Hurricane Force (A Miss Fortune Mystery Book 7)

by DeLeon, Jana

  Everything they said was absolutely true. I knew Carter had been shocked, then angry, and at some point almost resigned. I knew I’d hurt him on every level possible except physical, although I had just discovered that severe emotional pain caused you physical pain. Every muscle in my body was knotted. My stomach felt as if I’d eaten bad Chinese food. My head pounded as though I’d been struck with a two-by-four. Getting shot hurt less.

  “I didn’t just injure his pride,” I said. “I decimated it. He asked me if you two knew.”

  “Oh no.” Gertie’s hand flew up to cover her mouth.

  “And you had to tell him we did,” Ida Belle said. “At this point, it couldn’t be helped. Nothing that’s happened since you arrived in Sinful makes sense unless we were in on it from the beginning. It won’t take Carter long to piece everything together. Everything he only had a mild suspicion of before, he’ll know he was right about.”

  “And he’ll know things couldn’t have happened that way unless we knew,” Gertie said. “We wouldn’t place that kind of trust in someone if they couldn’t back it up, and we wouldn’t have taken part if we hadn’t been qualified to do so ourselves.” Gertie looked over at Ida Belle and sighed. “We had a good run, sister.”

  I looked at Gertie, confused. “Wait—I didn’t tell Carter about you guys.”

  They both frowned.

  “But how did you explain telling us and not telling him?” Gertie asked.

  “I told him you made me right after I arrived, just like he did. That you recognized the moves from your time in Vietnam and knew no civilian could have pulled them off.”

  Ida Belle looked at Gertie, then back at me. “We appreciate your loyalty, Fortune, and we understand you live by a soldier’s code, but this isn’t a bullet we want you to take. If Carter knew the truth about us, it might make him feel better about not connecting the dots with you before now.”

  Gertie nodded. “Right now, it looks to him like two old ladies got the jump on him.”

  I shook my head. “I won’t blow a soldier’s cover. Ever. If you want to tell him the truth, that’s up to you, but he’ll never hear a word of your past from me. I made you a promise, and that’s worth more to me than my broken heart or Carter’s pride.”

  Gertie gave my shoulders a squeeze. “They don’t make them like you anymore.”

  I felt tears well up again as the entire last hour replayed in my mind.

  “Maybe that’s a good thing,” I said as I dissolved into tears once more.

  ###

  Between crying jags, wallowing and two hot showers, I took up an hour and a half of the night. The only lucky break I got was when Ally called to say she’d be working with Francine well into the night and was going to bunk with her. At least it bought me some time to come up with a cover story for the end of my relationship with Carter. I couldn’t exactly tell the truth, and Sinful residents would be on that change in wind direction like stink on crap.

  The call from the sheriff’s department came as I’d just stepped out of the shower for the second time. Carter needed to get statements from all of us, and he wanted to talk to Gertie first as it was her house.

  “I’m not ready to face him,” I said, still wrapped in a towel and running a comb through my hair.

  “Of course you’re not,” Gertie said, “but you don’t have a choice.”

  “You think I don’t know that?” I tossed the comb in the sink. “There are four dead men in the morgue and I killed one of them. More importantly, they would have killed you if they’d found you at home. The man I dispatched didn’t hesitate. He was going to kill whoever was in your backyard, whether they were a threat or not.”

  They both stood there silently watching me, probably waiting for me to either explode or start crying again. I felt like doing both, but I wasn’t going to do either. I was done being a regular girl. It was time to become a soldier again.

  “Look,” I said, “I know something has to be done. I wouldn’t have ever come to Sinful if the threat wasn’t real. I know better than anyone the level of evil we’re dealing with. You two take my Jeep and go on ahead. I’m going to call Harrison and bring him up to speed. I should have as soon as it happened.”

  “Do you think you’ll be in trouble?” Gertie asked.

  “I’m going to be in so much trouble, I probably won’t see anything but a desk for at least a decade. That’s if I get to keep my job at all.”

