“It is what it is. Besides, I am being myself. Did you hear me say anything that wasn’t true?”
“I didn’t hear you say much about yourself at all.”
“I knew what I was getting into when I joined the Marshals’ office.” Not being able to tell Elliott everything didn’t really bother her.
What did bother her was the timing of his reestablishing contact. Why now?
Could he possibly be working with Rosetti? He’d been vague about who he worked for and Rosetti did operate a large corporation. In the private sector. Maybe Rosetti had discovered the link in their past and was exploiting that to track down Reilly so his goons could finish what they’d started.
No. That was ridiculous. The odds of Elliott working for Rosetti were astronomically low.
No matter the odds against it, that fraction of a chance couldn’t be completely dismissed. A background check on Elliott should turn up the answers necessary to either ease or fortify her suspicions.
₪ ₪ ₪ ₪ ₪
“Why do you always have to patrol the beach?”
Lana glanced up from her shoelaces to find Reilly leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed over his chest, eyebrows pressed low over his eyes.
“We have to secure the area. You know that.”
“It shouldn’t be you. Let Peters or Rodriguez do it.”
“You mean let one of the guys handle it, don’t you? I’ve never known you to be sexist before.”
Color flooded his cheeks. “It’s not sexist. It’s common sense. It’s bad enough you jog alone at home, but here you don’t even know the terrain.”
An argument was the last thing she wanted.
Especially since this had little to do with her jogging alone.
She finished tying her shoelace and pushed up from the bed. “I appreciate the concern, but I’m perfectly safe. Earwig in my ear, communicator clipped to my collar, gun near my fingertips, running shoes in place.”
“None of which will stop a bullet.”
“Come on, Ri. Look at me. Would anyone who doesn’t know me instantly think, hey, I bet she’s a cop? Seriously.”
The scowl twisting his features was one she suspected he normally reserved for defense lawyers. “Maybe not, but if a hit man is out to get me, couldn’t you be a target, too?”
It was possible, and a concern she was certain the rest of the team shared. “Until we know who’s been hired we work under the assumption that you’re the only target.”
“I don’t like it.”
She slid past him. “You don’t have to like it, but I have a job to do. Remember, you’re the one who pushed for me to be here. What did you think this would look like?”
“I’m going to talk to Alex.” He fell into step with her as she descended the stairs.
“Go ahead. But if you want to do something really productive, you could pray. This is all in God’s hands.”
A sigh seeped from his mouth and his shoulders sagged. “Just be careful, okay?”
“I always am.”
In the kitchen, Rodriguez pushed up from the table and let her out the back door.
Moisture laced the air, chilling through her jacket even as the deadbolt scraped into place behind her. At least the rain that’d plagued them most of the day had tapered off during dinner.
Mist shrouded the beach, shadowing the restless ocean in a gray haze.
She crossed the damp lawn, pushed through the gate, and stepped onto the wet sand.
The beach appeared to be mostly deserted, no surprise given the weather.
Several shapes rose out of the mist like formless monsters. The shudder that rocked her body couldn’t be suppressed; the image too closely resembled one of those creepy movies Reilly occasionally got the urge to watch.
Much as she hated those movies, she’d gladly watch a marathon rather than live this horror story of her own.
Focus.
It was only a horror story if something happened to Reilly. And she wasn’t about to let that happen.
One of the figures drew closer. Features slowly formed. Chow.
He paused several feet from her location. “All is quiet out here.”
“Thanks.” Moving past him, she jogged through sand that shifted beneath her feet. As she approached the packed sand, she studied the people in her field of vision.
Two people, most likely a couple judging by the lack of space between them, strolled down by the ocean’s edge. Though she couldn’t see them well enough to discern any details, she could tell they were walking away from her.
Another person – diminutive size indicated a woman – jogged with a dog by her side. Also moving away from the target zone.
The only other person was significantly larger. He had something in his hands.
Damp air stuck in her lungs.
A gun? She was too far away to confirm or disprove that suspicion.
He lifted the object.
The cold metal of her Glock met her fingers.
Wait – he wasn’t aiming at the house. Whatever he held, he was directing it toward the ocean.
Confusion melted away.
Because it wasn’t a gun. It was a camera.
Which meant that the man was probably that photographer from last night. Miller.
What was he doing down here again?
Once she could’ve overlooked, but twice? If he were staying at a hotel – likely, since he’d indicated he didn’t know the area – he’d traveled a reasonable distance to come to this section of beach. And for what, a few pictures?
And why tonight? By his own admission, he liked shooting sunsets. It would take nothing less than x-ray vision to see the sun go down tonight.
Raise the alarm or let it go?
Ugh. Peters was in the camera room tonight. If she said something, he’d be the one most likely to respond. And if it amounted to nothing, as she suspected it would, he’d probably accuse her of being an alarmist.
The last thing she needed to do was give Peters more ammunition in his quest to have her sent home.
For now, she’d be quiet and watch for suspicious activity.
