Keeper's Reach

by Carla Neggers

  “I knew you wouldn’t be able to resist once you found out she would be here.” Reed walked back to the table and poured himself coffee. “But it’s not the reason I invited her. We have work to do on her volunteer doctors.”

  Mike’s phone vibrated. He checked the screen. Another text from Colin. Where are you? Call me. I’m counting to ten.

  Mike typed a quick response. Fifteen minutes.

  Good. Next up is BOLO.

  No doubt in Mike’s mind his brother meant it and would sic every cop in Maine on him if he didn’t get in touch.

  “Is someone looking to book a kayak tour come summer?” Reed asked.

  “Too early. My brother Colin.”

  “The FBI agent.”

  “Correct.”

  Reed seemed to expect more of an explanation, but he shrugged when he didn’t get one and drank his coffee as he grabbed another cookie. “We tough guys need our cookies, don’t we?”

  Naomi joined them, heading straight for the tray of cookies and coffee. “My room is great, Reed. Very pretty. In fact, it’s called the Lady Slipper. It’s a New England orchid.” She chose a cookie, getting melted chocolate on her knuckle. She licked it off. “Tomorrow I eat celery. Maybe for the rest of my life I eat celery.”

  “I thought we could go snowshoeing this afternoon,” Reed said.

  “Snowshoeing?” She seemed incredulous. “I saw on the inn’s website there’s a health club. Maybe I’ll check it out later. You guys can stay fit as fiddles without stepping foot into the winter cold. I, on the other hand, only chase bad guys on paper and the internet. Sometimes on the phone, but rarely these days.”

  “Didn’t they teach you to shoot at the CIA?” Mike asked.

  “Culinary Institute of America? I didn’t go there.” She bit into her cookie. “Anything you need from me, Reed?”

  “The truth,” he said lightly. “The whole truth and nothing but the truth.”

  “Nothing but the truth I can do. I don’t know the whole truth about anything. One of my assets is recognizing that fact.” She sounded pragmatic, without a hint of defensiveness. “Jamie says we’re meeting over lunch. I suppose I could head out for a walk in the snow and ice with the brisk wind off the water in my face. That ought to jump-start me. Jet lag never used to bother me. It’s only after I read you need a day for each hour of time change that I started to notice it. Something to be said for being oblivious, isn’t there?”

  Mike had a feeling she wasn’t just talking about jet lag, but he wasn’t asking.

  Reed shifted to him. “Why don’t you get settled? Call your brother back. At least stay tonight. Have lunch and dinner on us. Hear what we have to say. Then decide what you want to do.”

  “Sounds good.”

  Mike left Reed and Naomi in the library and headed down the hall to the lobby. Serena Mason, a sturdy, efficient woman, greeted him with a room key. “Second floor,” she said. “You’re next door to Naomi.”

  At least he hadn’t had to ask to be put close to her.

  * * *

  Naomi’s room was, in fact, called the Lady Slipper. Its name was on a brass plaque on the outside of the door. Mike let himself into a room called the Lightkeeper. Sure enough, it had a model of a lighthouse on the bedside table and a print of the Cape Elizabeth lighthouse on the wall. It wasn’t a “girlie” room, but it wasn’t what he was used to. He figured he would stay tonight, at least. He couldn’t put his finger on what was bugging him, but something was off—with Reed, with Naomi, with this last-minute weekend in Maine.

  He set his bag on the bed. Naomi could be running her own game, manipulating Reed and his team for her own ends, whether to enhance her reputation, profit margin or ego. She wasn’t the most straightforward, easy-to-read person Mike had ever met. She lived and worked in a world very different from the one he lived in.

  He checked his cell phone. Enough coverage to make a call.

  Colin picked up on the first ring. “Tell me who’s at this get-together.”

  “You investigating these guys?”

  “No.”

  Okay answer as far as it went. Mike figured out he was on a need-to-know basis with whatever was on Colin’s mind, and his younger brother clearly wasn’t answering a lot of questions. “I don’t have all the names.” He gave Colin what names he did have. “Cooper, Kavanagh and MacBride were in London until yesterday. Jamie’s the one who stopped in Rock Point. He and his wife got in on Tuesday.”

