by Vicki Hinze
“What’s the consensus on Robert? What would they do with him?” Her stomach muscles clenched in a tight wad that nearly doubled her over. Jeff’s sober expression darkened. She lifted a hand to her chest. “You think they killed him.”
“I won’t speculate.” He looked away. “But I’ll keep the case open until it’s resolved.”
She stared at her briefcase, at the paper edges of the unsigned agreement between Sara and her removing Robert from operations in SaBe. “If they abandoned the money, then he’s a loose end. They wouldn’t just let him go. They’d kill him, and then move on to whatever else they intend to do.” A thought occurred to her and she hesitated. “May I ask a question?”
He nodded.
“What if Robert is involved in this? What if he is the same Robert in Thomas Boudin’s case and this isn’t about money but about disappearing?”
“I shouldn’t discuss this, but Joe raised the same questions. We checked everything we could find but nothing led to Robert arranging his own kidnapping.”
“You know what Thomas Boudin’s case is about?”
“No, but Mark checked with some of his Intel friends. They didn’t find anything.”
“That doesn’t mean something isn’t there.” Keep your mouth shut. Beth ignored the reminder. “Robert is capable of arranging all this, Jeff.”
“You’re speculating.”
“Yes.” She frowned, irritated that he wouldn’t discuss the hypothetical. “What if speculation is all Sara ever has? Do you think they’ll let him go without the money?”
He focused on that weird circle-art sculpture. “Probably not.”
“Probably not?” Beth guffawed. “Good grief. Are you that unsure of what typically happens in these cases, or are you just hiding from the truth because it’s easier?”
“I’m not speaking for myself. I’m speaking for the police. I can’t speculate.”
“Have you found a tie between Robert and the club attack?”
“Not definitively.”
She hadn’t expected they had, but she’d hoped. Staring off, she spun scenarios and they all ended badly. “Regardless, nothing appears to bode well for Robert.”
Jeff stared at the floor. “Personally,” he finally said, “I agree with that assessment.”
Beth’s heart twisted. Sara would draw the same conclusions.
And she would be devastated.
By dusk, the equipment had been removed from Sara’s house, Roxy had pulled the last agent to work on another case, and Mark Taylor had stepped in to fill the gap.
“If something doesn’t happen soon, I guess you’ll be going too.” Beth tried not to sound abandoned—that would be irrational and unfair—but wasn’t sure she succeeded.
“Nora would filet me like a fish.” He smiled. “Ben said he’d told you Crossroads is in for the long haul.”
“He did. But if nothing is happening, what do you do?”
“Something will break. Someone will make a mistake or talk out of turn and it’ll get reported. It happens all the time.”
“A lot of cold case files just wither, Mark.”
“True, but we’re going to do all we can to make sure this isn’t one of them. Joe’s working overtime on it. He has tons of connections, and he’ll exhaust them. He knows how much Sara means to you.”
“Joe is a special man.”
“I’m glad to hear you say that. He’s my best friend and I’d hate to see him get hurt.”
“Could I hurt him?” Sounding pathetic, she tilted her head. Nora would be mortified.
“Oh, yeah.”
Warmth oozed through her chest, settled in her heart. “Hard to believe.”
“Why?”
“Joe is … you know. He could have any woman he wants and I’m supposed to think that’s me?”
“Why not you?”
“Come on, Mark. We’ve always talked straight with each other. Guys like Joe go for glamorous women. I’ve got my assets, but I know only too well that I’m ordinary.”
“That’s Max’s trash talk. You know better.”
“I know what I’ve lived. Max was cruel, but that doesn’t mean he was wrong.”
Mark’s smile turned tender. “You’re not ordinary to Joe. To him you’re remarkable.”
Beth smiled. She couldn’t help it. “Really?”
“Definitely.” He reached for his thermos. “I remember the first time he saw you. It was at Lisa’s party when she got her medical license. He took one look at you and was knocked off his feet.”
Overwhelmed, she stilled. The warmth in her chest burned stronger. “He offered to beat up Robert for me but I refused. It’d upset Sara.” She couldn’t stop smiling.
