“That was a long time ago.” Probably two or three years now.
“Never met anyone like her. Never felt like this.”
“Dane.”
His friend didn’t quit. “It’s what you said.”
“She told me it was done.”
“Goes both ways, brother. You gotta fight for what you want.”
Tate had seen Dane do as much with his wife. In fact, he did it every day because their marriage was long-distance.
“But what do I know?” Dane shrugged. “I’m just a hick-town sheriff.”
Liberty called out from the kitchen, “Is it safe to come back over?”
* * *
The sheriff grinned. They’d obviously been talking about her, but she hadn’t heard any of it. They’d kept their voices low, and Liberty had let them have their talk. Maybe he was convincing Tate to turn himself in to the Secret Service so they could clear this all up. That would certainly make her position a little easier.
Soon enough the Secret Service would want to know why she wasn’t at Tate’s house anymore, but running all over the county with their prime suspect. She wasn’t looking forward to having that conversation with Locke.
“Come and sit down,” Tate said. “Maybe now Dane will tell us the rest of it.”
Liberty glanced at the sheriff but directed her question at Tate. “Did you tell him about the mine?”
Tate nodded, and the sheriff said, “I already called in to the feds about the explosion, and how the mine is big enough to house the kind of plane that went missing. They’re going to head out to the site at first light.”
“And there haven’t been any updates, no ransom calls?”
Tate turned to her. “You think this was a kidnapping?”
Liberty said, “I don’t know. We have the black box, so that should tell us something—” of course, by “us” she meant the Secret Service “—and no one has found the wreckage. We would’ve heard more than that initial radio call if it had landed because there was an emergency. What explanations are left? Hijacking. An uneventful landing, maybe even miles from here so no one noticed.” Liberty paused. “Like an abandoned ranch with an airstrip.”
“Makes sense.” Dane nodded. “There haven’t been any updates from the feds in the last six hours, though the search is ongoing. They have the black box in their possession and they took the man from your house into custody.”
“And the dead man near the mine?”
“It’ll be processed by my guys and the information shared with the feds. That’s how they want to play it.”
Liberty nodded. “So they know someone is actively trying to implicate Tate in this.”
The sheriff said, “Yes. The BOLO they have out for Tate has been updated. They don’t just want a location—they want him apprehended for questioning.” He paused, looked at them both in turn. “It’s an upgrade from the first BOLO. They’re taking a hard look at our man here.” Dane pointed at Tate, who didn’t even move.
Liberty would have been squirming in her chair if she were in his position. She couldn’t believe Tate wasn’t more worried about what might happen to him. He hardly seemed ruffled about any of this, even facing men who wanted to frame him. And kill him.
“You’re in a sticky position,” she said. “They know you work with Tate, and you’re friends, right?”
Dane nodded.
“You’re going to run into a conflict between that and doing your job.” Like she wasn’t also in a conflict? But that wasn’t her point.
“We already passed the conflict-of-interest stage.”
Tate chimed in. “So what are you going to do, Dane?”
The sheriff looked at him. “I’m going to be a professional who fights for my friend’s reputation. I’m not going to let them smear your name through whatever mud they want. And I won’t let you go down for a crime you didn’t commit. So if you need a character witness, I’m it.”
“The Secret Service probably figures they know all they need to.”
“And the blog doesn’t help,” Liberty said. “It makes you look like a raging hothead.”
“I didn’t write any blog.”
“Of course you didn’t,” Dane said. “You’re a technological dinosaur.”
Liberty snorted, and Dane grinned at her. He said, “I’ve already reminded them. And if they look into it, I’m sure they’ll figure out it’s just another way to frame you for this.”
“Which means it was planned. And it probably looks like it was me.”
Liberty glanced at Tate. He was onto something. “Go on.”
Tate said, “If they had enough foresight to start the blog months ago just to make it look like I’m angry and wanting to lash out, maybe by kidnapping three people, then they’ve been planning to do this for at least a year.”
She thought about it for a moment. “So it wasn’t just the fact that the opportunity presented itself. Unless that’s part of it. It could be a convergence of events making it all possible now.” There was a clock running for her to check in with the Secret Service. What if it was also true for the person behind the missing plane? “Either they were just ready, or something happened to make it now.”
“But why Tate?” Dane asked.
Good question. “He came home—maybe that was the catalyst. There are probably a few who would have been good candidates. For some reason, they decided to pick him.”
“A convergence of events?” Tate’s expression held a touch of humor.
“Why is that funny?”
“Have you been reading snooty books again?”
“There’s nothing wrong with the classics.” Especially when they clearly expanded her vocabulary. “But that’s not what we’re talking about. We’re discussing how to keep you out of prison.”
“You’re very cute when you’re rallying to my defense.”
Um...what? Liberty’s mind blanked as she struggled to find words. Why was he being like this, and in front of Dane?
“Exactly.” Tate glanced at the sheriff, a smile on his face. “Like I said. Cute.”
