Where the hell was Mitch? I fumbled in my handbag for my iPad. At least Annie had wireless access so I could check my email. No message. Damn, but I wished there was a way to reach him and run this situation by him for a different perspective. Why didn’t Pierce and Annie just ask me to get on the next flight?
The perfection of Annie’s house suddenly felt claustrophobic.
Shower, Everly. It’ll help clear your head, and God knows you’ll feel better when you wash off the grime and sour sweat from being drugged.
Two walls of the guest room were glass, with sliders that faced a private patio. I opened both of them, stripped out of my filthy clothes, and wandered into the bathroom. The tub was huge, and the Jacuzzi held the promise of instant relaxation, but I opted for the shower. I wanted to wash the sweaty residue from my skin down the drain, not sit in it.
Annie had stocked the shower with natural essence Hawaiian soaps and shampoos that smelled almost as fresh as the breeze from the patio. I sniffed both the Pikake and the Pineapple Passion before I decided on the Jasmine. Millie’s favorite fragrance might give me some magical insight as to what was going on with her and Harlan. They disappeared. My parents’ house was torched. By some weird, freaky association, both incidents had to be connected to whoever murdered my parents. Didn’t they?
It took three lathers and rinses before I pronounced myself clean. Limbs limp with fresh-washed pleasure, I stood in the bathroom, letting the fragrant steam swirl around me. My attempt at using scent to trigger insight had failed, so maybe procrastination would keep my head from exploding with a mess of facts I couldn’t connect. Not that my curiosity wasn’t harassing me to get a move on. It was. But whatever had pushed Annie and Pierce into weird, aberrant behavior patterns couldn’t be good. Well, damn it all to bloody, blue blazes, I was hiding and I knew it.
I ran a comb through my hair and headed for the patio. Before I faced the pending crisis, I planned to be as calm and balanced as possible. The trade winds would dry my hair and brush the panic from my mind. I inhaled the sweetness from the flowers blooming in Annie’s garden, and moved through a series of yoga postures as I prepared to deal with…whatever.
Calm spread through my psyche, and for the first time since finding the corpse, I inhaled a full breath that reached all the way to my toes. It was time to face Annie and find out why she abetted in my kidnapping.
I rummaged through the dresser, found a stack of shorts and t-shirts with coordinating lingerie. Annie liked things to match. I went with white everything. Because—hey—I needed a sense of purity, false though it might be. There were three pairs of Hawaiian slippahs in the closet, but I bypassed them, wending my way to the kitchen on bare feet.
The fragrance of rich Kona coffee and cinnamon met me as I wandered into the great room, my head still muddled with the chaos of misinformation, or maybe it was lack of information. Coffee would be good. I made an attempt at normal conversation when I found Annie standing in the kitchen. “Were you generous with the cinnamon?”
She didn’t smile, just tilted her head in agreement.
It was as bad as I feared, then. I grabbed for the kitchen table, missed, and landed hard in one of Annie’s pale beech chairs. Still shooting for normalcy I tried another question. “Sean at work?”
She nodded again.
“Did he pick up that suspected arson on the Big Island?”
“Yeah. He’ll be gone all week. I miss him, but we Skype every evening so he can have some time with Maddie and tell her good night.”
Annie’s life was in order, and my patience had worn thin. “What is it? What’s going on?” Only six simple words, and they about choked me.
Annie held up her index finger, turned and checked the baby monitor mounted under the kitchen cabinets.
My stomach traveled toward my neck at breakneck speed, leaving an empty space in my abdomen. It was that horrible moment when I realized whatever was coming wasn’t going to be just bad; it was going to toss me right into hell.
My inner wisdom had known—probably since Pierce kidnapped me—which is why it pushed me into taking the time for a short yoga session.
“We talk, we text, we instant message, and we email every damn week. Why the sudden lack of words?” I sounded like a snotty brat, and worse, I didn’t care.
