Operation Reunion

by Justine Davis

  “And now what have you done, Cutter, my lad? And why are you running around loose anyway?”

  The dog yipped, short and sharp.

  “He jumped out the back and took off like...a dog with a mission,” the man said as he lifted one arm toward the woman. She stepped into the shelter of it so naturally that Kayla knew these two were together in a way few people were. She could feel it, coming off of them in waves, could see it in their faces—love, respect, comfort and, in the glance they exchanged, passion.

  She smothered a sigh. She’d known all that once. She’d had a place like that at Dane Burdette’s side, a warm, safe, welcoming place. And she’d thrown it away. Dane was a man of near-infinite patience, he’d proven that for years, but she’d pushed and pushed until she’d finally found his limit.

  The pain of losing him wasn’t just emotional; it was a harsh, physical hurt, an aching for him with heart, mind and body. Oh, yes, body, she thought with an inward moan. Sometimes at night she would curl up into a ball and weep for missing him beside her, loving her. She gave herself an inward shake; if she let herself slide back into that morass of pain and loss, she’d break down sobbing right here in public, in front of these total strangers.

  Belatedly she realized she’d seen the woman inside the post office, that she’d walked past her on her way to her post office box. She’d been comparing the woman’s warm, auburn hair to her own shorter, dark-brown bob, wondering if a change would help her outlook.

  Not that anything could help because Dane had walked out of her life.

  “I was just about to go round him up when he came back,” the man said, gesturing with the note. “It seems he stole this.”

  “Stole?” the woman named Hayley asked as she looked at the balled-up paper. “Can you steal something someone obviously didn’t want?”

  Kayla tried to explain. “I...”

  The man looked at her, and she hated the way her voice faded into nothing. But it was too big, too complicated to explain. Still, there was something oddly calming in this man’s eyes, as if he’d reached out a hand to steady her.

  Kayla tried to get a grip; whoever these two were, they clearly weren’t a threat. Stick to the simple facts, she told herself.

  “I didn’t mean to throw it away.” She sighed, corrected herself. “I mean, I did throw it away, but I shouldn’t have. I’d like it back.”

  “Of course.”

  He handed it back without hesitation, reassuring her further. She smoothed out the note, realizing after a moment that the paper wasn’t even damp from the dog’s mouth. She glanced at the animal, who was looking up at her intently. She’d never had a dog, and suddenly she wondered if this one would have the same effect on her if she was more familiar with them. Or if it was just this dog who could look at her in that piercing way that made her feel as if she shouldn’t move.

  “He’s...a beautiful dog.”

  “He is,” Hayley said. “And clever enough to be amazing and annoying by turns.”

  Kayla smiled at that. She thanked the man, nodded at the woman and turned to head back to her car.

  The dog stopped her.

  Not aggressively—in fact, he was looking up at her with the same tongue-lolling grin she’d seen before. She tried to walk around him, but he moved to block her again.

  “I’m sorry,” Hayley said quickly. “He’s a herding dog by breed, and it’s his nature.”

  She reached for the dog’s collar. Before she could grasp it, the dog dodged slightly, the bright blue, boat-shaped tag Kayla had caught a glimpse of rattling. Cutter, she thought. Hayley had called the dog Cutter. As in coast guard cutter? Was that why the man looked so imposing, some military background?

  The dog yipped again, now looking from her to his owners and back. He clearly wanted something, but—

  He snatched the note again, right out of her hands.

  Kayla let out a startled yelp that probably sounded like the dog’s yip. This time the animal didn’t run off. Instead, he turned and with a startling sort of delicacy, presented the note to the woman, who glanced at it, then up at the man beside her.

  “Uh-oh,” the man said.

  “So it seems,” Hayley agreed.

  Kayla had no idea what they were talking about, what was going on, but it was all starting to make her nervous again. And no amount of telling herself she was perfectly safe here, out in the open in a public parking lot with people coming and going around them, seemed to help. Without Dane solidly by her side, she felt vulnerable.