Secret Service agents weren’t cute. Cute was not part of the job description. And no one she worked with would have mistaken her for cute. Not the way she’d been the past year—closed off and professional. Liberty had pulled away from everyone, nursing her grief over Tate moving away. Finally admitting she’d done what she knew she had to.
* * *
Dane looked like he was about to burst out laughing. Tate figured that wasn’t exactly uncalled for. He was acting weird, but he couldn’t help it. What Dane said had stuck with him. All those conversations they’d had on the phone when Tate had been thinking about proposing to Liberty. Telling Dane all about how he felt about her, and how it was so different from what he’d expected. And even earlier, how Dane said he was in love with Liberty when Tate hadn’t even realized it himself.
Tate watched her shake herself out of her flustered state. Even in the middle of all there was going on, Tate needed the lightness right now. Despite what she thought, he knew exactly the implications of what was happening. He could end up in prison.
His life was in danger, and so was Liberty’s. If he let her go back to the Secret Service she could be leaving him with a target on her back. He didn’t know for sure if she was in the Russians’ crosshairs, but he wasn’t willing to take the risk if she was.
The pleasure of watching her blush was short-lived. “We should head out.” Tate got up. “You need sleep before you check in with the Secret Service.”
“I really do.” Liberty gave him a rueful smile. “I can hardly see straight I’m so tired.”
“You should take my truck,” Dane offered. “I’ll tell the Secret Service you came here for help and I tried to bring you in for questioning, but you hit me over the head o
r something.”
Tate wanted to laugh when there was nothing amusing about this situation. “I’m sorry we’re putting you in this position. You could get in real trouble for helping us.”
Dane shook his head. “I’m not sure what you’re talking about. I found the flight recorder, and the intruder I arrested at your house, when I went to look for you. I’ve called and called you, but haven’t been able to get through. The truck in the river was reported and I logged it, single truck, no occupants. Probably stolen. And when I did see you, it was because you turned up at my house in the middle of the night, took a bunch of my groceries and stole my truck keys, along with most of my weapons. After all those times we hunted together, you know the code to my gun safe.”
Dane lifted both hands, the picture of innocence. “I can take care of myself, Tate. Don’t worry about me.”
Tate nodded. There was plenty for them to be worried about, and he cared about Dane’s future—mostly because if he didn’t, then when his wife returned from her detail she would box Tate’s ears for it. She was gone more than she was here, but it wouldn’t be much longer before she was home for good. Three years tops, he figured. At least that was what Dane had told him. They had a plan to start a family after she retired from NCIS.
Dane would be a great father. The thought of it made him wonder what his and Liberty’s children would have looked like had they gotten married. Liberty was the kind of woman who would excel as a mother. It was hard for everyone, and parenting had its ups and downs, but she faced challenges with courage. He knew she would be able to do it.
Dane tossed him the keys to his truck. “Groceries are on the back seat.”
“You knew we’d come.”
Dane shrugged. “I figured it would be good to be prepared.”
Tate wanted to hug his friend but stuck his hand out for a shake instead. Dane clapped his hand in Tate’s and then shook his head. He pulled Tate in and they slapped each other’s backs.
“Why does that always look like it hurts?”
He turned to see Liberty watching, her head cocked to the side. Tate wanted to hug her, too. She looked so tired she was about to fall over. He wasn’t much more awake than she was, but the coffee he’d had would get them to the camp trailer.
Dane’s phone rang. “Yeah, Stella.” He paused. “Seriously?...No. Thank you.” He hung up. “That was my night dispatcher. One of the neighbors called in a tip. Someone matching your description came in my house.”
“In the middle of the night.”
“Don’t worry. I know which old-man neighbor it was—he never sleeps.” Dane gritted his teeth. “Watches way too much television. They must have gotten your picture out on the news last night. Anyway, Stella had to pass it on. The feds are on their way here. Now.”
Tate moved to the door and glanced back, once again regretting the fact that he had drawn a good man into his own personal drama.
“Go out the back way. The truck is on the side of the house.” Dane waved Liberty along with him. She hung back in the kitchen, though. Dane motioned to a duffel, the one he used for the gym. “There are clothes in there. Liberty is about my wife’s size. They should do.”
Tate nodded, blown away by his friend’s generosity.
“Do you want me to tell them I didn’t see Liberty, or that you coerced her into going with you?”
Tate wasn’t sure he liked either answer. “Say what you want.” He glanced at the kitchen. “Lib, let’s go.”
“You should probably hit me.” Dane braced. “Make it look good.”
“One sec.” She rifled through a drawer. Over Dane’s shoulder, Tate saw Liberty tuck something behind her back. She stepped up to the sheriff. “I want to say thank you. For everything.”
“You’re welcome, Liberty.” He turned back to Tate and made a “come here” motion with his fingers.
Did he really expect Tate to hit him?
Liberty swung her hand up to the sheriff’s neck. There was a short crackle, and Dane crumpled to the floor.
“What was that?”