“Appears he knocked you off your feet too.”
“He did, but don’t tell him I said that. Remember how unsure you were Lisa would ever give you a second look?”
Mark grimaced. “It was bad.”
Beth nodded. “It was—and now it’s my turn.”
“Slightly different,” Mark said. “Max messed with your head. You don’t see yourself the way others see you—and you sure don’t see yourself like Joe does, or you’d never think things like that.”
“I’m not fishing for compliments. Honest.”
“I know that. I remember the doubt and uncertainty. Man, I hated it.” Mark’s eyes darted back and forth like he was locked in an internal debate. “Let me ask a question. Has Joe ever called you sha?”
She nodded. “It’s one of the few times I pick up on his Cajun accent. It’s … special.”
“You have no idea. He’s worked hard to bury it—security purposes.”
He’d have to; it’d be a dead giveaway, infiltrating on Shadow Watcher missions. “What do you mean, I have no idea?”
“You know what sha means, right?”
Beth nodded again. She’d looked it up. “It’s an endearment.”
“To Joe, it’s almost sacred.” Mark softened his voice. “No details—those have to come from him—but in his entire life, Joe’s heart hasn’t been whole. He’s not into uttering endearments. When he’s ready, he’ll tell you why … assuming you want to know.”
“Of course I want to know.”
Mark dipped his square chin. “Idle curiosity?”
“More—but I don’t know how much yet.”
“Fair enough.” Mark’s expression eased. “I know the Max thing has been hard, and you need to understand. Joe isn’t like you think. He’s friendly and he genuinely likes women, but …”
“What?” Did he feel he was betraying Joe’s confidence? No, Mark wouldn’t do that. He was trying to give her insight without being explicit.
He sent her a level look. “Never, not once, have I heard Joe call any woman sha.”
Almost sacred. Beth wasn’t sure what that meant, but her heart sure did. It skipped and thudded, and she felt … treasured. Three little letters, one little word, and she felt like a rare jewel. “Thanks for telling me.”
Mark’s phone rang. He took the call, talked for a few minutes, and then relayed to Beth. “Peggy’s setting up a schedule. People from Crossroads will be here, and members of my security staff will rotate shifts. Sara will be guarded around the clock.”
Joe had apparently passed on his concern for Sara’s safety. “You think that’s necessary?”
“If NINA is connected, we all do. Until we know, we’d rather be safe than sorry.”
“Sounds smart.” Did Mark know Joe was Thomas Boudin? She wished she knew.
“I’m going to run a perimeter check on the property. I know you’ve got a business to run, so do what you need to do—and don’t worry. We’re prepared to handle medical crises as well as emergencies.”
“I know you are.” Sara had reacted to the force reduction by taking Dr. Franklin’s pills and crashing on the family room sofa. “Tell Peggy I really appreciate this.”
“She’d be insulted. You and Sara have always helped Crossroads. Of course they’re all
here for you.” Mark went out the front door.
If he knew about Joe being Boudin, Mark wasn’t saying anything. Had Joe gone rogue? It was time to call the question. She pulled out her special phone and dialed.
It rang and kept ringing. But no one answered. Disappointment bit her hard. Her questions would have to wait. Resigned to it, she linked Sara’s laptop to the office and worked with Margaret. The lab was quiet, Legal was swamped, and things were moving smoothly. While listening to Margaret’s rundown on specifics, Beth checked her e-mail and winced. If she worked at it steadily, she might catch up on her messages by Monday.
“I screened Sara’s mailbox,” Margaret said. “What needs attention, I forwarded to you. I handled the mundane.”
“Anything urgent not yet handled?” Beth deleted two more messages and silently muttered at spammers for stuffing mailboxes across the Net.
“Urgent this second? Done,” Margaret said. “Legal has seven new licensing agreements ready for you and Sara to sign. Nick Pope needs them back for review by noon on Monday before they go to Henry. I’m sending a messenger over with them.”
“Okay.” Sara wasn’t in any condition to review anything, but between now and Monday surely she’d be lucid enough to read and sign them.