  She summoned up all the old coping tricks she’d been taught in the days after her world had been shattered. It was only normal she be nervous around strangers, even after all this time, she told herself. And she knew how to deal, really she did.

  “Please,” she said, trying to sound merely polite instead of pleading, “that’s personal.”

  “Someone’s in trouble,” the woman said. It wasn’t really a question. But her voice was so soft, so gentle, it eased Kayla’s rising anxiety.

  “Yes,” she admitted. That much was clear in the note now open for all to see, so there didn’t seem much point in denying it.

  The man spoke. “Time for names, I think. I’m Quinn Foxworth. This is my fiancée, Hayley Cole.”

  “Congratulations,” Kayla said, not sure what else to say in this odd situation.

  “And this rascal,” Hayley said, scratching the dog’s ear again, “is Cutter.”

  “Nice to meet you.”

  It was automatic and sounded utterly inane. She needed to get out of here, collect her thoughts. But first she had to get that note back.

  On the thought the dog moved once more, this time closer to her. And then he was leaning against her leg, looking up at her with what for all the world looked like reassurance.

  “What an...unusual dog,” she murmured, half to herself.

  “You have no idea,” Hayley said, her tone wry.

  “He has a nose for trouble,” Quinn agreed. “In this case, apparently, yours.”

  She looked up at the man then. And read the same kind of reassurance in his eyes that she’d fancied she’d seen in the dog’s.

  “It’s my brother’s trouble, really.”

  Now why had she said that? She didn’t make a habit of discussing her ugly family history with strangers.

  “And now ours,” Hayley said quietly.

  Kayla blinked. “What?”

  The woman gestured at the dog. “This wasn’t coincidence. But we’ll explain all that later. In the meantime, let’s go somewhere where we can talk and figure out what to do about your problem.”

  Kayla took a step back. Or tried to. The dog, once again, was there. He seemed uncannily able to sense her every move before she made it.

  “Who are you?” she asked, something dark and unsettling churning in her stomach.

  “Friendlies,” Quinn said, as if he’d sensed her fear.

  “We just want to help,” Hayley said. She glanced at Quinn, such pride in her face that it went a long way toward soothing Kayla’s nerves. “It’s what we do.”

  “You can’t help. Nobody can.”

  Bitterness spiked through Kayla. She’d accepted the lost years, the thrown-away money, but Dane.... Losing Dane was—

  She cut her own thoughts off.

  “This is beyond anyone’s help,” she said. “It’s a lost cause.”

  “Well, now,” Hayley said, “isn’t that convenient? Lost causes are our specialty.”

  Chapter 2

  Dane Burdette paced the width of his home office, turned, made the return journey, then turned again. Although the apartment was large enough, this den was a small space, one that overflowed with equipment that now also filled the adjoining dining area.

  A sound from outside brought him out of the reverie he’d slipped into and back to reality. A reality that, for the first time in more than a decade, didn’t have Kayla in it.

  His jaw tightened. He rubbed at the back of his neck, trying not
to think about Kayla doing the same, as she so often did when he’d been working too many hours. And he barely managed not to look for the hundredth time this morning at the photograph on his desk, the picture he’d taken at the Washington coast last year, catching her at her most beautiful, happy, smiling, looking almost carefree. It was clear to even the most casual observer that the love and warmth in her eyes was aimed at the person behind the camera.

  It nearly ripped his heart out every time he looked at it. He’d done the right thing. Finally. He’d meant what he’d said—he couldn’t go on like this. Ten years was enough.

  Too bad knowing that didn’t stop the urge to give in, to go to her and patch things up. Again.

  But he’d meant it this time. He’d spent too long living with her obsession. She’d idolized her big brother, believed completely in his innocence and had never given up trying to find him. She’d traveled thousands of miles, going every time one of those damn notes arrived, chasing postmarks. And every time it came to nothing. She’d spent time, money and much of her energy on the quest, and there was no end in sight.