  “I’m so sorry,” Gertie said, her dismay obvious. “We should have never asked you to take the risks that we did. It’s our fault you’re in this mess.”

  “Don’t even go there. It’s all my fault. I’ve always had a problem following orders, which is how I wound up here in the first place. I’ve always pushed it. Always had something to prove. If this time it costs me everything, then I only have myself to blame.”

  And that was the bottom line. I could rage at my mother for dying and leaving me when I needed her the most. I could rage at my father for barely showing a passing interest in his only child. I could blame society for expecting women to be less capable in certain jobs than men. I could blame the CIA for the rules that tied agents’ hands so often.

  But what difference did it make?

  It was a bunch of explanations but not an excuse. The bottom line is that no matter why I did the things I did, I always had a choice in doing them.

  “You’re sure you’ll be okay here by yourself?” Gertie asked.

  I smiled. “Everyone is probably safer if I’m alone.”

  Ida Belle nodded. “I’ll text you when we’re done, then we’ll come get you for your round.”

  “What are you going to tell Carter when he asks why I’m not there?” I asked.

  “I’ll tell him you’re taking care of business,” Ida Belle said. “He can deal with it or not. Despite my empathy for his broken heart situation, we’ve got a much bigger problem to address.”

  “Thanks,” I said. I watched as they made their way out of my bedroom and then looked out the window as they stopped in front of my Jeep and had a brief argument. I smiled. Gertie wanted to drive and Ida Belle was refusing. Ida Belle climbed into the driver’s seat and Gertie flopped into the passenger’s seat, still wearing a pout as they drove away.

  It was nice when some things were always the same. It made life feel secure, even though I knew better than most people that security was as big a myth as control.

  I put on yoga pants, T-shirt, and tennis shoes, then pulled my hair back into a ponytail. No sundresses. No lip gloss. No shiny wave of fake hair running across my shoulders. Those days were over.

  I went downstairs and grabbed my cell phone. I took a deep breath and slowly blew it out before dialing Harrison’s number. This was not going to be a pleasant conversation. Part of me hoped I got his voice mail and could put it off just a little longer, but as my luck was running, he answered on the first ring.

  “It’s me,” I said. “I have a big problem.”

  “Shit.”

  Usually when I called Harrison with an issue, I always described it as a “little problem.” The fact that I was coming out and stating this was a big one left him no doubt that I was about to dump a huge mess on him.

  I gave him a rundown on everything that had happened, starting with my unauthorized investigation of Max’s apartment in New Orleans and ending with my dispatch of one of Ahmad’s men. When I finished, there was dead silence on the other end of the phone. It lasted so long that I thought for a moment Harrison had either had a heart attack or simply left his phone on the coffee table, formed a new identity, and fled the country. I wouldn’t blame him if he did. Partnering with me couldn’t be easy.

  Then the explosion came.

  A good two minutes of cursing and yelling—some of the words and phrases were things I’d never even heard. I was pretty sure he was so angry he was making stuff up. Finally, he ran out of either creativity or air and he went silent.

  “I’ve got to go down to the sheriff’s
department to make a statement here shortly,” I said. “I need to know how to proceed.”

  “You said the deputy took responsibility for the shot, right? Is he going to go on record with that?”

  “I think so. No one would think twice about it if he did it, whereas if he put on the record that I did…well, it would blow my cover and make him look foolish given that we were sorta dating and he had no idea who I really was.”

  Harrison blew out a breath. “You know, you have had some real doozies before, but this one takes the cake. I bet we could drop you off on a deserted island and you’d still find a way to screw things up.”

  “Probably.”

  The resignation and exhaustion I felt must have come through in that single word, because Harrison backed off of me and shifted back to the job.

  “So Ahmad’s men killed Randal’s men. Is that right?”

  “I can’t be positive they were Randal’s men, but that’s what I think. The other two were definitely Ahmad’s. I recognized one of them.”

