by C. J. Miller
Marissa rose to her feet. “How? The same person who killed Avery hurt Rob?”
Jack didn’t think so. “From what I’ve been told, it wasn’t an attempted homicide.”
“Rob overdosed.” She spoke the words like she couldn’t believe them.
“Do you want me to take you to the hospital?” Jack asked.
Marissa blinked and then shook her head as if trying to clear her thoughts. “I don’t think he’d want to see me. Was it an accident? Or was Rob...”
Trying to kill himself? She didn’t need to ask the rest of the question. “We don’t know yet.”
Marissa looked like she was coming apart at the seams. She wrapped her arms around her waist. Jack wanted to comfort her, draw her against him and tell her everything would be all right. This was something he hated about this position. On the job, he couldn’t be her friend and now that was what she needed.
Ambrose looked between Jack and Marissa. “Have either of you considered the guilt of what he did to Avery and Clarice got the better of him and he tried to kill himself?”
Jack couldn’t make the connection from Rob to Clarice’s murder, but he was willing to consider the idea. “Could be.”
“I’d put money on it,” Ambrose said. Something in his words and his tone communicated confidence.
Jack’s attention swerved to Ambrose. “Do you know something about Avery’s death? Or Clarice’s?”
Ambrose poured himself another margarita from the pitcher. “Rob was dating Avery. He was unfaithful to Marissa. Maybe he was unfaithful to Avery with Clarice. I can imagine a number of scenarios where Rob killed Avery, maybe jealousy or anger, and did the same to Clarice.”
Rob had been the police’s first suspect and while Jack had dismissed him due to the bungling nature of the attacks against Marissa, he considered it.
“Why would he kill them directly but hire others to kill Marissa?” Jack asked.
“He could have killed Avery and then hired someone to kill me and Clarice,” Marissa said.
“It’s possible,” Jack said. The idea held weight, but he didn’t have proof of anything yet. If Rob had done this, Jack would nail him for it.
* * *
Marissa enjoyed the heat and strength of Jack’s body. Tucked in the comfort of his arms in the aftermath of great sex, her muscles were loose and exhaustion tugged at her. Except she couldn’t sleep. She was thinking about Rob and about the overdose. Drugs and alcohol could be Rob’s coping mechanism for handling Avery’s death. Could be he was self-medicating his pain away. Whatever he was doing, the destructive behavior had almost killed him.
Or was Ambrose right and Rob had killed Avery?
“Want to talk about it?” Jack asked.
Marissa thought he had been sleeping. “Just thinking about Rob.”
“He’ll be okay,” Jack said, rubbing her upper arm in a motion that was soothing.
Marissa rolled to face him and propped her arm and chin on his chest. The rise and fall of his breathing was comfortable and melodic. “We can’t know. I’ve been blowing him off. I haven’t wanted to deal with him. After Avery died, he needed a friend. I could have been a friend. Instead, I was dismissive and rude to him.”
“He’s an ex-boyfriend. Most people are not warm and welcoming to their ex-boyfriends especially after the way he treated you.”
Marissa expected better of herself. “I could have been nicer.”
“You’ll have the opportunity again soon to be just that,” Jack said.
“I think all of this is getting to Ambrose, too. He can’t come up with new designs. He says he just keeps rehashing the old ones.”
Jack reached to the bedside table and picked up his phone. He turned the screen to face her. “Does this look familiar?”
Marissa took the phone from his hand and studied the photograph. It was a picture of a fashion model. Beautiful lines and color. “The design looks familiar. What is this picture from?”
“Ambrose’s office,” Jack said.
Indignation rose inside her. “You can’t just go into his office.”
“Sure I can. I was bored.”
Marissa made the design larger on the screen. “Violation of Ambrose’s privacy aside, this looks like the designs we saw in Avery’s closet.”
“Could Ambrose have given her copies of his designs?” Jack asked.
“Maybe. He’s shared designs with me. Not going as far as giving them to me, but I’ve been by his house, opened a bottle of wine with him and given him a critique,” Marissa said.
Jack seemed lost in thought.
“What are you thinking?” Marissa asked.
“Just seems strange that he would give people access to his designs. If another designer got a copy of them, he could lose his edge,” Jack said.
“Ambrose is a trusting man and he trusts me and he trusted Avery. His personality is open and warm, but I can see how that would get him into trouble in this industry. I can talk to him about being more careful. He’s had a relatively easy time, to strike pay dirt in less than five years is a tribute to his talent and ingenuity.”
Jack took the phone from her hands and set it on the bedside table. “You’re too nice to your friends.”
“It takes just as much effort to be nice as is does to be mean,” Marissa said.
“Really? Let’s see if I can be nice to you,” Jack said. He kissed her and shifted her body beneath his.
His hand moved down her side and cupped her hip. Marissa stroked the back of his calf with her foot and wrapped her arms around his back, enjoying his every touch completely.
