Murphy's Law

by Jennifer Lowery

  Questions plagued him all night long. He had heard Sara get up sometime during the night and go into Abby’s room. He couldn’t face her with so many questions racing through his head. So he willed himself to let it rest for the night, and tossed in his sleep instead.

  Now, he stood in his doorway staring at the letter in his hand in stunned disbelief and dread. Sara was running again.

  And this time she was running from him.

  With a curse, he threw the letter on his dresser and strode down the hall, practically running into his mother, who stormed up the stairs. She looked ready to cry or throw something, he couldn’t tell which.

  She shook a handful of paper at him. “She’s gone, Jon. I have to check her room to see if it’s true.”

  Murphy allowed his mom to pass him on the stairs, then followed her into Sara’s room. The bed was made and everything was in order, but her things were gone. Murphy stood in the doorway surrounded by Sara’s lingering scent. It heated him from the inside out and he wondered if it had become a permanent part of this room. Vanilla mixed with Sara’s own delicate scent that had haunted his dreams from the day he’d met her.

  His mother dropped down on the bed and picked up the sketchpad lying there. She opened it and gasped. Tears began to stream down her cheeks. She flipped slowly through the pages, letting her hand linger on some, and then looked up at him.

  “Did you know about this?” she asked.

  He knew Sara spent her time drawing, but he didn’t recognize this particular book. He stepped into the room and took it from his mother’s outstretched hands. When he opened it, his chest tightened.

  Each page was a recreation of the pictures that had been hanging on the walls of the barn before it burned. Sara had committed them to memory and then drawn each one. They were all there. Now he understood why she felt she had to leave. She blamed herself for the loss and was giving back some of what they lost. Damn, he should have seen this coming.

  “She’s out there, Jon, and there is no one to protect her and that precious little girl.”

  Murphy handed the pad back. “Yes, there is.”

  His mother stood and wrapped her arms around him. “You’ll bring her back. This is where she belongs.”

  Murphy drew in a deep breath as the truth settled inside him. Yes, this was where Sara belonged. On the ranch, laughing and free, as she lounged on the back porch sketching the kids playing and the sunset. This was where she had been the most relaxed and comfortable. They had all noticed the change, and he couldn’t deny it any longer.

  She belonged here with him.

  “Yes, I’ll bring her back,” he said. Forever.

  His mother smiled through her tears. “I’m proud of you, Jon. You’ve survived more than your share of hardships and now you have a chance at happiness with a woman who loves you enough to set you free. She thinks she’s doing the right thing.”

  “I know, Mom, she’s got a stubborn streak that gets in the way sometimes,” he said, remembering when Sara had refused to stay behind when he went out to look for Abby, and when she’d hopped up the stairs on one foot. She was generally an easy-going, nice person to be around, but when her temper spiked she burned hot and fast. He rather enjoyed it when she got worked up. It put color in her cheeks and made her eyes shine with life. He was actually looking forward to years of watching her fire up.

  His mom pulled away and wiped away her tears. “Do you know where to look?”

  Sara couldn’t have gone far. Damn, he should have gotten up when he heard her leave her room last night. She had a six-hour jump on him. But she had no vehicle. He’d given her a spare debit card to his checking account in case she needed anything. He would start there. Paper trail would lead him right to her.

  It would also lead Stephen Benchley to her.

  “Jon?”

  Murphy handed her the sketchpad. “I’ll call Gabe. We’ll find her.”

  “Yes, good idea. Please, find her before they do.”

  “I will. Tell Paul and James to hold things down while I’m gone?”

  “Of course.”

  Murphy let her go and strode down the hall to his room, his mother on his heels. He threw a bag together while he dialed Gabe’s number. If necessary, he would make use of Gabe’s black ops organization to find Sara. Whatever it took.

  After a brief conversation, he hung up the phone and turned to his mother, who was doing her best not to look worried.

  “I’m meeting Gabe at the bank,” he said.

  “It’s Saturday.”

  “Don’t worry, we’ll find her.”

  He started to move past her, but she stopped him with a hand on his arm. “Bring her home,” she said quietly.

