by Dee Davis
“I know.”
“So do they have any idea who did this?” He stepped back, studying them both.
“No. I haven’t heard anything. I swear. I’m just as confused as you are.”
“So why were you here? I mean you said you were on the way to the house.” He looked confused now, as if reality was just now sinking in.
“I was just hoping Dad could help me with something I’ve been working on. You know how good he—he was with a puzzle,” she said tripping over the past tense. “Anyway, if I knew anything definitive, I’d tell you.” Owen admired the way she handled her brother, clearly caring enough to shield him from the worst of it. Not to mention protecting the operation.
Mark searched her face for a moment more, and then nodded. “Okay. I guess I’ll go and see him now. You’ll be here when I get back?”
“I’m not leaving you,” Tyler said, reaching up to touch his face. “We’ll handle it all together. Okay?”
He nodded and pushed through the ICU doors.
“He seems like a good guy,” Owen said.
“He is. And he’s handling this better than I’d have expected. I think he’s trying to be strong for me.”
“Well, that’s what brothers are for.”
“Big brothers maybe. But it’s my job to take care of him now. He’s all I’ve got left. You know?”
They waited in silence, the minutes seeming to stretch on endlessly, and then Mark was back, his cheeks streaked with tears. “He was so still. Like he was asleep. I kept wanting to reach out and try to wake him. But maybe this is for the best, right? I mean he was just going to get sicker. And he’d have hated that.”
“But he’d have been alive,” Tyler whispered, her hands clenched again into fists.
“Anyway,” Mark said, taking a deep breath, “tomorrow I’ll make arrangements.”
“I’ll be there with you.”
“No,” he shook his head, “you won’t.”
She looked up at him, startled, then shot a questioning glance in Owen’s direction.
“Look, Tyler,” Mark said, “I don’t know what happened here. I’m not even sure I want to know. But I do know that you’re in a position to do something about it.”
“I don’t…” She shook her head, but her brother put his finger to her lips.
“Don’t deny it. Dad told me what you do. At least some of it.”
“Then why didn’t you say something?”
He shrugged. “I just figured if you wanted me to know you’d tell me. Anyway, the point is that someone murdered our parents. And I need to know that the people who did it are going to be brought to justice. So while I take care of things here, I want you out there working to find out who did this. I need you to do that for me, okay?”
“Mark’s right,” Owen said. “We’re the only ones who are truly motivated to find answers. But to find them, you’re going to have to leave this hospital.”
“I can’t just leave my father here on his own.”
“He’s got me, Tyler. So it’ll be all right.” Mark looked to Owen for support, and for a moment he remembered what it was like to be a part of a family. But he pushed the thought away. He was only a passing stranger in their lives. A lying one at that.
“What do you say I take you back to the hotel?” Owen said, ending the conversation where it had begun. “Mark can keep you updated. And we’ll do the same for him. Sound like a plan?”
“I don’t know,” Tyler said, looking first at Owen and then at her brother. “I think I should stay. We should do this together. You need me.”
“What I need is for you to figure out who did this,” Mark said. “It’s the only way we’re ever truly going to be able to lay this to rest.”
CHAPTER 11
How are you holding up?” Owen asked as they stepped off the hotel elevator and headed for their rooms.
“I’m okay. I’m just concentrating on going one minute to the next,” Tyler said, knowing the words were a lie. She was far from okay, but giving in to her grief wasn’t going to help anyone. There’d be time to mourn her father. Just not now. “I’m still not sure I should have left Mark on his own. It just seems like I’m deserting him.”
“You’re not. Think of it as a two-pronged attack. He’s handling things on the logistics end so that you can deal with finding the culprits.”
“On an intellectual level, I know you’re right, but my heart is screaming that I should be with my father.”
“Yes, but given a choice you know he’d want you to fight.” Owen stopped in front of a set of doors.
“I know he would. I do. It’s just hard.” She sighed. “Which one’s mine?”
“I put your things in 202,” he said, holding out a keycard. “I’m here, in 204. The rooms connect. I figure that way I can watch over you without being in your face.”
“That wasn’t necessary,” she said, thinking that the last thing she needed was proximity to Owen Wakefield. She’d already leaned on him far too much. Caring was dangerous. And for the first time since Justin she felt as if she were teetering on the brink. “I can take care of myself.”
“I don’t doubt that for an instant, but your friends at Sunderland would never forgive me if I let something happen to you.”
“I suppose that’s a point,” she conceded, taking the key.
“Do you want me to come in with you?” he asked, his eyes telegraphing his concern.
“No. I think I’d like some time on my own, if you don’t mind. I know there’s a lot to discuss, but we can talk later. And don’t worry, I’ll unlock my side of the connecting door.” She gave him the ghost of a smile. “To give you piece of mind. I mean you’re right about Avery and Nash, you don’t want to get on their bad side.”
Tyler slid the key through the lock, and the light glowed green. She pushed open the door, a whoosh of refrigerated air smacking her in the face even though it was early October. Letting the door close behind her, she walked inside, the effort just to take the next step almost more than she could bear. So instead, she stood in the room’s cool darkness, eyes closed, wishing that she’d wake up and find all of this a bad dream.