  He glanced at the heavy dive watch Kayla had given him for his twenty-fifth birthday. She’d be at the post office even now; she went every Friday to pick up the mail for her counseling group, but in truth she was both hoping for and dreading the arrival of another communication from her brother. Dane himself was long past hoping; he was firmly in the dread category.

  He needed to quit wearing the watch, he thought. Even though he liked the solid weight of it on his wrist, that Kayla had chosen it and given it to him—and the passionate night that had followed—was not something he wanted to be reminded of at every move.

  “I had to do it,” he muttered under his breath, as if actually saying the words would be more convincing to a heart and mind that felt as if something vital had been torn away.

  At this point, Chad Tucker’s guilt or innocence didn’t matter much to him. What mattered was that Kayla couldn’t seem to move on. It wasn’t that he didn’t understand—he did. He’d been there that night, in the bloody, awful aftermath. He’d been the one to hear her scream, the one to run to her, to pull her out of the room that held the nightmare. To this day he couldn’t imagine what it must have been like for the teenage girl to walk into that hell.

  That it was a girl he cared about made even thinking about it difficult. And he had cared about Kayla since the first day he’d seen her, a slight, fragile-looking fourteen, sitting on a limb high up in the old tree between their houses. She had been staring downward, turning her head this way and that, and he’d realized after a moment what was going on.

  “Stuck?” he’d called to her.

  “Not yet,” she’d answered, making him laugh.

  She’d been in his life one way or another ever since that day. Until now. Until he’d had to leave her, had to walk away. Even though it was like leaving a part of himself behind. But he knew—

  “Dane?”

  He spun around, a little embarrassed that he hadn’t realized his roommate and business partner Sergei was standing there. He needed to get his head back in the game.

  “I need to go if I’m going to make it on time. Don’t want to speed out of here because our downstairs neighbor the cop is out washing his car. Is what you sent last night the final cut?”

  “Yes.”

  “I’ll be on my way then,” his partner said.

  But he stopped in the doorway and looked back. He and Sergei Kesic had built their small, digital video promotion company from nothing to a going concern, thanks to Dane’s knack for tailoring the product to individual customer needs and Sergei’s no-nonsense, bottom-line sales approach that appealed to companies in a belt-tightening era.

  “You sent it at 3:00 a.m.,” Sergei said.

  “Did I?”

  “You’re keeping some pretty long hours, buddy.”

  “Don’t be late,” Dane said. The last thing he wanted was to get dragged into discussing the reasons behind his late nights and lack of sleep. Sergei hadn’t asked why he’d suddenly taken to sleeping here instead of at Kayla’s, and he didn’t want that conversation to start now.

  He had to put it out of his mind, he told himself as Sergei shrugged and left. There were decisions to make, plans to go over.

  A sour laugh escaped him. Plans. Yes, indeed, plans. He’d had a lot of those.

  He yanked the watch off his wrist, opened a desk drawer, shoved it in the back and slammed the drawer shut. One more step, he thought. And he should do it now, when he knew where she’d be, at the post office checking for another one of those damned notes. He would go over to Kayla’s and pick up the last of his stuff.

  And leave his key.

  He winced at the thought but shored up his determination and grabbed his key ring from the desk. He pried the ring open and worked the gold key off, fighting memories of the night she’d given it to him.

  He shoved the key in the watch pocket of his jeans.

  With a final glance at the photograph, he headed for the door. That picture was going, he told himself firmly. As soon as he got back.

  * * *

  This was crazy.

  Kayla stared at the business card in her hand. It looked official enough, but anybody could churn out a good-looking business card. And there was no indication on the card of exactly what the “Foxworth Foundation” did.

  They had walked across the street to the small city park and were seated on the stone wall that surrounded the kid’s play area, deserted now at this morning hour. The dog that had started all this was sprawled in the grass, basking in the morning sun and looking decidedly smug.