  Leaning down, Murphy planted a kiss on her cheek, seeing fresh tears form in her eyes. “I promise,” he said and strode down the hall and out of the house. He would bring Sara home if it was the last thing he did.

  Murphy always kept his promises.

  * * * *

  Gabe was waiting in front of the bank when Murphy pulled up. The parking lot was empty, given the weekend. Climbing out of his SUV, Murphy surveyed the closed bank. Gabe walked over, squinting into the sunlight.

  “We can call the bank manager and waste time waiting for him to come in, or I can make a call to ATCOM HQ and have Rogan St. Klare hack the system and get the answers you’re looking for in a matter of minutes,” Gabe said.

  If he hadn’t locked himself away from the world and set up online banking he’d be able to track Sara himself. Dammit. Murphy studied his longtime friend. This was the first Gabe had mentioned the name of the organization he worked for. The offer humbled him, reminding him how long he’d been without family and friends. Without life.

  “Do it.” With a nod Gabe pulled out his cell phone and thumbed in a number. He spoke to a man he called Adonis, a grin splitting his face after he asked for a favor. Murphy remembered the bond between brothers-in-arms and missed it for the first time since he’d retired. He’d thought himself finished with that lifestyle, but being around Gabe made him want some of it back. Nothing compared to knowing your comrades had your back.

  Gabe disconnected the call and turned to him. “St. Klare is on it. Shouldn’t take--” His phone rang and he glanced at the caller ID. “A minute,” he said. “Damn, he really is good.”

  Murphy waited, listening, as Gabe nodded and received information, then hung up. “She hasn’t used the card yet. Think maybe she’s still in town?”

  “No. She’s running. She won’t stay in one place long.”

  “Six hours is a good head start.” Gabe pinned him with a thoughtful stare. “I can make another call and have a handful of agents here within the hour, Murphy. The more resources we have, the better the odds of finding Sara before they do.”

  There was a chance Stephen Benchley had followed Sara out of town or even had her now. Murphy’s gut clenched. Gabe was right. He needed resources. He needed help. And he knew what his friend offered. Access to ATCOM’s resources. He wasn’t sure what exactly that entailed, but it was more than he had or could get. He’d be a fool to turn it down, with Sara’s life on the line.

  “Thanks,” Murphy said.

  Gabe’s expression told him he’d made the right choice as he made another call. This one would possibly save Sara’s life, and Abby’s.

  * * * *

  Sara shuddered and looked around the motel room, clutching Abby a little tighter to her chest. She slept on her shoulder, exhausted from crying. Leaving Murphy’s ranch had been an ordeal. She hadn’t expected Abby to fight her like she did. Abby had never thrown a tantrum in her life and this one had been a doozy. It caught Sara so unexpectedly she’d had to hold her in her lap in the cab, pinning Abby’s arms to her sides and fighting her own tears. She understood her daughter’s pain and fear. She didn’t want to leave any more than Abby did. But they had to. Before Stephen destroyed Murphy’s family. She loved them too much to let that happen.

  She’d know
n Abby had become attached to Murphy and his family, but she hadn’t known how much she loved them. Blinking back tears, Sara rubbed her daughter’s back, comforting her in sleep where she wouldn’t let her in the cab. This was the first time Abby had ever expressed angry feelings. She blamed Sara for taking her away from the ranch. It tore Sara’s heart in two.

  Weary, Sara dropped her bag on the floor and carried Abby to the single bed. Gently, she laid her down, biting her lip when she saw the tear stains on her cheeks. She had cried herself to sleep. Another first.

  After slipping off Abby’s shoes, she pulled the covers up to her chin and pressed a kiss to her forehead. Then went to the door and double-checked the locks, deja vu settling like a fist around her heart.

  Exhausted, Sara dropped into one of the chairs in front of the window. The curtains were closed so no one could see inside. Loneliness settled over her, wrapping her in her misery. She’d spent most of her life alone, but this time was different. Abby wasn’t the only one missing Murphy and his family.

