by Karen Young
He would have spent the rest of the day at home with her, but even before they’d reached the city limits, he’d sensed her withdrawing. He breathed in, feeling frustration and a niggling unease. Going to bed together should have helped. Maybe it had, but it hadn’t solved anything. Though they’d found a few hours of forgetfulness with each other, there was still something missing. It should be so simple. He loved Rachel, and he was certain she still loved him. But he’d lain awake last night long after she’d fallen asleep, wondering if love was going to be enough.
“Is Miss Rachel okay?”
He sorted through a pile of telephone messages. “She’s…coping, Mike. It’s hard on her.”
“Is she going to work today?”
“She said it would help to keep busy.”
“I wish she worked someplace else.”
Jake looked up then, noticing the strain on Mike’s face. “Don’t worry, son. It may seem dangerous after what happened with Kevin Nicholson, but I don’t think anything like that is likely to happen again. They’ve beefed up their security, especially in Emergency, where they’re most vulnerable.”
Michael shifted from one leg to the other. “Who told you that?”
“The administrator.”
“Oh, yeah, Mr. Campbell.”
Jake’s gaze narrowed at something in his tone. “You know Campbell?”
“Yes, sir. We’ve met.”
Recognizing antipathy similar to his own, Jake smiled. “Not one of your favorite people, huh?”
“He smiles too much.”
Jake had noticed the same thing. It amused him that his son would find crocodile smiles as suspicious as he did. “He’s Rachel’s boss. I guess we have to tolerate him.”
“Yes, sir.” Michael made a face, nothing obvious, just a subtle compression of his mouth. Jake chuckled softly. “Better not let Rachel see that look. She seems to like him.”
“I gotta go, Dad.” Mike turned abruptly, almost tripping over his shoes.
“You mean home?” Jake watched him fumble with the doorknob.
“Uh, I’m… I think I left a book at the gym after swim practice. I’ll just jog over and pick it up.”
“Speaking of which, I guess we’re still on with Ocala for the next swim meet, right?”
“Right. Two weeks from Saturday.”
“What’s the good word?”
“Ocala’s not very good. We’ll beat them for sure.”
Jake grinned and gave him a thumbs-up. “See you at supper.”
With his hand on the doorknob, Mike hesitated a second or two, looking over his shoulder at Jake. “Bye, Dad,” he said, then closed the door softly behind him.
For a few seconds after Mike left, Jake gazed thoughtfully at the door, a small frown replacing his smile. Something about the conversation with Mike bothered him, but he wasn’t able to put his finger on it. He leaned back slowly in his chair. The past couple of days had been hard on Mike, too, he decided. He should have thought of that. Although Mike didn’t know Scotty, he was the boy’s half brother, and he could hardly live with Jake and Rachel without sharing some of their concern. Jake sat still, considering. Maybe that was it.
Or maybe it had something to do with Rachel and the incident at the hospital. Was it odd that Mike shared Jake’s lack of enthusiasm for Rachel’s job? He thought of Mike’s dislike of Ron Campbell and wondered if he’d somehow communicated his hostility to his son. He was going to have to be more careful in the future. If Rachel was going to work for the…for Ron, then—
The phone on his desk buzzed suddenly.
“Something in the McAdam genes, I guess,” he muttered, reaching for the receiver. “Yeah, Mavis.”
“Line one for you, Jake. Rick Streeter in Miami.”
He thanked her and punched the button. “Rick. How’s it going in the big city?”
“Only nine and a half years to retirement.”
Jake laughed. “Yeah, well, it’s your own fault. I tried to sell you on the joys of small-town life, but you wouldn’t listen.”
“Uh-huh. And just so you won’t feel left out, we of the DEA are bringing big-town excitement to your little corner of the world.”
Jake’s amusement died. “What’s up?”
Rick, too, became serious. “We’ve got some stuff going down there, Jake. Your county has been pinpointed as the hub for the Ramirez cartel.”
“Ramirez? Jaco Ramirez? I thought we put him out of business over a dozen years ago.”
