by Fiona Quinn
“I’ll ask Colonel Grant for permission. We’ll figure it out. What’s on there that you don’t want me to see?” He looked out of the corner of his eye at her, and she could swear there was more than a hint of teasing in his smile. But to her there was nothing funny about this. Those pictures should have been safe, and now she felt more exposed than ever. Lacey felt her face warming as she blushed.
Deep was out and out laughing at her. “It must be pretty good, whatever it is. Come on.” He patted the chair. “Let’s get to work.”
Lacey pursed her lips and drew in a breath, trying to let the moment pass. She’d deal with her pictures later. They were the least of her problems at this moment in time.
Deep gestured to the blank paper. “What I think would be helpful is if you use this paper to make a timeline of everything you did from your calendar and recollection, and then switch marker colors and layer on the top of your schedule the dates and times of the photos and what is in the picture.”
Lacey put the photocopied schedule in her lap and picked up a blue marker. “Write down what’s in the picture on this flash drive? I’ll know what’s in the picture by where I am on the timeline.”
“Look at what’s specifically in the picture. Is it you and Steve? Is it you with an obvious location? For example, if someone was taking your picture in front of a business with the name displayed, that might mean that they wanted to put you in that location at a specific time and date. That kind of thing. There’s a reason for these pictures, and that’s what you’re trying to figure out.”
“Okay. It might be faster if we worked as a team.”
Deep took his place in front of a metal case that looked like it might hold the Presidential launch codes. But when he opened it, Lacey saw it was another computer.
“I’m going to approach the same problem from a different direction.” His fingers typed out what she assumed was a code, then he leaned in to the screen. “Optical recognition,” he said. There must have been a prompt because then he said, “Deep Del Toro. Iniquus special operations, Strike Force.”
Lacey stared at him.
“Lynx brought me my field computer.”
Lacey blinked.
“I have some specialized software that might help. When she said there was something off about the pictures, I wondered if maybe it was odd shadows Lynx was picking up on – like maybe these pictures were Photoshopped. I have a program that can tell me if that’s the case.” He looked up, caught her eye and held there. A slow smile crossed his face, and his chocolate brown eyes warmed. Lacey found herself smiling back, though she couldn’t guess what he was thinking. He cleared his throat, and with the smile still on his face, focused back on his computer screen.
Chapter Eleven
Lacey
Saturday
After about an hour, Deep sat back and said, “well, isn’t that interesting?”
Lacey glanced up from her task of putting her calendar onto the time line. “What are you doing now?”
Deep pushed his chair back and Lacey watched him flex his long legs. The material of his jeans wrapped tightly around his thigh muscles then released as he stretched out. “Ever since this morning when I said goodbye to Lynx, I’ve been concerned about what she saw on the news when I was rescuing you. I can’t have my face out there in the public eye – it could compromise future missions. If my face is known, it puts not only me but my teammates at risk and makes an already dangerous job that much more difficult.”
Lacey’s eyes filled with concern. “Is there anything you can do about it?”
“I’ve been pulling up the various tapes that’ve been posted on the web. Now, I’m feeling more secure that Lynx is the only one who could possibly figure out it was me tossing you over my shoulder. There don’t seem to be any frames that include any part of my face. This guy, on the other hand. . .”
Deep reached out to tap the screen and still the video that had been playing. He adjusted the metrics, then turned the computer toward Lacey, “This is Steve Adamic, right?”
Lacey’s brows pulled in tightly with surprise and confusion as Steve’s face filled the screen. Even though he wore a baseball cap that shadowed most his features, Lacey nodded immediately. “Yes, that’s him. He was at the press conference?”
“Just a sec.” Deep diminished the picture to make it part of the videoed scene. “Come here, I want you to watch this.”