Instead, she heard a tiny noise. An infinitesimal click.
But it was a sound she recognized. Adrenaline surged as she hit the floor, drawing her gun and firing as bullets strafed the door behind her. Her assailant fired once more and moved to the window. The curtains billowed, his profile highlighted for a moment, but before she could get off a second shot, he jumped.
Tyler screamed for Owen as she pulled to her feet and ran for the window. Outside, the night was still, the parking lot below filled with cars and shadows, but no sign of the intruder. She waited, gun ready, not daring to breathe, but nothing moved. The man was gone.
Behind her, Owen was pounding on the adjoining door, the adjacent wall shaking with each contact. She thought about going out the window and giving chase, but there was nothing to give her an idea of which direction he’d gone. So, with a sigh, she turned and walked back to the connecting door, freeing the lock and stepping back as it burst open, Owen’s face black with anger as he brandished his gun.
“Are you all right?”
“I’m fine,” she said, slipping her gun back into its holster. “I’m not so sure about the door, though.” Pinpricks of light showed through it like some macabre Lite-Brite pattern.
“Bloody hell.” He stood for a moment staring at the bullet holes, then turned to face her. “Where the fuck did the bugger go?”
“Out the window.” She held back a smile as she watched him cross over to have a look, his shirt untucked, his hair going every which way. She’d never seen him so flustered, and despite the seriousness of what had just happened, his disarray amused her. “Whoever he was, he’s long gone. I was behind him by only a few seconds and there was already nothing to see. It’s just too dark out there.”
“Did you at least get a look at him?”
“Only his profile. So all I can
be sure of is that it was a ‘him.’ It was darker in here than it was outside.” She reached over to flip the light switch, blinking as the lamps flickered to life. Other than the holes in the door, the room looked unharmed, her suitcase sitting benignly at the end of the bed. “There’s nothing out of place.”
“Mine’s untouched, too,” Owen said. “I was just reaching for my bag when the shots rang out. I’ve got to tell you those were the longest couple of minutes of my life.”
“Seemed pretty fast on this side of the door. Sort of duck or die. I’m not even sure how I knew he was in the room. Thought I heard a click. Maybe the safety. I don’t know.” She sank down on the end of the bed, her energy sapping as quickly as it had come.
“Any chance you hit him?” he asked, dropping into the chair across from the bed.
“I don’t think so. I only got off one round and I was shooting wild. He certainly didn’t act like he was injured. But it all happened really fast…” She trailed off, reality hitting like an IED, shrapnel hurtling through her, threatening to tear her apart.
“You all right?” Owen asked, his face tightening with concern.
“Yeah.” She nodded, shaking off her thoughts. “I just realized what a close call that was. The whole time I was thinking that the shooter was after my father’s computer. But it wasn’t in here. And the room was dark. He was just waiting—waiting for me. Owen, the man wasn’t here to steal anything—he was here to kill me.”
“Feel better?” Owen asked as Tyler stepped out of the bathroom, towel in hand, her hair slicked back in a ponytail, her face still flushed from her shower. She was wearing a pair of sweats and the same camisole she’d worn when they’d… He shook his head, clearing his thoughts. Best to keep his mind off the soft curves of her breasts and focus instead on the situation at hand.
They’d moved hotels, opting to share a room in light of the need for security. And just to be certain, two local CIA officers were stationed outside. Another group from Langley had also run interference with the first hotel, scouring the scene for evidence as well as signs of the intruder. So far, not unexpectedly, there’d been nothing.
“The shower helped.” She nodded, tossing the towel into the corner. “But I won’t feel better until we nail the bastard behind all of this.”
“Well, I’m afraid we’ve got our work cut out for us,” Owen said, frowning down at the notes he’d made. He’d called Logan and filled him in, then suffered through his boss’s continued pontification on the importance of weeding out bad seeds. Logan’s sights were still centered on Tyler. And despite everything that had happened, Owen found that he couldn’t dismiss the idea either. Which left him feeling conflicted on more levels than he could count. None of which he wanted to examine in any detail.
While he’d been on the phone with Logan, Tyler had talked with Avery, and then while she was being debriefed, Owen had talked with Harrison. So far they hadn’t found anything that might help identify the man who’d attacked Tyler. Whoever he was, he’d been a professional. No fingerprints. No fibers. “Nothing.”
“Come again?” Tyler said, eyebrows raised in confusion.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t realize I’d spoken out loud. I was just thinking that we still don’t have anything to go on. These people always seem to be one step ahead.”
“Have you tried my dad’s computer?” she asked, sitting cross-legged on the bed opposite the one he was lying on.
Clearly she had absolutely no idea the effect she had on a man. The men in A-Tac had to be either saints or eunuchs. And since he was pretty sure they were neither, he wondered, with another insane surge of jealousy, if she’d had relationships with any of them. She’d mentioned something about going down that road before.
Still, his reaction was completely unfounded. For God’s sake, she was under investigation. His investigation. Best case she’d hate him for lying. Worst case he’d slept with a traitor.
“Owen?” Tyler prompted, and once again he found himself shaking his head to clear his mind.
