if merely saying his name was all that mattered.

  “What do you have to lose?” His voice was even softer now.

  And he had, she realized, a point. What did she have to lose? She’d nearly made that fatal leap last night—what could possibly be worse than that?

  Being locked up somewhere, unable to end the nightmare? Living for years in a drug-induced haze? Unable to end it even if she wanted to?

  She heard a faint whine, realized Cutter had once more stationed himself beside her. As if he were showing her he, too, was with her against the world, if need be. The fanciful thought would have made her smile if her mind hadn’t been whirling into chaos.

  As he leaned against her knees, she reached out to stroke the dog’s head. And yet again that calm stole over her, as if there were some soothing magic in his soft fur. And something in those amber-flecked eyes calmed the turmoil, until the truth of what Brady had said was all that remained.

  What did she have to lose?

  Chapter 16

  Brady didn’t understand the picture that was emerging.

  Ashley didn’t fit neatly into any category he knew. In fact, if he had to base an assessment on the last couple of days since they’d been holed up—something that would likely cost him his job if this went sour—in Alex’s place, on the hours on end he’d spent with her, watching her, talking with her, he would say she seemed perfectly normal for the circumstances. There was no forgetting, no confusion, no misremembering. No odd tangents or impossible-to-follow thought processes.

  Quinn had asked her to recount her entire life, it seemed, from the time the breaks in her mental state had begun. And she had done it, starting with when the recurring nightmares had started. She’d sadly admitted some days were shrouded in a befuddled fog, and a few hours here and there lost altogether. Yet she still managed to give a reasonable account of the timing of everything, from the onset of the problems, through when she’d begun therapy with Dr. Andler, the medications he’d put her on, to having to leave her job because the confusion was getting worse, until she started blanking out on hours at a time. Finally, after the incident with the potential rapists, having to get the birth control shot for her own sake. That had been a severe wake-up call, and the pressure to come and stay with her mother had become too much and she’d agreed.

  It was a sad tale, and one that made him feel this was at best foolish, and at worst a lost cause.

  But hadn’t Hayley said lost causes were Foxworth’s specialty?

  Just as he thought it, Hayley somehow found something to say that made Ashley laugh. He looked over at them, at Ashley, and was slammed anew with the realization she was beautiful. And that he’d give a great deal for that smile, that cheer, to be her permanent state. When that thought registered, the only words that came to this mind were slippery slope.

  He turned away.

  Do not go there, Crenshaw. Do not read into that little smile she gives you, those shy glances, that she’s feeling anything more than grateful that you didn�
��t drag her off to jail as you should have. Because even if she feels the same pull, even if there was genuine invitation there, it’s not one you can accept. Not when her life is in such chaos. Haven’t you had enough experience with a fragile woman to last you a lifetime?

  Quinn, who had been standing across the great room on the phone, ended his call and walked over to where Brady stood looking out the window at the snow continuing to fall. It was a good thing the Foxworths had gone on that shopping expedition yesterday, picking up clothes and necessities for both him and Ashley. He’d thought about going back to his place for supplies, but after he’d made that call and mentioned being familiar with the suspect, he thought it might be better to stay out of sight. He might be ending his career by this decision to not take her in, but that didn’t mean he had to hurry it along.

  He looked at Quinn, who had just called to let the people back at their headquarters know they wouldn’t be back as scheduled. “Sorry about that.”

  “Our people get it. They’re as committed as we are.”

  Brady believed it. They had spent these two days talking with Ashley, and he had been amazed. He generally didn’t have time for slow reveals—once the initial case report was done, that was usually the end of it for him—but he was suddenly seeing the appeal of genuine, careful detective work.

  “There’s one thing I’m already mostly convinced of, though,” Quinn said.

  “What?”

  The man looked over to where Hayley and Ashley were sitting on the couch, Cutter plopped on their feet. “That woman is as clearheaded as you or me.”

  Brady let out a long breath. “Yes. She is.”

  “I haven’t seen a single break in her stability. Have you?”

  He shook his head. “Not a one. Her mind seems crystal clear.”

  Quinn nodded. “Ty—he’s our dig-deep guy—is going after what we can get on her father. And mother.” The man gave Brady a half smile. “And one of my local guys is working up some info on your favorite shrink.”

  Brady drew back slightly. “Is this one of those times Dunbar warned me about, when I shouldn’t ask questions about how you do...what you do?”