“How did you manage all that with me in tow?” Hannah was amazed at her mother’s ingenuity and her courage. Would she have been able to do the same? Thank the Lord she had never had to find out. Her gratitude for her easy and quiet life was growing exponentially.
“I had already given you to a lawyer who had found adoptive parents for you. Jumping out of the car as it went over the ditch may sound hard, but the most difficult thing I’ve ever had to do was give you up for adoption. I cried and cried. But I knew that was the best thing for you. It was better for you to live with adoptive parents than not to live at all.” Susan closed her eyes, clearly exhausted from talking about the past.
Hannah whispered, “Thank you for telling me.” She turned back to the front and caught Derek looking between her and the road. He raised his eyebrows and nodded at her as if to say that God had been looking out for her.
She ran a hand across her forehead and over her hair. He was right. God had protected her. He had led her to just the right family for her. Why she had merited this favor she didn’t know, but gratitude swelled in her spirit.
“Do you know what happened to the doll I made for you?” Susan leaned forward and touched Hannah hesitantly on the shoulder.
The doll. Hannah felt as if her brain spasmed as she remembered O’Shea asking about the doll. “Yes, it’s here.” She pulled her bag open and dug around until she found it.
“Have you found what I hid inside?”
“Inside the doll? No.” She squeezed and squished it in both hands. A lump in the middle urged her to retrieve her fingernail scissors from her purse. She snipped open the back seam.
Her birth mother peered over the seat, observing the procedure, and Derek bounced his gaze from the road ahead to the rearview mirror to the doll’s impromptu surgery. “Is it still there?” Susan asked.
Hannah dug in to the doll and pulled out a roll of half sheets of paper. She opened them to find them covered with handwritten notes.
“That’s it!” Hannah turned to see her birth mother smile for the first time. “You have it. That’s the copy I made of his log.”
A grim smile stretched across Derek’s face. “Quickly, take photos with your phone and send them to my supervisor. No matter what happens, we’ll have a copy then.”
Hannah snapped the pictures and forwarded them to the address Derek recited.
They had real evidence now and that was something, even if they didn’t yet have the man behind it all.
A breath of relief stuck in her throat and morphed to fear as Derek leaned over and whispered, “We have a tail.”
She peered in the side mirror. Only one car separated them from the dark sedan now, and she squinted to see that Sean O’Shea was in the passenger seat. A claw seemed to grab her insides, and she clutched the armrest. “What do we do?”
“We keep driving.” Derek ground his jaw in a way that oddly comforted Hannah.
But they couldn’t drive in the Cherokee forever. At some point, they would have to deal with O’Shea and his goons. They would have to see it through. No matter what. Whatever would come, Hannah knew that Derek would jump into the line of fire for her. In the meantime, she would pray for God’s grace.
* * *
Traffic had increased as the highway expanded to four lanes, and Derek wove in and out around trucks and large SUVs until he had left the dark sedan far enough behind that he couldn’t see it in the rearview mirror any longer. He exhaled heavily, although he knew he couldn’t relax for long. A guy like Sean O’Shea wouldn’t give up and just let them go.
Still, something needed to be done. They needed a destination. A safe haven.
Something Susan had said to Hannah rang through his mind, and he couldn’t eradicate it. It was better for you to live with adoptive parents than not to live at all. Was that why God had spared him from the gun of his parents’ killer when he was thirteen years old? After witnessing his parents’ brutal murders, there had been many nights when he wished he had been killed as well. He had been angry with God for so long. His parents had been devout Christians. Why did they have to die? His aunt and uncle had been difficult and unaccepting of him, which made his high school years tumultuous, to say the least. Hannah had been the only bright beacon in his life.
But then he’d been forced to leave her. He probably would have done harm to himself if not for the part-time job he’d found in college. The campus minister hired him to sweep the office and take out the trash. They were odd jobs without much pay, but the man was kind and encouraging. Derek had been desperate for some encouragement. Soon, he began finding books left for him to read and sermon notes lying on the desk. He finally succumbed to the call of his spirit. His first time back in church since his parents’ deaths, he’s found himself on his knees, asking Jesus to lead his life.
Had God thought it was better for him to live?
The images of the murders and the cries of his parents still haunted him. Recurring images made him doubt, every day, his ability to do his job. To protect Hannah. Would the FBI training fail him? Fail her? He gripped the steering wheel and swerved to another lane. But the FBI wouldn’t have admitted him to the academy if they’d had any doubts about his ability. Many had dropped out in the five months of training, but he had stayed the course. He must have the chops to do the job. Was this why his life was spared? To protect and to help people through his position with the FBI?
He would have to ponder all that later. Right now, he had one task, and he needed to keep his focus on the end goal—figuring out how to keep Hannah and her birth mother safe from harm. The Mafia thugs couldn’t be far behind and time was running out. They had to act fast.
He swallowed hard. “Hannah, I’m going to need some help.”
She turned to him, her delicate brows arched above her soft, brown eyes.
If they survived this, could there be a future for them? Stop it. Don’t go there.
