They ordered soft drinks and Shep toyed with a pack of crackers on the table. “This is a nice place to live,” he commented.
“I think so. It’s small. Low crime. Until now.” She glanced up when the server brought their sodas and took their order. She sipped hers and toyed with the straw. “You have Leo on the top of your list, don’t you?”
Shep laid his elbows on the table and leaned forward, debating how much to say. Might as well get it out there. Let her be mad. “He could be Mystery Man. Makes sense if that theory is true. If we had Mary Beth’s phone, we could search it for pictures. It’s possible that’s what the intruder was after all along. Or text messages that might not have been deleted.”
“What if it’s not a mystery man? I don’t believe Mary Beth would be into drugs. What else could he be looking for? And if he is looking for photos or text messages on a phone, he didn’t find them in the dorm room because he ransacked my place. Which means he still hasn’t found what he wanted. What if her phone was lost at sea?”
Shep swigged his drink. He should have ordered water. “If it is lost to the ocean, he doesn’t know it or he wouldn’t have broken into the dorm room or your house.”
“If it’s not out at sea, where could it be?”
Million dollar question. Unless it had a waterproof case, she wouldn’t have taken it swimming or kayaking. She hadn’t left it in the dorm room or they would have found it when they packed everything up for Mary Beth’s parents.
Could someone have come in, before the intruder broke in, and taken it? That would explain why none of them had found it. But then that would open up a whole new complication. How many people had been after Mary Beth and what she was hiding?
Their food came and Shep’s mouth watered at the pile of crab legs, boiled potatoes, baby ears of corn and delicious steak. Caley had opted for shrimp scampi over beef. He cracked open his crab legs and dipped the meat in garlic butter. “Good choice, Little Flynn. This is the stuff.”
She grinned and raked her shrimp through the sauce. “Hey, I know my restaurants. I like to eat.”
They continued to dig into their meal as they made small talk about the weather and the upcoming gala. Caley shared about Arnold Simms and his life work, tourism in Turtle Bay and where she planned to spend Thanksgiving this year. “I love going home. But it’s hard to be there too.”
Shepherd had been ripped from his drug addicted mother when he was only eight years old, but he’d been taking care of himself long before that. Seen more of life before the age of six than most adults. Bounced from house to house. Never been able to say he’d loved a single one.
No one ever wanted him enough to adopt. Probably his fault anyway. He’d been like an angry bull busting from the chute. Ready to buck and stomp on anyone who came in striking distance, anyone who tried to tame him. Not a single person could make those eight seconds.
“What will you do for the holiday? Will you be at my parents’ house again?”
Thanksgiving? He’d spent the past two with them.
There but distant.
Like feeling the glow of a cozy fire while standing with his nose to a cold glass pane as snow fell.
She finished off her last shrimp and tossed her napkin on her platter.
“I don’t know. Wilder owes me a cruise. I may take it over the holidays.” He licked the butter off his finger and signaled the server for the check.
“Alone on the holidays? Shep, don’t do that.”
“Nothing new for me, Little Flynn. No skin off my teeth.” He grabbed the check. Caley tried to snag it from him, but his grip was tighter. “I got this.”
“It’s the least I can do.”
“I’ll write it off.” He winked.
“Yeah, let’s make Wilder pay for it.” She giggled, then turned serious. “You don’t have to be alone, Shep. Wilder’s team is part of his family. And if you’re Wilder’s family, then you’re mine too. And Mama and Daddy’s. I’ll make you a deal. You go. I’ll go.”
His heart ached. No words came.
He paid the check and led Caley from the restaurant. What would it be like to truly be part of a family? Not from Wilder’s end but Caley’s—to be connected to her?
He reined in those thoughts. Thinking of Caley in that way was unacceptable.
She was off-limits romantically. Even if he did grow close to her, she’d want him to open up and share his history. Then she’d walk away.