Beth should have her sign the agreement in her briefcase too, but with it directly preventing Robert from involvement in SaBe operations in the event of Sara’s death, Beth couldn’t bring herself to include it. She wanted it, SaBe needed it, but this wasn’t the right time.
How long Margaret had been talking and Beth had her tuned out, she wasn’t sure. “I’m sorry, Margaret. What was that?”
“I said you sound like the walking dead. Are you sleeping?”
Sleep? Define sleep. “I’m okay.”
Margaret sniffed. “You’re exhausted and worried sick about Sara. We all are. But she’s stronger than you think. She’ll make it through this.”
Beth yearned to feel half as certain. “Of course she will.” God willing. “Margaret, I need to talk to you about something, but it has to be confidential.”
“All right.”
“Something strange happened at the fund-raiser. It’s about Sara’s hospital visits—not the last one, but the three ones prior. What was she treated for?”
“I don’t know.”
How could Margaret not know? “Don’t you have the insurance submissions?”
“If there were any, I’d have them.”
“She paid cash for the hospital bills?” The hair on Beth’s neck stood on end. Why would she do that? SaBe had excellent coverage.
“I’m glad you brought this up, Beth. I’ve been concerned but didn’t want to cause any trouble. Nothing ever came through on her insurance, so Sara had to have paid the bills personally.” Margaret paused. “If they were for attacks, she’d have submitted them. So what’s wrong with her?”
“I don’t know.”
“She hasn’t told you?”
“No.” It hurt to admit that.
“Then Robert’s got to be involved.”
“That’s a big leap, Margaret.”
“It’s not a leap at all. Sara tells you everything except when it’s about him.”
She did. Or Beth had thought so until this past week. Now she didn’t know what to think. “Have you noticed anything else odd with her lately?”
“I feel funny mentioning this, but I know you’re on her side in all things, so I’m going to say it and hope you take it the way I mean it.”
“You adore her, Margaret. I know that.” Beth shut down the laptop, gave Margaret her full attention. “What is it?”
“I don’t know exactly. She’s troubled. Quantico has called her several times in the past month, and she won’t take their calls.”
Quantico always had priority. Assisting was their patriotic duty. “Seriously?”
“Seriously. She said to send them to you and wouldn’t even speak to the guys on the phone. I didn’t understand it—still don’t. There’s no reason for it that I can see, but it’s just, well, not Sara or SaBe policy to refuse queries from Quantico.”
“Protect yourself from me—and if you can, protect me from myself …” Beth shuddered. That warning and refusing Quantico contact? Was that the connection? Sara would never do so without reason. She and Sara assisted with computer expertise. Wrote programs, reinforced firewalls and security software. What would make her refuse Quantico? “This doesn’t make sense.”
“At first it didn’t, but then I thought of one situation where it makes perfect sense.”
Beth was afraid to ask but had no choice. “What situation?”
“If she had a reason to not want to know what was going on there.”
NINA. The bottom fell out of Beth’s stomach. The club attack. The missing groom on the cake. Robert missing. NINA would love access to Quantico. It sold intelligence, countered missions. The lengths to which it would go to get access had Beth mentally staggering. Was that what all this was about? NINA sending Sara a message to cooperate and deliver what it wanted?
“It’s the only thing that makes sense, Beth.”
“Okay. Okay. We need to check this out. All future Quantico inquires come straight to me. I don’t want Sara getting so much as a memo that they’ve been in touch. Nothing. And tell Henry Baines I need to talk to him as soon as possible.”
“You got it.” Margaret paused, her voice less certain. “Do you think Sara’s in trouble?”
She did. She really did. “I intend to find out. For now, keep everything away from her. I don’t want even a piece of spam going to her. Redirect her mailbox to one only we can access. Encrypt it.” Beth’s mind whirled. “I’m not shutting her out—you understand that, right?”
“You’re protecting her.”
“Trying, Margaret. I’m trying.”
Against NINA Beth had serious doubts about her success.
“What’s your ETA?”