  “Did they recognize you?”

  “I don’t think so. I didn’t see a flicker of recognition in the one I dispatched, but then he didn’t have time to focus on my looks either. I didn’t get a good look at the other man before Carter fired. I think Randal’s men tracked Gertie’s license plate and got her home address. My guess is Ahmad’s men followed them thinking they’d get a line on the counterfeiter.”

  “It doesn’t matter. It puts them all dangerously close to you. And what if the one hiding behind the shed sent a text telling Ahmad that he’d seen you? He had time before he ran out to do it?”

  I felt my stomach clench a little. “Carter searched them. I’m sure if he found anything that indicated my cover was blown, he would have contacted me right away.”

  “Yeah, probably so, but still, it’s too close for comfort. You’ve been hanging out with those old ladies since you arrived. It wouldn’t take someone a lot of time to track them back to you. Randal’s men got a good look at you at the apartment. Even if the guys in the alley are dead, I’m sure they reported in with a description.”

  “True.”

  “You should have contacted me when you got the information on Randal.”

  “It was just a theory,” I said. “We wanted to make the connection, but yes, you’re right. I should have given you the name as soon as I suspected he was Jamison’s counterfeit connection.”

  “Well, no sense harping on it now, but with Randal’s and Ahmad’s guys dead, it’s not going to take long for both camps to come out swinging with the front line and burying evidence with the back one.”

  It was all things I’d already processed, and they were no less grim with Harrison laying them out verbally as I’d already done mentally.

  “So how do we proceed?” I asked.

  “First, I get the three of you out of Sinful. Normally, I’d pull you out altogether and send the old ladies to the Bahamas, but I think the things they know might be beneficial to the investigation, and God help me for saying this, but I don’t trust pulling off the takedown without you. The FBI has some great agents, but no one is more qualified for this than you.”

  It was the only time I remembered Harrison extending me a compliment. I knew he appreciated my skills, as I did his. We’d saved each other’s lives enough times to have a deep respect for each other when it came to the work. But he’d never actually come out and said I was better at something than others. Under ordinary circumstances, it would have been a real ego boost, but now, I almost wished it weren’t true.

  If I weren’t so skilled, so devoted, so tunnel-visioned, maybe my life wouldn’t be falling apart.

  “Okay,” I said. “You secure the safe house and then let me know how passage will be handled. I’ll let Ida Belle and Gertie know we’re relocating.”

  “And your deputy friend. He’s not going to be happy about the CIA yanking you out from under him. He’ll be even madder if you disappear without telling him. Just no information on the safe house or passage.”

  “Of course not,” I said, even though I didn’t agree with Harrison’s assessment. Carter would never want Ida Belle and Gertie remaining in a dangerous situation. He would be all for them being locked away where no one could get to them and they couldn’t get into any trouble. As for me, he’d probably prefer if I just disappeared.

  He might get his wish.

  If we managed to get Ahmad in New Orleans, there would be no reason for me to stay in Sinful. I could become a ghost as far as Sinful was concerned…just like Max. The only difference was, I would never return.

  Chapter Sixteen

  I knew I was supposed to wait on Ida Belle’s call and for her to pick me up, and given the situation, it wasn’t in my best interest to go walking down the streets of Sinful alone after dark, but I honestly didn’t care. I’d reached that mental state of “what happens is going to happen” and there was no shaking me out of that attitude until I was ready to listen to logic again.

  Besides, I was going stir-crazy in that silent house. Turning on the television hadn’t provided one ounce of distraction, and Merlin, while a decent enough housemate, wasn’t exactly a conversationalist. He’d watched the entire night unfold from his latest preferred position at the top of the stairs. I decided that if reincarnation was real, I wanted to come back as a cat. Aside from being startled during sleep, very little perturbed them.