Annie turned up the sound on the monitor and a soft lullaby drifted into the kitchen, mingling with the scent of the freshly brewed coffee. From the stack of dishes on the kitchen counter, it looked like this was Annie’s second pot of coffee today, another portent that something was beyond wrong, because since her pregnancy she’d limited herself to one cup in the morning. That we were going to need more…damn, but it scared me.
She wandered toward the table, bare feet dragging over the bamboo floor. And she wouldn’t look at me. Her expression held the blank façade of an over-medicated mental patient.
“Talk to me. It’s only going to get worse if you put it off.” The words escaped before I could stop them. Much as I wanted to hold them in, the whole deal with the corpse on my property and Pierce kidnapping me with her knowledge had taken on the devastating force of a category five hurricane.
Annie slowly set two ceramic mugs on the table, blew out a shuddering sigh, and reached for my hands. Stopped herself. “No, I have to talk to you first. You can touch me after to verify.”
Dread slithered down my spine. “It’s Mitch, isn’t it? Something’s happened to him?”
She nodded, and finally held my gaze. “Yes, it’s Mitch, but not…he’s not who we thought he was. He’s not who you think he is.”
NINE
The morning clouds parted just enough to let a shaft of warm sunlight into Annie’s kitchen—a stark contrast to the threat behind her comment about Mitch being…someone else. She wasn’t making sense, but the warning under her words made my stomach lurch.
I jumped up, desperate to escape Annie’s words, and began pacing as soon as my feet hit the bamboo. Maybe something solid under me would help control the shakes taking over my body. “What does ‘not who we think he is’ mean, Annie? He’s exactly what I think—kind, gentle, loving. He’s been so protective of me that it’s about driven me to start planting a garden. And you know how much I hate any kind of yard work.”
She let out a deep sigh. “Yes, I know. But it’s the reason behind the increased level of protectiveness that triggered Pierce’s radar, and mine. He’s been against you visiting me for the few trips we’ve tried to plan, and then your parents’ home was blown up. Coupled together, it was enough to trigger major alarms for both Pierce and me, so we’ve checked into some things.”
I whirled to face her. “You what? How dare you trespass into our lives like that? You’ve always known how much that would irritate the bison chips out of me.”
Annie cracked a genuine smile. “Bison chips?”
“Shit sounds all wrong, and cows are mundane. Could we get back on track here?”
“Right.” She rubbed her teeth over her bottom lip, stalling. “Your reaction is exactly why we didn’t mention it to you until we had so much proof we couldn’t ignore it any longer. I hate that we had to do it, and I’m sorry we invaded your privacy. But more than that, I’m glad you’re here. Safe. Where we can protect you.”
Unshed tears pressed for release. How could they? I swallowed, the ache of forcing down my tears a dull throb in my upper chest. “More protection? What is it with you people? I don’t need protection. Not from Mitch, and not from you.”
The space between us was clogged with sticky desperation. Or maybe it was my own despair that made it difficult to breathe.
Annie closed her eyes and dragged in a shattered breath. It sounded painful, and a petty, ugly part of me was glad she hurt. I dropped into the chair across from her, planted my elbows on the table, and held my head. She was my best friend. We’d saved each other’s lives, and now I had to listen to her, no matter how badly I didn’t want to hear anything negative about Mitch. And I sure as
all hell couldn’t fight what I didn’t know. “Okay, start at the beginning.”
She shoved her chair back, stood, and made her way across the kitchen, where she stretched on tiptoes to reach the cupboard above her refrigerator. It gave me a glimpse of the pink stretch marks that spread across her abdomen, and I shuffled through my hurt and anger to find the love I had for my best friend. Whatever Annie’d learned, truth or not, I had to be sure she stayed safe. Madigan deserved no less.
Annie bounced once, grabbed a green bottle and set it on the table. Jameson Irish whiskey. I recognized the cream label, because I recently developed a taste for it, and had shared my discovery with Annie in a phone conversation a couple weeks back.
It was ten-ish in the morning, and Annie had gone straight for the Jameson’s.
A blast of panic shot through me. This wasn’t just friendship gone awry, it was bone-wringing bad news.
