“So you’re saying you’re letting a dog boss you around?”
He grinned suddenly. It took her breath away. “Yep.”
She found herself grinning back, unable to stop it.
She went back into the shop, Cutter on her heels. He truly wasn’t going to let up until she followed him. She went into the small bathroom and quickly switched her scrubs for the jeans and lightweight cabled sweater she’d worn in this morning, grabbed up her keys and her slouchy bag and headed back out. She flipped the Open sign to Closed and locked the front door.
Cutter was clearly happier now, and she followed him back to where Teague was waiting. The SUV obediently chirped twice as Teague unlocked it and he opened the passenger door for her, the door behind it for Cutter, who leaped in then turned on the seat to look at her expectantly. She was nearly laughing as she got in.
Teague walked around and slid into the driver’s seat. Cutter let out a soft, clearly happy woof.
“You got what you wanted,” Teague said to the dog. “Way back.”
Without hesitation the dog jumped over the back of the seats into the cargo area of the SUV.
“Safer for him back there,” Teague said as he turned the key.
“This is insane,” she said as she fastened her seat belt.
“Yep.”
“He’s a dog.”
“Maybe.”
Laney laughed out loud. The relief of having someone actually listen to her worries must have made her giddy.
“Foxworth,” she began.
“Is the most amazing place, full of the most amazing people I’ve ever met.”
“Doing what, exactly?”
“A little bit of everything,” Teague said. “But it’s all aimed at one single goal.”
“Which is?”
He glanced at her as they were caught by a light turning red, the newest of the three signals in the small town. He’d pulled into the left turn lane, heading away from the main road toward the next, bigger town.
“Helping people in the right, when they have nowhere else to turn.”
She blinked. “That’s...quite a goal.”
“We do what should be done but isn’t, for whatever reason.”
“You must have hoards pounding on your doors,” she said wryly.
“We work only on referral,” he said. “We don’t advertise.”
“Then how did you find them?”
His mouth quirked upward at one corner, as if he liked the question. “I didn’t. They found me. There was this online military forum, and some of us got into some pretty heavy discussions. I used to post a lot. Turns out it was monitored by Foxworth, and they noticed. Thought I might be a good fit.”
So she’d been right about the military air. But she thought she heard something else in his voice as well. “You miss it,” she said.
“I do. I was a marine,” he said, as if that answered all. Perhaps, to him, it did. “The corps was the greatest fighting force in the world.”
She wasn’t sure what the past tense referred to, but there was a finality in his voice that kept her from asking. Or asking why he’d left, if he loved it so much.
“So Foxworth, what, recruited you?”
He shrugged. “It was pretty clear I wasn’t happy with the way things were going. I wasn’t re-upping, anyway. I didn’t know what I would do. They gave me an alternative.”
“So now you work for Quinn?”
“Yes. And Foxworth is a private foundation, so the only limits on what we can do are our own.”
“And now you sound very...proprietary.”
He gave her a sideways glance, and she saw that grin flash across his face again. It had the same effect it had had before. He answered as the light finally changed and they made the left turn.
“Yeah, I guess I am. We do good work. I’m proud to be part of it.”
She liked that. So many people just griped about their jobs all the time. “How long have you been there?”
“I’m the new guy. Only two years—three if you count the vetting process—but I’m there as long as they’ll have me.”
She drew back slightly. “A vetting that lasts an entire year?”
He nodded. “Quinn and Charlie Foxworth are very, very particular.”
“They run the foundation?”
He nodded as they slowed for a truckload of topsoil pulling out of a side driveway. “It’s a family thing. Quinn’s idea, mostly, but Charlie makes it possible.” He grinned again. “It’s nice to have a financial and logistical genius in the family, I guess.”
“Are there more Foxworths?”
“Just them,” Teague said, sounding suddenly solemn. “Their folks were killed in the Lockerbie bombing. Charlie’s a little older than Quinn, and raised him after that. It’s why Quinn started the foundation. He hated feeling so helpless when it happened, even though he was just a little kid. And when they let the guy go, he was so furious he vowed to try to help people who felt like he did, helpless to do anything about whatever injustice had befallen them.”
“He turned his anger to good use.”
“Yes.”
He slowed the car then, and Laney realized she hadn’t been paying much attention to where they were. She felt a little pang of unease. She was putting a lot of faith in his connection to Hayley, and the fact that Cutter clearly liked and trusted him. And now she was out in a remote area she didn’t know well, with a man she’d just met. Her unease grew as he turned into a narrow driveway that wound through thick trees.
It hit her then that perhaps Amber had been the same way. Too trusting. Because her best friend had said a guy seemed nice to her and she should give him a shot.
Guilt flooded her again, and she shivered under the force of it.
There was no getting around it. If Amber was in real trouble, or worse, it was her fault.
Chapter 5
“Laney?”
Teague had noticed her shiver, she thought. He didn’t seem to miss much.
