Love Inspired Suspense March 2015 - Box Set 1 of 2: Protection DetailHidden AgendaBroken Silence

by Shirlee McCoy

  He nodded, seeming to accept her answer. “Listen, you’re welcome to stay if you’d like, maybe until you figure out where to go. Certainly there’s enough space, and I could use a hand. Not only with the house, but I have some questions for you. Questions about my father.”

  Her throat tightened. “It’s a deal. I’ll earn my keep. I promise.”

  “I’m counting on it. I’m going to head over to the west wing for the night. I can keep an ear open to anyone who might try to come back and cause trouble. Are you okay being in the east wing by yourself?”

  Bailey nodded. “Yeah, I’ll be fine.” She’d sleep with her door locked. Maybe with a dresser pushed in front of it. She might even sneak a kitchen knife into her nightstand.

  Even with all of those precautions, she probably still wouldn’t get any sleep.

  As they stepped inside, Ed paused.

  “What is it?”

  He shook his head. “Just a gut feeling.”

  “About what?”

  “That someone is coming and going as they please. In a house this size, it’s going to be almost impossible to catch them. Not without some equipment, stuff that we don’t have.”

  That thought didn’t comfort her as she mumbled good-night to Ed and then trudged up to her room. Once inside, she leaned against the door a moment, trying to control her racing heartbeat.

  Something on her coverlet caught her eye.

  With trepidation in each of her steps, she approached the bed.

  She gasped when she looked down and saw pictures of her and Ed at Samantha’s house. Scrawled in red ink across the picture were the words All play and no work makes Bailey a sad girl.

  SEVEN

  Bailey stared at the note, which trembled along with her hands. Another threat. Another reminder of what was expected of her.

  She had to step up her game and really search for some answers.

  But where? Where else could she look? Where might Mr. Carter have left this mysterious information?

  She closed her eyes and pictured the house, visualized every room and place she’d checked already. What was left?

  The attic, Bailey realized. It would be the perfect place for Mr. Carter to hide something. She shivered at the thought of going into the dark, rarely used space.

  It was easy to forget there was an attic because the access to the space was in a closet in an unused bedroom.

  Despite the fear that coursed through her, she knew she had to check up there. That man would make good on his threats if she didn’t find the information he’d requested. She couldn’t put her sister’s life in danger.

  Ed was sleeping in the west wing, which meant if she was quiet, he might never have a clue what she was up to.

  She shoved a flashlight into her back pocket and picked up a candle. It seemed so old-fashioned to use a candle, but she didn’t want to trust only one source of light. The house was incredibly dark. She could only imagine what the attic would be like. She shuddered at the thought.

  Quietly, she pulled her door open, checked the hallway to make sure it was clear and then stepped out. She tiptoed toward the last bedroom, slipped inside and froze.

  She’d never liked attics. Never. But the thought of going up there now caused panic to claim her entire being.

  I can do this, she told herself. There’s nothing to be afraid of. Look for the information and leave.

  Her pep talk did little good.

  Lord, be with me. Be a light in this darkness. Drive away my fear.

  She opened her eyes and sucked in a deep breath. The light from the candle’s flames flickered around the room, casting strange shadows.

  Just a lamp. A dresser. A mirror.

  No strange, lurking men. No traps.

  She trepidly took her first step and then scrambled all the way to the closet door. She pulled it open, and the stale, dusty smell of the attic floated downward.

  She gripped the candle and began climbing the stairs, counting each step as she went. Finally, she reached the top. The ache in her throat only intensified.

  The steep roof made the space narrow. Without any windows, not even the moon could comfort her. Just the light of her candle. That was all she had.

  She closed her eyes again, imagining Jesus as a beacon of light in the night. As a child, she’d loved thinking about being a light in an otherwise dark world. She tried to use her smile, her optimism to brighten people’s day. Much like this candle guided her path, she had to tap into a different kind of power inside her. She had to rely on God’s strength right now.

  She took her first step, the wooden floor creaking underneath her feet.

  What was she even looking for? She scanned the area and spotted several old paintings, a dresser, some trunks, random boxes. At the other side, there were two doors. One probably led to another entrance. The other could be a closet, perhaps.

  This could take a while.

  She set the candle on top of the dresser, wishing she’d thought to bring a few more with her. It was too late to go back now; if she left, she might not come back.

  She started with the first box. Nothing. It was filled with various bills that the previous owners had left here. The next three boxes revealed more of the same.

  Had Mr. Carter ever been up here even? He’d been mobile up until the last couple of weeks before he died. His health had deteriorated steeply during that time. Being up here might be a dead end, after all.

  Still, she moved on to the trunks. She found fascinating old journals and books with yellowed pages and some old family photos, but nothing that screamed “important” or seemed relevant to what she needed.

  Standing, she wiped the dust off her legs. For a moment, she’d almost forgotten she was up here. But as she glanced around the space again, she shivered. She couldn’t wait to get out of here.

  She made her way across the floor. This was her last possibility—an old filing cabinet. If the information wasn’t in here, she didn’t know where she’d look. She’d be back to square one.

