“Really?” Tracie raised her eyebrows. “I had no idea. Trevor never talked to me about his family.”
“He used to boast about his father from time to time, years ago,” Abby continued. “Apparently he was some kind of war hero.”
“How did he die?” Heath prompted.
“The details are a little sketchy.” Abby scrunched her face up as though trying to remember. “He was on a submarine that was lost during a mission. To my knowledge it was never found.”
Tracie let out a small cry and quickly began to cough. Though he, too, felt alarmed by the revelation, Heath schooled his features into an expression of mild concern. “Are you okay?” he asked Tracie.
She held one hand to her throat and shook her head.
“I’ll grab you some water,” Scott offered and darted off, returning moments later and offering her the drink.
“Thanks,” she sputtered after a slow sip. Then she shook her head and looked at Abby. “Sorry about that. Do you know the name of the submarine he was on, or any of the other men who were lost with him?”
“No,” Abby shook her head. “I don’t believe Trevor ever mentioned it. Why? Is it important?”
While Tracie took another sip of water, Heath decided the best way to find out if Scott and Abby knew anything else would be to let them in on their suspicions. After all, they’d been held prisoner in the sea cave by the diamond smugglers. They might have noticed some detail that could help the investigation. “We’ve retrieved evidence of submarine activity in the Devil’s Island sea cave. There’s a slight possibility it may have been a Navy sub that went MIA.”
Abby gasped. “In the sea cave?”
“Yes.”
Abby’s eyes widened. “I saw it.”
“You did?” Tracie asked incredulously.
“But Tracie and I were with you the whole time,” Scott cautioned his fiancée. “How could you have seen it when neither of us did?”
“I remember looking around the cave, trying to take it all in so I could describe the place if I ever escaped. There was a large open space beside the boats, and I remember thinking it was strange, with so much space, that the boats would be parked so close together. And then I looked down into the water and saw—” her eyes widened “—this shadow.”
“Could you describe it?” Heath pressed.
“It was a dark shape lurking under the water. It didn’t just look like empty space, but like something was down there. It frightened me. But then, the whole experience frightened me so much I forgot all about it until just now when you mentioned the possibility of a submarine. Neither of you saw anything?”
“I recall the boats being close together as you said,” Scott affirmed.
“I remember that much,” Tracie acknowledged, “as well as the open expanse of water. But my attention was focused on trying to think how we might disarm our captors. I didn’t pay any attention anything below the surface of the water.”
“You know,” Scott spoke up in a musing voice, “that would explain the trajectory of the bullets. Hadn’t we determined that Trevor had been shot by someone standing on a craft at sea? But we never saw a boat.”
“You’re right,” Abby snapped her fingers. “A submarine could have hidden much more easily. Even if it was still out there below the surface, it wouldn’t have been obvious to us, since we were so distracted by the body.”
“Good point,” Tracie agreed slowly. “That’s just one more argument in favor of the submarine theory.”
Scott shook his head. “That might explain what happened to Trevor’s body, which is what always bothered me.” He looked at each one of them in turn. “Didn’t you guys find it strange that his body disappeared without a trace, even though we never saw any boats coming or going? If the guys who shot him had a submarine, they could have transported his body without our seeing them.”
Tracie looked at Heath, questions and fears swimming in the tears that brimmed her eyes. Heath cleared his throat. “Actually, there may be more to your theory than that,” he revealed, leaning a little closer. “We believe Trevor may still be alive.”
With a gasp, Abby buried her face in Scott’s shoulder.
“You know,” Scott confessed, “I didn’t want to say anything, but I always wondered if that was somehow possible.”
Abby peeked out from behind Scott’s arm. “We were actually just discussing the idea the other night,” she admitted, straightening to face them. “But what makes you think he’s still around?”
“Someone shot Captain Sal yesterday. A few of the guys got a decent look at the gunman and said he looked like Trevor.”
