by Laura Scott
Her vision of a home was very different. Her dream was to provide a warm, cozy place to raise her baby, complete with a small grassy backyard and a swing set. Her furniture wouldn’t match, but that wouldn’t matter as long as it was comfortable and childproof.
Just the thought of tiny handprints smudging the glass coffee table made her cringe. Definitely not her type of place.
Which meant Marc wasn’t her type of man.
Taking a deep, steadying breath, she headed back into the office. Marc was seated behind the desk, scowling at the computer screen. The only comfy chair she could see was an overstuffed black leather recliner in the corner. She picked up the sketchbook and curled up in the seat.
While Marc searched the FBI database, she drew a picture of a sunrise over the lake, with tiny sailboats bobbing on the water and seagulls swooping down to pluck fish from the blue depths. She used the colored pencils to add vibrant oranges and reds to the sky and a mixture of blues and greens for the water.
As usual, she became lost in her art, hearing the water sloshing against the shore, the call of the birds as they dove for food. When she finished the sketch she became aware of Marc’s intense gaze.
“I love watching you work.”
She blushed and averted her eyes, hoping he wouldn’t notice the effect he had on her. “Did you find anything?”
“Not yet. Show me your picture.”
She turned the sketchbook so he could see, feeling self-conscious about her decision to overemphasize the colors.
“Beautiful,” he said, his green gaze full of appreciation. “Do you work in other mediums?”
“Sure, when I have time. I love oil paints and was using the second bedroom in my home for a studio but had to pack everything away to make room for the baby.” She turned the sketchbook around and opened to another blank page.
She was halfway through another drawing of Marc when he jumped up from his seat, startling her. “I found it!”
“What? One of the tattoos?” She tossed the pad aside and rose to her feet. Her ankle was beginning to hurt again, but she tried to hide it as she gingerly made her way over to see the computer screen.
“Does this guy look familiar to you?” he asked.
She stared at the mug shot of a man with brown greasy hair and a bushy beard staring blankly at the camera. She took her time before shaking her head. “No, I’m afraid not. Who is he?”
“His name is Tomas Lee and he has this tattoo on his chest as a distinguishing mark.” He showed her a second photograph of one of the designs she’d sketched from the picture on his phone.
It was an identical match.
“Do you think he’s one of them? Jamison’s accomplices?”
“It’s the best lead we have so far.” Marc grinned and hit a button on the computer. Within seconds his printer whirled to life and began spitting out pages.
His excitement was contagious. This guy could turn out to be a real clue. “If we find this Tomas Lee dude, will I still have to testify?”
Marc’s smile faded. “Yes, Kari. I’m sorry, but you’ll still need to testify.”
She pursed her lips together and nodded. Deep down she knew there was no escaping the inevitable so she wasn’t sure why she kept pushing the issue. It was just that every day that went by brought her another step closer to seeing Jamison again. And even though he couldn’t hurt her anymore, she still remembered the ice in his gaze, the gun he’d pointed at her chest.
There had not been a single doubt in her mind that he would have killed her. The same way he’d murdered the bystander who’d tried to take him down. The gunshot had been so loud, and there had been so much blood.
She shivered and rubbed her hands over her arms. Marc crossed over to stand beside her. “It will be okay.”
“I know.”
He put his arm around her and gave her a hug. She rested her cheek against his chest and wished more than anything that this nightmare would end so she could go back to her normal, dull, everyday life.
When his arms tightened around her, pulling her close, she turned more fully into the embrace, wrapping her arms around his waist and tipping her head back to look at him. She intended to assure him she was all right, but then his head dipped toward hers as if he intended to kiss her.
And she couldn’t stop herself from meeting him halfway, sighing with pleasure when his mouth gently took possession of hers.
His kiss was potent, causing all rational thought to instantly evaporate. In that moment, Kari realized just how different this chemistry was from what she’d experienced with Vince.
It was more, so much more.
* * *
Marc wasn’t sure how the kiss happened, but once he’d tasted Kari, he found it difficult to stop. She was so sweet, so innocent.
It took every bit of willpower he possessed to break off the kiss, and even then he had trouble drawing breath into his lungs. He didn’t let her go right away, unwilling to cause her to misstep and hurt her ankle again.
She finally loosened her grip and pushed away, limping heavily as she made her way back to the overstuffed chair. It had been the only item of furniture that he’d taken from the home he’d shared with Jessica.
The chair had once been his father’s.
Marc rubbed the back of his neck, mentally kicking himself for kissing Kari. What was wrong with him? He’d never crossed the line with a witness before.
And he absolutely shouldn’t have done it now.