“We need someplace to hide, and I’m fresh out of ideas.” Perhaps a team approach would be best.
She tapped her finger to her lips for a moment of silence. “What if it involves my parents?”
“Whatever keeps you safe.” He wasn’t eager to see Mr. McClarnon again, not after the episode in high school and then whisking his daughter away in a hail of gunfire while local police descended on his home. But if this was what Hannah thought best, he would trust her judgment.
“When Father and Mother built the new house, after moving the factory, Father had a secret room built into it. There’s a panel behind a mirror in their bedroom. It’s not very big, but from the outside, no one can tell that it’s there.”
“Like a vault?” Leave it to Mr. McClarnon to come up with something like that. There was a reason his business had grown to phenomenal proportions.
“Sort of. Wealthy men often build secret rooms as a security feature. For cash, bonds, weapons, whatever.”
“What if we head there?”
“I’ll make the call.” Hannah tapped her parents’ number from her favorites list.
He nodded to the phone as she moved it to her ear. “Put it on speaker.”
“Hannah.” Mr. McClarnon’s commanding voice filled the vehicle. “How are you? Are you safe? Are you well?”
“Father, you’re on speaker. We’re all right. I’m with Derek.”
Derek quirked an eyebrow at her. Apparently, she didn’t think it necessary to tell him about Susan just then. That discussion was probably best left for another time.
“Derek?”
He sat up straighter, as if facing the man himself. “Yes, sir.”
“I’m glad I have the chance to speak with you.”
Mr. McClarnon was always in charge of any conversation, and apparently, they weren’t going to be given the opportunity to tell him what had happened since they last saw him
or that they needed a safe house. Derek felt beads of perspiration break out on his forehead. Did this conversation have to happen right this instant? He was driving a vehicle and trying to evade the bad guys. How could he concentrate?
“I want to apologize to you, son.”
Derek almost hit the brake in his surprise. “To me, sir?” Had Mr. McClarnon just called him son, or had he imagined it?
“Yes. My words and attitude earlier were inappropriate and uncalled for. You have kept my little girl safe, and I appreciate it.”
Derek’s lips felt numb, but he mumbled, “Yes, sir.”
“I know everyone says it, but it’s true. You don’t realize what you have until you might lose it. My girl is more important than any social standing or what others might think. Thank you for protecting her. If you can find some time to stop by, I’d like to start fresh. Apologize in person. Ask your forgiveness. Talk about your relationship with Hannah.”
Hannah stared at him, and he forced himself to look back at the road. “Um, that’s wonderful, sir. How about now?” The tires squealed as he changed lanes again on the four-lane highway. A mile marker whizzed by, but he couldn’t catch the number.
“Sure.” Surprise tinged the man’s voice, something Derek hadn’t heard before. “I’ll be here.”
“I’d say we’ll be there in about fifteen minutes.”
After Hannah ended the call, Derek quickly called his supervisor. A plan was forming in his mind. Perhaps it would be feasible to catch Sean O’Shea, Mafia hit man, and also complete his assignment of keeping Hannah safe. His supervisor confirmed that backup would be on the way. But Derek and Hannah would arrive first at the McClarnon house and hide in safety, assuming the secretive and always-in-control Mr. McClarnon even acknowledged the existence of his safe room.
TWELVE
Hannah’s old bedroom and private bathroom called to her as Derek drove the Cherokee into the open garage and hopped out to close the door behind them. She wanted nothing more than a hot bath and a fresh change of clothes, but that was going to have to wait.
They breezed past her parents’ butler, making excuses for what must seem to him to be rude behavior, all the while urging him to gather the staff in a safe place. Her parents were in the library, an afternoon tea laid out on the side table.
“Darling.” Her mother stepped forward for an embrace and a kiss on the cheek.
Hannah obliged eagerly, but she must have approached with too much force for her mother steadied herself with a step back. “I’m sorry, Mother. We’re in a bit of a rush.”
She stepped toward her father and kissed his cheek. “I’m sorry, Father, if I’ve seemed ungrateful or rebellious. I do appreciate all we have here.”
“No, darling, you’ve done nothing wrong. I should have allowed you more freedom.”
“I understand why, though, now. A law career will take me places where I could be in danger, especially if I should pursue criminal law or any field that would bring me into contact with the Mafia. You thought it was safest to stay here.”
“There is more you will want to hear.”
Derek cleared his throat and stepped forward. “Sir? If we could get to that secret room?”
He gazed at Derek as if seeing him for the first time. “Yes. Of course.”
Hannah linked arms with her mother. “Perhaps you could tell me on the way.”
For the first time, the McClarnons noticed Susan, who stood as much behind Hannah as she could manage. Hannah, kicking herself for forgetting her manners in the difficult situation, pulled her birth mother forward and introduced her to her adoptive parents. Her mother embraced Susan, and her father shook her hand with a gentle smile, but Derek suggested they would have time to get to know each other later.