“Wow,” Abby’s eyes widened.
“And that’s not all,” Tracie added. “My keys were tampered with. The picture of my dog was removed from my keychain and replaced with a picture of Trevor.”
“You’re kidding!” Abby gasped.
“I wish I was.” Tracie listed off which keys had been compromised.
Abby shook her head in a sympathetic gesture. “How awful! So nothing of yours is secure. If my lease hadn’t ended, I’d let you stay at my place, but I’ve been staying with Scott’s mother while we get ready for our wedding.”
“Thank you for the offer, but I’m sure I’ll be fine.”
“Do you think so?” Scott looked concerned. “Trevor’s not someone you want to mess around with.”
While Tracie dismissed her friends’ concerns, Heath made up his mind to press her further on the issue later. He didn’t want her all alone where Trevor could get at her, either. Still, he had some time before she’d be heading home. More urgently, he wanted to call back his friend from the Navy and find out if he’d had time to learn the names of the men who’d been on the Requiem when it disappeared. What had once seemed like an off coincidence now looked more and more like an actual possibility. Tom Price and his crewmates might have stolen a submarine from the U.S. Navy.
Heath wanted to wait until everyone was gone from Tracie’s office before venturing in to tell her what he’d learned from his Navy friend. Finally, John and Mack packed up and left their cubicles, and Heath brought the list of names with him. But before he showed to it Tracie, he wanted to discuss something else that had been bothering him.
“Ready to head out?” he asked as he stepped into her cubicle.
“More than ready,” she sighed, leaning back in her chair and closing her eyes for a moment. “It’s been a long day.”
“It’s been a long week,” Heath agreed. “A lot of things have happened, and I’m starting to feel a little suspicious.”
“Of what?”
Heath sat in the chair across the desk from Tracie and leaned forward, speaking in a low voice. “Did Trevor know when we’d be coming to visit Tim? Did he time his brother’s killing so we’d be the ones to find his body?”
While Tracie considered that question, Heath posed another. “How did Trevor know when he’d be able to sneak in and access your keys without being seen?”
Tracie leaned forward in her chair and faced him, adding, “How did Trevor know exactly when Sal was being transferred, hmm? Jake changed the time repeatedly. Only those people directly involved with the transfer knew what time it would take place.”
Heath leaned forward across the desk, closer to her, glad she’d picked up on what he was hinting at. “How did Trevor know when we were going to be at his house? We’d only decided to visit the day before.”
Tracie leaned forward a few inches more and whispered in his ear. “Do you think the office is bugged?”
“Could be,” he whispered back, his lips skirting her earlobe. “But he’d have to have the whole place wired—your office, Jake’s, mine, not to mention the truck. We haven’t held any of these discussions in the same place. And if he had that many bugs going at the same time, he’d have to have that many people listening in. It doesn’t seem feasible, but I’m still looking into it.”
Tracie tipped her head back slightly. “Then what?” she as
ked, her voice soft.
Heath continued to whisper in a hushed voice, “a mole.” He watched her carefully to see how she would respond to his suggestion. Though Jonas believed Tracie was the mole, Heath desperately hoped to learn it was someone else. Either way, he wasn’t going to give up until he’d flushed out the leak.
To Heath’s relief, Tracie startled at his words, and pulled away far enough to look at him incredulously, “You mean a spy on the inside—one of us, reporting back to Trevor?”
“What else could it be?”
“I suppose it makes sense, but who?” She seemed genuinely disturbed by the idea, which reinforced his hope that she wasn’t involved. “I don’t know of anyone who felt any allegiance toward Trevor, and certainly if they had, the way he’s been shooting at people would have to make them rethink it.”
“He could have something over their heads. He could be threatening them. Who knows? People will do almost anything if they’re desperate enough.” Heath figured the only way Tracie could possibly be working for Trevor would be if she was being blackmailed—and considering how much she obviously feared Trevor, Heath couldn’t rule out that possibility.