  “You all knew each other in Afghanistan?”

  “Correct.”

  “Anything happen back then that I need to know about?”

  Not a question Mike wanted to answer. “Our last joint mission had problems but everything worked out okay.”

  “Anyone killed?”

  “Three bad guys we wanted alive. Cooper, Kavanagh, Mason and MacBride were involved.”

  “And you,” Colin said. “Hard feelings?”

  “It’s in the past.”

  “For whatever that’s worth. Any loose ends that could come back to haunt you?”

  “There are always loose ends. No reason to think they’ll be a problem now or in the future.”

  “All right. Not a good time for details. Mike, are you thinking about working for Cooper?”

  “He’s gone to a lot of trouble to meet with me.”

  “Red-carpet treatment?”

  “I wouldn’t go that far. This isn’t about my ego. Reed’s, either. He’s ambitious but he’s pragmatic. Is Kavanagh a problem? He’s an active FBI agent, isn’t he? Didn’t quit?”

  “As far as I know, yes, he’s an active agent.”

  “Then he can arrest the lot of us,” Mike said. He meant it as a joke but noted that Colin didn’t laugh.

  “Did you run into Emma when you were in Rock Point yesterday?”

  “No. Isn’t she with the nuns?”

  “I meant before she headed to the convent. She’s staying there again tonight. A package was sent to her at St. Patrick’s rectory. Never mind. I just got in to Rock Point. I’ll head up there to meet your friends.”

  “Feel free.”

  Mike looked at the lighthouse print. He thought it was a watercolor but didn’t know enough about painting to tell. When he left the army, a psychologist friend suggested he take up painting to process his experiences. He had moved into his grandfather’s cabin and never considered painting anything more complicated than a canoe or a wall.

  “Have you talked to Kavanagh?” Mike asked his brother.

  “No. You?”

  “I haven’t seen him yet. We’re all supposed to meet over lunch.”

  “Mike...”

  “Tell me what you’re looking for, Colin. I’ll do what I can to help.”

  “I’m going to text you a photo of Kavanagh. I want to be sure we’re talking about the same guy. Have a look. Tell me if it’s him. Then delete it.”

  “I like it when pressing Delete can keep me safe,” Mike said, then disconnected.

  In thirty seconds, he had Kavanagh’s photo.

  He texted Colin. That’s him.

  Thanks.

  Mike deleted the photo as promised. He didn’t know if identifying Kavanagh had been good, bad or neutral news to Colin. Whatever the case, it didn’t change what Mike was doing for the afternoon.

  He washed his hands and splashed his face with cold water. He returned to the bedroom. He didn’t bother to unpack. He could take his brother’s advice and clear out, head back up to the Bold Coast. He wasn’t worried about stranding Naomi. She had friends at the Plum Tree who could see her back to the airport and Nashville.

  You’d love Nashville, Mike, she had whispered to him in the dark, laying on her middle Tennessee accent. Spring comes early and lasts and lasts, and the music, bourbon and barbecue are the best.

  No ocean.

  Long, lazy rivers and deep lakes.

  I like long, lazy and deep.

  Mmm. She’d given a soft laugh, turning to him, her skin hot. You can
sit out late into the night on the riverbank and watch the fireflies.

  Homesick?

  Not right now. Not with you.

  She had touched him then, and they’d made love late into their own night.

  Mike stood at the cold window and looked out at the water, ice and rocks. The Maine coast was his home, and it was where he belonged.

  16

  Emma dropped to the floor for a third time in what she estimated was the past half hour. She was breathing hard and sweating—warm, at least, if also expending fluids she couldn’t afford to lose. But she was more confident than she’d been in the night.

  One more try and she’d have it.

  At first light, she’d realized there was a half loft above her. The window was opposite it. That meant she’d have to leap several feet to reach it, but it felt more viable than scaling the wall up to the window.