  Twenty minutes later, she shoved down another phone bill. The previous owners had been the best record keepers ever. But that didn’t help her now.

  She pushed aside some dried leaves and a box with rat poison in it. Of course there was nothing underneath. That would have been too easy.

  Leaning back, she sighed and blew a hair out of her face. All of this for nothing.

  Just as she stood, the candle went dark.

  She gasped as absolute darkness surrounded her.

  Panic made her feel outside of herself. She scrambled to retrieve her flashlight from her back pocket. Before she could, she sensed movement behind her.

  She started to lunge, to dart away, when something sticky hit her face.

  A cobweb.

  She swatted in front of her, suddenly feeling imaginary spiders all over her skin.

  Her flashlight. She had to use her flashlight. She pulled it from her back pocket and fumbled to find the switch.

  Her chest heaved in fear. She paused, reassessing the situation. When she heard nothing, she nearly laughed at herself. Had that movement been her imagination? Had she simply let her fear get the best of her?

  All those crazy stories she’d read as a child about spooky attics had finally caught up with her. She’d just been overreacting.

  Just as she found the on switch to her flashlight, arms gripped her like a vise and a hand covered her mouth.

  *

  Ed lay in bed, staring at the ceiling.

  He couldn’t get Bailey out of his mind. She really did care about his father. That much had become clear today when he’d listened to her talk.

  Despite that, he still couldn’t figure her out. There was something she wasn’t telling him. If her reasons for being here were honest and innocent, then why was she hiding something?

  A thump pulled him out of his thoughts.

  He sat up with a start. What was that noise?

  He threw on his clothes, tucked his gu
n into his belt and crept toward the stairway. He wasn’t sure if Bailey was causing trouble or if she was in trouble, but that noise had definitely come from inside the residence.

  He moved slowly as he cleared the landing. There was no sign of movement in the hallway. Cautiously, he checked each room.

  When he reached Bailey’s room, he paused. The door was open. Certainly she wouldn’t sleep without locking up behind her. Not after everything that had happened.

  He stepped in and surveyed the area. The bed was made. Everything appeared untouched, and there was no sign of Bailey.

  He paused by something on her bed and picked up a picture. Pulling out his flashlight, he shone it down on the paper.

  It was a photo of him and Bailey eating together today. What was that about? Who had taken it?

  The sprawling words slashed across the bottom only intensified his unease. All play and no work makes Bailey a sad girl.

  Something was wrong.

  Was this a threat? Or was it a message from someone she was working for?

  He couldn’t be sure. He wanted to believe Bailey; he really did. But there was so much at stake. He’d learned the hard way not to be too trusting.

  A creak sounded above him.

  He paused. That didn’t come from the roof.

  There was someone in the attic, he realized.

  Where was the attic? How did he even get there? He needed to figure that out and fast.

  *

  “Evidently, I need to prove to you that my threats aren’t idle,” the man whispered into Bailey’s ear.

  She struggled, trying to get away. It was useless. Finally, she froze, waiting to hear what the man would say next.

  “I do what I say, Bailey. There’s no time for these raking leaves, having picnics with friends things. I need that information and I need it now. Perhaps you don’t understand the urgency of it all.”

  She nodded, praying the man would let her go.

  “Just in case you’re thinking about telling Ed, I wouldn’t be too quick to open up to him. And, if you do, we’ll know. We have our ways. In fact, I’m thinking it would be a lot easier for you to accomplish your mission without him around here.”

  Was he saying he meant to kill Ed? The thought made her heart thud dully in her chest.

  Also, she just realized he’d said we. There was more than one person working with him. Bailey should have known.

  “Things will get ugly if you betray us. Do you understand?”

  Bailey nodded again.

  “Here’s a taste of what will happen if you don’t hold up your end of the bargain.”

  He shoved her forward. When her feet dug into the floor, he lifted her. She kicked and flailed, but it was useless.

  Something squeaked and the next thing she knew she was tossed against the wall. There was another squeak, a click and then silence.

  She shifted, her shoulder aching. She rubbed the skin there and felt the burning at her elbow. She’d probably have a few scrapes and bruises. But she was still alive. For the time being, at least.

  All Bailey could see was blackness. The floor was gritty beneath her. Invisible bugs tickled her skin, made her squirm. The dust and stale air took her breath away and sent her into a coughing fit.

  The closet, she realized. The man had dumped her in the closet. In the attic.

  Did Ed even know there was an attic in the house? Would he come looking for her? Even if he did, it wouldn’t be until morning. He wouldn’t hear her up here. There was too much space between his bedroom and this closet.

  She was trapped here until morning. She couldn’t let that thought send her into a panic.

  Besides, what did her attacker know about Ed that she didn’t? What was Ed hiding?

  Tears threatened to spill from her eyes. She just didn’t know who she could believe anymore or what to think.

  She pushed against the door, hoping foolishly that it was unlocked.

  It didn’t budge.

  Something crawled over her arm and she stifled a scream.

  She must have dropped her flashlight when the man grabbed her.

  Breathe deep. Stay calm. Don’t freak out.