  I checked the street from my bedroom window and pulled on a ball cap, shoving my ponytail underneath. The streets were clear—not even so much as a car passing by—but I still let myself out through the back door and skirted through my neighbor’s backyard before making my way around to the front of the houses. Front doors were too easily watched from a distance. A couple cars I didn’t recognize were parked down the block from me. Most likely, they were friends or relatives of the people who lived in the houses, but why run the risk?

  I set out at a good clip for Main Street. For someone with my conditioning, it wasn’t a long jog. For someone in my state of mind, it wasn’t long enough. When I got close to downtown, I turned and set off down another block, increasing my pace to a sprint. I’d circled the block twice and was dripping with sweat before I stopped and bent over, drawing in big gulps of air. After a couple minutes’ recovery, I checked my cell phone but still hadn’t received a message from Ida Belle.

  I looked at my watch. It had been forty-five minutes since they’d left my house. They had to be close to wrapping things up. I’d just head over there now and wait until they finished. I could use some water, and I wasn’t going back home for it. I set off at my jogging pace again and a couple minutes later stepped inside the sheriff’s department.

  Deputy Breaux looked up from the front desk when I entered. His eyes widened as he took in my somewhat disheveled appearance. “Are you all right?” he asked as he jumped up from his desk.

  “I’m fine. I just jogged over.”

  Deputy Breaux frowned. “I don’t think it’s a good idea to be jogging around by yourself, especially at night. I’ll go right ahead and admit this thing with those men at Gertie’s house has scared the crap out of me.”

  “It’s certainly upsetting,” I said. “My problem is I’ve always exercised when I’m stressed, and Marge didn’t have a treadmill. I was going stir-crazy just sitting there listening to the silence.”

  Deputy Breaux relaxed a little. “I can see that. When I’m really stressed, I fish, but my sister gets on one of those step machines. She’s been through two of them already in the last five years. You gotta wonder what she’s doing to her knees.”

  And what was stressing her out enough to wear out two stair-climbers. As far as I knew, Deputy Breaux’s sister was a stay-at-home mom with two elementary-aged children. Don’t get me wrong—that setup would probably drive me to drink, but it was the life she wanted. “Maybe you should see about getting her checked out by a doctor,” I said. I’d seen plenty of agents crack and need anxiety meds to function normally.
“She might have something wrong with her that exercise can’t fix.”

  Deputy Breaux nodded. “Mom says she’s been different ever since she fell at the boat dock. She cracked her head good. I think Mom finally got her to agree to see a doctor in New Orleans.”

  “Good. I hope that helps.”

  “Thank you.” He gave me a shy smile. “You’re a really nice person, Ms. Morrow, always thinking about other people.”

  I just smiled. What was the alternative? Tell him I wasn’t a nice person at all? That most everything I did was self-serving even if it appeared altruistic?

  The desk phone rang and Deputy Breaux answered.

  “Yep. That’s good,” he said. “I’ll be there in a couple minutes.” He hung up the phone and looked at me. “The crime scene unit is done processing Gertie’s house. I’ve got to go secure it. The neighbors have already started collecting on the sidewalk. I don’t even know what I’m supposed to say to them.”

  “That you can’t speak about an ongoing investigation and that Gertie is fine and wasn’t at home when the incident occurred.”

  He relaxed a little. “That sounds good. I’m going to say it just like you told me. Will you be all right staying up here alone? You can lock the door after I leave.”

  “I’ll be fine.”

  “Okay then. They’re back in Carter’s office doing the statements. I’m sure you won’t be waiting long.”

  “No problem, and Deputy Breaux, be careful.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  I waited until he got into his truck, then locked the front door behind him. Under normal circumstances, I would have headed straight behind the desk and started flipping through all the paperwork, but I couldn’t work up the energy to care. What I really needed was water, so I headed down the hall for the break room.

  The makeshift “Broken” sign on the bathroom door almost made me smile, until I remembered that Carter probably considered it just one more time he’d been made a fool of. He’d probably spent every free moment over the past couple of hours putting the past five weeks into perspective. He wasn’t going to like what he remembered. Not cast in a new light.