It’d be better if he didn’t see her. Then she could watch him unencumbered. And hopefully, without having someone to talk to, he’d move out of the security grid soon.
She casually altered her course. Away from the ocean and toward the more loosely packed sand.
Barely ten steps into her plan, he turned and pointed his camera at the houses lining the beach. Her pulse almost drowned out the sound of the crashing waves.
What was he doing?
He’d said he liked sunsets and nature. Houses were neither of those things.
Time to alert the team.
She paused with her hand on the communicator. Exactly what was she going to tell them? That there was a man who might attack them with his camera?
“Hey!” A hand lifted in a half wave.
Dang. He’d spotted her. Maybe she could pretend she hadn’t heard–
“Lana!”
Nope. He was too close for that card to work. Ignoring him at this point would only draw attention and undue suspicion.
She responded with a small wave of her own.
Well, as long as she was now obligated to converse, maybe she could get answers to some of the more troubling questions.
“It’s good to see you.”
She wished she could say the same. Especially because Alex had been right; he wasn’t bad to look at.
Instead, she forced a smile she didn’t feel. “I’m surprised to see you out tonight. No sunset.”
A light shrug danced across his shoulders. “This fog creates kind of an interesting effect, don’t you think?”
If by interesting he meant eerie and challenging to secure the area, then yeah. Sure.
He didn’t seem to expect a response as he continued, “I especially liked the way the fog wrapped around that one there.”
Following his finger, she surveyed the house to whic
h he pointed. The large two-story needed to have the paint stripped and reapplied. Overgrown weeds filled the yard. More importantly, it was only three houses down from the safe house.
“That one? It looks kind of, I don’t know, decrepit.”
Straight teeth flashed from his full grin. “Exactly. Doesn’t the fog give it a mysterious hue?”
She examined the house more closely. It looked like something out of a B-grade thriller movie, not what she’d consider art. But if there was one thing she’d learned from spending time around Reilly’s girlfriend, it was that creative types, artists especially, saw the world through different eyes.
Shifting her attention from the house, she found Miller watching her.
Was he waiting for her to say something?
She offered a small shake of her head. “Sorry. I don’t see it.”
A laugh bubbled from him. “That’s okay. Not many people would. But if you saw the print once I develop it, I think you’d understand.”
“I’m surprised you come down this far on the beach. It’s quite a walk from the hotels.”
“I like the view down here.”
Really? He was going to leave it at that? “Hate to break it to you, but it’s the same ocean. The view can’t be all that different.”
“You’d be surprised. Fewer people to ruin the shots, less litter and debris, plus those great old houses. It’s a photographer’s paradise.”
“I guess you would know.”
“Is this your first trip to Lincoln City?”
The word yes sprang to her lips, but froze on her tongue. Why did she feel like she should say no?
If Miller was a sniper, admitting she had or had not been here before would have zero impact on the case.
She pushed the caution aside. “As far as I know, yes. How about you?”
No one else was on the beach. At least not as far as she could see.
The only visible threat to Reilly’s safety at the moment stood directly in front of her.
“I’ve been here a time or two. I travel up and down the coast any chance I get.” His attention didn’t stray from her face. “Are you traveling with family?”
Why did he want to know?
Relax.
It was actually a pretty normal question, one she wouldn’t give much thought to any other time. “Yeah. We just needed an escape from the daily grind, you know?”
“I get it. Are you guys sticking around for a while?”
Wait a second; she’d wanted to get more information from him. How did this conversation become about her? “Another week or so. What drew you to this area? Family?”
Hardness flitted across his face and darkened his brown eyes. “I don’t have any family. I grew up in a group home.”
Words abandoned her.
A humorless laugh seeped from him. He blinked several times and managed a smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “Not an experience I’d recommend.”
The light attitude he faked failed miserably, colored by a pain few people would ever understand.
But she was one of the few.
“I never knew my parents either.” The words escaped like a convict after a prison break.
Why had she said that? Way too much personal information.
Besides, while it might seem like they shared common ground, what did she really know about him anyway? They might have completely different backgrounds.
His voice halted the tirade inside her head. “Wish I could say the same. I knew my mom, but it would’ve been better if I hadn’t.”
Well, the topic had already been opened and spilled all over the place. Since she couldn’t take it back, she might as well roll with it and see what else she could learn. “Most days I’m able to say I don’t care, but… I don’t know, there’s always this part of me that wonders what they were like.”
“Well take it from me, sometimes it’s better not knowing. My last memory of my mom was when she dropped me off in front of the group home. I was five. She told me to be a man and she’d be back. Yeah, right.”
How awful. “What about your dad? Where was he during all this?”
He dug the toe of his shoe in the damp sand. “I don’t even think Mom knew who he was. Probably one of her johns. Or her pimp. Never did like that guy.”
Johns.
Pimp.
Whoa. Bad enough that his mother had been a prostitute, but he’d known enough to be able to connect the dots as he got older.
