by Bonnie Vanak
Her stomach felt like ground glass. She blinked past the burning tears.
“And then you told me you were pregnant and I felt I’d been granted a second chance. This was why I was chosen to live and not die in my twenties like Pete. The day you lost the baby, I lost part of myself. That’s the real reason I took that mission after you miscarried, Lace. It wasn’t to escape you. It was to escape myself, to convince myself that I could still make a difference, to make it up for the time when Pete died a hero, trying to save my ass from an op that went wrong.”
Suddenly, the insight struck her. She saw Jarrett, always pushing himself to work harder, faster, be stronger and more courageous. Pushing himself because taking those missions meant he was out there, doing the job he’d trained for, doing it to honor his fallen comrades.
And she’d thought, because he had never told her, that he did it for the adrenaline rush, to experience the thrill of adventure.
He ground his jaw and sweat popped out on his forehead. “I could never erase the guilt for his death. Deep inside I blamed myself even though logically I knew that he accepted the responsibility for doing his job, as we all do.”
She squeezed his arm. “You were his mission leader, his friend. He was a professional, like you. He knew what he was getting into, just as you did during all those combat missions you undertook, Jarrett. He was a loyal, good friend and so were you. Wouldn’t you have done the same had your positions been reversed?”
For a long moment he said nothing. Then he sighed deeply. “Yeah. I’d have done anything for him and my teammates. And they’d do the same for me. It’s what makes us SEALs. The training, the physical toughness and sharpness and concentration you need on an op, that’s critical. But it’s knowing they’re behind you one hundred percent that counts the most. My brothers in arms.”
Lacey leaned close and opened her arms. She cradled him against her as he buried his head into her shoulders. For a few moments she hugged him, her palm flat against his chest, feeling his heart thud a steady beat beneath her palm. Then he pulled away.
As he started to reach for the keys to start the engine, she put a hand on his wrist. “Wait. Thank you for sharing with me.”
She took a deep breath, knowing she could tell him the secret she’d kept since founding her NGO. “You asked me back in the city why I named my NGO Marlee’s Mangoes.”
Dropping his hand, Jarrett watched her. “Marlee is an unusual name for a charity in a French-speaking country.”
She bit her lower lip. “Yes, but it was a perfect name for a little girl born in the States. I never told you, but that was the name I had picked out the day I found out we were going to have a baby girl.”
He closed his eyes. “Damn.”
“I called my NGO that because the charity gave me a reason to keep pushing on after I lost Marlee. And it was my way of making her live on, keeping her memory alive with something good and right and hopeful.”
Moisture coated his eyes when he opened them. “It’s a good name,” he said, his voice husky. “I like it. I wish you’d have told me, Lace. Because I’d have done something, too. I didn’t want to forget her any more than you did.”
“We were both wrong,” she whispered. “So wrong all these years.”
Maybe it wasn’t too late to start again.
CHAPTER 12
Two days passed without incident. The entire country had turned tense with the news a new president had been elected. The mood had been cautiously jubilant among the women in the mango factory who had voted for the popular candidate, a man who promised to help the lower classes.
Jarrett found out that while he’d been gone, Sam and Gene had discovered something interesting on the day Caroline’s body was found.
Gene told Jarrett he’d checked with Marcus, the security guard. There had been a delivery of supplies to the mango factory that day. The supplies were delivered to the back entrance of the factory, and a storage room accessible to only Lacey and Collette.
Only two other vehicles entered the compound that day. One was an SUV belonging to Lacey. The driver had parked it and then left, leaving the compound to catch a bus. The other was a black SUV belonging to Paul Lawrence. Jarrett went over the time logs with Marcus, the security guard. Paul had entered the compound around 1 p.m. to meet with Lacey. His SUV left at 3:30.
The man had gone to the mango factory to talk with Marie, the employee he was helping out. But why would he hang around until after the factory shut down and the women went home for the day?