Lacey moved over behind Deep. Resting her hands on his shoulders, she bent down until they were cheek to cheek, and she was seeing what he was seeing. He pressed the button, and the screen changed as the camera shot panned over the small park across the street from the gallery entrance. The park was crowded with news equipment and cold people, stomping and huddling to keep warm. Their breaths came out in little clouds that hung in the air. The camera view swung up to take in the steeple of the church that filled the window behind her desk when Lacey was sitting in her office at the gallery. Next it swung down to the portico as the gallery door opened and Mr. Reynolds walked out. Lacey stiffened. She didn’t want to see this. She absolutely did not want to see the red dot sliding down her forehead, and Deep diving in to rescue her. Her hands gripped his shoulders.
“Hey, it’s okay,” Deep said, as he reached out and wrapped his hand around her elbow. He pushed partway onto his feet, lifted and spun his chair so the corner was in front of the table, then pulled her around, seating her on the extra part of the chair between his legs. He reached around her and typed his commands into the keyboard. “I edited out all the parts with you in it. There’s no reason to put those images in your head.”
Lacey pushed back into his chest, rolling her shoulders forward. Deep tapped enter, then folded her tightly in his arms and held her closely to him. Lacey closed her eyes and let Deep’s warmth radiate into her. She lowered her hands to rest them on his thighs and thought how perfectly they fit together. How comforting it was to be here. Safe. Cared for – Lacey felt cared for in a way that she had never experienced before. She had to force her eyes open to see what Deep had wanted to show her.
The camera shot was of the crowd. There was the back of the guy that she had identified as Steve. Why was Steve there hanging out in the crowd of onlookers? He should have been knocking on the gallery door, or, even standing where she’d see him and gain some confidence because he was there supporting her. Something was off. And it became more apparent when the echo of the rifle fire split the air. As she heard the bullet crack through the sky, Lacey jumped and coward against Deep. He used his legs and arms to hold her tighter.
Deep whispered in her ear. “Most people have never heard gunfire in real life. It sounds nothing like it does in the movies, and their brains don’t immediately register what the sound means. You only jumped because you knew what was coming. They didn’t. See how the crowd stood there, non-reactive.” He pointed at the screen where Deep had set the video to move forward in slow-motion. “The thing that created the panic and stampede was not the sound of gunfire, but the sound of this woman’s scream when she was hit by a stream of blood.” Deep pointed at an Asian woman in a royal blue hat who dove backwards with her hand up protectively. “That’s blood from the newscaster’s neck.” He moved his finger to the redheaded woman whose arms flailed out to the sides. “See how people spin toward the sound of the scream? Now they see the blood and the woman collapsing. That’s when their brains put together the pieces, and told them to get out of there. But watch carefully.”
Deep moved the video back several frames. “Steve was front and center in the frame of this camera. When the rifle cracked, he squatted and his hand reflexively reached for his hip. That’s where a right-handed person would find their holster. His first reaction is to duck and retrieve a gun. His head tips back, and he’s scanning along the rooftops. Hang on, this is where the cameraman abandoned his camera.”
There was a moment of crazy shots of the sky and buildings until it came to rest, pointed at where the victim collapsed besid
e Steve. “Okay, watch what he’s doing. His finger stabbed into the woman’s wound to stop the flow of blood, but he’s not looking at her. Do you see how his head is moving? That’s the trajectory I took with you on my shoulder. Have you ever heard of something called tunnel vision?”
Lacey shook her head.
“Unless you’re trained for stressful situations, and sometimes even if you’re trained for stressful situations, what can happen is that your brain focuses all of its power on the threat. Someone’s holding a weapon on you? All you see is the weapon. You’ve got your fingers in some woman’s neck while her blood geysered around your finger? All most people would be able to focus on was that wound or maybe that woman.”
“Oh, God.” The sight of the mayhem made Lacey’s stomach churn. She pulled Deep’s arms tighter around her stomach and leaned her head back into the cup of his neck under his chin.
“Sorry,” Deep said, dropping a kiss into her hair.
Lacey stalled. Deep probably didn’t realize he’d done that. Though he’d never kissed her before, it felt like an everyday part of their communication. Normal. Right. Lacey felt her cheeks turning pink and with a sigh, she forced herself to refocus on the computer screen.