  Resting her head atop her folded hands on the scarred table, Sara stared at her daughter, sleeping soundly. She was doing the right thing. As much as it hurt, she knew it. Protecting Murphy’s family from her past couldn’t be wrong. Maybe someday Abby would forgive her.

  A tear slipped out of the corner of her eye. Her daughter lived on the run, living in fear. She would need to start school this fall. She had no security, no foundation to build from.

  Sara blinked back tears, drinking in Abby’s baby-soft hair and long, dark lashes resting on her pale cheeks.

  This was no life for her.

  Lifting her head, tears gone, Sara looked around. What was she going to do? Spend the rest of her life running? Never make a stand for anything? Continue to let others dictate her life?

  “No,” she whispered. An unfamiliar calm settled over her. Murphy’s family stood tall even after tragedy struck. They didn’t run or bow to the enemy. Nothing bested them. With courage, they stared opposition in the face and went to battle with it.

  They’d taught her to face her fears instead of running from them. Why had she not seen it until now? She was making the same mistakes she always made. Never standing for anything in her life. For herself. For anyone. Kent had bulldozed her into putting her mother into a home she hated. His family had molded her like a piece of clay into the person they wanted her to be.

  She’d let them chase her down the rabbit hole.

  Her gaze dropped to the doll clutched to Abby’s chest, its head tucked beneath her chin. The only gift Kent had ever given his daughter from the heart, and not his secretary. She’d thought it incredibly sweet when Kent brought it home, been surprised he would do such a touching thing. Her former husband had managed to surprise her on occasion. Mostly, when he was depressed or upset. He didn’t show it often, but when he did he would hold her and talk endlessly about things she knew she wasn’t supposed to know. Family business was exactly that and didn’t include her.

  Kent must have told her those things to strike out at the chains the family bonded him in, so she’d listened quietly until he passed out drunk. She hadn’t seen it then, but it was clear as a bell now. Her husband had been suffering. The things he’d done were a cry for help, not tantrums to taunt the family.

  Why hadn’t she seen it then? When Kent told her those things it wasn’t out of spite, it was out of desperation. He’d wanted her to help him. And she’d done nothing. Writing him off as a petulant child.

  “Oh, Kent,” she said quietly. “I failed you too.”

  Too many mistakes. Too many regrets. It was time for change.

  She owed it to herself and her daughter to finally, for once in her life, do the right thing. And she knew exactly what she had to do. If she were ever to be free, she would have to make a stand.

  And it started here.

  * * * *

  Murphy was out of patience. An hour had gone by and still he waited for Gabe’s team to arrive. Every second that passed was a second further from Sara and Abby. Sitting idle was driving him insane.

  They had chosen to meet at Gabe’s parents’ ranch. The open field on the back property would accommodate ATCOM’s helicopter, so it could land without anyone being the wiser. He opened his mouth to tell Gabe he was leaving, but the whop-whop of chopper blades stopped him.

  “About time,” he muttered, climbing out of his SUV. The sleek, black helicopter approached and touched down with the finesse of a skilled pilot. As it shut down, three people hopped out of the back.

  Beside him Gabe muttered something beneath his breath Murphy couldn’t understand. He watched the three stride toward them, taking in each individually as they approached. The front man commanded attention, leaving no doubt he was team leader of this mission. The man flanking him stood barely six foot with a deep tan, sun-washed, shaggy dark brown hair.

  Murphy frowned at the man’s clothes. Red Hawaiian shirt with giant white hibiscus flowers? Boggled, he turned his attention to the third agent. Only, it wasn’t a man staring back at him. A woman with cat-like emerald eyes and a long, straight, deep red ponytail swaying across her shoulders returned his gaze with a bold, almost militant one of her own.

  Not what he’d expected of Gabe’s team. As long as they did their job, he couldn’t care less what they looked like or if there was a woman on the team. He’d served with women, just not in Special Forces.

  “Gabe,” the leader said as he came to a stop in front of them. “Got here as soon as we could.”

  Gabe nodded, turning to Murphy. “Jon Murphy, Lieutenant Noah Kincaid. Rogan St. Klare, techno geek, and Attie Devayne.”