And Shep didn’t let anyone walk out on him anymore. Not since he was sixteen. No, Shep did the leaving before he could become attached and be abandoned. Life worked smoother that way for him. Besides, Wilder had all but spelled out the truth.
Caley Flynn deserved a man with a past full of integrity. A man who would know how to love her properly. A man who wouldn’t hurt her.
Or walk out on her.
He opened her car door for her and rounded the hood to the driver’s side.
Something in his peripheral caught his attention.
A white van like the one the intruder had jumped into when he’d given Shep the slip at Caley’s was parked down the street. He slid into the driver’s seat, adjusted his mirror and pulled out onto the small main street. Two lights down, the van was about five car lengths back.
They were being followed.
FIVE
Caley quietly studied Shep from the corner of her eye. He glanced in the rearview mirror more often. And his accidental wrong turn was suspicious.
He was trying to hide the fact that they were being followed.
Nerves popping and stomach knotting, Caley tried to hide her fear, but her palms had turned clammy as she sat on edge.
“I haven’t seen all of Turtle Bay. Mind if we take a scenic drive?” Shep asked as he eyed the side mirror.
Her heart hammered in her chest, pounded in her ears. “I’d appreciate it if you wouldn’t pull any punches with me, Shepherd.”
He skidded a glance her way and dipped his chin. “We’ve got a tail on us.”
Caley gawked in her side mirror. A white van was a few car lengths back. “You have an uncanny ability to see things no one else seems to. So are they just no good or did you use that ability?”
The side of his mouth tipped upward. “I’m astute and they’re not that good. I took that wrong turn to see if they’d move on, knowing they’d been made. Guess they haven’t realized it yet.”
Caley itched to pivot in her seat and try to see faces. Five lengths back it was all dark, and the driver wore a ball cap pulled low. “Can you lose them?”
He grunted.
“I didn’t mean to insult you.” She didn’t doubt any of Shepherd’s skills.
“Just sit back, relax.”
Relax?
He made a right off the main road and onto a side street in a small subdivision. The van also turned.
He pulled into a random driveway. The van slowed.
Caley’s breath hitched.
“Might need you to get down if this goes south,” he said, drawing a side piece.
Now she couldn’t breathe at all. She undid her seat belt and scooched in the passenger seat.
Seconds ticked by.
The van turned the corner but halted.
Don’t back up. Don’t come back!
Her heart hammered. But Shep kept one hand calmly on the wheel, the other on his gun. He wasn’t even breaking a sweat. Unlike Caley. Sweat trickled down her neck, popped on her upper lip. She swiped at it with the back of her hand. “Should we get out of the car? Like we’re here to visit?”
“No.”
And why not? She waited for an answer. None came.
“Face me like we’re talking.”
“Okaaaay.” She shifted, hated having her back to the van that lurked around the corner.
“We need to look engaged enough that we aren’t ready to go inside.”
“And why can’t we just walk up to the door?”
“Because I don’t know if they have a sniper ri
fle in hand. So you aren’t going out in the open.”
Ice hit her stomach. Someone might be waiting to pick her off? Facing Shepherd wasn’t going to convince anyone of anything. “Soldier, the only thing that would keep us from going in is physical contact.”
Shepherd’s eyes widened. “Come again?”
She leaned in, sliding across the console, until she could smell his masculine, understated cologne. Cool. Controlled. And smelling like a glorious dream. She licked her lips.
Shepherd glanced at the van, visibly backed up an inch. “What are you doing, Little Flynn?”
“I’m making them think we have a much better reason not to go inside. Aren’t you saying that they might know we’ve identified that they’re following us? If so, then what are they willing to lose? Nothing.” Her stomach churned.
Shepherd held her gaze. “I can’t kiss you,” he whispered.
Disappointment lodged in her chest. So he wasn’t attracted to her. Okay. This was for show anyway. No time for her ego to deflate. “I see,” she muttered. “It was a dumb idea anyway.” Her cheeks heated.