“Certain individuals in Jaco’s organization survived, and they’ve rebuilt. Jaco’s one shrewd businessman.”
Jake made a sound of disgust. “It’s amazing.”
“Yeah. We hurt them, but we’d have to destroy every sleaze bag who’s ever turned up in the past thirty years to put them out of business.”
Jake felt the familiar angry frustration that had driven him away from the DEA. “But the man’s behind bars, federal bars. Twenty to life, if I remember correctly. How does he manage the cartel from there? Worse, how did he find his way to Kinard County?”
“His first lieutenant is his cousin. A lowlife named Luis—also Ramirez. He’s as smart as Jaco and ten times meaner.”
Rubbing the bridge of his nose, Jake drew in a long breath. “What do you need from me?”
“Actually, not much other than some mutual cooperation. Our sources say there’s a major exchange coming up within a day or two. Ramirez’s security is tight. We wouldn’t have made him except for a fluke when one of our undercovers got involved with one of Luis’s women. He uses a lot of women—and kids—as drops and suppliers.”
“What about your own security, Rick?”
He sensed Streeter’s surprise. “It’s tight. You know that absolute security is vital to a project like this. Why? Did you hear something?”
“Nothing you could take to the bank. One of my supporters heard from another nameless source that activity was picking up along the coastal area in the state, and in Kinard County in particular.”
Streeter swore. “When did you get this, Jake?”
“A few days ago. To tell you the truth, I’ve had a lot of things going, Rick, mostly personal. At the time, I thought about calling you in case there was a security leak in your outfit. I can tell you this—you’ll never trace the source from this end. The person who told me is prepared to go to the wall before he’d reveal a source.”
Rick swore again. “The press.”
“I didn’t say that.”
“Just what I need, loose lips when I’m two inches from launching a major bust, the biggest to roll down the pike since we put Jaco away.”
“Sorry, Rick. I hate to be the one to tell you.”
“Forget it,” Rick muttered. “I’m just glad to get wind of it. I owe you one, Jake.”
“Just round up the sleazes who’ve invaded my county and we’re even.”
“You got it.”
“Sure you won’t need men or units from me?”
“It’s possible, of course, but I hope not. We’ll just have to play it by ear. I wanted to clue you in. I know how you guys feel when a bunch of federales descend on you. I wish we had the day and time. Hell, after what you just told me, I’d rather go fishin’. But I’m stuck, and unfortunately so are you, Jake.”
Jake glanced at a stack of bumper stickers that Liz had dropped by his office that morning while he’d been on his way home from Orlando. Lately he’d neglected his campaign. He thought of his challenger. This was exactly the kind of thing J.B. would exploit if given half a chance. Especially if it took place out of the city limits and didn’t go well.
“Have you notified Tidewater’s finest?” he asked.
“Gonzales? Not yet.” Rick also had firsthand experience with the city’s chief of police, and none of it was pleasant.
“Don’t screw up, Rick. If there’s bad publicity, J.B.’ll play this every which way but quiet.”
“Which is why I’m keeping him in the dark until I’m forced to d
o otherwise.”
“It’s your call, then. Just keep me posted.”
“Thanks, Jake. With a little luck, we’ll be in and out of Kinard County without alarming your constituents too much.”
“I’m going to hold you to that, buddy.” Jake straightened in his chair, relieved somewhat that the primary responsibility for the upcoming action was in the hands of the DEA. Unlike Jake’s men, Rick’s people had the experience. His own were good; he’d seen to that within the limits of his budget and the talent he had to work with. But in a showdown with sophisticated weapons and the sociopathic mercenaries Ramirez hired, loss of life was a definite possibility.
Leaning forward, he hung up the phone.
“IS THAT YOU, MICHAEL?”
“No, it’s me, honey.” Jake paused to glance idly through the mail he’d picked up at the box. Apparently Rachel had forgotten to check it. Right on top was a letter he’d been hoping for from a political group. As he tore it open, Rachel appeared, drying her hands on a dish towel. She looked beyond him toward the front door.
