Secret Assignment

by Paula Graves

  “Yes,” Gideon answered tersely.

  The front door opened and a small woman in her late sixties walked out onto the long front veranda, a smile on her face. She must have been a stunner in her youth, Shannon thought, as elegant and lovely as she remained in her later years. She wore a short-sleeved cotton blouse in pale yellow and a pair of denim capri pants that showed off slim, smooth ankles.

  “You must be Shannon.” She held out her hands in welcome.

  Shannon took the older woman’s hands. “Mrs. Ross, it’s nice to meet you. Your home is absolutely beautiful.”

  Lydia Ross smiled with pleasure at the compliment. “It will be heartbreaking to leave it behind. But the gentlemen with the Department of Conservation and National Resources have assured me that they plan to work with the Gulf Coast Historic Trust to preserve the house as a museum for visitors to the island.”

  Thinking about the family home back in Gossamer Ridge, the shabby but well-loved house where her father had raised his six boisterous children, Shannon felt a twinge of sympathy for Lydia’s plight. Her father’s home was no longer the place she lived, but it was still home to her, a place to which she knew she could retreat if she needed.

  “Where will you live when you leave here?” she asked as Lydia showed her inside the house.

  “My sister-in-law owns a farm in Burkettville. Her husband died a few years ago, and I know she’s missing him terribly. Perhaps we’ll be able to give each other some relief from the loneliness.” She smiled. “It will be lovely to be around my nieces and nephews more.”

  Lydia’s words sounded sincere, but in her eyes Shannon saw anxiety, as if she feared what further changes her future might hold.

  There was no foyer inside, as she’d expected, only a large, airy room that seemed to spread all the way from the front of the house to the back. It was part living room, part dining room, with a large, airy kitchen near the back and, through several sets of French doors, a long veranda that overlooked a raised garden.

  “Gideon, dear, I’ve given Shannon the blue room.” As Gideon headed up the stairs to the top floor, Lydia turned to Shannon with a smile. “You don’t mind if I call you Shannon, do you? And you must call me Lydia.” She lowered her voice. “I’ve tried to get Gideon to call me by my given name as well, but he’s so formal! My husband said it was because he was a marine.”

  Shannon smiled back. “Two of my brothers were marines. I know exactly what you’re talking about.”

  Lydia showed her into the kitchen, where a small tray of cheese and crackers sat on the narrow breakfast bar, along with a pitcher of iced tea. “I hope you like sweet tea. I can come up with some soft drinks if you prefer.”

  “Tea is perfect.” Shannon sat where Lydia indicated and took a couple of crackers and some slices of Havarti cheese from the tray. “Is it okay if I get started this afternoon? Going through your husband’s papers, I mean.”

  Lydia looked surprised. “I thought you’d want to rest and start fresh in the morning.”

  “I’ll do whatever you wish,” Shannon said quickly, reading Lydia’s reluctance. “We can spend this afternoon getting to know each other if that’s what you prefer.”

  Lydia smiled ruefully. “I’m quite transparent, aren’t I? It is rare for me to have female companionship these days. I haven’t ventured to the mainland for more than a couple of hours at a time since Edward’s death. It’s hard to know how to deal with old friends—sometimes, I feel as if they’re watching me carefully in anticipation of a breakdown.”

  Shannon impulsively put her hand atop Lydia’s where it lay on the counter. “My sister lost her husband a few years ago, and she used to think the same thing. She didn’t even like to be around the family sometimes because of it. But it wasn’t what we were thinking, I promise. We just wanted to help her however she needed it.”

  Tears brimmed in Lydia’s eyes, but she held on to them, as if refusing to let them fall. “And did you help her?”

  Shannon smiled. “As much as she’d let us. But there’s a happy ending—she remarried a week ago.”

  “Well, lovely for her!” Lydia’s smile looked genuine. “The young are not meant to be alone.”

  “I don’t think anyone’s meant to be alone.”

  Lydia patted her hand. “I am fortunate, then, to have a kind young man like Gideon to keep me company, no?”