The next frames showed Steve placing his other hand on top of the first increasing the pressure on the woman’s neck. Blood seeped between his fingers. When the blood stopped flowing, Steve pulled out his finger, checked for vitals, pulled back the lid of her eye, and touched her eyeball. He shook his head, wiped his hands on her coat, stood, and almost nonchalantly walked away. With Steve out of the picture, the camera now took in the slack jaw and half-opened eyes of the dead woman and an empty city cul-de-sac.
Deep quickly reached out to tap the screen black.
Shifting his weight to the side, Deep rotated Lacey until she was looking in his eyes. “Lacey, you said Steve was a software engineer. Was he in the military? Did he serve on the frontline?”
“No.” She shook her head. What was Deep talking about? Why would he think that?
“Police? ROTC? EMS-Fire?”
“No, are you kidding me? Steve isn’t the hero type. He’s the geeky, latte-drinking, book-reading type. And to tell you the truth, he’s a little bit overboard about germs. If I hadn’t seen this video myself, I’d never believe that Steve would stick his finger into that woman’s neck.”
“Are you okay? Your face is a little grey.”
Lacey swiped a hand across her brow. “I’m overcome.”
“Do you want me to get you a cup of tea? Maybe lace it with some whiskey?”
“Please, don’t let go of me.” Lacey leaned her forehead against his chin.
Deep tucked her back into his arms and changed the image of Steve on the screen. Lacey was glad when he moved the conversation to safer grounds.
“He’s in good shape.”
“Yes,” Lacey agreed. “He goes to the gym every day. His father died when he was in his forties — type two diabetes and heart-disease. Steve is fighting his genes.”
Deep shook his head from behind her. “No, that’s not the reason.”
“Why would Steve lie about his dad’s health?”
Deep tapped the screen to start the same video again. “No clue. He’s trained, though. Very well-trained.”
As Lacey watched the scene, she curled her fingers tightly into Deep’s knees. Deep rubbed his hands over hers, then loosened her grip.
“I’m sorry,” she said with chagrin. For a second, it felt like she was heading over the top of a rollercoaster, grabbing onto whatever might keep her from flying from the cart. Lacey hadn’t realized she’d actually grabbed hold of his leg.
Squeezing her shoulders to hold her in place, Deep stood and swung his leg free. He pulled another chair up and sat so their knees were touching, his elbows on his thighs, his hands resting on her legs.
“Lacey, I need you to tell me how you met this guy.”
Chapter Twelve
Lacey
Saturday
Lacey’s eyes lost their focus as her mind spun backwards in time to when and how she had met Steve. It was that horrible day. She’d been racing down the road, thinking that if she could get home, she could figure this all out. Where should she start the story for Deep? She decided it was best to simply answer his question – how did she meet Steve? Lacey rolled her lips in, and with her chin dipped nearly to her chest, she looked up at Deep through her eyelashes.
His eyes hardened. “That right there. That’s why you scare the hell out me.”
Lacey lifted her chin and widened her eyes.
“No. You’re not going to look at me like you’re an angel. No.”
“I. . .” Lacey was about to defend herself, but she didn’t have a clue what Deep was talking about.
“Lacey, look. I’m not playing games with you. Straight up, here’s the way it stands with me. I was working field support for Lynx the day I first saw you. I was eyes and ears and backup if she needed it, but the case was need-to-know. I didn’t know why we were at your gallery talking about Iniquus’s artwork. All I knew was that when I saw you, everything changed. I never felt that kind of connection with anyone before in my life. And I know you felt it, too. That’s why I told you my real name and not my call name, something I got raked over the coals for by the Iniquus owners.”
Deep’s eyes had changed in energy. This must be what Deep looked like on the battlefield. His intensity was almost unbearable, and Lacey wanted to push back in her chair and give herself a cushion of air between them.
“I asked you out for dinner, and you said you were dating Steve. It was like taking a body blow. Physically painful. But I walked away.”