“No, I can’t kiss you and watch the van at the same time.”
Oh.
“So tilt your head to the right.” He let his eyes trail from the van to her. “And come here,” he breathed as he cupped the back of her neck, tipping his head to the left and running his fingers through her hair.
For a man who didn’t do physical contact, he had this down pat.
Her head tingled and she nearly forgot a van sat forty feet away with a possible sniper inside. Gently guiding her toward his lips, he paused an inch from her mouth, his breath deliciously minty and warm.
Tension in the car built and her nerves hummed.
“Can you still see them?” she whispered.
“Mmm-hmm,” he rasped.
She nervously slid her hands up his biceps. Powerful like oaks. Her throat turned parched and she could barely swallow, barely breathe. She lifted her chin; her nose brushed his. He flinched.
“Sorry.”
“Stop talking.” His husky voice sounded strained, and his eyes seemed to darken from blue to gray, then he shifted his gaze from her to the van.
“Sir, yes, sir,” she breathed.
His sight flickered back to her, to her lips and then he arrested her eyes before sliding his hand from her hair and heaving a sigh. He leaned back as if he’d never been so relieved to break from a fake kiss. “They’re gone. But buckle up. They might be circling the block.”
Caley forced herself to slide back to her seat. To shake away the feelings she’d been having. For a moment she thought there might have been a two-sided connection. Apparently not.
Better this way. She didn’t kiss men casually. And she wasn’t going to let a solider like Shepherd Lightman charge her heart and take it captive. She clicked her seat belt into place.
Shep threw it in Reverse and blew out of there. “Nice call, Little Flynn.”
Was it?
“We’ll be gone if they swing back by.”
She turned the vents toward her and cranked the air-conditioning. “Why are they following us? Do they think I have what they’re looking for on my person?”
Shep scanned the mirrors, the roads. “Possible.”
He drove across the main street, into another small neighborhood. “There a back way to your bungalow?”
“Yeah.” She gave Shep the directions and they made it back to Caley’s without the van popping up again. They knew where she lived. Why not camp out there? Why follow her? “You think they might believe what they’re looking for is hidden and following us will lead them to it?”
“Possible.”
She wanted to scream. Sometimes Shep was too tight-lipped. An iron wall. Keeping words and emotions hostage. They were going to be in close quarters for who knew how long. Would he ever open up? She shouldn’t give two hoots if she got to know him on a personal level. He didn’t want to know her on one. She was nothing more than a mission.
And that rankled.
And the fact that it rankled also rankled.
She wasn’t so stupid as to believe Shep was the kind of guy who had serious relationships. Stories had been told when she’d been in earshot. Stories of his many flings. Never kept a woman long. Of course, she’d never seen any of these women. He’d never brought one to her parents’ home. Why would he if they never meant anything?
“Shep, what’s the longest you’ve been in a romantic relationship?” she asked as they walked to her front door. She mentally kicked herself.
“What?” His head snapped in her direction.
“You heard me. I’m curious.”
“Why?” He narrowed his eyes.
Because she was an idiot setting herself up for heartbreak by getting too close. She shrugged. “I just am.”
“I don’t know.” He shifted from one foot to the other and massaged the back of his neck. As she unlocked the front door and stepped into the welcoming air-conditioning, the smell of cinnamon came from the kitchen. Had Mrs. Amberly baked? She kinda hoped so.
“You don’t know? How do you not know?” Would he ever answer a personal question? “What happened to laying it on me straight?”
“How is this relevant to the case?”
The case. Confirmed. She was just a mission. “I guess it’s not.” She smothered her irritation and greeted Mrs. Amberly in the kitchen. Oatmeal raisin cookies had been arranged on a platter. “How’s Miss Whittle?”