Jarrett didn’t immediately tell Lacey. She was still at Fleur’s school with Sam, having a conversation with the principal about having Sam remain on the school grounds to watch over her daughter during the day. It was a good time to investigate further.
While Gene texted Sam to tell him what they’d found, Jarrett went into the kitchen. Rose was pulling croissants out of the oven.
“Rose, are there any deep freezers in the mango factory?”
She placed the flaky treats on a piece of foil. “Miss Lacey bought two last year to store grouper she buys from the local fishermen. Why?”
“I need to see them.”
Jarrett caught a glimpse of fear in her eyes. “Miss Lacey keeps that room locked tight. All the deliveries for the compound are stored there. She doesn’t want anyone in there, Mr. Jarrett.”
“Are the freezers filled now?” he asked.
“No, but I can’t just give you the key. I’ll get into trouble.”
“I’m the one who’s doing this, Rose. Not you. There’s nothing to be scared of.”
But the woman kept shaking her head. He leaned against the counter. Ever since Caroline’s body had been discovered, Rose had been a wreck. Granted, it was nerve-racking to know a murder victim had been dumped on the property, but instinct warned Rose was upset for another reason.
“Everything okay, Rose?”
She fussed with the croissants. “I keep thinking about that poor lady. That’s all. I wish Miss Lacey would take Fleur far away from here and leave.”
“Even though you’d lose your job?”
“Some jobs ain’t worth your life.”
She looked up and the sweat beading her forehead was not from the heat of the oven. The woman was terrified.
Jarrett went to her. “Rose, I’m here and Gene and Sam are staying here, as well. We’re going to find out who did this, and who’s trying to run Lacey out of here. We’ll keep you safe.”
But Rose kept shaking her head.
“Tell you what I’m going to do. I’m going to take all these keys with me and one of them will open the back room and the freezers.”
He went to the key rack on the kitchen wall and sorted through the keys, keeping one eye on Rose, who watched him. When he came upon a set of keys on a chain with a carved wooden sandal, he heard her intake of breath.
Got it.
Jarrett pocketed the keys. “Now you won’t get into trouble because you didn’t give me the key. Are these the only set of keys to the back room and the freezers?”
She nodded.
Minutes later he and Gene walked to the mango factory. The sweet, syrupy scent of ripe fruit hit his nostrils as he walked inside. There were fewer women slicing and bottling fruit today.
He asked one of them where Collette was and she pointed to a small office with a window. The manager was talking on the phone, her back to the assembly room.
“Does she ever work here late, after the building is locked?” he asked.
The woman shook her head. “Miss Lacey was firm about that. She wants everyone gone by three so they can go home and spend time with their children and families.”
He glanced at the office again. It would be polite to tell Collette what they were doing, but Jarrett didn’t want polite. He wanted answers.
They made their way to the back storage room and Jarrett unlocked it and flipped on the light switch. Two large deep freezers used to store supplies lined the wall. Rose said both were empty and locked. Usin
g the key Rose had given him, he opened the first. It was empty.
The second one was empty, as well. But there were a few tiny droplets of crimson on the bottom.
“Fish blood?” Gene asked.
No way to tell without a lab to analyze it. Jarrett leaned down and scanned the freezer. As he started to close the lid, a flash of yellow caught his eye. He lowered the lid.
“Help me move this away from the wall,” he told Gene.
When they did, he lifted the lid and told Gene to hold it upward. Then Jarrett bent down and pulled a scrap of yellow lace from one of the hinges.
Caroline had left them a message.
“Damn,” Gene said. “Someone dumped the body in here until they hung it from the mango tree.”
“And he must have had the key to unlock the building and the freezer,” Jarrett mused.
Gene lowered the lid as Jarrett tucked the scrap into his pocket. Without DNA testing, they couldn’t be certain the lace scrap belonged to Caroline, but it was looking more certain that Lawrence was guilty.