“Sorry,” he said. “I was off on another tangent.” A particularly lascivious one. “I haven’t turned the computer on yet. I thought I’d wait for you.”
“Well, no time like the present,” she said, springing off the bed to retrieve the computer. Returning to the bed, she pressed the power button and for a moment the computer hummed approvingly, but then she frowned. “Something’s wrong. It’s not booting properly.”
He came over to sit beside her, squinting down at the black screen, a cursor flashing angrily at the top. “This isn’t good.” He reached over her shoulders to restart and try to boot in “safe” mode, but the computer refused, presenting the blinking cursor instead.
“Damn,” Tyler said, frowning as she watched him work.
He tried the procedure again, this time accessing a Help screen that offered to “fix” the problem. He hit ENTER, and waited. The computer whirred to life and then presented him with a blue screen, this one with a simple message. There was nothing to access.
The computer’s data had been destroyed.
“Son of a bitch,” he mumbled, blowing out a frustrated breath. “There’s nothing here. Someone got to it first.”
“But not in the hotel room?”
“No. The computer wasn’t disturbed. I had it hidden in a drawer beneath the extra blankets. Besides, we’ve already established that he wasn’t after the computer.” His gaze met hers and for a moment there was just the two of them—and the fragile bond they’d been building. Then a shadow crossed Tyler’s face and she broke away, frowning down at the computer.
“So you think they did it after they shot him? Surely there wasn’t time. Did you have it checked for prints?”
“Yes.” He nodded. “They found your father’s prints. Which would indicate it hadn’t been wiped down. But I’m guessing whoever’s behind this erased it by remote. It’s easy enough to implement something like that through an email or a virus. All your father would have had to do was open it, and everything’s gone.”
“So the damn thing’s useless.”
“Maybe to us,” he acknowledged, “but I’ve seen people like Harrison do miraculous things with hardware more complicated than this. And you’ve already said that Jason is a whiz at this kind of stuff. We can get the guys outside to take it to Langley.”
“No.” She shook her head. “That’s my father’s private computer. There’s no telling what’s on there. So if we can open it, I’d rather it be someone I trust. Like Jason or even Harrison. Please? We can overnight it to Sunderland in the morning.”
He hesitated for a moment. Logan would probably prefer it be sent to Langley. But Harrison was there to make sure nothing was tampered with. And he could understand wanting to protect a loved one’s privacy. Even in death. “All right. We’ll do it your way.”
She nodded her thanks, then frowned. “So in the meantime all we’ve got are my father’s ramblings. Fat lot of good that does us.”
“I still think there’s logic in there,” he insisted. “We’ve just got to figure out the key.”
“Winter in India?” she asked, her frustration evident. “I don’t see what that could possibly have to do with anything we’re dealing with.”
“Well, first off, he never actually said it that way, did he?”
She thought about it a moment. “No. In the study it sounded like he said ‘winter… India winter.’ But in the hospital it didn’t sound the same.” She scrunched up her nose, trying to remember. “My mind wasn’t exactly on what he was saying. Wait. In ICU, I think he said Indian, not India.” She rubbed her temples, clearly willing herself to pull forth the memory. “Yes. I’m certain. It was Indian.”
“Tell me exactly what he said,” Owen urged.
She opened her eyes, her expression determined. “He was really confused. Even the nurse said so.”
“It doesn’t matter. Just try to remember the words.”
She nodded. “He asked me to forgive
him. But he never really said why.”
“What else?”
“I don’t know, everything was happening so fast. And I can’t believe it’s important. The man had Alzheimer’s.”
“Tyler, we can’t know if it’s important until we’ve gotten a look at the whole puzzle.”
She started to argue, then apparently thought better of it. “Okay, um, he said something about duty and not having a choice. And then he started to fade. After that it was just words. He said ‘winter’ again. And then ‘debt.’” She closed her eyes, concentrating. “And I’m pretty sure the last word was ‘Indian.’”
“Ending with an n as opposed to an a.”
“Yes, I think so. And then he started to say something else but I couldn’t make it out. Then the nurse came in and asked me to leave and after that—” She cut herself off, her fingers curling into fists.
He reached out to cover her hands with his, waiting until she regained control. “All right,” he said, letting her go, knowing that she needed to fight through this on her own, “we’ve just got to make sense of the message.”
“If it is a message.” Tyler frowned.
“Keep thinking about the words. What do you think he meant by ‘debt.’ Something monetary?”
“No.” She shook her head. “When I talked to Della about our coming to see them she said Dad had been rambling on about a debt of honor. That’s got to be it.”
“Does that mean anything to you?”
“Nothing tangible. I mean, my father’s a soldier. Honor is everything. But how that ties into regrets, and Indians, and winter, I’ve no idea at all.” She pushed off the bed, walking over to the window, the line of her shoulders telegraphing her frustration. “This is like trying to find a firing pin in the middle of a fucking jungle.”
Owen laughed and she whirled around, confusion warring with anger. He held up a hand, shaking his head in apology. “I’m sorry. I’m not trying to make light. It’s just that your version of ‘needle in a haystack’ is so—well, I don’t know, you. It’s all about ordnance.”