“Michael isn’t with you?”
“No, I thought he’d be home by now. He had to go to school and pick up something he’d forgotten.” He smiled, scanning the letter. They were going to endorse him.
“Oh.”
Still smiling, he looked up. “I guess it’s just you and me.”
She blinked. “What?”
He tossed the letter onto the table along with the rest of the mail and pulled her up against him. “I said, I guess it’s just you and me.” Wrapping her close in a warm, tight embrace, he buried his face in her hair. “Mike’s probably taking the long way home,” he murmured, nuzzling the side of her neck. “Don’t worry about him. He’s almost fifteen, the perfect age to get sidetracked by a dozen different things.”
“I guess so.” It gave her chills when Jake breathed in her ear like that. Still, her gaze went to the windows, where dusk was fast approaching. She hadn’t talked to Michael yet and she couldn’t rest until she did. “He’s always so good about letting me know where he is. It’s unusual for him to be even a minute late.”
“Mmm, you smell good,” he murmured, inhaling the scent of her perfume. He feathered kisses down her neck, stopping at the hollow of her throat.
With her head tilted, Rachel almost gave herself over to Jake’s attentions. Through the long midnight hours in Orlando, they had sought and found comfort in each other. But for Rachel, it had been temporary. She could not reach out and claim complete happiness with Jake until all her fences were mended. She’d gone to work today hoping to see Ron Campbell, but he’d been called to Tallahassee for a day or two.
And now Michael was nowhere to be found.
It was hard to think with Jake so close. Over Jake’s shoulder, she noticed the mail scattered where he’d dropped it. An envelope caught her eye. Her name was printed across the front in large, childishly plain letters. Unstamped, wrinkled, unaddressed—obviously hand-delivered—it looked different from the rest.
“Jake!” She pushed urgently against his arms.
“We’re okay, sweetheart,” he whispered, breathing into her ear.
He thought she was worried about Michael walking in. Rachel arched her neck, pulling away. Her eyes were still on the envelope. “Jake, look at that.”
“What?”
Her heart was thumping. Maybe it was about Scotty. She’d fantasized about receiving anonymous notes, phone calls, messages over the radio, television, through the sheriff’s department. Could somebody actually have slipped something into her mailbox in broad daylight?
She snatched it up. On the point of tearing it open, she came to her senses. If it was about Scotty, it might contain valuable evidence, fingerprints. Her hands shaking, she showed it to Jake. “I just noticed this on the table. Was it in the mail when you picked it up?”
He took it, frowning. “I don’t know. I didn’t get through everything.”
Her hand at her throat, she whispered, “Open it, Jake.”
Holding it gingerly, touching only the edges, he picked up the letter opener that lay on the hall table and quickly slit the end open. He’d scanned only the first few lines when his face went slack.
“It’s from Michael,” he said.
“Michael?”
His hands shook slightly as he finished reading. “It’s not to me, it’s to you.”
“I know, but…” She took it, frowning, not noticing the grim look on his face.
“There’s another one for me.”
Rachel glanced at the mail spread over the table as Jake reached for an envelope identical to the one addressed to her. Without the care he’d used in opening hers, he ripped the end off his own.
“He’s gone.”
“Gone?” She looked at the letter, noticing vaguely that it was printed on a sheet of notebook paper, the kind students used. Her note was forgotten in her hand. A few nights before, she’d helped Michael with an essay. He’d written it on paper just like that. “Where did he go?”
“Back on the road,” Jake said, looking as though his face were carved in granite. “He says it’s the best thing to do, that his presence has caused problems between you and me.”
“Problems?” Rachel raised the note she held and began to read it. After the first two lines, her face paled. Her heart beating like a wild thing, she sank into the small antique straight chair that sat in the foyer. It took a second to steady the paper enough to read it. She blinked rapidly, trying to bring Michael’s words into focus.