* * *
Jack hated to leave Marissa alone. Though the rate of attacks had slowed, his absence from her side might give the man after her an opening. But he was due at the West Company’s training facility in Burlington, Vermont.
Following his injury, he needed to be retested and recertified to be approved to return to undercover operations. It was for his protection, as well as his clients and partners.
The flight from New York took about an hour and a half. Jack’s plane touched down at 4:00 a.m., and too tired to sleep, he drove straight to the training facility. Parts of the test would be easy for him. His aim and marksmanship with a gun were as strong as ever, he was mentally competent, but he was concerned about his speed and agility. He’d been training in the gym and running outdoors when possible, but the West Company certification course was meant to simulate obstacles he could encounter in the world.
Though he couldn’t be shot, trainers could attack him to test his reaction and speed.
He approached the sign-in desk. A man in dark sunglasses with the build of a linebacker handed him an armband. “Jack Larson. You’re early. I like that. I’m Oliver. Put this on your right arm.” Oliver extended a black arm band with a device sewn in the middle.
“What’s this?” Jack asked. The last time he had completed the obstacle course, he hadn’t worn anything similar.
“We had a guy stroke out last month. Couldn’t handle it. Now Connor insists everyone recertifying wear this. It’s from the medical department. Has a GPS in case you get lost and we need to pull you out. It monitors your heart rate and oxygen levels and makes sure you’re doing okay. Anything gets crazy and I’ll get you. But if I have to rescue you, you fail.”
Not comforting, but Jack wasn’t worried. He was ready. Cold weather gear, fleece lined pants, his subzero temp jacket and fingerless gloves.
Jack gave Oliver his personal affects and was handed a small pack in return. Jack checked the contents. Water. Rope. Matches. Compass. Protein bar. The test was three hours.
Jack heard a helicopter overhead. Linebacker pointed to it. “Get in. You’re being air-dropped into the course.”
Jack went with the flow. Surviving this
was a mental game.
* * *
For the first time in over a year, Marissa attended a church service. She had been drawn to the church and felt compelled to go. Attendance at the 7:00 a.m. service was less than twenty people in the cherrywood pews, almost all of them over the age of sixty. She was completely unnoticed and she loved that.
Her bodyguards waited outside. Jack had needed to fly out that morning for training. He hadn’t wanted to discuss the details. She was in church for him, for Avery and because she needed to talk to an old friend.
After the service, Marissa waited in the pew. Once Father Franklin had finished shaking hands with the other congregants, he walked toward her. The lights in the church were dim except for the ones over the altar. Those were bright and white and crisp. A collection of candles in red containers along the left wall flickered with the prayers they were meant to answer. It wasn’t too late to leave. She and Father Franklin had had some great conversations on the heels of a strange connection.
He sat in the pew. “I wondered if you would be by to see me after Avery’s memorial service.”
Guilt sliced through her. She touched the pearls at her neck. Father Franklin may not remember them. Marissa had needed to wear them. “I’ve been busy.”
“I see your picture most every day. Hard to avoid in the city. I know you do things in your own time,” Father said.
“It’s not really an excuse.”
Father shrugged. “We’re here. We’re always here. I don’t require an explanation. Even a long bout of absence doesn’t mean you can’t come back when you need to.”
She appreciated the non-judgment. “Kit’s engaged.”
“That’s great news. I hope to someone who is deserving of her. Someone who challenges her.”
Kit was happy. It was enough for her. “Seems to be. They’re good together.”
“And your brother?” Father asked.
Marissa felt strange telling Father Franklin about it. “Luke and his girlfriend Zoe Ann are having a baby.”
Father Franklin inclined his head. “You sound worried.”
“They aren’t the most stable parents. They don’t have a place of their own and neither have steady jobs.”
“That may change. Luke hit a bump in the road when he lost his job and he hasn’t recovered. But he will. He’s strong.”
“Or he’ll walk out on his child,” Marisa said. Subtext, just as her father had done to her and her siblings. Until she spoke the words, she hadn’t realized she’d been thinking about it.
“He may. But he was hurt when your father left. I don’t think he would pass that hurt to another child.”
Maybe those age-old hurts were why she was here. Her father’s connection to Father Franklin and Father Franklin’s surrogate role of father in her life over the years made her seek him out. Marissa’s disastrous marriages were centered around her terrible connection to men, starting with her father.
Marissa picked men for the worst reasons. They inevitably lost her trust and she was left in a broken relationship she didn’t know how to fix. “I met someone.”
“A new man in your life?” Father Franklin asked.
“A good man. Different from the others. Not interested in how I look.”
Father Franklin gestured for her to continue.
“But the one thing he has in common with the others is that I don’t trust that he’ll stay. I don’t know what he wants from me or why he’s in the relationship. He seems to like me and enjoy my company. But how will I know if it’s real? I’ve made terrible relationship mistakes. I am a horrible judge of character. I could fall in love with him. Maybe I already have. But I’m scared to give my heart away when I don’t know if he wants it.”