Her father led the way out of the library as her mother walked by her side. “It started with a phone call from an old family friend, a lawyer who went to university with your father. He said that he had a little girl in need of a home and asked if we would know anyone who wanted to adopt. He seemed desperate, and even though that didn’t typically happen in our circles, we said we would ask around.”
Derek brought up the rear, his hand on his weapon. His vigilance was nearly palpable, and Hannah forced herself to concentrate on her mother. “I was the little girl?”
“Yes, and we couldn’t get you out of our minds. We talked about it late into the night, and by the next morning, we were sure that this was a child God had sent to us. Your brother was about three years old, and it had only been a month prior that the doctor had told me that I would never be able to have more children.” Her voice caught and she took a moment to collect herself before going on. “We were elated to know we were going to bring home a little girl. But you remember what we said before. We also had the challenge of how to tell your father’s business associates and our society friends. ” Her mother pulled an embroidered handkerchief from her skirt pocket and dabbed some moisture from her cheeks.
As her father led the group down the hallway, he turned around with a wry grin. “In hindsight, they don’t fit the definition of true friends, now, do they?”
Hannah felt a squeeze on her shoulder. It was Derek from behind, offering a silent but comforting gesture.
“So we invented a trip,” her mother continued in a steady voice, “to hide the fact that I wasn’t really pregnant. We rented a small condo in a Chicago suburb to collect you and get to know you before we returned and to wait out the rest of my pretend pregnancy. I’m sorry for the pretense, and I regret it now. But we didn’t know what else to do. I told a few friends and let the news out that I was pregnant. I told everyone I was about seven months along.”
“Seven months? And they believed you?”
“I told them the baby was small. We said that your father was being transferred away for a six-month assignment. When we got you, we were thrilled. You were so cuddly and adorable, with chubby little legs and silky strands of blond hair. It was love at first sight. But you were older than we had expected. Quite a bit older. Our friends were expecting us to bring home a newborn but you were already a year old.”
Hannah patted her adoptive mother’s arm as they turned the corner into the bedroom. She could see the large gilt mirror her mother had checked her hair in just the day before.
“As it turned out, I had told the truth about the baby being small. You were small for your age. Healthy, according to the doctor, but small. But it was still going to cause questions. So your father returned to our home a couple of times to put out the word that his assignment had been extended while your brother and you stayed in Chicago with me.”
Her father revealed a small panel in a writing desk and pushed a couple of buttons. The large mirror slowly slid to the side. A panel with a finger hold at one side filled the space behind it. “I had plant managers who ran the operation here, and I kept in touch with them by phone and facsimile. No one questioned me, but then they wouldn’t have had the courage.”
Her mother embraced her as they stopped outside the panel. “Oh, darling. We wanted to tell you so many times. To cast aside the expectations of your father’s business partners and our social circle, especially after adoption became more socially acceptable. But somehow, it seemed too big to talk about. And we were still gravely concerned with your safety. We never forgot the warning.”
Derek pulled the panel open and whistled when he saw the large safe and the gun rack hidden inside. Hannah glanced at him, but her father drew her attention from the inside of the room that she had never seen before.
“Hannah, would you forgive us?” Moisture dampened her father’s eyes.
She could only nod as Derek, with a hand on the small of her back, urged her into the safe room.
* * *
Mr. McClarnon leaned in to speak low. “It’s a one-way mirror, so you’ll be
able to see out and into the bedroom.”
“What do you mean, sir?” Derek puffed the front of his shirt to get some air. “You’re coming in with us. You two and Susan.”
Hannah gripped his arm from behind. Her anxiety over the safety of her parents radiated through her touch.
“No. We’ll stay out here and be your front guard.” Mr. McClarnon put a firm grip on Derek’s forearm. “Son, I command an entire company. I know you’re the FBI agent, but your job is to protect my daughter. I appreciate your concern for us, but I’m staying out here. I’m protecting my daughter, too.” He pointed Susan farther into the bedroom. “There’s a dressing room and closet suite where you can hide. You’ll be safest there, since they’ll have to come through us first.”
Derek could only nod, a lump in his throat. Hannah’s father, the one who had destroyed all hope of a relationship with his daughter years ago, had just called him son. Again. He hadn’t heard that term of endearment for over a decade. Did it mean anything? He shook his head to clear his thoughts. There wasn’t opportunity to analyze it now. Lives were on the line, and it was his responsibility to make sure they all survived.
The air-conditioning kicked on, and he felt a cool draft rush down from the ceiling in the walk-in safe. At least they would have fresh air.
“This is not a safe room, per se. It’s not bullet-proof. It’s simply a hidden room to stash valuables.” He scrubbed a hand across his face. “I never thought it would be used to hide human valuables.”
“What about a weapon for you, sir?”
“I have a handgun in the bedside table.”
“Shooting isn’t always best. Do you have anything of any weight that you could throw or distract the bad guys with?”
“A fire extinguisher under the bed, for emergencies.”
“Good. Keep that handy, and watch me for a signal if needed. Backup is on the way. Pray they get here first.”
Deadly Disclosure Page 16