  She repeated the instructions over and over, hoping staying focused would ease her panic.

  What was she going to do? What if she didn’t find the information?

  Lord, I feel trapped, and I’m not just talking about this closet. I feel like I’m drowning and there’s no hope for rescue, like it’s just a matter of time before I go under.

  Just then something creaked outside.

  Was her attacker coming back? If so, what kind of punishment had he planned this time?

  She braced herself. Her heart pounded in her chest.

  The door opened and a light shined on her.

  “Bailey?” a familiar voice asked.

  Ed. It was Ed.

  She jerked to her feet and darted from the small space. Despite her resolve to not touch Ed, she found herself reaching for his arm, needing something to anchor her. She’d never been so glad to see the man.

  “What are you doing? What happened?” Ed gripped her arms.

  She wanted to blurt everything. Then she remembered her attacker’s threat, his warning not to tell anyone. Her thoughts collided inside until fear for her sister’s safety won out.

  “I couldn’t sleep. I was cleaning. I…I somehow backed into the closet. The door, well, the door—it locked.” Ed was no dummy. Certainly he’d see through her story. He’d hear the tremble in her voice, the uncertainty, and know she was lying.

  “You came to the attic to clean? At midnight?”

  She nodded. “Strange…habit, I know. I just…I got—got carried away.”

  Ed eyed her warily. “It’s a good thing I heard you, then. Otherwise, you would have been up here all night. Let’s get you downstairs.”

  Her brain kept telling her to release Ed’s arm, but she couldn’t physically do it. She clutched him as if holding on for dear life as he led her to the stairs. It wasn’t until they were back in the hallway that she released her grip.

  She straightened and pushed a hair behind her ear, trying to gain some sense of dignity. “Thank you again.”

  He stared at her. There was something he wanted to say. She could see it in his eyes. But finally he nodded. “No more cleaning, okay?”

  “Got it.” No, she had much more important matters to attend to, matters that meant life or death.

  EIGHT

  Bailey didn’t remember falling asleep, but she must have because when she woke up, the electricity was working again. She hurried out of bed and into her adjoining bathroom. A warm shower had never felt as good. But not even the soothing water could wash away the memories of being locked in the attic closet last night.

  Maybe she should tell Ed what was going on. This was all concerning his father, after all. And even if her attacker had eyes on her at all times, there was still the possibility that he wouldn’t be able to hear the conversation they had, especially not if they were isolated—on the beach or on a boat.

  Maybe she could call her sister, tell her to get away for a while. She could call the police, the FBI, and let them know what was going on.

  Despite those possibilities, she knew that finding the information was paramount. She needed to go through all of Mr. Carter’s things to do that, to search the house from top to bottom. Even the places she’d already examined.

  She felt as if she would lose her mind if she lived under this pressure for much longer.

  Ed was sitting at the kitchen table drinking some coffee when she got downstairs. He looked up and nodded. “Bailey, good morning.”

  The electricity must have made him a little happier, as well. He’d even shaved. “Good morning.”

  She poured herself some coffee, relishing the feel of the warm mug at her fingers, before slogging across the room. She lowered herself at the table across from him. Sunlight streaming through the window above the sink heated her cheeks
and seemed to promise everything would be okay.

  “I was thinking of going into town to see if I can find groceries. Since we’re going to be staying and all, we’ll need some more to eat. Plus, I think the ferry is running again. The first boat should be here by nine, most likely with supplies. I figure if you’re going to go through your father’s things, you’ll need some boxes to help with organization.”

  He set his coffee down. “Good idea. I’ll go with you.”

  Was he going with her to help or because he didn’t trust her?

  “Ed, there’s something I wanted to—” She looked toward the distance at something that had been placed on one of the shelves by the kitchen sink. There was something that hadn’t been there before. She stood, gravitating toward it with dread in her gut.

  “Yes?” Ed asked.

  She barely heard him. She stepped closer, squinting. What she saw made her reel. Her pain almost felt physical.

  “What is it?” Ed asked, appearing behind her.

  She pointed to the picture there. Her finger trembled as her eyes welled with tears. “Did you put that there?”

  “Put what there? That photo?”

  She nodded.

  “Why would I put a photo there?” He leaned closer to examine it. “I don’t even know who these people are.”

  “It’s my sister and her kids,” Bailey muttered.

  In the picture, Lauren was bent over tying Emma’s soccer shoes while her son, Alex, watched in the distance. Bailey closed her eyes. These people were close enough to touch her sister.

  She couldn’t risk telling Ed anything. It was too big of a chance. One wrong move and everything could fall apart for her.

  *

  Ed picked up the picture. “That’s kind of strange. There’s a date stamp on the bottom that indicates this picture was taken yesterday.”

  He looked at Bailey, watching her expression carefully, and clearly saw the fear that flickered in her eyes. But why?

  “You’re saying you didn’t put this picture here?” Ed clarified.

  Bailey nodded. “That’s exactly what I’m saying.”

  “Then how did it get here?”

  “That’s what I’m wondering.”

  Ed pressed his lips together a moment, not liking where this was going. “Where does your sister live?”