“I don’t expect you to understand, but I really do feel so damned responsible,” she said. “For Amber.”
He said nothing as they reached a wide clearing in the trees where a rather utilitarian, three-story green building stood. There was no sign, not even a street number marking it. It was like many places out here, she guessed. If you belonged, you knew how to find it. Off to one side was a large metal building that looked like a warehouse, with a battered-looking silver sedan parked beside it. And beside that was a large swath of concrete with some odd markings. She was puzzled until she saw the bright orange windsock to one side and realized she was looking at a helicopter landing pad.
Teague pulled to a halt in a graveled parking area beside the green building and a larger, dark blue SUV. He put the car in Park. He turned off the engine. He unfastened his seat belt.
Then he shifted in his seat, turning to look at her.
“I understand perfectly,” he said, his voice holding a grimness she hadn’t heard from him until now. And when he went on, it sounded as if he were digging the words out with a rusty knife.
“My little sister was sixteen when I was first deployed. I was off to the Middle East, excited and afraid at the same time. Dad was stoic, as usual, Mom tight-lipped and silent. Neither of them was happy about what I was doing. Only Terri was proud. Weepy at my leaving, but proud of her big brother in uniform.”
Laney could picture it, and marveled anew at the bravery of people like Teague who served voluntarily. And hated that they weren’t always treated with the respect they deserved.
“Terri was the one who made me promise to write, call and Skype whenever I could. And she kept to her part of the bargain. I know more than once she passed on a date or a night with her friends or a party be
cause that was the only time I’d be able to reach out halfway around the world.”
“She sounds wonderful.”
“She was.” His voice was tight, harsh.
You lost somebody, didn’t you?
My sister. Years ago.
The brief exchange they’d had echoed in her head now.
“What happened?” she asked quietly.
“While I was on my second tour, she vanished. Left for school and never arrived. She was never found. It destroyed what there was left of my family. My father drank himself to death, and my mother is a bitter woman who drives away anyone who tries to get close. Especially me.”
The words came choppily, and she wondered when the last time he’d told anyone this was. That he was telling her now, to help her, moved her a great deal.
“Teague, I’m so sorry. But it wasn’t your fault.”
“No? Tell my mother that. If I’d stayed home, like my parents wanted me to, I might have been able to protect her, or at least find her. So, yeah, I understand. Perfectly.”
Laney sighed. “I guess logic loses when stacked up against enough guilt.”
“Always,” Teague agreed.
Cutter woofed softly, politely, as if to remind them he was still there.
“Sorry, buddy,” Teague said, his tone reverting to normal. He hit a button that opened the back of the SUV. Laney turned to look as the dog jumped out, lifted his dark head, sniffed the air for a moment then confidently trotted toward the green building.
“Look,” Teague said, drawing her attention back, “I can’t promise they’ll take this on. But if they do, even if Amber is really just on some romantic escape, we’ll make sure of it so you can quit feeling guilty.”
“Do they usually take on what you bring them?”
His mouth quirked. “I’ve never brought anything to them before.”
She didn’t know whether to feel honored or worried.
He got out of the car, walked around and opened her door. Manners, she thought. Nice.
And then she was distracted by Cutter’s actions as he rose on his hind legs at the single door she could see, and batted at a large square button with his paw. He hit it, and the door slowly opened.
Teague saw her look. “Quinn’s brainstorm,” he said with that killer grin. “Sort of an oversize doggie door. And handicapped access, should it ever be needed. Took Cutter all of three seconds to figure it out. Now he comes and goes as he pleases.”
“Is that safe for him?”
“Nearly ten acres here and Cutter knows exactly where the boundaries are. He never gets too far from his people anyway.”
“Why is this place so...anonymous?” she asked as they neared the door Cutter had used.
“Sometimes those people who aren’t doing the right thing end up not too happy with us,” he explained. “So we don’t hang out a sign to advertise where we are. And that automatic door has a cutoff and lock switch in just about every room, in case we have to secure the building.”
She blinked at that. Did they really expect some kind of attack here? What had she gotten herself into?
He skipped the automatic door button and simply pulled it open for her. She stepped inside, not knowing what to expect.
To her surprise, the downstairs was furnished as if it were a home, a gas fireplace the centerpiece along one wall, with a leather couch and a couple of chairs arranged around a heavy coffee table in front of it, and a large area rug marking off the space visually. There was a small kitchen area along a back wall with an island separating it. A doorway on the other side stood partway open, showing a bathroom.
“This is...unexpected, from the outside.”
Teague chuckled. “Quinn was living here before he kidnapped Hayley.”
She blinked. “He what?”
“It’s a long story. Ask her sometime.”
He led her toward the stairway that ran along the far wall. They went up a flight, past the second floor that seemed mostly used for storage, then another.
“Quinn set up in here so we could watch the eagles,” Teague explained. “There’s a nesting pair in the woods just across the clearing.”
