Threat of Exposure

by Lynette Eason

  And unless he got it together and got over the memory of Paul’s experience, Brock knew he’d lose Gisella. For good.

  The thought shot terror through him.

  Could he let her go? He knew with certainty he didn’t want to. But…

  Could he get past his partner’s bad experience and move on with someone who might get killed because she placed herself in dangerous situations every day?

  He squirmed. He did the same with his job. Did he have a right to wish she would get a safe job while he continued doing what he loved?

  Of course not.

  So. Where did that leave him?

  Swallowing hard, he came to a painful realization.

  He couldn’t keep her safe no matter how vehemently he vowed to do so.

  Only God had that power. Humbled, he felt his throat swell with emotion. I’m sorry I was arrogant enough to think that I could protect her on my own. I definitely need Your help, Lord.

  “What are you thinking?” Her quiet question from behind the binoculars she had glued to her eyes slammed into him.

  “That I don’t trust God nearly as much as I should.” Where had that come from?

  She startled in the dark and lowered the binoculars, her eyes wide. There was just enough light that he could make out her expression. Then she gave a small laugh. “Well, you’re not the only one with that problem.”

  “What do you not trust Him with?” He was curious. Not once had she expressed doubt about the God he knew she loved.

  Gisella grimaced. “Oh, I trust Him with it. You know, give my problems to Him. I just don’t leave them with Him. I tend to take them back like I don’t think He can handle them.”

  “Then give it back when it becomes too big for you again?”

  She gave a short laugh. “Yes. Unfortunately. I know better. God can handle it. But I just sometimes…” She trailed off and lifted the binoculars again.

  “What particular situation are you thinking of?”

  “My family,” she muttered.

  “Ah.”

  “Yep.”

  “My parents are still together and I want to have a marriage like theirs one day.” He needed a zipper on his mouth.

  Once again he’d managed to shock her. Her eyes flew wide and she gaped. Her expression put him on the defensive. “What?”

  She shrugged. “I just didn’t picture you as the marrying kind.”

  He frowned at her. “I’m not a playboy, Gisella.”

  This time she flushed. “I didn’t say you were, I just…”

  “Well, now you know. I want marriage and a family. One day.”

  “Soon?”

  “Whenever it’s supposed to happen, I suppose.”

  “Trusting God on that?”

  He smiled, appreciating her humor. “Working on it.” A pause. “More so now since the night you saved my hide from Lenny and his itchy trigger finger.”

  “Staring death in the face does cause one to put things in perspective.”

  Brock couldn’t read her face now. “What have you put in perspective since your near drowning?”

  Her brows rose in appreciation of his insight. “My relationship with my parents.”

  His cell phone rang and he grabbed it.

  “Hello? Martin here.”

  “This is Sheriff Johnston. Where are you two?”

  “Excuse me?”

  “Niles and two other Border Patrol agents just brought in about ten illegals trying to cross the border and I thought I’d see if you two felt up to helping us process them. I’m short about three deputies tonight and one of the Border Patrol agents needs medical attention and is leaving.”

  “Well, sir, right now, Gisella and I are…” A loud crash sounded through the phone and Brock jerked it from his ear. The sheriff cursed then said, “One of the prisoners kicked a trash can across the room. If you can spare a couple of hours, I would appreciate it.”

  Brock hung up and relayed the message to Gisella.

  A thoughtful look crossed her face. “We could, but my first priority is this case. Let’s give it a while longer and see what turns up.”

  “Works for me.” He held his hand out for the binoculars. “Want me to take a look?”

  “Sure.” She handed them over. As he took them, his palm grazed her fingers, sending goose bumps over his flesh. With a jolt, he realized that while he was physically attracted to this woman, the pull she had over him was more than that.

  He admired her. Her softness laced with steel. Her determination to do her job. Her loyalty to her dead boss and fellow Rangers. Her willingness to admit that while she loved the Lord, she was human and could be besieged with doubts just like the next person.

  Just like him.

  He blinked and his phone rang again. His lips curved at the number. “Yes, Sheriff.”

  “Sorry I had to hang up there. So, you think you can give me a hand?”

  He looked at Gisella. “The sheriff again.”

  She gave a disgusted look out the window. “Sure. There’s nothing happening here anyway. Maybe my hunch was all wrong.” She snapped her seat belt into place. “Tell him we’re on our way.”

  Brock did and then pulled his laptop out to log in to the site that would allow him to input his information about the stakeout.

  Gisella watched Brock enter his username then turned her head so he wouldn’t think she was being nosey, trying to get his password or something.

  BCM had been the first three letters he’d entered. “What’s your middle name?” she asked.

  He typed a few more letters then shut the computer off. He looked at her and grinned. “Cameron. Brock Cameron Martin, my lady. What’s yours?”

  Gisella grimaced. “Not telling.”

  He laughed. “Oh, come on, you can’t say that and then expect me not to hound you about it.”

  She sighed and rolled her eyes. “Eldora.”

  One brow rose indicating his surprise. “Your parents did that to you on purpose?”

  She choked a surprised laugh, then giggled and whacked him lightly on his arm. “Thanks a lot.”