  As if speaking his name conjured him into appearing, Gideon came down the stairs and entered the kitchen with long, floor-eating strides. “I need to do a patrol of the island,” he said tersely. “If you need me, I’ll have the two-way with me.”

  “Thank you, dear. You’re too good to me.”

  An odd, pained look flashed in Gideon’s blue eyes before he nodded goodbye and headed back through the front door.

  “How did Mr. Stone come to be your caretaker?” Shannon asked curiously, seeing an answering pain in her hostess’s eyes.

  Lydia smiled, but there was anguish in her expression. “My son died saving his life.”

  * * *

  ABOUT A QUARTER mile north of the house, Gideon found the spot on the beach where the raft had tried to come ashore. Something like a Zodiac would be able to accommodate a crew of four, the number of men Mrs. Ross had seen from the widow’s walk. It would also fit Mrs. Ross’s description of the vessel she’d seen.

  A fishing boat off course might be an accidental visitor. But a Zodiac—it made no sense that a Zodiac or any sort of motorized raft would have been traveling the Gulf of Mexico on a pleasure cruise. More likely, it had been a landing boat from a larger craft, like the Hatteras or something even larger.

  He’d retrieved his binoculars from the Lorelei before he started his island circuit and lifted them now toward the Gulf of Mexico stretching in turquoise splendor as far as the eye could see. There were shrimp boats out on the water, even the occasional sailboat. And fishing boats, of course.

  Any one of the larger fishing craft could have carried the intruder boat, he recognized with frustration. Could someone in a boat have used a rubber dinghy to attempt an island landing, not realizing the place was inhabited?

  He turned around and looked toward the house from where he stood by the furrowed sand. Stafford House’s facade was clearly visible even from here, and would have been even more visible from the water.

  Nobody could have mistaken Nightshade Island as deserted.

  Movement on the second-floor veranda caught his eye. Shannon Cooper stepped out onto the balcony, joined by Lydia. Stepping behind the shelter of a scrubby sea oats stand, Gideon raised his binoculars for a closer, more covert look.

  Shannon’s straight, dark hair lifted in the breeze coming off the Gulf, fluttering around her heart-shaped face. Wind flattened her blouse against her body, revealing the shape of her small, round breasts and narrow waist.

  Fire licking at his belly, he lowered the binoculars with a grumble of frustration. He’d been isolated on the island too long.

  He resumed his walk around the island, trying to think who might want to sneak onto Nightshade Island and for what purpose.

  But in the back of his mind, Shannon Cooper still leaned against the railing of the second-floor veranda, her hair floating in the breeze and her dark eyes full of mysteries.

  Chapter Three

  Gathering clouds hastened twilight, plunging the island into shadows soon after 5:00 p.m. Lydia had insisted Shannon rest before dinner, so she’d gladly taken the chance to shower off the heat of the day and change into fresh clothes.

  “No need for formality around here, dear,” Lydia had said with a smile. “We live on an island. Who’s to care if we look a bit shabby?”

  When Shannon ventured downstairs at six, she found Gideon alone in the kitchen, slicing onions. He glanced at her as she perched on one of the breakfast bar stools. “Settled in?”

  “Yes, thank you.” She tried to discern what he was preparing from the ingredients—sliced onions, red bell peppers and pieces of corn. “Stir f
ry?”

  “Crab boil,” he corrected.

  “Where are the crabs?”

  He slanted another look at her. “That’s your job. There’s a bucket outside and you can see the beach from here—”

  “Don’t let him tease you, Shannon.” Lydia entered through the nearest French door, carrying a handful of zinnia cuttings. She arranged the colorful flowers in a clear vase and filled the bottom with water. “The crabs and shrimp are in the cooler. A nice man delivered them to us this morning.” She set the flowers in the middle of the small dining table just beyond the kitchen. “Aren’t these lovely?”

  “Beautiful,” Shannon agreed. “I caught a glimpse of the garden from my window. It’s amazing.”