“What are you doing in here? This room is supposed to be locked.”
Collette stood in the doorway, holding the ever-present clipboard and pencil. She glowered until they straightened up.
Then she was all smiles. “Oh, excuse me, Mr. Jarrett. I thought someone was messing around in here. Miss Lacey is very strict about keeping this room off-limits to the workers.”
“I plan to lock up again when we leave.” Jarrett leaned against the wall, arms folded. “Has anyone been in here over the past two days?”
The woman stared straight at him. “No. Why?”
“No fish, no meat stored here?”
“Not for a while.” She tapped her pencil against the clipboard. “Oh, wait. Mr. Lawrence was here recently. He talked with Marie a little while to see how she was doing and then he asked to get into the storage room. He wanted to remove the fish he’d stored here when he went on a deep-sea trip with his friends. Miss Lacey lets him borrow the deep freezer from time to time.”
How convenient. “How long have you worked here, Collette?”
The woman’s gaze sharpened. “About eight months now, Mr. Jarrett. Miss Lacey needed help keeping the women organized and productive. Excuse me. Have to go do my job now.”
The woman certainly seemed dedicated to her job.
He put the lace scrap into his pocket, wishing he had access to a lab. But with the country growing restless as election results were tallied, he wasn’t even certain he could find someone to test for DNA. After calling the police about the case, he found out there was one lone detective investigating the murder, and that detective had been called away on road patrol because of the rising tensions.
Terrific.
Jarrett spent the next two hours catching up on emails and work. His CO had sent an email, asking how he was doing, meaning, have you gotten your act together yet? We need you back, sharp and alert, now that you’ve had time to decompress.
He nearly laughed at that. Decompress? Relax? How could he even lower his guard when someone was trying to run Lacey off her compound? He’d forged a new connection with his ex-wife, one he didn’t want to break. And if he left her now, it would snap like a matchstick, for he’d be doing the exact same thing that caused her to seek a divorce—abandoning her when she needed him the most.
Deciding he needed to burn off energy, he went for a short drive in one of the compound’s trucks, checking out the route to Fleur’s school, investigating the back roads Marcus had told him about. It was always good to know options.
When he returned he found Lacey in her office, working on the computer. She glanced up. “Perfect timing. I need someone to help me put labels on the envelopes and then stuff them. I’m doing a fund-raising letter to donors in the States and need to send these out through the courier service today for my dad to mail. Have a seat.”
Jarrett sat at the small table and began to peel off labels and stick them on envelopes.
“How did you hire Collette?” he asked.
“Paul recommended her. She used to be a manager in his factory, but when he cut back on staff two years ago, she left for the States. She returned because she missed her family.” Lacey gathered papers from the printer. “Why?”
“Is she competent?”
“She’s smart, increased our production by fifty percent simply by organizing the women in shifts that suited their schedules, giving them flexible hours and paying them by the amount of jars they produce, not the hours they work.”
Jarrett helped her insert the letters into business envelopes and put labels on them. “What happens if you leave here, Lace? Does the charity shut down?”
Lacey shook her head. “I made sure that would never happen. My long-term goal isn’t staying here, Jarrett. It was to begin a foundation that would eventually be run by people in St. Marc. I wanted to give these women a head start and then eventually turn it over to a board of directors in St. Marc who would keep it going.”
“And Paul Lawrence is on that board? Who else?”
“I’m the president. Paul is the vice president. Then there’s Francis who is the treasurer, Collette, my friend Helen and her husband, George, and Rose. I put Rose on the board because the mango marmalade is her recipe, and she represents quality control. But I’ll have to find new board members soon because Helen and George are moving to Paris the end of the year.”
She pushed back her hair. “I want business people from St. Marc who will be dedicated to our long-term goal of empowering women as well as helping to raise funds for operational expenses. I do have a 501c3 tax status in the States for the purpose of fund-raising. I’d always be involved in raising money and doing special events and mailings.”