  First she had to get up to the loft. There was a partial ladder, with only a top rung. She’d tested the stability of the ladder and loft on her first attempt. They’d held. She was confident they wouldn’t collapse or crumble under her. On her second attempt, she’d tried leaping up and grabbing the top rung of the ladder, then swinging herself up to the loft. That hadn’t gone well. Yet another reason to do pull-ups, she thought.

  On the third attempt, she’d found a nick on the ladder’s vertical support that she could use as a foothold, making it easier to hoist herself up to the top rung and then onto the loft. She’d managed to get high enough to see out the window. The old glass was cracked, dirty and caked in the corners with cobwebs and dead flies, but she could see through it to ocean, waves rolling toward her. It was like being in an infinity pool. She couldn’t see the land on which the shed was perched. Even if the shed was built close to the water, there had to be land below the window.

  Ignoring her sore leg muscles, Emma sank onto the floor next to the door. If her attacker returned, she wouldn’t be caught by surprise. The heavy wood door itself was her only weapon. The shed was completely empty. She hadn’t found so much as a rock in her search of the place once it was light enough.

  She had found three soft, warm, natural sheepskins.

  What’s in the package, Oliver?

  A present for you. A surprise. You’ll love it.

  Oliver York’s present.

  Only Oliver.

  The sheepskins had been cast aside on the floor next to the door, along with packing materials. Nothing of use there, either.

  Emma assumed they were English sheepskins, presumably from sheep raised on the York farm in the Cotswolds. She’d spread them below the window. If she fell trying to reach it, the sheepskins would at least cushion her landing.

  She would check the door one more time, but she doubted it would budge. What was on the other side? A house filled with armed men? She had no idea. If she went out the window, would someone see her, hear her? Would she be met by gunfire?

  She hit the door with her elbow. “If you’re out there, let’s talk,” she called, keeping her voice steady, without any hint of panic or frustration. “Let’s work this out.”

  No response.

  Up to the loft, leap to the window. Break it open. Take her chances.

  That was her only way out.

  17

  Naomi kicked off her ankle boots and stretched out on the bed in her Lady Slipper room. The bed was comfortable but not as comfortable as the bed in her room at the Rock Point Harbor Inn. It was only the middle of the day, but it felt like night. She glanced at the bedside clock. Twelve fifteen. Okay. That was only 6:00 p.m. in England. Jet lag wasn’t her only problem.

  She flopped against the pillows and put her feet up on the bed. The cold had to be what was affecting her thinking. She was normally a strategic thinker who could see possibilities and angles with dizzying clarity, but right now all she saw was mud.

  That and Mike Donovan’s smile.

  And his eyes.

  And his thighs.

  Damn, he had a great smile, great eyes and great thighs. How was she supposed to not notice? Even if she and Mike had never slept together, or if they were meeting today for the first time, she would have noticed.

  She groaned and sat up straight. Mike wasn’t the same Mike she’d known in Afghanistan—made love to in Washington. While that Mike had been a skilled soldier, he’d also been tender, homesick and so ready to fall in love.

  This Mike was skeptical, distrustful and not at all tender.

  Well, what had she expected?

  Reed, Jamie and Serena were preparing for the lunch meeting. Or maybe the Masons were preparing, and Reed was off with Mike shooting or kicking ass or some damn thing. Kavanagh could have joined them. He was an FBI agent. He could shoot and kick ass. She didn’t know about Buddy. He didn’t have military or law enforcement training, but he must have picked up a few self-defense skills, at least, during his time in war zones.

  Naomi yawned. She knew how to shoot and fight, too. Technically. Her role as a consultant didn’t necessitate she own a gun, and therefore she didn’t. Operators decided what weaponry they needed to do their job. Ideally, whatever weapons they chose wouldn’t be required.

  She hadn’t practiced hand-to-hand combat in months, except with a big old snake that her mother had found in her garage. Nonpoisonous. They’d escorted it elsewhere.

  Wherever everyone else was, the meeting would start in fifteen minutes. From what she’d seen in Afghanistan three years ago and in London this past week, Reed wasn’t one to fool around, let chitchat take hold and turn into endless blather that bled away an afternoon.