Laney smiled, feeling better at that. The frequent sightings of majestic bald eagles was one of her favorite things about living out of the city. She didn’t miss the crowds, the traffic or the noise, either. She had few regrets about moving across the water.
Except Amber.
She only hoped she didn’t regret that for the rest of her life.
* * *
Laney, Teague noted, had the same reaction many did to Quinn, a sort of awed silence. Despite the casual clothes, the polite words as he greeted them, and the way he was scratching the clearly delighted Cutter’s ears, what they called “command presence” fairly oozed from the guy. More than once Teague had caught himself about to salute him, and more often than that had thought if there were more like Quinn in the upper echelons, more brass that had come up the hard way instead of the political way, he never would have left the corps. When they talked about riding into the valley of hell, Quinn was the kind of guy it would take to lead that charge.
“Where is Hayley, anyway?” Teague asked. She wasn’t usually far away from Quinn or Cutter for long.
“Shopping.”
“Oh.”
“Clothes. Charlie,” Quinn said.
Teague grinned. “She’s still nervous about that, huh?”
Quinn grimaced. “Hell, I’m nervous about that. You know how Charlie can be.”
Since he’d had to go through a lengthy interview—more like an interrogation—with Foxworth’s CFO/CEO himself, Teague had all the sympathy in the world for anyone looking at their first meeting with the redoubtable Charlie Foxworth.
Quinn gave Cutter a final, roughhousing sort of rub behind both ears, then straightened up and looked at Laney.
“I can see he’s fine, and you’re not bandaged so I assume he didn’t bite you.”
Laney laughed, and Teague sensed her relax a little. “Cutter? Oh, no. He’s far too well-mannered for that.”
“That,” Quinn said dryly, “is up for debate. But if not that, what’s up?”
The “why are you here?” wasn’t spoken, but Teague heard it just the same. They didn’t bring people here unless they were already involved in their case, and Teague suddenly realized maybe he should have arranged a meeting somewhere else.
“Laney has...a problem.”
Quinn lifted a brow at him.
“One I think we could help with.”
“I see.” He focused on Laney, who had lapsed back into silence. Second thoughts? Teague wondered. Wishing she’d never agreed to this?
“I’m sorry,” she said, sounding intimidated. “Maybe this was a bad idea, maybe I—”
“Maybe you should just tell me what’s going on.” Quinn’s voice was gentle then, calming, encouraging. It was another facet of that ability to command, and Quinn had them in balance better than anyone Teague had ever known.
Quinn walked over to the table that was placed beside the expansive windows that looked out over the clearing to the thick stand of trees. Different shades of green marked the spots where maples and other deciduous trees stood against steady evergreens.
He cleared away some papers, closed an open laptop and slid it to one side. “Sit down,” he said, “and let’s go over it.”
Laney still looked a little nervous, and Teague guessed she was remembering how the police had reacted. She gave him a sideways glance that made it clear going through it all again for the intimidating Quinn seemed overwhelming to her.
So Teague began. In the back of his mind he’d been thinking how to present it all the way over here anyway. He managed a fairly concise assessment, and Quinn listened without c
omment or interrupting.
“At least you made sense out of it,” Laney muttered when he’d finished.
“Not much to go on,” Quinn said neutrally.
“I know that,” Laney said. “Believe me, I know that.”
“I thought maybe we could at least find her, make sure she’s okay, put Laney’s mind at ease,” Teague said, wondering if his first effort at bringing a job to Foxworth was going to be a miserable failure.
“And if she is, Amber will likely be so embarrassed she might never speak to me again,” Laney said. “I hadn’t really thought that far until now.”
“If she gets angry with you for worrying about her,” Quinn said, “she’s not much of a friend.”
Laney’s surprised expression told Teague she hadn’t expected that. But the cogent assessment seemed to help, because Laney slowly nodded.
“There’s one more thing,” he said to his boss. “One thing I left out.”
“What?”
Teague drew in a deep breath. “Cutter.”
Quinn drew back slightly. He glanced over to where the dog was curled up on his bed in a beam of late summer sunlight, snoozing peacefully.
“Uh-oh,” Quinn said, much as Teague had back in the shop.
“Yeah. He made it pretty clear.”
He described the dog’s actions until Quinn held up a hand.
“All right,” his boss said. And with a slight shake of his head, he added, “Then I guess we’re in.”
Laney’s startled look nearly made Teague grin.
“Wait,” she said, “you decided this because of Cutter’s behavior?”
“His instincts are...I won’t say infallible, but he hasn’t made a mistake yet,” Quinn said.
Laney looked from Quinn to Teague and then back again. She spoke slowly, carefully. “I love dogs as much as anyone, and more than most. But you’re letting a dog decide this?”
“No.” Quinn glanced at Cutter again. “I’m letting that dog decide this. Because that’s what he does.”
“He brings you cases?”
“He finds them. After that it’s up to us.”
She gaped at Quinn. Teague couldn’t resist poking a little more.
Operation Blind Date Page 4