She placed two glasses on the table next to our barely touched coffee mugs. “What I have to say will go down better with some help.”
Hands shaking, I opened the bottle and poured both of us an inch or so, then went back and added another splash because my teeth had started to chatter. “Procrastination isn’t going to make this any easier, Annie.”
“I know, but it’s my fault. I should have done the due diligence on that first day when we met Hunt at the beach. I knew better than to blindly accept his credentials just because I recognized him. This would never have happened if I didn’t respect his photojournalist work, and actually owned a couple of his books. Stupid of me, and I knew better, but I didn’t want to believe anyone who created such poignant photographs, ones that graced the coffee tables of millions of homes, could be bad for you. And you were so happy. I just couldn’t…”
Some of the tension faded from my shoulders. Mitch was a good guy, and whatever information Annie found had to be wrong. It just wasn’t possible for anyone with the ability to bring me to tears with the profound beauty of his work to be a bad person. Just. Not. Possible. Besides, we’d been married for over a year, and he’d been nothing but kind, generous, and…quiet. Secretive.
Annie sipped her Jameson’s. “I would’ve checked any stranger who came on to you, and I definitely would have done a thorough background check before you dated anyone, but with Hunt...never mind. Excuses don’t matter now.”
“You did check him out.” Had her memory gone screwy?
She sighed. “Yes, but I only dug far enough to find his military connections. It should have been a red flag, except it seemed to make perfect sense.”
I wrinkled my forehead, squinting at her. “Huh?”
“Because of the content of his books. You don’t get photographs like that unless you have an in with people in power. Anyway, I stopped digging. Just let it go.” Regret cut through her words.
She unplugged her laptop from the kitchen desk, and set it between us on the table. “It’ll be easier if I show you.”
We reached for our glasses of Irish whiskey at the same time. The rich, seductive scent tickled my nose with a welcome moment of the ordinary. Annie and me, sharing a glass of the good stuff. Usually we only did that after we’d successfully pulled off a not-so-legal stunt that resulted in proof positive that the bad guys were really bad. Not the case this time.
I held the first taste in my mouth, letting the heady aroma and the honeyed undertone echo on my tongue, sweet and full of life. I swallowed, welcoming the faint alcohol burn as it cut through the dulcet pleasure of the lingering flavor. It left a satisfying sting on the top layer of cells lining my throat. Physical stimulus—the perfect antidote to emotional devastation.
Annie logged on to her computer and pulled up an encrypted file. It took her a minute to adjust whatever to make it readable, and then she turned the screen toward me. And downed the rest of her drink in three gulps.
A flash of terror skittered along my nerves. Annie never gulped alcohol. I braced myself and began to read, my brain clouding with the sheer number of entries, dates, and times of Mitch’s assignments over the past two years. They were listed chronologically, and most of them showed the military as the source for his orders.
I pointed to the page. “This fits with what I’d expect.”
Annie replaced her empty whiskey glass with a full coffee mug. “Uh-oh. You have that look,” she said peering at me over the rim.
“Like I’ve lost my mind?”
“No. Like you think maybe I’ve made a mistake. That Mitch hasn’t been reporting your movements to his boss, that he’s one of the good guys.” She slid forward, tapping a different place on the screen. “You’re right about his regular assignments, but see this thread running under them?”
My brain waded through a bunch of acronyms that made no sense. And then I saw it. My name, places I’d been, stuff I’d done. “Why am I in here? These aren’t the actual orders, right? What are all these acronyms? They’re all dates and places for surveillance on me, some before we even met.”
I faced her. “You must have made a mistake.”
Annie’s moss green eyes frosted over for a second. “I’m a better hacker than that, and you know it.”
She was, and I did.
I glanced at the laptop. The screen had timed out. Did I want to wake it up and keep reading? Hell, no. But curiosity won and I tapped the track pad. I owed it to myself, to Mitch, and to our marriage, to learn all I could, because we’d have to talk about it. I’d have to tell him what I believed. That Pierce and Annie found suspicious documents that looked like someone set him up. Yeah. That was my plan, and I was sticking to it, because it was a whole lot more comfortable than accusing my husband of spying on me, marrying me for…who knew why? I grabbed my iPad to take notes, and then turned to the documents with new purpose.
