The Shadow: Someone is Watching (Rahab's Rope Series Book 1)

by Kimberly Rae

  Meagan sat up straighter and told herself to remain calm. “Why am I here?” she asked. Was not telling her anything part of some intimidation method? If it was, it was a good one.

  The FBI officer put a hand-held recording device on the desk. At the push of a button, a red light came on, and he proceeded to ask her routine questions about her trips to India and her work with Rahab’s Rope. When he got to her personal life, she balked.

  “I’m not answering any more questions until you tell me why I’m here. Am I being accused of something?”

  __________________________

  Thursday, January 1

  2:15 p.m.

  Steve Campbell looked the woman over. She was good, but he was better. He might have fallen short in Baghdad, his marriage might be a wash, but in the FBI he had found his place. In this building he would climb the ladder and he wouldn’t stop until he had reached the top. His name would be on a plaque on the wall someday, for exemplary service. For making the world a better place. For being better at something than the man sitting next to him. Let Cole be all nice to the girl. He never wanted to play good cop anyway.

  It was time to drop the first bomb. “Just when did you start using crystal meth, Miss Winston?” he asked, watching for her reaction. She didn’t disappoint. Her eyes got all wide and round, like his wife’s had when he’d returned from his tour and said they were moving to Georgia in less than a month. With Stephanie, it was questions, always questions. Why didn’t you talk to me about it first? Why do you make decisions without me? Why don’t you love me like you used to?

  Here in his office, he was the one who got to ask the questions. The woman on the other side of his desk began to say something, but he dived in with his second bomb. “And how long have you been selling crystal meth on the international circuit?”

  She gasped and pulled her bag to her chest. He wished she would make a run for it. He’d chase after her, catch her in the hallway. Everyone would see it.

  “I haven’t ever done drugs or sold drugs in my life,” she said, her voice breathy and innocent. People were such fakers. Women especially. They painted their faces and added padding under their clothes. Stephanie had been brilliant at it. The morning after his wedding, he’d woken up to a stranger. He still wondered if her claim to be pregnant had just been a ploy to get him down the aisle. Now she sat around all day, crying about the baby they’d lost, moping about how he didn’t love her anymore. What did she expect? Should he be happy to come home to a naggy wife who never changed out of her sweatpants anymore?

  The girl across from him looked over at Cole, where she’d get more sympathy. “What is he talking about?”

  “Steve believes you’ve been involved in selling drugs on your trips to India,” Cole said. It was a good thing Steve was the one the FBI had hired. Cole was too nice for face-to-face work with criminals. Too gullible. The woman spy in Baghdad had proven that.

  The girl in the red hat gasped again. “What? I’m with a ministry that helps people! How can you possibly—”

  This conversation was useless. Steve had the proof right there on his desk and on his computer screen. “Miss Winston, I’ve got a signed statement here from a man we brought into custody—a real greasy character with connections to an Atlanta meth lab—who confessed to selling drugs for a commission from their sales to Indian buyers.”

  “What does that have to do with me?” She looked from him to Cole, as if Cole might save her. And Cole might be naive enough to try, even though he still had shrapnel in his shoulder from the last time he tried to save a beautiful woman. Steve hadn’t trusted Delilah, and he didn’t trust this girl either.

  “The man gave us dates, one run every six months for the past three years.”

  “And?” she asked.

  “We pulled up every flight pattern option from Atlanta to India within a twenty-four-hour period after each sale, and studied the passenger lists for those flights.”

  Her eyes were even bigger now. “And?” she whispered.

  He’d found her out. “Yours is the only name that showed up all six times. You’re guilty, Miss Winston. You might as well admit it.”

  10

  Thursday, January 1

  3:00 p.m.

  This can’t be happening. Meagan wanted to tell herself she was dreaming. Having a nightmare. Hallucinating. Anything that meant she wasn’t actually sitting inside an FBI office with two men who thought she was a drug pusher. Steve Campbell moved his computer screen so she could see it. “We’ve got surveillance of the flights that connect with the drugs. And we have the list of ticket holders. You are the only one on every flight.”

