Valley of Shadows and Stranger in the Shadows: Valley of ShadowsStranger in the Shadows

by Shirlee McCoy

Seconds stretched into minutes. Minutes into eternity. Perhaps they’d gone to search another area. Or maybe they were waiting for Miranda or Hawke to make the first move.

  A hoarse cry broke the silence, the sound so loud and so close, Miranda jumped. There was a crash, another shout, a thud. Muffled grunts. Muttered words. Something slammed into the trash can, releasing an avalanche of papers and garbage.

  And then it was over.

  Nothing moved, the air in the alley so still and thick Miranda was sure she would suffocate.

  “Come on out.” Hawke’s voice broke the silence, the relief of it sweeping through Miranda in waves. She scrambled to her feet, her gaze searching for Hawke.

  He stood at the far end of the alley, a man’s body at his feet. Another lay a few yards away. A third slumped against a pile of garbage, blood seeping from his mouth and dripping onto the grimy pavement.

  “Are they dead?” Miranda whispered the question, not really sure she wanted to hear his response.

  “No, but they will be if they don’t give me some answers.” His eyes were icy with rage, his jaw set, each word a staccato beat that jabbed into the air.

  “You’re not really going to kill them.” It was a protest more than a question.

  “No? Watch me.” He reached down, dragged the man up by his shirtfront and said something in Thai.

  The man shook his head, speaking in quick, frantic gasps.

  Hawke smiled, the expression so filled with malice Miranda took a step back. He spoke again, releasing the man’s shirt and grabbing his neck.

  “Hawke! No!” Miranda raced forward, horror at what she was seeing overriding fear, common sense and the self-preservation that had kept her still and quiet behind the rotting garbage and rat carcass.

  “Stay there, Miranda.” Hawke didn’t raise his voice, his focus never straying from the man whose life he held in his hand, but his words were a steel-edged blade that might cut quickly and ruthlessly if she didn’t obey.

  A little more pressure and the man’s air supply would be cut off, his tan skin already growing dusky and bluish, would darken. A lot more pressure and his trachea would be crushed, all hope of survival disappearing with his air supply. But there was no way it would come to that. No way Hawke would push things that far.

  Would he?

  Miranda didn’t want to believe it could happen, but the image danced through her mind, sickening and real, the moment like a nightmare, her words sticking in her throat, her feet glued to the ground, indecisiveness holding her in place. She’d seen Hawke’s rage, but he’d always maintained control. That didn’t mean he couldn’t or wouldn’t lose it.

  Trust him.

  The thought came out of nowhere, so foreign Miranda wanted to ignore it. Trusting men wasn’t what she did. Not anymore. She didn’t plan to change that anytime soon. Especially not when the man was someone she barely knew. Yet somehow trusting Hawke at this moment, in this instance, seemed right; believing that he wouldn’t coldheartedly murder a man seemed more possible than believing he would.

  She stayed put, watching with a sort of numb detachment as the man Hawke held twisted and struggled in his grip, his skin growing a shade darker, his eyes bulging in terror. Finally, just as Miranda was sure he’d pass out, he spoke, the words rasping out in a waterfall of unintelligible sound.

  Hawke must have understood. He smiled again, his eyes that of a predator, cold, hard and completely focused as he dropped the man to the ground in a puddle of coughing, choking humanity. Hawke spoke in harsh, angry tones and the man nodded, scrambling away, rushing from the alley.

  Only then did Hawke turn his attention back to Miranda. His eyes gleamed cold and unforgiving, but his voice was calm, almost cajoling. “Come on, babe. We’ve got to hurry.”

  He held out a hand and Miranda moved toward him, her legs shaking so hard she was afraid they’d give out. “What did he tell you?”

  “Not as much as I’d hoped he would. A drug dealer named Mahang Sharee hired him to bring me in. Apparently, Sharee has my brother and wants to negotiate a trade.”

  “Attacking us in an alley is a funny way to open up negotiations.”

  “Yeah, it is that, isn’t it? They would have killed me and brought my body in if they could have managed it. Offering my brother in trade was plan B.”

  “In trade for what?”

  “Me. I turn myself over. My brother goes free.”

  “Not really.”

  “No,” he spoke quietly, his hand on her shoulder in unconscious support. “And they know I know it. They also know I’ll do whatever it takes to have at least a chance of gaining Simon’s freedom.”

  “What now?”

  “We find Sharee.”

  “Do you have any idea where he is?”

  “Last time I heard, he was over the border in Myanmar.”

  “That’s pretty vague.”

  “Yeah, but I’m not worried. His man will pass along my message. In a few hours, I’ll be hearing from him.”

  “And hopefully he’ll lead you to Simon.”

  “Right.”

  “But what does Sharee have to do with what happened in Maryland? We’re half a world away from Liam and Green.”

  “Half a world away from Green, but not from the Wa and that’s who pays the bills for both men.”

  “The Wa?”

  They reached the motorcycle and Hawke got on, gesturing for Miranda to climb on after him. “They’re a militia group based in Myanmar and make their money selling opium. Sharee is a big part of that. The DEA has been trying to bring him down for years, but every time they get close he disappears, or their informants do.”