What did a childhood like that do to a kid?
“So you actually met, uh…”
Wow. What was she thinking?
There was no tactful way to ask a question like that, nor was it any of her business.
“Oh yeah. She used to lock me in the closet when her clients came over. Seemed that pimp was never far away.”
“I–I’m sorry.” Lame. Was that the best she could offer?
“You know the saying. What doesn’t kill us makes us stronger, right?”
“So they say.” The image of a brown-haired little boy cowering in the back of a closet haunted her thoughts.
“Now that you’ve heard my story, what’s yours?”
Not at the top of her list of things she wanted to discuss. But how could she not answer after what he’d just told her? “I was abandoned on a pastor’s doorstep when I was little. They adopted me.”
“So this brother you’re traveling with…”
“Adoptive.”
“Lucky you. Are you the oldest?”
“No, he has a few years on me. And he reminds me of it every chance he gets.”
“Tanner. Everything okay?” Peters’ voice barked in her ear.
She blinked. When had it gotten so dark? No wonder they were checking up on her.
Time to get away from Nate. “I had no idea it was so late. I better get going.”
His hand gently caught her elbow. “I’m glad I ran into you.”
Measuring out a breath, she tried to relax the muscles that had stiffened automatically at his touch. “Me, too.”
The words rolled off her tongue. Funny thing was, she actually meant them.
“So, I, uh, wasn’t just at this end of the beach for the pictures. I mean, I was, but I had kinda hoped I’d run into you again.” He dropped his hand, fidgeted, and ran his fingers through his hair. “Would you like to grab dinner? Maybe tomorrow?”
Whoa. He was asking her out. She should’ve seen that one coming, but it still caught her off guard.
Say something!
She knew what the answer had to be, but somehow couldn’t find the right words. “It sounds like fun, but our situation is, um, well, it’s complicated. My time often isn’t my own.”
“That’s cryptic.” He quirked an eyebrow, but the lighthearted gesture didn’t completely mask his disappointment.
“I know. I’m sorry. I’d like to, but–”
“Lana, you okay?” Alex. Probably wondering why she hadn’t checked in yet. Or responded to Peters’ inquiry.
She focused on Miller. “I’m sorry, I need to get going.”
“Well, how about I walk you back to your hotel?”
“Actually, I’m headed that way.” She nodded toward a public beach access point several houses away.
“Oh. Okay, then. Can I say that I hope I run into you again?”
“Yeah. Well, have a good evening.” She stole a surreptitious glance at the safe house. The fog made it difficult to tell for sure, but she was reasonably certain no one was in the vicinity. As much as she hated to do it, she started jogging in the opposite direction.
Once she was a safe distance away, she got on her communicator. “Things look good out here. I’m headed back.”
“Stinking fog. We couldn’t see you.” Tension laced Alex’s words. “Where have you been?”
“Everything’s fine. I’ll explain when I get there.”
Good thing Alex was a friend. If Peters was in charge, she would probably find herself on the next plane back to Flo
rida.
Of course if Peters was in charge, she never would’ve made it to Oregon in the first place.
When she reached the public beach access, she looked back. Nate’s form was visible – barely – down by the water, walking away from the safe house in the direction of the hotels. She jogged to the road and followed it back to the safe house.
She’d wanted to say yes. To Nate’s invitation.
Unbelievable.
It was crazy. Anything but cautious. Spontaneous, in fact.
And completely unlike her.
She couldn’t even say that she’d wanted to accept just to keep an eye on him. No, she wanted to spend more time with him.
Not many people understood the feeling of being on the outside. In fact, in many ways, she didn’t feel like she understood it herself. The Tanners had accepted her and loved her so deeply that she hardly ever remembered that she wasn’t biologically a part of their family.
But when she did, those old feelings of abandonment, questions of why she hadn’t been worth keeping, rose to the surface like a corpse in the water.
Nate understood those feelings. In a way no one else she’d ever met before could.
Reaching the house, she circled to the back and surveyed the beach. All clear. “I’m at the back door.”
The door opened as she reached it. Concern etched Alex’s face as she let Lana inside.
“What happened? It’s not like you to go silent. Or be late.”
“Nate Miller.”
“The photographer?”
She answered with a curt nod. “One of the only people on the beach.”
“What did you learn?”
Ah, Alex knew her so well. She recapped the conversation quickly, leaving out Nate’s dinner invitation.
Short fingernail tapping her lip absently, Alex studied her face. “Seems odd to me that he would return to this particular area.”
“The same thought occurred to me.”
“Did you ask him about it?”
“He claimed he likes the seclusion and the old beachfront houses.” A small humpf slid from Alex’s mouth and Lana continued, “It sounded a little off to me, too.”
“And he gave no other reason?” Concern narrowed Alex’s eyes. “I wonder if we’ve been made, although I don’t know how.”
Dang. No getting around it, was there? “He did say that he’d hoped to run into me.”
Deadly Alliances Page 8