  “Steve sent me the videos and I watched them myself,” Cole Fleming added. He looked at her like he felt sorry for her, like he had a hard time believing she was a criminal. She knew how he felt. “I checked to see if there was a repeat person on each of the flights who might have used different names.”

  Her voice squeaked. “Did you find anyone?”

  He shook his head and those deep green eyes never left her face. “I’m sorry to say I didn’t. I saw the same old lady a couple of times, but no one every time but you.”

  Meagan rubbed her forehead with both hands. “I don’t understand.” She posed her next question toward Steve, who pulled up a video on his computer. “If you knew when the flights were, why not check everybody’s luggage and find the drugs?”

  “I wish we could have.” Steve kept his eyes on the screen. He used his mouse to click one window down and pull up another. “But the guy got arrested after you were in India. We had to wait until you got back to find out more.”

  “So that’s why I got double-searched this time,” she murmured.

  “Did you find anything on her?” Cole asked Steve.

  “No.”

  “Wouldn’t she have had the money with her?”

  “Maybe she has a liaison.”

  “A liaison?” Meagan fought dizziness. “You can’t be serious. Why don’t we go see this guy who got arrested? He’ll tell you he didn’t sell me any drugs.”

  “Nice try,” Steve said. He clicked more with his mouse. “The guy is a middle link in the chain. He never sees the person, just delivers the stash and then picks up the money later.” He glanced her way. “But you already know that, don’t you?”

  “I don’t know anything about this,” Meagan said again. She took in a deep breath and tried not to give in to tears. “You can come search my house if you want. I don’t have anything.”

  “We’ve got DEA personnel at the drop-off point. Whoever you have leaving the money, we’ll get him the minute he shows. If you don’t want your sweet little grandmother to know about your side job, you’ll cooperate with us.”

  She stood. “That was rude and unnecessary. I will cooperate without you needing to threaten my family.” She remained standing a moment, but then dropped back into the chair, suddenly drained. “And Nana died four months ago. May I see the surveillance tapes you mentioned?”

  Cole had stood when she did. He was frowning, but at Steve. “I think we should be done for today.”

  “Here.” Steve Campbell pulled the video window up again and pointed. “You’re in 39C.”

  “I know where I sat.” She looked over the other passengers as they filed onto the plane and took their seats, or stuffed various sized carry-ons into the small overhead bins. No one looked familiar until she saw herself arrive. Strange, the thought of people watching her when she was unaware. On the video, she thanked the man who put her carry-on up for her, then sat and took out her small journal and began to write, as she always did, a prayer for God’s blessings on her trip and the work she hoped to accomplish while she was there. She had not thought to ask God to keep FBI agents from thinking she ran drugs across international borders.

  “See anyone suspicious or familiar?” Cole asked beside her.

  “No. This is just the most recent flight though. Do you have the others? I might spot something you di
dn’t.”

  “This is a waste of time,” Steve said, but he pulled up another window. “I’m going to get some coffee.” He stood and motioned for Meagan to take his seat. “You can sit here. Cole, when she’s done with this one, the others are all opened but minimized.” He scooted around her and Cole. “Make sure she doesn’t look at anything else on my computer.”

  The door shut and Meagan tilted her head. “Rather bossy, isn’t he?”

  Cole stood behind her. He leaned over the desk enough to see the computer screen well, making her pulse jump at his proximity. “Always,” he said with a smile in her direction. His cheeks filled out and one dimpled, a compelling mixture of little boy and adult male. He smelled like soap and pine. He must have noticed how close his face was to hers, for he backed away several inches. “The first video is ready when you want to click it.”