“You never tried to call me or change my mind,” Lacey pointed out.
“I don’t do that, Lacey. You said no. No, to me, is a clear statement. No doesn’t mean maybe. No doesn’t mean I should try harder or go after you like a predator. I’ve got sisters. If one of them ever said no to a guy, and he kept pushing? I promise you, if I walked into the picture, it wouldn’t go well for him. It’s a matter of respect. I trust that you know your mind. You knew how to get in touch with me. And when and if you were going to say yes, you could.”
Wow. That was . . . something. What Deep said went against all of her understanding of how men and women interacted. Maybe it had to do with her Georgia upbringing, where girls were taught to flirt and act inaccessible. She’d always been told it was important to make the boys jump through hoops to get to the girl. The boys had to prove to everyone that the girl was a hard-won prize, and therefore valuable. She would look easy and cheap if she said yes the first time a man asked her out. So of course, Lacey would never have said yes to a first request. Besides, she had been in a relationship with Steve. Had been? Yes, that relationship seemed to belong to a different lifetime, one where people didn’t shove flash drives down her blouse and die in front of her. No meant no — that was a culture shock to Lacey.
“You called me, Lacey. You had a choice between phoning me or Steve – or the police, or anyone else. You called me. Why?”
Pain slid across Lacey’s jaw line.
“There.” Deep pointed at her. “Say that out loud.”
“I wanted to feel safe, and I thought you were safe.”
“I am,” he said definitively, taking both of her hands in his. “You are safe with me. But Lacey, in order to keep you safe, I have to know everything that’s going on. You can’t censor or edit the story. I’ll miss something. And those little somethings can end up making the difference.”
Lacey pulled her hands free and raked her fingers through her hair, fisting her hands around the ends. If she told him, they’d kill her. And if they killed her, they’d kill Deep, too. She hadn’t thought through the ramifications of her phone call. Hadn’t even realized what they were until this conversation started. But here, she’d sucked him into the vortex that had been spinning her world. Could the murder of Leo Bardman be connected to the horrible day that sh
e and Steve met? It had to. Somehow. Because the dead man had called her Danika.
“Okay, I can see this is going to be a process,” Deep said. “We’ll take it one step at a time. One thing you can’t do, though, is lie. If you can’t tell me the truth, I’d rather you be quiet. Can we agree on that much?”
Lacey nodded.
Deep chewed on the inside of his cheek while he considered her, then he rubbed his hands down his thighs and leaned forward. Very quietly, he said, “When I was on the battlefield in Afghanistan, I wasn’t afraid of dying. I was a little afraid I’d be injured — lose my legs or my sight. Afraid of what that could mean to the rest of my life. But what I was really afraid of was that, in a moment of personal weakness, I might let my brothers down. That I’d make a mistake that would put them at risk.”
Lacey watched his lips forming words. She had wondered since the moment they met what it would be like to kiss Deep’s beautiful lips. She pictured him on the battlefield with his mouth pulled tight and grim, worrying about his brothers. And her heart swelled with pain. Thank God he had survived. Had kept his legs and sight. Had come home – the “to be with me” part of that thought was pushed back into the recesses of her brain. It felt too selfish for Lacey to allow it to fully form.
“That’s how I’m feeling right now.” As he spoke, Deep’s brown eyes had darkened to almost black. “Like there’s a landmine somewhere near your feet and if I don’t spot it first, it’s going to be my fault that you trip the wire. And Lacey, I need you to hear this.” He paused until she fully focused on his eyes, then he pressed on. “I’m not asking for my feelings to be your feelings. But the very first time I saw you, I felt like you were meant for me. And if there is such thing as an instant connection, a belonging – well, I felt that. Intensely. That conversation is for another time. But I figure if I lay everything out on the table for you to see, then maybe you’ll feel like you could do the same.” He didn’t wait for her to answer. He used raised eyebrows to end that statement then he moved on asking, “What can you tell me about meeting Steve?”