“But to work for Trevor.” She looked as though the idea repulsed her. “I can’t imagine.” Then she leaned back in her chair and looked at Heath helplessly. “But then I suppose a number of things have happened lately that I never would have imagined.”
“That’s not the only thing I wanted to talk to you about,” Heath continued.
Her eyes looked tired when she looked up at him, and he could see the dark circles beneath that showed how much the stress she’d endured was beginning to take its toll. “What else is there?”
“I don’t want you to go home tonight.”
Tracie blinked across the desk at Heath. The same thought had already occurred to her, though she didn’t like it. “Because Trevor has a key to my house now?”
“Yes.”
“Want to know what I think?” She’d gone over the issue in her mind a thousand times that afternoon already, and had reached a few conclusions. “I think if Trevor just wanted access to me, he could have made copies of my keys without ever letting on to me that he’d done so. No, I believe he replaced Gunnar’s picture with his own to send me a message. He may not have even copied my keys.” She planted her elbows on her desk and rested her chin in her hands.
“I think that last assessment sounds a little optimistic.” Heath leaned forward until his own elbows rested just beyond hers. “What’s the message you think he was trying to send?”
“He wants to frighten me. It’s a scare tactic, that’s all.”
“He took a shot at you yesterday, and as far as we know, he had no idea you were wearing steel-plated body armor. He tried to kill you. The picture on your keys was a warning.”
Tracie sighed and bit her lower lip. She didn’t want to believe Heath. Though she’d almost convinced herself she truly believed Trevor wouldn’t try to get to her inside her own home, Heath’s words of caution rang true.
He looked at her levelly, his face close, his steel-blue eyes unswerving. “Isn’t there anyone you can stay with? You still have family in the area, don’t you?”
Tracie cringed. Sure, her mother and stepfather still lived in Bayfield, but she wasn’t about to stay with them—not unless she wanted to endure their ongoing predictions that she would surely fail in her job, or quit, or possibly become the laughingstock of the Coast Guard, if her stepdad really got going. “Not anyone I want to stay with,” she told Heath firmly.
“And I suppose staying with someone from work—” he began.
“Nope. Most of the guys are single, so it wouldn’t be appropriate for me to stay with them. Gary, John and Jim all have families, but they’re living in cramped enough quarters as it is—they don’t need an extra houseguest for an indefinite period of time. Besides, if Trevor wanted to sneak up on me, he wouldn’t have left his calling card behind. He’s just out to spook me. If I let him chase me from my home, he wins.”
“If he kills you he wins,” Heath amended.
Tracie persisted. “I have Gunnar. Trevor knows better than to try anything with Gunnar around—Gunnar would tear him to pieces, and he can smell him coming, too.”
“Tracie,” Heath leaned back in his chair and glowered at her, “Gunnar can’t stop Trevor, and if you expect him to, then you’re putting your dog at risk. Remember what you said when Tim died? That we should have forced him into protective custody, even though he refused it? I think you need to stay with your family.”
She felt her mouth fall open as she realized what he was suggesting. “You wouldn’t dare. You can’t force me—”
“I don’t want to,” he interrupted her. “But I refuse to let you make yourself a target. I promised you I’d keep you safe. And I don’t believe you’d be safe staying in your own home.”
Pinching her eyes shut, Tracie considered Heath’s words. She didn’t want to stay with her mother and stepfather, but it didn’t appear as though she had any choice in the matter. Trevor had taken away her freedom, along with her keys. “At least let me go home and get my things.”
“No problem.” His tone softened considerably and he smiled, his flashing dimple almost enough to make her forget he’d just won their argument. “Although I’d like to take you out to dinner first.”
“Heath—” the fluttering inside her heart at his invitation set off warning bells inside her “—I asked you to back away, remember?” Her protest came out as a soft squeak, without her usual determination behind it. If she was honest with herself, she really wanted to have dinner with him.