  She moved the mouse and pushed play on the video. “This one is dated six months ago, the last trip I took.” She watched with growing disappointment. “I don’t see anyone I remember here either.” She braved another glance in his direction. “What will he do if there aren’t any trails other than the ones that lead to me?”

  A muscle in his jaw shifted. “I’m not sure,” he said.

  “He can’t arrest me, can he? Not without evidence.”

  That muscle worked again. He focused on the screen. “I’m afraid he has evidence.”

  “But I didn’t do it!” She motioned toward the video. “Somebody else must fly out the same days I did. Maybe they’re setting me up.”

  He looked at her then and didn’t need to say it. She was the only person on each of the flights. “Do you know how bad it would be for Rahab’s Rope if I get arrested for this, even though I didn’t do it? People send money for our ministry. In the time it would take to clear my name all sorts of damage would be done. I’d probably have to leave the ministry just so people wouldn’t assume this is all connected.”

  He kept silent and she turned back to the screen. She pressed her fingers tight against her temples and rubbed in small circles while another batch of people got on the plane, herself included. An older man in a plaid suit jacket helped her with her carry-on that time. She finished the video and sighed. “Nothing again. I don’t suppose it’s of any use to watch the others, but what am I supposed to do?”

  He pulled up a third video. “Here’s the one farthest back, three years ago.”

  She watched, emotionally numb, the same routine: passengers arrived, sat, put bags away. No one helped her with her carry-on that time. On the video, she simply sat down and began to write. Meagan remembered that day. “That was my first trip overseas. I was so excited. See the woman next to me with the thick curly hair? That’s Kelsey. Usually she goes out a different time of the year, but she came with me that first time to train me. She founded the work with the children, and...I...”

  She felt Cole shift near her but her eyes did not leave the screen. “What is it?” he asked.

  “There.” She put a fingernail against the screen. “Three rows behind me.”

  “The guy with the ball cap?”

  “No.” She moved her finger. “The old lady. Do you have this video in color? I think I remember that dress.”

  The door opened and Steve entered, two cups of coffee in hand. “I got one for you, Cole, but not for our suspect. Caffeine and drugs don’t mix.”

  “Let up, Steve,” Cole said behind her. His hand on the back of her chair felt somehow reassuring. “She’s seen something.”

  “Yeah? Like what?”

  Meagan scooted the chair as far forward as it would go and leaned close to the screen. “I think that’s the lady who stopped my mugger.”

  11

  Thursday, January 1

  4:30 p.m.

  Cole didn’t need to ask what might make a woman so lovely and full of potential start down the wrong road. Meagan Winston didn’t have the sunken cheeks of a meth user, and definitely didn’t come across as someone who would use ministry as a cover to haul drugs overseas. He saw Sadie’s face in his mind, her sweet, lovable face those days before he left for Iraq.

  Looks could be deceiving.

  He hated to think it, but wondered if Meagan was making up stories as she went along, trying to find some way to divert attention and get herself off the hook. If Steve let her go today, would she leave town and disappear, proving Steve right? Was she being blackmailed? This latest tale she spun at Steve, about getting mugged and some old lady running up and scaring the robber away with a briefcase was about as far-fetched as it got. And even if it was true, how would that clear her of any of the charges?

  Steve asked the same thing out loud. “Don’t you see?” Meagan pointed back at the computer screen again. She stood, right in front of him, close enough that had she been Sadie, he’d pull the little ball at the top of her cap just to inspire that playful face he had loved the most. “She was on the first flight, but not on the most recent one. But I saw her on my trip. Doesn’t that seem suspicious to you?”

  “No,” Steve said bluntly. “If she was moving out to India that day, she’d still be there now.”

  “And what are the chances I’d see her on a trip three years later?” Meagan took off her gloves and shoved them into her purse, then removed her scarf and hat. She had to be toasted by now.

  “What are the chances you’re telling me a big fish story?”