  Murphy shook hands with each in turn, noticing Attie got no label. When he shook her hand she said, “Attie Devayne, rookie,” before throwing a glance at Gabe.

  Gabe put up a hand in defense. “I wasn’t going to be the one to say it,” he said.

  “Don’t let her jab you, MacKenzie,” a fourth man--the pilot--said, striding toward them with the devil’s grin. “My sister’s just sore she didn’t get to go overseas.”

  Attie sent the pilot a glare that would have reduced most to ash, but his grin widened in response. He stuck out a hand to Murphy. “Brendan Devayne, best pilot in the world, at your service.”

  Taken by surprise, Murphy shook his hand. Brother and sister? They had the same emerald green eyes but the similarities ended there. This man had a bit of the devil in him and Attie was wound tight as a top.

  “I know what you’re thinking,” Brendan continued. “And you’re right. Brother and sister working together? Bad idea. But, I give you my word we keep it strictly business when in the field.”

  Murphy had his doubts. He would never be able to stick to business if one of his sisters were involved in this kind of work.

  “Your account hasn’t been hit yet,” Rogan said. “Did she have cash on hand?”

  Murphy nodded. “Not much. Maybe five hundred dollars.”

  “In a cab, that won’t get her far. Any idea what direction she’ll head?”

  Murphy scrubbed a hand over his face. “No.”

  “Let’s focus on what we do know,” Noah said. “Rogan, give us a map with estimated distance she can travel on the money she has. That will give us a search grid. Also, pull up everything you can on…” He looked at Murphy. “Stephen Benchley?”

  Murphy nodded.

  “I’m on it,” the surfer-looking guy said and sprinted back to the chopper.

  “Worse case scenario,” Noah continued. “We track them back to Chicago. It’s the grandmother who wants Abby, so we know where they are headed.”

  Yeah, they wanted Abby, but not Sara. That was what had him worried.

  “What about a cell phone? Does Sara have one?” Attie asked.

  “No.” She had no one to call.

  “No family to go to, right?”

  Murphy shook his head at Attie’s frown. Sara was alone and he’d let her go. He hadn’t expected her to run from him. She st
ill didn’t trust him to protect her.

  “Okay, here’s what we have,” Rogan said approaching and carrying a sleek laptop. He set it on the hood of Murphy’s SUV and pointed at the grid on the screen. “She should be within the area shaded in red.”

  “Question is, which state is she in?” Gabe murmured. “Murphy? Anything that can help narrow down the search?”

  “She’ll pick the cheapest, most remote motel to stay in,” he said. “My guess, she’ll only use enough money to get her out of state, then she’ll try and find a car.”

  Rogan typed on the computer. “Looks like we’ve only got five cheap motels in the bordering states. Two are dirt cheap and probably not a place for a woman alone--sorry.” He pulled up two websites. “One in Montana, one in Minnesota.”

  Minnesota was closer to Illinois. Montana, farther away. She wouldn’t run toward the Benchleys. “Montana.”

  Noah nodded. “Okay. Gabe, you’re driving. Rogan, pull up that address. Give us the shortest route.”

  “Done,” Rogan said and they piled into Gabe and Murphy’s vehicles. The pilot climbed into the SUV with him.

  Murphy wondered as he pulled onto the road if he’d made the right choice. God, he hoped so.

  Chapter 18

  “What is going on? Can you tell me why a Sheriff Tomes from Colorado is calling?”

  Stephen pinched the bridge of his nose, girding himself for his mother’s anger. “It’s nothing for you to worry about, Mother.” Just how much had Sara told Jon Murphy? There was no other way he could be connected to the crime. He knew how to cover his tracks. In his line of work, he couldn’t risk anything coming back to the family. The only way the sheriff could have gotten his name was through Sara’s guard.

  Let them investigate. They wouldn’t find any evidence to tie him to the death.

  “Nothing to worry about?” Mother repeated, voice tight. “Have you any idea what kind of trouble your absence is causing?”

  “What are you talking about?”