Mitch was my home. My safe place. I couldn’t let anyone destroy that. Not even Annie.
I read the first summary again, shock hitting me in a numbing avalanche of pain and wiping out my plan in a life-changing second. My lips wouldn’t work. I licked them, then rubbed them together, trying to chase away the vacuum surrounding my heart. “I was…”
My mouth went dry with the taste of despair, and my heart heavy with the desire to escape the ache of betrayal. I scraped back my chair, standing so fast it landed on the floor with the resounding crack of beech hitting bamboo. And the need to pound on something—anything—rushed through me. I made a flying leap for the kitchen counter where I’d plugged in my cell, yanked it off the charger, and frantically punched in Mitch’s number.
It rang loud and grating in my ear. “He’s not answering.”
Annie stood, picked up the chair, then stepped around it, and crushed me in a hug. “He’ll call you back, Everly. He’s probably figured out that you’re here and suspects his cover’s been blown.”
“Yeah, I know he’ll return my call, it’s just that I want to talk to him now.”
“Maybe it’ll be better of you take some time to work through this before you confront him. He recognized you, planned your initial meeting, had done his research, and knew exactly what to say to reel you in. The man is a pro at surveillance. Military-trained, and then he honed specific skills with various government agencies.” Her words rang with the absolute confidence that only comes from hands-on knowledge.
I couldn’t hold it in any longer. Gut wrenching sobs shredded my insides. “I l-loved him. Loved. H-him.”
Her hug turned into comforting stability, like a rock. “I know,” she whispered, and started to cry with me. It was a soul sister thing. Her tears soaked through my t-shirt, the warmth of them quickly chilling the fabric against my skin.
The kitchen spun into slow motion.
“I w-was his assign-assignment.” I jerked free from Annie’s arms. “That rat bastard. Damn it all to hell.”
She stepped back, giving me room to pace. But started talking, probably to lessen the shock. “I’m guessing it was an assignment he regretted taking after he met you. Experience tells
me the Powers That Be gave him no option because Tony Civitelli’s death made him the perfect candidate for whoever wanted to keep tabs on you. Could be he was shuffled between agencies to bury the source of his orders. I haven’t been able to hack that deeply into the system yet.”
I ran my hands through my hair, tugged on it. “Nope. Not buying it. The kind of people you worked for, they would be able to stage any kind of death they wanted and make it look like a genuine homicide, so why use a real murder they couldn’t control? Especially one connected to a known crime family? It wasn’t long before even I knew Mama Civitelli was notoriously unpredictable when it came to her sons.”
Annie sat, and wrapped her hands around her coffee mug. “Maybe. But Tony’s murder fit perfectly. He lived near you, and the case peeked your natural curiosity without raising suspicion. It wasn’t like you had a history of chasing criminals prior to meeting Mitch, you know.”
“This can’t be real.” I grabbed my empty glass of whiskey and inhaled the fragrance, letting the sensation settle over my brain cells. Oh, yeah. Becoming an alcoholic would have its perks.
I swirled the last swallow of amber liquid, and focused on the way it coated the glass, the pattern it left sliding down the side of the crystal. A sudden burst of rage clawed at me. “The bastard married me.”
Annie tilted her head back, focusing on the ceiling fan. “Yeah, he did. You’re not gonna want to hear this right now, but I think he truly fell in love with you.”
My knees wilted.
Gravity plopped me onto the chair Annie’d righted with a muffled thud. “Funny kind of love.” My words croaked. But some part of me knew she was right. Mitch did love me. I pushed it into the hollow space where my mind used to live before everything tilted into crazyland.
I grabbed the table, the edge jabbing into my palm. So this was the kind of anger and pain that happened when your life shattered. The emotion churned in the back of my mind, waiting for rational thought to catch up. I watched myself through a mental telescope, fighting to keep my emotions from taking control.
Touch of Betrayal, A Page 7