  Lydia smiled with pleasure as she washed her hands. “My husband loved to garden, so we made a habit of bringing in soil to fill the raised beds every spring.” She looked with sad fondness at Gideon. “Dear Gideon helped me this year. It makes me a little weepy, I confess, to think that I won’t be tending the garden next year.”

  “You’ll be able to have a garden where you’re moving, won’t you?” Shannon asked.

  Lydia retrieved a large pot from one of the lower cabinets and set it on the counter next to Gideon. “Yes. My sister-in-law tells me the backyard of my bungalow is perfect for gardening.” She sighed. “It won’t be the same, but I imagine it will be lovely anyway.” She went back into the garden again.

  “I made her sad,” Shannon said with regret.

  “Everything makes her sad these days,” Gideon said shortly.

  “Can I help you with anything?”

  “Well,” he said quietly, “how about we start with what you’re really doing here?”

  His question caught her off guard. “What?”

  “I did some checking into Cooper Security. You’re not the kind of outfit that hires out to help a rich widow pack up her house.”

  “What I’m here to do is a little more complicated than that.”

  He shot her a skeptical look. “Three months ago, Cooper Security helped put a high-ranking State Department official back in jail. And now I’m supposed to believe you’re just here to archive General Ross’s papers and collections? Really?”

  “We do a lot of different kinds of jobs at Cooper Security,” she protested.

  Lydia returned to the kitchen, carrying a large bucket of blue crabs and jumbo Gulf shrimp. “Hope you’re not allergic, Shannon. I suppose I should have asked before I planned the dinner tonight.”

  “Not allergic,” she assured her hostess. “And my stomach is growling already!”

  Within an hour, the pile of vegetables and seafood on the counter had transformed into a rustic dinner for three. It was messy and delicious, and by the time she helped clear the remains of their meal from the table, Shannon was stuffed and getting sleepy.

  “I believe I’m going to call it a night, my dears,” Lydia announced a little later, as the clock crept toward eight-thirty. “I have a Dick Francis novel waiting for me. He’s left the hero in quite a pickle, and we must get him safely out.” She waved her hand as Shannon showed signs of following her up the steps. “No need to retire at such an ungodly early hour. Stay and enjoy yourself. Poor Gideon must make do with just my company so much of the time. I’m sure he’d enjoy having someone new to talk to.”

  Lydia disappeared upstairs, apparently oblivious to the two wary, suspicious people she left staring at each other across the kitchen table.

  “You don’t have to stay,” she said after a moment of uncomfortable silence.

  “You want me to leave?”

  His scrutiny set her nerves on edge, but she wasn’t about to admit her unease to him. “Not if you don’t want to.”

  He walked over to the counter. “Coffee?”

  “No, thanks.” Her earlier sleepiness had fled once Lydia left her alone with Gideon. The last thing her jangling nerves needed was more stimulation.

  He returned from the kitchen empty-handed and waved toward the sofa in the front room. “Shall we?”

  She wished he would smile. She’d liked the way he looked when he smiled, liked the surprising dimples and the humorous gleam in his blue eyes. Much more tempting, yes, but much easier on her nervous system.

  But when he sat across from her perch on the sofa, pulling the large armchair closer, she felt as if she’d just taken a seat in the witness box.

  “I don’t know what you’ve heard about Lydia Ross or the general. Or me,” he added with a quirk of his eyebrows. “But Mrs. Ross and I aren’t looking to get in the middle of anything your outfit may be investigating. So if there’s some hidden agenda here, pack your things and I’ll take you back to the mainland first thing in the morning.”

  She bristled at his tone. “I am here to help Mrs. Ross. Period. I don’t have any agenda other than that.” She cocked her head. “Considering it was your boat that was sabotaged and your island that was breached by intruders, I’d say you’re the one with an issue, not me.”

  Irritation lined his eyes. “Fair enough.”

  “I’m tired. I’m going to bed.” She stood. “Good night.”

