That was probably why he wanted to sell his cabin. Make some money. Move on. The idea of it made her want to cry. She was never selling her condo. Liberty was going to die a spinster Secret Service agent, completely miserable even while being lauded for being strong and independent because she didn’t need a man to take care of her.
Tate said, “Thank you for your time, Natalie.”
Havertown might be nothing, but it was a potential lead at least. They stepped outside and started walking to the truck.
“I’m not even going to ask what that was with the kid,” Tate said. “She did look like Braden, though.”
Liberty nodded. She couldn’t speak.
“And Natalie was lying.”
“Maybe,” Liberty managed to say.
They walked up to the Secret Service SUV, and the window on the passenger side rolled down.
“She was lying,” Francis said, not looking any happier than Liberty felt.
Tate nodded. “I think she knows exactly where Braden is.”
THIRTEEN
Something was seriously going on with Liberty. As Francis talked, Tate tried to gauge what on earth it could be. She’d freaked out in Natalie’s house, but Liberty liked kids and was good with people. Maybe it was him. Or he was just taking it too personally, and Liberty was just having a bad day—she’d been shot, after all—and she needed a nap.
He needed a nap, for that matter.
“...keep tabs on her. I’ll have Intelligence dig deeper into her life as well. Find out if she has reason to hide your brother from us.”
Tate realized he hadn’t heard much of what Francis said. The agent in the passenger seat—Francis was driving, probably because he had to be in control all the time—smirked at Tate. He ignored Mr. Silent Opinion, and nodded to Francis.
“If she knows where her boyfriend is, we’ll find out soon enough.”
“And the search for the missing people?”
Francis said, “We’re looking at a lot of possible places. We’re stretched thin, but if there’s something to be found then we’re gonna find it.”
A niggling thought edged into his brain. Tate wanted to grasp at it, figure out what was pinging on his radar. Something about the missing people. The videos? Their locations? It was a puzzle for him to solve, which on most days he’d have been happy to sit and mull over. Too bad that wasn’t even an option right now. He’d have to make do with thinking about it while they ran down the leads they had.
Liberty said, “What about this abandoned gym in Havertown she mentioned?”
She looked so small, her face still paler than it should’ve been as she stood there with her arm hugging her body. The woman needed food and rest. Probably painkillers as well, though those were in the truck. Something to bring some pink to those cheeks and give her a bit of energy.
“Could be something. Could be nothing.” Francis shrugged.
Tate said, “We’ll check it out.”
Liberty turned to him, her nose scrunched up. Tate stared her down. It was likely enough the abandoned gym would turn out to be nothing but a wild-goose chase, and Liberty would get a couple hours’ reprieve from danger and stress. It sounded like the perfect assignment for them so the feds could concentrate on the most pertinent things and not waste time following dead ends.
They could get something to eat on the way, and Liberty could nap on the drive.
“Okay,” Francis said. “We’ll be on your tail the whole time, making sure everything’s okay.”
Which totally missed the point of reassigning resources to where they were best spent. Evidently Francis wasn’t yet willing to let go of the idea that he could find whoever was involved by following Tate around. At least Locke and Alana were putting their focus where it would hopefully get real results.
Tate was willing to accept anything positive at this point. Those people were probably terrified they were going to be killed. “What about the ransom demand?”
Francis looked at his watch. “The US Attorney is taking care of the paperwork. He’ll field it back to me when we’re ready to move.” He didn’t look too worried about the looming deadline.
Tate did not share the man’s lack of agitation. Still, he tapped the frame of the car window with his knuckles. “Then we’ll be on our way.”
Francis nodded, and Tate led Liberty to the sheriff’s truck with one hand on the small of her back.
“Are you protecting me? You know I’m the Secret Service agent, right?”
Tate heard the amusement in her voice. “I guess old habits die hard.”
Kind of like loving her and wanting to protect her. No one brought out those feelings in him but Liberty. If she just said the word, he would flip that protective switch back to on, and she would never have to worry about anything for the rest of their lives.
He glanced aside at her. Would she ever say the word and give him the signal that meant they were right back to the way they used to be? This time it would be new. They were different, they’d survived the last year apart and it had made them both stronger. The question was whether that strength could be part of their new relationship. He needed Liberty to give him some kind of sign, and then he could find out.
But, sign or not, until she told him the real reason she’d broken up with him, Tate had to wait. He had to know why she’d felt the need to cause both of them so much pain before he could open up his heart and let her in once more. Not to mention giving her the power to tear his heart out all over again.
Tate didn’t like giving away any power, but that was what love was. Love meant giving up safety, security and any plans for the future, and putting them into someone else’s hands. He’d been fully prepared to do that before. While Liberty, apparently, had not.