  “Does he do this often?” she asked.

  “Cutter?” Hayley said.

  “Yes. Does he drag total strangers with a problem to you?”

  “As a matter of fact, yes.”

  Kayla blinked. Hayley smiled.

  “He has a knack,” she said. “I don’t know how he does it, but he seems to know when people are troubled.”

  “And he brings them to you?”

  “It’s not usually as...neatly as today,” Quinn said with a wry smile. “But yes, he does.”

  Kayla glanced at the dog, who seemed blithely unconcerned about the entire situation. As if his job was done, she thought, even as she realized she was going a bit overboard with the anthropomorphism.

  “And he makes it pretty obvious,” Hayley said, “that he expects us to fix whatever’s wrong.”

  Whatever’s wrong, Kayla thought. And lost causes are their specialty?

  I love you, but I won’t—I can’t—stay and watch you throw the rest of your life away on a lost cause.

  Dane’s final words as he had walked out her door echoed in her mind, drowning out every other thought. He’d been upset with her before but always seemed to find a reserve of patience she marveled at even as she used it up. But this time had been different. She’d heard the finality in his voice, seen the sadness in his eyes. The man she’d loved since she was fourteen had finally had enough. His departure had left her bereft and a little stunned at how completely off balance her already damaged world now felt.

  “Whatever it is,” Hayley said softly, “let us help. It’s what we do.”

  Kayla looked up. “Lost causes?”

  “Yes.”

  “Who are you?” She glanced at Quinn, gestured with the card, remembering his introduction. “You’re the Foxworth.”

  “One of them,” he said.

  “What’s this foundation do?”

  “What should be done but isn’t,” Quinn said, with a warm glance at Hayley that made Kayla miss Dane all the more.

  “They—” Hayley caught herself, smiled and went on, showing Kayla she wasn’t used to saying it yet, “we work for people in the right who don’t have anyone else to help them.”

  Curious now, she looked at them both. “Who decides who’s in the right?”

  Quinn grinned suddenly. Kayla could have sworn she heard Hay
ley’s breath catch; she didn’t blame her, it was a killer grin. Nothing on Dane’s, of course, but still....

  “That’s the joy of being privately funded. We decide. We have a crack research team to help in that.”

  “Research team?”

  “You’d be amazed,” he said, his voice taking on a wry note, “how many people sound like they’re in the right until you look into the other side.”

  Kayla sighed. “Then you won’t want to help me,” she said.

  “Why do you say that?”

  “Because the other side is the police, and when you look into it you’ll probably find some notes saying I’m delusional, disturbed or maybe just crazy.”

  “Are you?” Hayley asked, sounding merely curious and not at all bothered by the mention of the police.

  “No!” Kayla stopped, sighed. “I’m...determined. Dane thinks I’m obsessed. But he and Chad never got along anyway.”

  She realized she was starting to sound a little mental, talking to total strangers about people they didn’t know. She should get out of here. Whoever these people were, they couldn’t really do what they said they did. People didn’t just help strangers like that. Did they?

  And even if they did, what she’d said was true. If they looked into this they’d find all the evidence the police had pointing to Chad and probably some mentions of his sister. Not nasty ones, she didn’t think; they had been kind, if unbelieving. They’d probably just gently suggested, in some police jargon, that the suspect’s little sister was a bit nuts, driven to the edge of insanity by what had happened.

  She needed to get out of here. Getting one of these notes always revved her up, and she needed to calm down, to think. How she was going to do that when she no longer had the option to go to the one person who had always helped her with that, she wasn’t sure.

  Oddly, the moment she decided to get up and leave the dog awoke from his snooze and scrambled to his feet. Before she could rise he was there, as if he’d somehow read her mind and was once more preventing her from leaving. The animal leaned into her, resting his chin on her leg as he stared up at her. And suddenly it was impossible to move.