  He stood, unfolding himself to his full height, forcing her to look up. “Good night, Ms. Cooper.”

  She climbed the stairs to her second-floor bedroom. Shutting herself in the happy blue room, she sat on the springy mattress and stared at her reflection in the mirror. Her cheeks were flushed with annoyance and her dark eyes snapped with anger.

  But at whom was she really angry?

  She’d told Gideon she had no hidden agenda, but the truth was, she’d been wondering ever since Jesse gave her the assignment what his interest in Lydia Ross could be. Gideon was right; Cooper Security didn’t handle personal archive security cases as a rule. Big companies with art or other collections that needed high security, maybe. But Jesse normally assigned his best-trained operatives to such cases, well aware that the valuables might be of interest to people willing to break dozens of laws to get their hands on them. General Ross’s collection didn’t seem to be anywhere near so valuable.

  In fact, as Lydia Ross had explained during dinner, what most needed to be readied for safe transport were the general’s private papers. Because of his high position in the U.S. Army at the time of his retirement, West Point and other institutions had expressed interest in housing some of the collection. Lydia had hired Cooper Security to help her sort through the papers to see if any needed extra preservation steps taken.

  In that sense, Jesse had made a good choice in sending Shannon. She’d had special training in archival preservation, plus a master’s degree in library science. She’d ended up primarily using her computer science degree in her work at Cooper Security, but she was capable of giving Lydia Ross good advice about preserving and cataloging her husband’s work.

  The last of daylight seeped away, shadows swallowing her room. And still she didn’t move, either to dress for bed or turn on her light.

  If there’s some hidden agenda here...

  She opened her cell phone, relieved to find a decent signal, and placed a call home.

  Jesse answered on the first ring. “You’re just now getting to the island?”

  “No,” she said, kicking herself. Jesse had told her to call when she reached the island, but in the confusion of the boat trouble and the island intruders, she hadn’t given her brother a second thought. “We just had a crazy afternoon.”

  “Something happen?”

  Normally, she’d be tempted to keep the drama of the afternoon to herself, knowing her brother’s tendency to worry too much about her safety. But Gideon’s suspicion had sparked a few questions of her own. “Actually, we had a little excitement today,” she said aloud, telling him about the fuel tank sabotage and the arrival of unwelcome visitors to the island.

  “Really.” Jesse sounded more interested than surprised.

  “You knew there would be trouble,” she accused.

  “I didn’t know it. Not for certain.�
�

  “What am I really doing here, Jesse?”

  “Exactly the job I gave you,” he said sternly. “You help Mrs. Ross with the papers and her husband’s collections. You keep your nose to the grindstone and stay out of trouble.”

  “That’s it? You really think that’s going to appease me?”

  “Call me if anything else happens out of the ordinary. And get some sleep. You’ve had a long day.” Jesse hung up before she could protest his paternal condescension.

  She growled as she hung up the phone. Jesse wasn’t the only one of her brothers and sisters who treated her as if she were still a child, but he was definitely the worst.

  It wasn’t her fault she was born last of the six. It wasn’t her fault their mother had decided her career had to come before motherhood or marriage. She hadn’t asked her siblings to make her their pampered, protected little pet.

  She pushed herself off the bed and crossed to the window. It had rained a little during dinner, enough that the window sparkled with tiny diamonds of raindrops clinging to the glass. Moonlight peeked from behind thinning clouds, casting a cool blue glow across the night scene.

  Through the blur of water, the thick stands of trees east of the house looked like a dark watercolor painting, all soft edges and mysterious shadows, punctuated here and there by the glow of lightning bugs flitting between the trees. It took a few seconds to realize that the light came not from flying bugs but from someone moving through the trees about two hundred yards away from the house.

  Curious, she went out onto the balcony for a closer look. It was definitely a light, moving slowly through the trees. Was it Gideon doing another tour of the island for the night?

  One way to find out, she thought, heading for the stairs.

  When she reached the main floor, it was dark. Gideon was no longer inside Stafford House, so the light in the woods must have been him.