  She dropped her purse, hat and scarf on the desk and sat down in Steve’s chair. “Where are the other videos?” Without waiting for his help, she clicked windows until she found one they hadn’t watched, then pushed play. Steve complained about not being able to use his desk, but Meagan ignored him. Long minutes passed and Cole felt tension pull his stomach muscles tight. If this woman was guilty, he wanted to help her, find a place for her to get straightened out before it was too late.

  “There!” She pointed again. He leaned forward and Steve came around the desk to look over her shoulder. “Three rows back. It’s the same old lady! Look, she even has the briefcase!”

  “This is that same video,” Steve said, jostling to get in front of Cole.

  “No, it’s not,” Meagan argued. “See the date at the bottom? But she has on the same outfit.”

  “She does? That’s weird.” Cole looked down and noticed static cling from the hat she’d removed had spiked Meagan’s hair in all directions. It annoyed him that he thought it was cute and bothered him further that he had to fight the urge to smooth it down for her. “But why isn’t she in all of the videos?”

  Meagan stopped eyeballing the screen and sat back. “I don’t know.” She rubbed her forehead, but then winced and dropped her hands.

  “It’s not plausible to think some old lady is taking international trips to sell drugs in a briefcase.” Steve picked up Meagan’s scarf and, with his lack of spatial awareness, tried to stuff it into her purse, which was much too small to hold it.

  “That’s just it,” Meagan said. She took the purse from him and pulled the stuffed-in parts of the scarf back out. “When I got mugged, I remember thinking it was amazing that someone so old could move so quickly. She waved her briefcase around like it was nothing. And then, when I tried to go thank her, she ran off. Literally. And not like an elderly person at all. I know; I live with one.”

  “So you think the person might be pretending to be an old lady?” Cole leaned over to look at the video again. “But why?” He touched the screen but then moved his hand to the mouse. “You need to get a touch-screen computer, Steve.”

  Meagan put the scarf around her neck, then looked at it and took it off again. “I don’t know, but don’t you think that’s strange?”

  “I do.” He pulled up one of the other videos they hadn’t watched.

  “Of course you do.” Steve sat in one of the extra chairs and crossed his arms. “You’re always on the side of the needy underdog.”

  “I resent that,” Meagan said. She reached for the mouse still in his hand. Her small palm
covered his fingers. She jerked away. “Sorry.”

  He removed his hand and pushed the mouse toward her. “Go ahead, needy underdog.”

  She glared at him, but when he smiled, her scowl dropped and her bottom lip quivered in a way that did make her look needy. And appealing. He needed to get a grip of his thoughts. She was a potential drug runner, not a potential date.

  Her gaze drifted back toward the computer and he heard her quick intake of breath. “I see her on this one, too!”

  This time Steve stood and came around the desk. He pulled on the back of her chair. “Can I sit there?”

  She got to her feet but Cole was in the way. They did an awkward dance to get around each other without touching while Steve put himself into his chair and mumbled about personal space. Once they’d settled, Steve in the chair, Meagan behind it leaning over Steve’s left shoulder, Cole leaning over his right, he moved the mouse until the cursor hovered over the passenger with white curly hair and a large dress that billowed out over her knees.

  “Why am I thinking that kind of dress is named after a cow?” Cole asked.

  Meagan sent a small smile his direction. “It’s a Muumuu.”

  “A moo-moo? Seriously? As is the cow goes moo?”

  Her soft laugh was as pleasant to hear as the hint of vanilla he’d smelled when she brushed by him. She spelled the word. “My grandmother wore them all the time. I’m guessing yours must have, too.”

  He felt his own smile fade. “I wouldn’t know.”

  Her look on him held curiosity, and a little sympathy. She opened her mouth, but he turned and faced the computer again. He wasn’t there for someone to ask him questions. “We should start at the first tape and study them all again,” he told Steve.

  Steve agreed but not without grumbling.

  “I want to watch them with you,” Meagan said. “But I can’t today. I need to be back home soon for...” She hesitated. “An appointment.”