  A sheepish grin covered his face. “Sorry.”

  Her heart flipped and she realized she was in deep despite his feelings about her dangerous job.

  Immediately she berated herself. No more flirting, remember? Keep it cool and distant.

  But she couldn’t seem to help it. She liked him. Maybe even loved him. The thought of being without him in her life made her heart ache like someone was trying to remove it without anesthesia. Oh, boy. She took a deep breath. “Ready to go?”

  “Yep.”

  Brock Cameron Martin.

  BCM.

  Initials.

  Something niggled at the back of her mind, irritating her like a pebble in her shoe. What was it? What…

  The initials in the little black book flashed at her. The initials on the grave plots on the map on the wall popped to mind. Excitement stirred. “Wait a minute.”

  “What?” He pulled out of the parking lot.

  “That’s it,” she breathed. “I think I know where we need to go next.”

  “Where?”

  “The morgue.”

  “Why?”

  “Because sometimes dead people do tell tales.”

  EIGHTEEN

  Brock just shot her a look and she realized he was waiting not so patiently for her to tell him what she was talking about. “Your initials sparked an idea. I’m going to call the sheriff back and tell him we have a little errand to run first.”

  “He’s not going to be happy.”

  “He hasn’t been happy since we showed up. Why change the status quo? But if I’m right about this, it’ll make up for all the grief we’ve caused him.”

  After promising to be there as soon as possible, but not explaining what errand they had to do, she hung up and told Brock, “Go to the morgue, will you? I want to look at that map on the wall one more time.”

  “It’s probably locked up.�
�� But he headed in that direction.

  She frowned. “You’re right. Let’s stop by the diner and see if Pop is there. Maybe he can open it up for us.”

  Brock drove to the diner and Gisella hopped out of the car. “I’ll be right back if you want to wait.”

  “Sure.”

  Entering the diner, she looked around and spotted Krista. Approaching her, Gisella asked, “Is Pop here?”

  “In the back. You want me to get him?”

  “Please.”

  Krista whirled to head toward Gisella who tapped her foot impatiently, her adrenaline surging at the thought of what this night might bring if her hunch was right.

  Pop came out of the kitchen wiping his hands on his stained apron. Krista followed and began waiting tables again.

  Gisella greeted him and made her request. “I just need to look at the map on the wall. Can you let me in for five minutes? Maybe not even that long.”

  The man eyed her for a brief moment then nodded. “Krista—” he waved the girl over once again “—get my keys and let these two in the morgue, will you? Make sure you lock up tight when you’re done.”

  The girl’s eyes went wide, but she didn’t argue or ask questions. Her hostility seemed to have lessened since the last time she saw them. “Sure, Pop.” Once again she disappeared into the back. Pop nodded as though to reassure himself he was doing the right thing.

  “Thank you so much,” Gisella said.

  Krista returned within seconds, keys in her left hand.

  They all climbed in the car and Brock drove them the few blocks to the morgue. A single bulb glowed over the small porch that led up to the building.

  Krista climbed out of the car. Her eyes glowing with excitement and curiosity, she took the lead and opened the door for them. Brock looked at Gisella. “After you.”

  Gisella stepped inside and made her way down the hallway to the small, but well-equipped area that served as the morgue and autopsy room.

  Flipping on the light, she moved across the floor, her eyes landing on the wall-size map of the cemetery. Energy flowed through her, and her stomach dipped and rolled with adrenaline. Opening the book, she turned to the weird symbol on the last page and breathed, “It’s a match.”

  Brock studied it over her shoulder. “Way to go, Gisella. Nice catch.”

  She looked at the map with the small boxes and their corresponding letters nestled inside them. “I’m most interested in the ones near the fence closest to the border,” she muttered, then realized Krista stood watching them, taking in everything they were talking about.

  Not wanting to discuss the case—and possibly sensitive information—in front of the girl, Gisella asked her to wait in the reception room.

  Krista pouted a minute, then shrugged and did as asked.

  After Krista disappeared down the hall, Gisella pulled her phone out and snapped a picture of the map on the wall. Looking at Brock, she shrugged. “You never know. Might come in handy in the graveyard.”

  “Definitely.”

  In the little book, Gisella flipped back to the beginning and found the list of numbers and letters she and Brock had focused on initially.

  “JZ, RP, QV. And the mixture of numbers and letters: 3149NJZ10724WRPQV. JZ, RP and QV all appear in that sequence, right?” Excitement hurried her words.

  “Yep.”

  “What if the numbers are longitude and latitude and the N is north?”

  “And the W is west?”

  “Coordinates,” she breathed. “But for what?”

  Slowly, he nodded. “I think you’re right. It’s a good guess, anyway.” He tapped a finger against the page. “It all makes sense if you look at the numbers as dates and times. And it’s better than anything else we’ve come up with.”

  Gisella once again referred to the book, then back to the location of the graves. Excitement hummed in her. “Actually, I think you said something about these numbers being dates back when we first met and were going through this. Remember?”

  “Vaguely.”

  “Okay, here’s my next idea. Look at the map. All three sets of initials are right here.” Her finger jabbed the wall. “RP, JZ, QV. All graves.”