He stacked the envelopes and gave her a long, thoughtful look. “And what if something happens to you and you return to the States? Who takes over then?”
“Paul would be the president of the board, but Collette would remain as the manager to keep operations running until they voted on finding a replacement for me.”
Paul again. He didn’t like this connection. Jarrett stayed her hand. “Look at me, Lace.”
She turned, her eyes so blue in her face, her expression troubled. “You found something out about Caroline’s murder.”
“Paul Lawrence may be involved. Your security guard said his SUV was at the mango factory long after the factory had closed. Collette said he was getting fish from the deep freezer.”
“I let him store fish there. That’s nothing unusual.”
“But this is.” He pulled the scrap of fabric from his pocket. “I believe Paul dumped Caroline’s body there in the deep freezer until it could be moved later, when everyone had gone home.”
Lacey took the fabric and turned it over. Her shoulders slumped. “Ever since his divorce, Paul has been a player. He’s not much to look at, but he has money and he’s charming. But I’ve never known him to turn violent. Even if he was Caroline’s mysterious phantom lover, why would he kill her? Even if she was pregnant and pressuring him to marry her, he could have just dumped her. That happens all the time in St. Marc. Half the women who come to me for help are unwed mothers.”
“Maybe she knew something and threatened to expose it,” Jarrett said.
He’d bank on Caroline’s murder tying in with the reason behind the threats Lacey had received and the pressure for her to leave the compound and return to the States.
“Has Lawrence asked you about returning to DC? Hinted you should go back for your own good?”
She sighed. “I thought it was because he worried for my safety. Now I think it’s because he’s the one who’s been leaving all the threats. If I returned to the States, he could control Marlee’s Mangoes.”
“Why would he want that?”
“Because it’s starting to make money, and if he controlled that money he could pay off his debtors. We’re losing money again on the coffee exports. I’ve been so involved with my charity that I let h
im run things at the coffee factory, but got word that he was considering layoffs. He kept delaying me from seeing the profit and loss statements, and finally I went to the accountant. I don’t know what he’s involved in, Jarrett, but it’s not good. I think he has a gambling problem.”
“I’ll do a little digging and find out.” Jarrett kissed her cheek and then the corner of her mouth. Damn, her skin was soft and sweet and tasted fine. He wanted to take it further, lead her back to the bedroom and make long, slow love to her. “I don’t want you anywhere near him, Lace. I’ll go later to talk with him.”
Lacey looked so upset, he wanted to cheer her. But his first job was ensuring her safety. “I have to pick Fleur up from school soon. Sam has to leave the school early to get Gene. They’re going to the capital to get the security cameras and buy a lot of food and supplies just in case. There are reports the newly elected president may not get into power. Seems like everyone is running to the grocery.”
The situation had the makings of a coup, and he didn’t like it. “I’ll pick her up. Stay here, focus on your work.”
Work would help distract her. He knew how she felt, everything crumbling to pieces around her, and needing to hold on to something solid and good.
CHAPTER 13
Fleur was in a good mood when he met her at school. She chattered about her day, playing jump rope at recess, and showed him the drawing of the bird she’d done in class.
Jarrett hugged her and then helped her into the SUV, making sure she was buckled in. As he pulled out of the school yard, he was glad to see her so animated. This past week he had grown fond of the little girl, and she was beginning to mean a lot to him.
Not only because she was Lacey’s daughter, but because she was a tough, spirited kid who had been through hell. And she had a survivor’s spirit.
Traffic crawled as Jarrett drove. He navigated past a slow-moving caravan of donkeys laden with woven baskets. A few men and women hawked wares along the roadside, but the market wasn’t as crowded as it had been the previous day. Jarrett kept his gaze sharpened. Vendors sat beneath faded beach umbrellas as they sold bright yellow bananas, tasty-looking mangoes, packs of gum, sweets or fried chicken on the sidewalk.