Dear Miss Rachel,
I wrote a letter to Dad explaining why I’m gone. Please don’t worry. I’ll be okay. I’m sending you this confidential note to beg you to tell Mr. Campbell to take a hike. He isn’t half the man my dad is. I know you wouldn’t even look at him twice if things hadn’t been rough for you because of me and the circumstances that brought me to Tidewater. I know you think of my dad’s mistake every time you look at me. If you aren’t reminded every time you turn around and find me underfoot, I know you will love him again and overcome the problems you two have been having lately.
Thank you for letting me stay with you while I was in Tidewater. I know it was hard for you, but I hope you will remember me best from the things we did together that were fun. I liked our rides to and from school, did I ever tell you that? I even liked shopping. I will always think of you when I eat kiwi-fruit or papayas. I never even saw that stuff in Iowa.
I will pray every night that my little brother will be found.
Your friend always,
Michael McAdam
Rachel closed her fingers on the single sheet, crumpling it into a shapeless wad. Holding it tight against her chest, she looked at Jake. “It’s my fault.”
He snatched the paper out of her hand. “What is he talking about? What’s been going on with you and Campbell?” He lowered his voice, but his eyes were murderous. “If you’ve done anything to make my son take to the streets, I swear you’ll answer for it, Rachel.”
“No, no, I didn’t,” she whispered. “He misunderstood. He—we…”
“Who misunderstood? Mike?”
Rachel bobbed her head. “Yes. It—”
“Misunderstood what?” He rattled the note from Michael under her nose. “What is this about Campbell?”
Still sitting, she gazed at him, her eyes swimming with unshed tears, making no effort to hide the misery and guilt that had haunted her since those stupid, wicked few minutes with Ron Campbell. “Oh, Jake.”
“Tell me!”
She could hardly form the words. “He saw us together.”
“Who? You and Campbell?”
“Yes.”
He backed away as though to distance himself from what he might hear. “What did he see?”
“It was nothing, Jake. It didn’t mean anything. I wanted to explain to Michael. I tried to explain at the time, but that was when Kevin…” Her voice caught on a sob. She gulped. “Kevin— Ah, the thing with Kevin and the gun.
”
“Forget Kevin!” he roared, making her jump. His voice lowered menacingly. “What did Michael see?”
“Oh, Jake…” She buried her face in her hands. “I’m so sorry. It was a stupid mistake. I knew it when he—”
“Who! When he what?”
She raised her head and looked at him then. “Ron. He kissed me.”
He swung away, plowing his fingers through his hair. Realizing he held Michael’s note to Rachel, Jake threw it down as though it burned his fingers. With his back to her, he asked, “What else did he see?”
“Nothing.” Pulling herself together, she stood up. Seeing the dish towel she’d brought from the kitchen, she picked it up and wiped her eyes and her nose. “There was nothing else to see.”
“Meaning you sent Michael away, or that that was the extent of Campbell’s seduction of my wife?”
“Neither. I mean, both. Oh, I don’t—”
She stared at her hands holding the towel. “It wasn’t really Ron’s fault, Jake.” She took a deep breath, knowing she might be sounding the death knell of her marriage. “It was mine. I…I didn’t discourage him as I should have.”
“I knew he had eyes for you! I should have decked him when I had the chance at the fundraiser. He wouldn’t have had the guts to try anything after that.”
“Jake!” She gave him a hard look. “Are you listening to me? It wasn’t Ron’s fault. It was mine!” With her forefinger, she poked herself in the chest and repeated quietly, “Mine.”
They looked into each other’s eyes in silence until Jake finally spoke. “Why?”
She shook her head helplessly. “I was so angry. And hurt. For weeks I was so mad at you I could barely breathe. I had this stupid notion that since you’d had an affair then I should have one, too. Tit for tat.” She shrugged, a weary, dispirited gesture. “Ron Campbell just happened along at the right time.”
“And that justifies it?”
She looked at him. “No more than your words justified that night in Miami.”
He turned, unwilling to acknowledge that she’d scored a hit. “What’s the matter?” he demanded, falling back on sarcasm. “Life in the fast lane’s not all it’s hyped up to be?”