“Vickie is doing well. She’s asleep, so I thought I’d put myself to good use. They’re still warm.” She pointed to the platter. “Enjoy. If you need me, call. I’m a stone’s throw away.” She patted Caley’s shoulder and nodded politely to Shep, who had entered the kitchen, his presence looming behind her. Tension rippling between them. Uncomfortable tension.
“You like cookies?” Caley asked.
He snagged one. “Yep.”
Caley grabbed two. Paused. Took a third. Shep was driving her to new levels of frustration.
“Three weeks,” he called.
She froze, slowly turned. Shep’s neck was flushed and he scratched above his ear, not meeting her gaze. Not long at all. In college, Caley had dated Jeremy for about a year, but he’d gotten an internship overseas and that was too far for Caley to travel, especially when there hadn’t been talk of wedding bells. After that she’d dated some. The last relationship stretched about eight months. But he’d been ready to go to a level Caley wasn’t. That’s what she got for dating a man who didn’t share her faith.
Did Shep?
“Who broke it off?”
“I did.”
“Why?”
“It wasn’t my thing.” He shoved the rest of his cookie in his mouth.
Relationships weren’t his thing? Or the woman wasn’t? She was afraid to ask. “I’m going to early service at church tomorrow. Would that be your thing?”
“Yeah.”
She inhaled. Exhaled. Hoping to relax her coiled muscles. “Do you normally go to church?” She eyed him, willing him to expound with more than the three-word max he seemed to reserve for anything that didn’t pertain to the case.
“Every Sunday I’m not working.”
An ember of hope cracked loose in her chest. “Really?”
“I’m a Christian, if that’s the mountain you’re going around.” He grabbed another cookie.
“How—”
“We don’t need Mary Beth’s phone to see what’s on it. What kind of cell did she have?”
So he was shutting down the personal conversation. Fine. The case was more important anyway. “An iPhone. I don’t know which model.”
“We only need access to her iCloud account,” he continued. “A girl her age would probably have everything backed up online. I’m gonna call Wheezer and see what he can do to get us in.”
Wilder’s analyst had been dubbed Wheezer back in grade school because of his asthma. The name had stuck. Poor guy. He didn’t seem to
mind it, though. “What’s his real name?”
Shep pulled out his phone and paused. “I have no idea.” He chuckled. “You want me to ask him?”
“No. He might be offended.” She bit into her cookie. “I’m going to check on Miss Whittle.” And take a break from Shep’s presence. She hurried down the hall. Miss Whittle was still asleep. She crammed down cookie number two, went into the living room and curled up on the couch, scrolling through her emails. Nothing about the grants she’d applied for. She should be hearing from at least one of them any day now.
She checked her social media. So Shep was a Christian. That meant different things to each person. To some it meant believing in God and faithfully going to church. For others it meant a personal relationship outside of Sundays. Which was Shep?
Since Meghan died, Caley had fallen somewhere in between. She tapped a Bible app and looked at the daily verse. Jeremiah 17:7.
But blessed are those who trust in the Lord and have made the Lord their hope and confidence.
Meghan had hoped in the Lord. She’d had confidence. But she was murdered. And that was where Caley struggled most. Having hope and confidence didn’t shield God’s people from harm. Confidence in Christ didn’t equal a spared life.
So what did it mean?
Could she trust God to keep her safe? Could she trust Him to save her life from peril?
There was no guarantee. Otherwise Meghan would be alive.
“Hey.”
She jumped. “You scared me.”
Shep perched on the edge of her recliner. “Wheezer—whose name is Larry and he prefers Wheezer—said he’ll work on getting us into her iCloud account. He’ll email us when he has something. Once he’s in he can locate her phone, or where it was last before it died. I’d say by now it’s dead.”
Caley couldn’t sit on her hands, but she didn’t want to leave Miss Whittle alone. “I’ll work on the gala. I’ve nailed down the catering, seating, music. But I always make a slideshow of our work from the previous year and end it with clips of hatchlings making their way to the ocean.”
Deep Waters (The Security Specialists) Page 7