  “Just like with Harold Green.”

  “Just like with him.” Hawke squeezed her hand.

  “So, the same agent leaking information to one is also leaking it to the other.”

  “We’re thinking alike, babe. And I’d say Green and Sharee aren’t the only ones who are paying for inside information. Our guy has got to be making a lot of money. The question is, what is he doing with it?”

  “Putting it in a Swiss bank account?”

  “Maybe.”

  “Where else could it be?”

  “Used for something that Jack hasn’t found yet.”

  “Like?”

  “I don’t know, but I plan to find out. Let’s go check out some houses. A man’s loyalties can be found in his personal space.”

  With that they roared out of the alley and into traffic, the motorcycle speeding past vehicles, exhaust fumes stinging Miranda’s lungs. She clutched Hawke’s waist, buried her head in the back of his shirt, trying to quiet the wild throbbing of her pulse and praying that Hawke was right, that they’d find the information they needed. That soon she’d be on her way home, heading back to the silent town house and her little business, to the life that had seemed enough until Justin’s death, but that now stretched out before her, devoid of purpose.

  No, that wasn’t quite right. Her life wasn’t devoid of purpose, it was devoid of the certainty she’d had. In the years that she’d been Justin’s primary caregiver, she’d been so sure of her place here on earth. Now that he was gone, she didn’t know what direction her life would take, wasn’t even sure how she could know if the direction she chose was the one God wanted for her.

  She was determined to figure it out, though. Determined to do it right this time, to not hesitate when God put a task before her, to trust that He would guide her and keep her from making the same foolish mistakes she’d made in the past.

  Of course, all her determination wouldn’t mean a thing if she didn’t make it out of Thailand alive. She prayed that she would, that she’d have another chance to mend fences with her sister, to create a stronger relatio
nship with her brother, to live life to its fullest. No fear. No timidity. No shying away from what she knew was right.

  Hawke took a sharp corner, the motorcycle tilting, the world tilting with it, colors and sounds so bright and vivid, Miranda closed her eyes and pressed closer to Hawke’s back, inhaling his masculine scent. Her fingers dug into his side, her heart beating in time with his, her prayer for herself becoming a prayer for him, that he, too, would find purpose in the wild, crazy world he lived in. That God would touch his heart, heal his hurts and bring him safely through whatever trouble was to come.

  That He’d bring them both through it.

  Together.

  The word floated through her head, stuck fast in her heart, making her feel less alone than she had in a long, long time.

  And that, Miranda thought, was not a good thing.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Breaking into houses was easier than Miranda could have imagined. Still, she wasn’t sure if she should be impressed or appalled that Hawke was so good at it. They entered the first apartment through the front door, sauntering through a lobby, into an elevator and onto the correct floor as if they belonged there. Hawke knocked twice, waited a few minutes and then set to work on the lock. Within minutes, he had the door open.

  “There’s no security system that I can see. Let’s go.”

  “What if there’s one that you can’t see?”

  “Then we’re in trouble.” He tugged her into the apartment, and closed the door behind them. They were standing in a beige living room. The carpet, walls and furniture all varying shades of light brown. A few pictures decorated the wall, but even they lacked color, the watery pastel prints commanding little attention.

  “I don’t think this is our guy.” She whispered the words, though the house felt empty.

  “No? Why not?”

  “He’s got no imagination and no drive. Look how bland this room is.”

  “Maybe it’s that way because his time and creative energy is being used somewhere else.”

  “How can we know?”

  “We search.”

  “For…?”

  “For something that looks important.”

  An hour later, they’d found nothing more exciting than an application for a dating service and Miranda was more convinced than ever that the man who lived in the apartment wasn’t the leak.

  “I think we’re wasting time.” She shot a glance at Hawke who was sifting through a canister of flour, his dark hands coated in white powder.

  He brushed them off, replaced the canister lid. “You’ve got good instincts, babe. Let’s get out of here.”

  The next apartment was occupied, the woman who answered the door a fortysomething American with bleached-blond hair and a bright smile. “Yes?”

  “Mrs. Austin?”

  “Yes?”

  “I’m Agent Randolph and this is Agent Johnson. We work with your husband.”

  “Is something wrong?”

  “Not at all. We conduct a drug awareness program at the orphanage just outside of Chiang Mai. Do you know it?”

  “I do. My friends and I visit there once a month.”

  “That must be why your husband said you might have something to contribute.” Hawke smiled, his voice warm and friendly. He looked nothing like the man who’d nearly choked someone in an alley just a short time ago.

  “Contribute?”

  “We’re collecting used books and toys to take over there later today.”

  “He must have forgotten to mention it, but I’m sure I’ve got some things here you can have. Come on in. I’ll only be a minute.” She opened the door wide, gestured for them to enter. “Would you like something to drink? Tea? Water? Coffee?”

  “We’re fine, and you don’t need to trouble yourself looking for donations. We can come again in two weeks when we’re scheduled to go back to the orphanage.” Hawke smiled again, shooting a warning in Miranda’s direction, his lies so smooth and convincing it was hard to believe he hadn’t practiced them.