Tate hit the closest drive-through and got them both some fast food, and then watched for rogue semitrucks as he drove to the gym Natalie had mentioned. The Secret Service SUV followed from a distance, their surveillance equipment probably still active. If Francis was looking for Tate to slip up and expose his guilt, then the man was probably listening to everything. Including that conversation earlier, where Liberty had been crying.
She was asleep now, her tummy full of fatty foods she probably wouldn’t have eaten if she had her wits about her. But the calories would do her good.
Tate pulled off the freeway and up to the light. He dug out his phone and tried the number Natalie had given him for Braden.
It rang and rang, and finally went to voice mail. It was a generic message, where the person hadn’t taken the time to set up their own voice mail. He sighed and tossed the phone in his cup holder. It hit his soda cup and bounced down by his feet.
The light went green. Tate pushed the phone behind his shoe just so it didn’t slide under the pedal and cause him to crash the truck.
It was hard to believe his brother was involved in this. He’d always thought there was a kind of injustice to the fact that Braden hated him so badly. The kid had this tendency to take things too personally, and the adult he’d grown into wasn’t much different. Still, it was a big leap from moody kid to a man intent on destroying the lives of three people and framing his brother for it. Taking down a plane was a huge undertaking.
There had to be someone else behind it. It couldn’t be Braden alone.
Tate couldn’t help thinking all this was serving to thoroughly distract the Secret Service. Even with some out searching for the plane, too many others—like Francis back there in his SUV—were entirely focused on Tate.
What if it was all a smoke screen?
Could there possibly be more to this than what they already knew? Tate didn’t know what it might be, but he wanted to get to his brother and find out. Braden had to know. Or the Russians knew. If Tate could find their head boss, the one who called all the shots, he’d
be one step closer to finding out.
One step closer to knowing why they were so intent on framing him as the prime suspect.
* * *
Liberty opened her eyes. The truck was stopped, and they were in a parking lot. Everything was still covered in snow, but she could live the dream—the one where it was eighty and she was drinking an iced soda with nothing to do but watch the sweat of condensation run down the outside of the glass.
In most of those dreams, Tate was right there beside her. He’d always looked good sporting a nice tan. She turned to him then, the subject of all the dreams she’d just been having. He was still in that giant coat, and in the credit union she’d noticed that his beard had hints of red coloring. She’d always loved his smile. When he was asleep, he never had that scowl on his face.
Liberty sighed.
“Feel better?”
“Actually, I do.” She tried to stretch in the cab of the truck as much as she could without moving one arm. “Thank you for the food. And the nap time.”
He nodded and Liberty took stock of the situation. None of her pressing problems had gone away. Eventually she’d have to see a doctor about her arm. It was manageable most of the time, but if she moved wrong, her shoulder screamed murder at her to quit it. However, she felt better. Not well enough she wanted to have another long conversation that ended in tears. Just well enough she was the first out of the car.
The building had been a full complex gym, with an Olympic-sized pool and everything. Now it just looked sad. The windows were busted, probably from kids with rocks or baseballs. The front doors were boarded up, and the sign that hung on the outside wall was missing a couple of letters. The rest of the letters were dusted with snow.
Tate rounded the hood of the truck.
“Hopefully it doesn’t take too long to search this whole place,” she said. He didn’t seem to mind, though. His attention was on the SUV that had followed them from Natalie’s house. Liberty looked over. No one got out.
“Guess we’re on our own in there.” Tate sighed.
“I’m sure we can handle it.”
His lips twitched. “Sure, so long as the weight of snow on the roof hasn’t compromised it. If it hasn’t fallen in by now, it could collapse on top of us while we’re inside.”
“Wow. Such a happy thought.”
They trudged across the snow-covered grass between the cars and the building. It was maybe ten feet at most. Liberty glanced back at the men in the SUV, just sitting there watching them do all the work. She knew she and Tate were on the cakewalk assignment, and she was fine with it. It was no secret she wasn’t up to her normal operating level. In fact, she was far from it. She was going to need a vacation from her vacation when this trip was done. Not that this was either a vacation or an assignment—not with all that had happened. But it was almost Christmas, so that could be her real vacation.
She stumbled on something buried under the snow, and Tate caught her good arm.
“Okay?”
She nodded, too embarrassed to say anything. The part of her dream that wasn’t set on the beach had been an extended Christmas montage where she and Tate drank eggnog, watched old movies like they’d done so many times and decorated a tree. They even walked the dogs in the snow, then returned home for hot chocolate. Food always featured prominently in her dreams, and it didn’t matter if she was on a beach or in his beautiful Christmas cabin.
She couldn’t believe he was selling it.
Liberty pushed aside those unhelpful dreams. It wouldn’t do her any good to get more caught up in them than she had been. She surveyed the area instead, looking for any sign of life. It was midafternoon, so she’d figured kids might be running around the place getting up to trouble. Or maybe they were good at not getting caught.