  A knock on the door drew her out of the thoughts. She jumped up, relieved to have company. She didn’t care if it was whoever cleaned the rooms. She welcomed a distraction. But when she checked the peephole, she saw Buddy Whidmore shifting from one foot to the other. She had to admit she’d hoped for a different distraction. Buddy was an energy drainer. He didn’t mean to be. He just was, with his manic energy and sharper-than-tacks, faster-than-a-whirlwind mind.

  She let him in, but she couldn’t get a word out as he burst past her. “What are you, crazy, Naomi?” He spun around at her. “Messing with Mike Donovan again.”

  “I’m not messing with anyone.”

  He dropped a manila file folder on the foot of her bed. “I brought this for you—slipped an extra out of the conference room in case you want an early peek at what Reed’s got cooked up for us. I know you’re not yourself. I don’t want you to have to go in there cold and let those guys get you rattled.”

  “Why would I get rattled?” she asked him, not buying into his drama.

  “Reed. Mike. Kavanagh. The Masons. Memory lane, Naomi.”

  “Old friends.”

  Buddy laughed, looking less agitated. “I guess that’s another way to look at it. Don’t get me wrong, I like these guys, and I’d trust them with my life—in fact, I have trusted them with my life. But you, Naomi. You’re the only woman, except for Serena, and she’s ex-army and administrative.”

  “Serena Mason could run the Pentagon,” Naomi said, not sure what to do with Buddy. Ask him to sit down? Her room had a single upholstered chair. There wasn’t a desk. People didn’t come to the Plum Tree to work.

  “I wish I had Serena and Jamie looking after me,” Buddy said. “They can do the work of ten people without breaking a sweat. I bet they already know I swiped the file and I’ll have a bill under my pillow for a replacement folder. Reed’s got plenty of money, but he’s cheap. Have you noticed?”

  Naomi smiled. “He says he’s a good steward of his and his investors’ funds.”

  “In other words, he’s cheap. You’re not an investor, are you?”

  “In Cooper Global Security? No. Thanks for the file, though.”

  “Biggest risk I’ve taken so far this year, swiping a file you’re going to get handed to you in a few minutes. I’ve been working on a new productivity app. It’s kept me at my laptop most of the winter. I was so into it, I canceled a camp
ing trip to Chile.”

  Naomi sat on her bed. “You’re the one who should be talking to Mike.”

  “Mike the wilderness guide. I still see him decked out in night-vision goggles and enough weaponry to take out a small country.”

  “Now he picks wild blueberries at his cabin.”

  Buddy frowned. “What?”

  “Never mind. You need to see Rock Point while you’re here. It’ll explain Mike.”

  “I don’t need Mike explained. Do you? Why would I do that? You’re the one with the happy history with him.” Buddy put up both palms as if in self-defense. “Don’t hit me. You know I’m being sarcastic to emphasize a point that is designed to help you come to your damn senses.”

  “What makes you think I’m not in possession of said damn senses?”

  He shook his head. “Nah. No way, Naomi. I saw you with Mike when you got here. You can’t hide it. He’s got you stirred up.”

  “Buddy.”

  “None of my business?”

  “None.”

  “All right. I won’t go there, but now you know you can’t fool me. I know.” He walked over to the door out to her small balcony. “It gets darker than the pits of hell out here at night. I don’t know if I made a mistake coming here.”

  “It’s not a prison,” Naomi said. “Hang out, enjoy yourself and then go home and forget Reed if he doesn’t have anything to offer you.”

  “You’re right. I’m letting myself get worked up for no reason. I gave Reed a buzz when I heard he was going out on his own, to let him know I’m available if he needs tech support. He invited me here. It was like getting invited to the prom by the star cheerleader.”

  “Buddy, you have a lot to offer.”

  “Cybersecurity. Cyber everything, really. It’s not sexy. I sit in front of a screen all day. All night sometimes, too.” He smoothed a bony hand over his longish hair. “I guess I’m in awe of guys like Reed and Mike.”

  Naomi decided to steer the subject in a different direction. “I haven’t seen Ted Kavanagh yet. Have you?”

  “Yeah. In the lobby.” Buddy fiddled with the pull for the shades. “You know he and I have stayed in touch since Kabul?”