Liberty held it up. “Stun gun. Saw it in the drawer earlier when I was looking for a dishcloth.” She hustled with him outside, around the house to the truck. “I figure when he wakes up, his story will be all the more plausible.”
Tate started up the truck and peeled out of the driveway, praying the Secret Service weren’t waiting at the end of the street to arrest them both.
SEVEN
Liberty gripped the handle on the truck door, her phone now dark in the cup holder. She’d switched it off so she couldn’t be tracked by any agency looking for Tate. She wanted to reach for Tate’s hand as he drove, but he was concentrating. No headlights. Tate made his way through the neighborhood by moonlight. The clock on the dash said 04:30. Her eyes burned with fatigue. Liberty rubbed them and focused on the road ahead.
Tate hadn’t missed a step. “Exhausted?”
“Sure,” she said. “But also kind of wired. Though I figure as soon as my head hits the pillow, I’ll be out.”
Tate swung the wheel to the right. One tire hit the curb, and he pulled to a sharp stop. “Get down.”
Liberty ducked. Over the sound of the truck’s engine, she heard a vehicle pass. Then a second and third. If this was the Secret Service it wasn’t her team, not with that many vehicles. This must be the other feds investigating the plane’s disappearance. FBI, or maybe even local Secret Service agents.
When the noise died down, Liberty lifted her head. Tate’s upper body was twisted so he could look out the back window.
“FBI?”
“And Secret Service, I think.” He paused. “Dane’s story should hold, but we need to ditch the truck soon or they’ll use it to find us.”
“What about you? You know you could just go talk to them, right?”
“And get arrested?”
“You don’t know that’s their plan.” Liberty settled into her seat and re-buckled her belt. “The plan was to come and talk to you. There’s no warrant out for your arrest, because Dane or I would have known. So you tell the Secret Service about those men who tried to kill us, and how they planted the black box in your house. Then about the ones who tried to kidnap us.”
It had been a long day.
“I need more time, Lib. I need evidence the Russians are framing me and how they’re involved. We need to know who’s calling the shots and where the plane is.”
“We won’t know if it was in the mine until they dig far enough to see.”
“Which will take time.”
Liberty sighed. “And I’m supposed to just put my career and my life on hold until you’re sure it’s the right time?”
Tate gripped the wheel but didn’t look at her. “Bet that feels kind of unfair. Like when you gave my ring back with zero explanation as to why our relationship—the marriage we had been planning—all of a sudden wasn’t working for you.”
“Tate—”
“Don’t bother. I don’t even think I wanna hear it. At least not right now.” He paused. “I’d worked through a lot of it, and tried to make peace with it. You showing back up here all of a sudden is not helping.”
Liberty didn’t say anything. Hot tears pricked her eyes for the millionth time today. Why had she thought coming here was such a good idea? Telling him she was seriously, truly sorry wasn’t a horrible idea. Truth was, the feelings she’d had for him were still there. Still strong.
Too bad Tate didn’t want to do anything except remind her how badly she’d hurt him.
“Sorry.”
Tate didn’t say anything. He just let her single word linger in the air between them.
For coming?
For breaking up with him?
Tate had been everything to her. The perfect partner in work and life,
or so she’d thought. Then came the moment that had changed everything. The moment she had realized she couldn’t be everything to him. If they’d stayed together he wouldn’t get everything he wanted in life. And so she’d let him go so he could find what she had with him...with someone else. Any other choice would only have been selfish.
Tate pulled out onto the street. “Let’s just get to Dane’s camp trailer. We can sleep, and then in the morning, when we’re both no longer fall-down tired, we can run through everything we know and see what’s next.”
First thing in the morning was less than three hours from now. She needed to send her team leader, Director Locke, a message before she went to sleep. Tate might not want to make contact, but Liberty intended to tell her superior everything—including how she’d lost her sidearm in the mine explosion. She’d already lost Tate, and if she lost her job as well then she really would have nothing left.
Liberty stayed silent for the remainder of the ride. Eventually whoever was behind all of this would realize Liberty and Tate were alive and show up again to try to kill them.
Liberty shivered. Tate turned up the heat and moved the vent so it blew in her direction. But her feeling cold had nothing to do with the temperature. Even in the middle of winter.
Tate pulled up at a stoplight. The road was empty except for a semitruck coming in the other direction. A container on the back made the thing look like some great, hulking beast bearing down on them.
Liberty smiled at the imagery only a day like today could produce, and watched the semitruck approach the light on the other side of the street. It didn’t slow down. Their light must be green. But instead of heading on down its lane, the truck veered toward them.
Liberty’s smile dropped.
Tate said, “What—”
The truck still didn’t slow.
Tate hit the gas, and the engine revved as they shot from the white line, the light still red. The truck came toward them, gaining speed. It started to turn.
“Tate.”
“I know. There’s nowhere to—”
Liberty gasped. They were going faster every second, but the semi was, too. Tate had them almost to the curb and the row of parked cars.
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