None of the sidewalks around the place had been shoveled. She didn’t even know where the sidewalks were underneath the snow, but it meant she could tell that no one had been here since the last snowfall. No footprints.
“You really like this weather?”
“Sure.”
“Mostly I figure people are lying when they say that, because you can’t possibly enjoy being this freezing.” She glanced at him. “Can you?”
“I like it, Lib.”
“Do you ski?” Aside from growing up here, there had to be a reason he liked winter enough to live in this part of Montana, where the snow was hip-height and her nose was numb. Did he like breathing in icicles and feeling like his legs were going to freeze solid?
“I ski a little.” He studied her, like he was trying to figure her out. “You?”
“You know I don’t.” They’d never been skiing. They’d never even talked about it. She frowned at him. “And why would I do that in favor of lying on a beach, soaking up vitamin D and taking a nap?”
“Florida girl.”
“Born and raised.”
He grinned. “And now you’re stuck in DC.”
“I could move back if I wanted to. Or maybe I’ll get stationed in Bora Bora next. That might be nice.”
Tate frowned, then ran a hand through his hair. “Sure, I guess.”
They circled the building with him leading the way. Liberty ignored whatever was going on in his head and pointed out a pertinent fact. “The door was at the front.”
“I know. I’m looking to see if any of the entrances have been used at all, or recently.”
Oh. Why hadn’t she thought of that? “I think I’m losing my edge.”
“I think you’ve been shot. That’s enough to make anyone lose their edge.”
“So you’re not disagreeing with me.”
Tate shot her a look. “You don’t have to worry about not holding up your end of things.”
“But what if I miss something, and—”
“Lib,” he stopped her. “I’ve got you covered, okay?”
“You should have sent me with those EMTs.”
“You could have sent yourself.”
She pressed her lips together, then said, “Touché.”
Tate chuckled. He stopped at what looked like a loading dock. “This has been used recently.”
Sure enough, there were tire tracks. “Truck, looks like.” Someone had visited this old, abandoned gym this morning.
“Let’s find a door and check it out.”
Tate used his shoulder to break the lock on the door to the side of the loading dock’s garage-type door. He flipped on a flashlight and held it up, his gun hand braced on his fist holding the light. Liberty held her gun up, still tucking her left arm to her body. She’d be useless in a fight, but she could still shoot straight if she needed to.
The whole place was empty. It didn’t take too long to walk through and then circle back to the loading entrance.
Tate studied the floor. “Looks like something might’ve been here.” Sure enough, there were scratch marks. Like from pallets. “Whatever it was, it’s gone now.”
Liberty wandered to the door, its glass still intact and no board in place. She looked out at the other buildings. The part of the SUV she could see. Frozen trees. Rooftops.
A man settling a giant tube-shaped device onto his shoulder.
Aimed right at them.
“Tate.” She said his name on a gasp.
“What is it?” He moved toward her, but she turned and shoved him back into the center of the building. Pain screamed through her arm but she ignored it.
“Run.”
“What—”
“Rocket launcher!” she screamed. “Run!”
FOURTEEN
The words penetrated Tate’s brain, and his legs kicked into gear. He wanted to go back, to give himself reason to believe what his head didn’t want to comprehend.
A rocket launcher in small-t
own Montana? Still, he ran like his life depended on it, because it likely did.
He would get hit if he went back. Liberty would get caught in it as well, or she would come back for him if he didn’t move fast enough for her liking. The woman was a force to be reckoned with when she wasn’t running on an injury and next to no sleep.
The explosion ripped through the building from his right, a wave of sound, then a feeling like an earthquake had split the ground. Smoke and fire rushed at them.
They reached a set of double doors and pushed through to the pool.
Tate grabbed Liberty, unable to take the time to be careful of her injury. He jumped off the edge of the empty pool into the air. The force of the explosion hit the big room. It hit them in midair, shoving Tate and Liberty toward the far end of the pool. He grabbed her as best he could and held her in front of him as he turned.
Tate’s back slammed into hard tile. His head snapped back, and he blacked out amid an ocean of hot air.
* * *
He woke up sometime later. The face of his watch was cracked, the display blank where digital numbers should have told him what time it was. The room was lit by daylight, the tile of the pool black and littered with debris. Drywall dust danced in the air, and what had been the doors was now a giant hole in the wall. Twisted metal lay on sheets of broken drywall intermingled with snow. Cold air from outside now whipped through the room like it was a wind tunnel, rustling his hair.
He tried to move, but the pain in his head stalled any motion he might’ve been able to manage. Liberty’s weight covered his torso and legs. Was she unconscious, as he had been? Tate managed to get his arm out from under him and winced at the muscles in his shoulder. He reached up and touched the hair on the back of his head. His fingertips came back wet with blood.
His phone.
Tate rummaged around for it, absently shifting Liberty. “Wake up, Lib.” He didn’t find his phone. Where was it?
Yuletide Suspect Page 12