  “Oh, no. You’re here and I’ve got fifteen minutes before I need to leave for my women’s club meeting. Let me just run and have a look.” She disappeared down the hall, and Hawke moved quickly, crossing the room, scanning a bookshelf that stood against the wall, picking up a framed photo. Then another.

  “Do you—”

  He shook his head sharply, stepping away from the shelf as Mrs. Austin returned, her arms filled with books. “My kids don’t read these anymore. I’d love for you to take them.”

  “Thank you. Do you mind if I use your restroom before we leave?”

  “Go right ahead. It’s down the hall and to the left.”

  “Thanks. And maybe I’ll take you up on the offer of a drink if it’s not too much bother.”

  “Of course. What can I get for you?”

  “Water will be fine. How about you, Ms. Johnson?” There was a message in Hawke’s eyes, but Miranda couldn’t read it. Did he want her to accept? Refuse?

  “Sure, a glass of water would be great.” She managed to get the words out, saw the approval in Hawke’s gaze and knew she was on the right track.

  If this were a movie, she’d create a distraction so Hawke could search the rest of the house. But what kind of distraction? A fainting spell? A fire?

  Maybe simple conversation was the best bet.

  “Let me help you.” She stood, following Mrs. Austin into her bright, airy kitchen. The dust motes dancing in the sunlight that streamed through the tall windows, the yellow walls and the crayon-art decoration on the refrigerator all reminded Miranda of home. “You have a lovely home.”

  “Thank you. It’s not really what I’d hoped for when we got here. I’d been thinking we’d get a single family home, but they didn’t have any available. How about you?”

  “I’m in an apartment here, too.”

  “Have you been here long?”

  “No. I just arrived.”

  “I thought so. My husband mentioned that a new agent was arriving soon. How do you like it so far?”

  “Thailand seems like a wonderful place to work.” She hoped Mrs. Austin wouldn’t press for more, because she knew nothing about the kind of day to day work that went into being a DEA agent.

  “It’s a great country. Though I’ve got to say, I’m looking forward to returning home.” She handed Miranda a glass of ice water.

  “When will that be?” Miranda took a sip of water, hoping she could keep the conversation focused on the other woman.

  “Another year. Maybe two. We were going to return to Michigan this year, but my husband thought staying here for another year would help us financially.”

  Miranda’s pulse accelerated at the mention of finances. If Hawke had been in the room, he would have known what to say, but he wasn’t and Miranda struggled to come up with something that would keep the conversation moving in the same direction. “That sounds like a smart move.”

  “I guess so. We’ve got two kids to put through college, so I can’t argue that it’s not, but I miss home. My parents, sister and brother, their kids. I’d be happy to be back there with them again.” She shrugged, smiled. “But you didn’t come here to hear my life story.”

  “It’s okay. I understand.”

  “Do you have a large family?”

  “Not really, but what I have I already miss.” That, at least, was the truth.

  “Are we ready, Johnson?” Hawke strode into the room, the books in his hands, and accepted the glass of water Mrs. Austin held out to him.

  “Yes.” More than ready.

  “Thank you for your donation, Mrs. Austin.”

  They said their goodbyes, stepped out into the hall, and walked away as t
he door clicked shut behind them.

  Miranda almost sagged with relief. “I hope the next place is empty. I’m not good at pretending to be someone I’m not.”

  “I don’t think we’re going to have to worry about it.” Hawke stepped past the elevator and pushed open a door that led to the stairwell, pulling Miranda inside.

  “What do you mean?”

  “The picture on the bookshelf was interesting.”

  “The family photo?”

  “Yeah. But it wasn’t the family that caught my attention. It was the background. It looked like it was taken in Russia. I found a photo album in their bedroom. One of those scrapbooks women like to keep. Labeled real nice. There were pictures of a trip the Austins took to Chechnya before they were married.”

  “You were in their bedroom?”

  “Did you really think I was visiting the little boy’s room, babe?”

  “No. You just work fast. Do you think the trip to Chechnya has relevance?”

  “I think someone very close to the Austins must live there.”

  “That’s not surprising. Lots of people in the States have relatives in other countries.”

  “True, but I’ve got a feeling about this.”

  “What kind of feeling?”

  “The kind that tells me Austin might have a place to send tens of thousands of dollars a year. The kind that tells me we’d better wait for his wife to leave and take a closer look at the apartment.”

  “I hope you’re wrong. She seems so nice and they’ve got two kids”

  “Life would be a lot simpler if the bad guys were easy to spot. Most of the time, though, they’re just average people on the surface. Only further examination can ever reveal the truth.”

  “I hope further examination proves Austin is innocent. If he isn’t, the entire family will be devastated.”

  “Bad choices lead to bad consequences. Not only for the one who makes them. We’ve got to accept that and do what we’ve set out to do. If that means bringing a nice woman’s husband to justice, so be it.” Hawke cracked the stairwell door open. “Mrs. Austin said she had a meeting. Let’s see if she leaves on time.”