“You need to eat a decent meal for once.” He stood as though preparing to leave. “And besides, there’s more we need to talk about.”
Her curiosity immediately roused, she raised a questioning eyebrow.
“I got in touch with an old friend of mine from the Navy SEALs. He works with the Navy Records Department now,” Heath explained.
Tracie jumped from her chair. “What? What did he tell you?”
“Names,” Heath sighed. “I’ll tell you over dinner, okay?”
Distracted as she was by the news he dangled in front of her, it didn’t escape her notice that Heath had managed to get his own way. Again. “Fine.”
“So what are the names?” Tracie asked Heath without preamble as soon as the waitress stepped away with their orders. It had taken all her willpower not to try to wrangle the information from him on the drive to the restaurant.
“These are the names of the four men who were on the Requiem when she disappeared.” Heath unfolded a small piece of paper and set it on the placemat in front of her.
Tracie eagerly read:
M. Anderson
J. Kuhlman
T. Price
J. Vaughn
“T. Price?” Tracie gasped quietly. “Tom Price died on the Requiem?” She looked up at Heath and her eyes narrowed. “Or was on it when it went missing?”
“Looks like it,” Heath affirmed. “Trevor would have only been, what, ten years old then?”
“And Tim wouldn’t even have been in school yet.” She sat back in her chair and looked up at him. “What do you think? Is the Requiem our sub?”
Heath shrugged. “Do these names match up with the names of the men your father rescued on the day of his death?”
“No.” Tracie had memorized the names of the four men years before, always alert for any mention of them, though she’d never run across any. She stared at the paper in front of her. “No, wait. If T. Price is Tom Price—” She bit her lip and looked at the other initials. “There was a Tom who was rescued from the sub the day my dad died—Tom London. And an M—Mark Smith. And the other two men both had first names that started with the letter J.” She looked at Heath. “All four first initials match. Only the last names are different.”
“Makes sense. Tom Price couldn’t be Tom Price anymore, since Tom Price was supposed to be dead.” He nodded sl
owly. “And it would make sense for them to only change their last names, since most people would call them by their first names, and they wouldn’t want to give away their identities by accidentally answering to the wrong name. If they knew the Navy Records Division kept track of last names with first initials, then they wouldn’t feel the need to change their first names.”
“So Tom Price changed his name to Tom London and moved to Canada. Mark Anderson became Mark Smith and did the same.”
“Not a terribly creative fellow, was he?” Heath kidded.
Tracie almost cracked a smile.
“What about our two J’s?” Heath pressed.
“Morse and Blaine now,” Tracie informed him in hushed tones as the waitress approached them with their salads. “One’s missing, one’s dead.” She finished just before the waitress came within earshot, and surreptitiously slid the paper off the table into her pocket.
As the woman set their salads in front of them, Tracie reached for her fork.
Heath snagged her hand. “Want to pray?”
She looked at him for a moment as though he’d become a stranger all over again. “You want me to pray?” she asked, more than a little confused.
“Or I can.”
“S-sure.” She cautiously bowed her head.
Heath squeezed her hand as he prayed, “Almighty Father, we thank You for this food you’ve given to sustain us, and we thank You for always watching over us and keeping us safe. I pray You’d continue to protect us, and guide us to the truth about Trevor, and the Requiem, and Malcolm Crandall. Amen.”
“Amen,” Tracie echoed in a small voice. It took her a moment before she dared to raise her head. Heath had prayed. More surprising still, Heath had prayed they’d learn the truth about what had happened to her father. She hadn’t even realized he knew her father’s name.
She looked up at him, her heart swelling. It would be so easy to let herself fall in love with him. And if he really had a relationship with God, she’d have no reason not to. Hope filled her. “You pray now?”
“I’ve been trying,” he admitted after swallowing a bite of salad. “I’m still working the kinks out, but I want to get to know God a lot better. Just like I want to get to know you better.”
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