  Brock leaned closer. “They almost form a triangle, don’t they?”

  “That’s where we need to be before 11:00 tonight.”

  “Once again, I think you’re right.” His eyes shone with admiration for her and she ordered herself not to blush.

  “Let’s go catch us some drug runners.”

  “I’ll contact Border Patrol and tell them to be ready to send backup. We’ll need their helicopter with the spotlight.”

  He pulled out his phone and jumped when Gisella reached out and snagged his hand.

  “Wait.” She bit her lip. This was all a hunch. What if she was wrong? “Let’s just do a little investigating before we call in the big guys. If I’m wrong…”

  “It could be embarrassing?”

  “To say the least.”

  “Okay, let’s take a drive out there. Do a little snooping around. If we think we’re on to something, we’ll contact Border Patrol and let them take over.”

  Relief settled in her. “Perfect. I’ll text Levi McDonnell and let him know we’re making progress and what our plans are.”

  Gisella followed Brock back into the waiting area where they found Krista watching the news. Already, a reporter from El Paso was on the scene at the Boot Hill sheriff’s office. The small town was the topic of the evening. Gisella glanced at her watch. Already it was 10:00.

  Time to get moving.

  “Krista, are you ready?”

  “Sure.” The teen jumped up from the couch and flipped the television off. She shook her head. “It seems like every time I turn around, the sheriff and Border Patrol are arresting illegals but the news doesn’t usually make a big deal out of it like this.” She shrugged. “Must have been a particularly large group of them this time.”

  Gisella cocked her head. “So this happens on a regular basis?”

  “Sure. I mean, we are right on the border, you know?”

  Gisella frowned. “Yeah. I know.”

  She shook her head and nodded toward the door. Krista came out last, turned around and locked up. Pocketing the keys, she slid into the car and Brock drove them back to the diner.

  Before the girl climbed out, Gisella reached back to squeeze her hand. “Thanks so much for your help.”

  With a nod and a flash of her pearly whites, Krista hurried back into the diner to help her Pop finish closing up.

  Gisella glanced at her watch again. 10:12. “We have—”

  Brock leaned over and placed a kiss on her lips and she froze as his hand came up to cup the back of her neck. But she didn’t pull away. When he did, he said, “I don’t want the end of this case to be the end of us.”

  In shock, she couldn’t find her voice. She simply stared at him, lips tingling, heart thumping. “Brock…”

  “I know we don’t have time to get into a discussion right now, but just know that while I have my issues when it comes to you and your job, I still… Just tell me I haven’t blown it with you and the possibility of an…us.”

  Clearing her throat, she nodded. “It’s okay. You’re right, this isn’t the time. We’ll talk later, all right?”

  Relief stood out on his features. “Good.”

  “Now, the clock’s ticking. Can we go?”

  He cranked the car and backed out of the parking lot. Turning right onto the road that would lead to the cemetery, Gisella forced herself to focus on the job at hand. She could think about how much she liked kissing him and the possibility of a permanent relationship with him at a later date.

  Hopefully, she’d have some time tomorrow. Because then that would mean this case was over and she’d have the information necessary to arrest the people responsible for Captain Pike’s death.

  I don’t know what’s going on with Brock, God, but if he’s the one You want me with for the rest of my life
, I’m open. Just…protect my heart. And protect us now, please, Lord.

  Brock turned into the cemetery and parked near the spot he’d chosen when they’d come to meet Ina. Only this time, she noticed he pulled behind a tighter grove of trees that sheltered the vehicle from the entrance.

  Once again, they faced the unknown in the dark of the night. Gisella shivered, not really from the cold, but at the eeriness of it all. After dark in a graveyard. Not exactly her favorite place to be.

  But necessary. She’d had to do a lot of unsavory things during her years of law enforcement and she’d learned to just deal.

  And she couldn’t deny the jolts of excitement that always accompanied an investigation.

  With a sideways glance at her partner, she had to admit, she couldn’t deny the jolts of excitement she felt around him, either.

  The small sliver of the moon made the entire scene before her an unwelcome reminder of when they’d found Ina dead.

  She didn’t want to find any more bodies. Except live ones that she could arrest.

  Brock inclined his head toward the entrance to the cemetery. “I don’t think you can see this spot from there.”

  “Not unless you were looking for it.”

  “I don’t want to advertise our presence here.”

  She nodded. “Good thinking.”

  Pulling out the little black book, she pulled out a small penlight; focusing it on the page, she noted the hand-drawn “map.” “Now that I know what it is, I can see that it’s a smaller replica of the map on the wall of the morgue.” She groaned. “Wish I’d figured this out earlier.”

  “We’ve got it now. Let’s make it work for us.”

  She smiled at him and let her eyes drink in his rugged good looks. Her heart twisted. She’d become so fond of him. Probably loved him.

  And it had happened so fast she hadn’t been able to erect and maintain her usual “keep your distance” barriers. He’d barreled his way right through them. And from his earlier actions, she knew he felt the same.

  Back to the map, Gisella.

  She focused on the drawing, studied it, then looked around. With a nod to her left, she asked, “That way?”