Mark Taylor’s voice carried to Beth and its pitch sent a chill racing up her back. ETA. Estimated time of arrival. One of many familiar acronyms. Who was coming? And what was wrong? She’d tried three times to reach Joe but hadn’t gotten him. And every time she started to tell Mark she might have found the connection between the club attack and Robert’s kidnapping, she heard Nora’s voice in her mind: “Keep your mouth shut.” Then Joe’s warning. “Things get twisted …”
Praying her silence wasn’t a mistake, she rushed into Sara’s living room. Mark stashed his mobile phone and, sober-faced, sat at the empty electronics table. “Who’s coming over?”
“Jeff.” Mark avoided looking at her.
The nonverbal warnings grew stronger. “When?”
“Any second now.”
A scant minute later, the doorbell rang.
Jeff walked in from the pouring rain, shrugging out of his drenched raincoat. Never had she seen him look so grim. “Hi, Beth. Where’s Sara?”
“Sleeping in the family room.”
“Still?” Jeff hung his raincoat outside under the porch, then closed the door.
“After the reduction news this morning, Harvey prescribed two pills. He says she’ll probably be out until morning.”
Jeff dragged a hand through his damp hair, shaking loose clinging raindrops. “This can’t wait. We have to talk.” His Adam’s apple bobbed in his throat. “It isn’t good news.”
“Is he dead?” Sara’s voice sounded from behind them.
Beth turned. Sara’s hair was disheveled and she was wearing black pj’s, a robe, and slippers. The slippers surprised Beth, but she was glad to see good sense overriding Robert’s preferences. “You shouldn’t be up. The medicine—”
“Beth, stop.” Sara pivoted her gaze to Jeff. “Is Robert dead?”
“We need to sit down.” Jeff shot a pleading look at Beth and led Sara to the sofa. “You too, Beth.”
Stone-faced and distant, Mark had disassociated—a horrible-news harbinger.
Tears gathered on Sara’
s lashes and her face splotched red. “Well?”
Jeff twisted toward Beth and covertly mouthed, “Inhaler?” When Beth nodded, he sat directly across from Sara. “You remember that Robert’s rental car was found in Destin.” Sara nodded and Jeff went on. “That same day, the sheriff’s office up north requested I come up to Magnolia Branch, but I was tied up with the club attack so it wasn’t mentioned to me until today.”
Clyde was buried in Magnolia Branch. What did this have to do with Robert? Sara grasped Beth’s hand. It was ice-cold.
“The sheriff wanted me to take a look at something their deputies found on a routine disturbance call. Bill Conlee was one of the deputies. I’ve known him a lot of years. He’s good, Sara. He saw your press conference on the news and got a hunch. So he acted on it.”
She nodded but held her silence.
Jeff cleared his throat. “Race Miller from up north also saw the newspaper article about Robert and called in about the same disturbance.”
“I know Race,” Sara said. “His wife, Aline, too.” She looked at Beth. “We bought Clyde’s property for the moms from him.”
“Right.” Jeff looked at Beth, then back to Sara. “Race sold you that property because a porn ring had been filming on it in an old abandoned shed.”
“He told me. He’s the pastor of the local church,” Sara told Beth.
Beth stilled. Were pornographers the connection and not NINA? Was that what was troubling Sara? Possible, but it didn’t feel right. They wouldn’t have Sara refusing calls from Quantico. “Why didn’t I know about this?”
“It was over and had nothing to do with anything.” Sara returned her attention to Jeff. “So …?”
“So Race’s call was a complaint that they were back.” Jeff swiped his pug nose. “When the officers got there, the shed was empty except for a bloody mattress.”
“Robert!” Sara’s face bleached and she gasped. “Oh no.” She clasped her throat but shoved away the inhaler Beth offered. “I don’t need that. Go—go ahead, Jeff.”
“The amount of blood on the mattress was significant.” He paused but she didn’t utter a sound. Didn’t blink, didn’t breathe. “There was no body—the deputies searched extensively.”
“But … what? I hear a but in your voice, Jeff.”