Father Franklin folded his hands in his lap. “You’re a good woman with a good heart. You deserve happiness. Relationships don’t need drama or grand gestures to be real and good. If you’ve fallen in love with him, that’s the first step. You have to keep falling in love with him. Over and over, every day.”
“He might leave me,” Marissa said.
“He might. He could walk out of your life. But would he have left you with something good?”
Marissa thought of Jack and her chest warmed. The way he looked at her, listened to her and supported her dreams. He protected her. He was interested in seeing her happy. “He has every confidence in me and that makes me feel like I can do anything.”
“A loving, supportive partner makes you feel like you can fly.”
Father Franklin had never married and Marissa knew it had something to do with her father. It was a subject they had skated around over the years and never openly discussed. “You’ve not had that for yourself?”
“I’ve made mistakes in my life,” Father Franklin said. “Now my life is the church and the congregation here.”
“Have you heard from my father lately?” Marissa asked.
Father Franklin shook his head. “It’s been over a decade. Since he left the city, I’ve seen him only a couple of times. I’m not sure I’d recognize him if he walked through those doors.”
Marissa had a picture of her father from his wedding day to their mother. She had no childhood memories of him. Looking at the picture brought back nothing. “You married them. My parents.”
Father Franklin nodded. “Yes.”
“Did you know they were wrong for each other?”
Father Franklin rubbed his forehead. “That’s a complex question.”
“There are questions I’ve pondered and I’ve been too afraid to ask. You and my mother have seemed awkward with each other. I thought maybe it was because you were my father’s friend in seminary school and so my mother didn’t want anything to do with my father or his friends when he left. But that wasn’t the whole truth.”
“That was part of the story. Lenore has good reasons for why she keeps her distance from me.”
“Please tell me. I know it might seem like ancient history. But it’s important that I know.”
Father Franklin adjusted his glasses. “Your sister visited me a few years ago. She had the same questions. I thought she was too young to know.”
“To know what?” Marissa asked.
For several long moments, Marissa was sure that Father Franklin wouldn’t tell her.
“I was in love with your mother. Couldn’t see anything clearly about her or your father. My feelings for her shaped how I viewed their relationship. I didn’t express my misgivings about their relationship, thinking they were born of my jealousy.”
In love with her mother. It fit. A dozen childhood memories snapped into place. She should have seen it. “And now? How do you feel about my mother?” Marissa asked.
“We exchange holiday cards. I don’t seek her out. She has a different life, one involved with your successes. I wish her the best, but I don’t belong with her.”
Marissa sat in the pew contemplating his words. “Did she know?”
“I never told her, but I suspect she knew I had feelings for her beyond friendship.”
“Do you wish you had told her?” Marissa asked.
Father Franklin looked at her. “Not telling your mother how I felt was one of the biggest mistakes of my life. If I could go back in time, I would tell her and hope for the best.”
Marissa had been holding back. Was it was worth it to take a chance and tell Jack how she felt? Putting it all on the line and risking her heart seemed like a big step, but without it, she might lose Jack forever.
Chapter 12
Jack jumped out of the chopper. The short drop meant opening his chute earlier. The place he was to land was clearly marked, a large white X spray-painted on the green grass. The wind made it difficult to hit it, but Jack was close, landing on the perimeter of the mark. He removed his chute a
nd disconnected from the harness. His knee felt good even after the impact against the ground and that bolstered his confidence.
He had been given brief instructions regarding the path to take. He wasn’t told what obstacles he would face and it was a timed course. Gathering the parachute, he cut the ropes and stuffed them into his pack. Ropes could be helpful. Given the length of the test, he paced himself, but would need to keep to a quick clip not knowing how far he needed to travel.
Jack checked his compass and started along the path due west. He scaled an eight-foot wall, then a ten-foot wall using the ropes swinging from the top. His knee held. This was too easy. Worse was coming.
He maneuvered over rocks and fallen trees. Then he reached a river. Snowdrifts lined the woods and the ground was frozen solid. Looking around for a canoe or a raft, he came up short. Hard to judge the depth of the river. He would have liked to wade across it holding his clothes and supplies overhead. But that was shortsighted. Getting in the water without the ability to dry himself quickly would lead to hypothermia. If he reached the middle of the river and it was too deep, he’d need to return and come up with another plan.
He looked around for some wood. Locating a couple of pieces, he lashed them together with his parachute ropes. A third piece served as a paddle and guide. His shoes, socks, gloves and pants went into the pack. He was cold, but being wet was worse. He shoved his small raft into the water. The river carried him and he used his paddle to move toward the opposite bank. When he was close enough, he hopped off his raft, letting it float away. He pulled on his pants, gloves, socks and shoes. His paddle became his walking stick. If he had time, he would like to bring Marissa to the woods in Vermont and take a long, leisurely hike to enjoy nature. Nothing about this felt leisurely. The crisp air kept him alert. The trail was passable, even with the snowfall, which was lucky. Wading through waist deep snow and ice would take hours.