Yet at the same time, he couldn’t bring himself to apologize. Because he wasn’t sorry for kissing her. In fact, he wanted to kiss her again.
Get a grip, he warned himself.
“We need to get ready to go,” he said, breaking the uncomfortable silence.
“I know,” she said in a breathless voice.
Marc turned and walked over to the printer to gather the information he’d found on Tomas Lee and the details related to Angela’s brother’s juvie record. It hadn’t contained much, just some minor vandalism when the kid was thirteen. He slid the paperwork into a folder, then frowned when he realized the black folder containing the bit of intel he’d pulled together on his father’s murder was missing from the corner of the desk where he thought he’d left it.
Had he misplaced it? He opened every desk drawer, looking for the folder, but without success. There were plenty of manila folders that he used for work, but the black folder had contained all his personal notes, the autopsy report and the police report related to the night his father was gunned down.
“What’s wrong?” Kari asked.
“I misplaced a file,” he muttered, going through the entire office in a methodical fashion. Maybe the cleaning lady had moved it? Although he’d been using the same service for the past year and they’d never touched any of his things before.
Twenty minutes later, he collapsed back in his chair, forced to admit it was gone. Someone must have stolen it.
But who? And why?
It wasn’t like many people had access to his condo. The cleaning lady had a key as did his mother. No one else. Not even his brothers.
Of course, his brothers could probably get the key from his mom if they really wanted to. But none of them would come in when he wasn’t here. And they surely wouldn’t take the black file folder from his desk, even if they saw it.
He hadn’t told anyone in his family about the fact that he’d begun his own investigation into his father’s death. At first, he’d convinced his family to let the police detectives work the case. After all, they would have expected the same consideration if the roles had been reversed.
But when the weeks turned into months, Marc knew it was time to take matters into his own hands.
“Do you want me to help?” Kari asked. She rose out of her seat and hobbled to the
desk. “What are you looking for?”
“A black file,” he said. “But it’s not here.”
“Black, huh?” A smile tugged at the corner of her mouth and he was forced to avert his gaze, trying hard not to think about kissing her again. “Do you have something against green?”
He blinked. “Green?”
“Or blue, or red or yellow...” She waved a hand in the air. “There’s a whole spectrum of colors to choose from and you bought black folders? Really? Who does that?”
“I—um...” He sighed and shrugged, feeling a bit like a fool. “I guess I haven’t cared much about that sort of thing, not since my wife died.”
She winced as if his words had slapped her. “I’m sorry... I didn’t know. I have a bad habit of sticking my nose where it doesn’t belong.”
“Don’t worry about it.” Strangely enough, he didn’t want Kari to feel bad for him. His pain over his wife’s death was centered around his feelings of guilt intermixed with anger and resentment. Guilt, because he knew that he hadn’t been the husband she’d wanted and deserved. Anger and resentment over the way she’d chosen to cheat on him to get his attention.
The ultimate betrayal, though, was to allow herself to become pregnant by the man she’d run to. For weeks after he’d discovered her pregnancy, he’d wondered if she’d planned to leave him the night that she’d crashed. If she’d gotten pregnant on purpose, so he couldn’t ask her to stay, to try to work things out.
But sitting here now, looking at Kari, he acknowledged the fact that even if Jessica hadn’t died the night when she’d driven her car into a tree, their marriage wouldn’t have survived. He’d thought he’d loved her, but in retrospect, it wasn’t the same sort of deep, abiding love he’d witnessed between his parents.
What did that say about him? He didn’t like thinking about it because it hurt too much.
“I’m sorry, Marc,” she said again.
“Don’t be. You had no way of knowing she died two years ago. And if you want to know the truth, my father’s murder is what’s bothering me the most. The black folder contained my notes and other documents related to his death.”
“Okay, then we’ll find it.” Kari leaned against the desk, easing her weight off her ankle. “Should I look in the kitchen?”
“No. I only worked on that file here in my office.” He rose to his feet. “Could be that I accidently took it to work with other stuff. It’s not important now. We have what we came for. Tomas Lee was only held in jail for a few months then released on parole. I have his last known address here, so we can swing by and check things out.”
“All right,” Kari agreed. “While we’re here, do you want to pick up anything else?”
“Why not? Sit down. I’ll pack a duffel bag of extra clothes. I have some sweatpants and shirts for you, too.”
“I wouldn’t turn down a change of clothes,” Kari said with a smile.
He realized he should have taken her in with him when he’d picked up the knit hat and sunglasses. “We’ll stop at the drugstore on the way so you can grab anything else you might need.”
“That would be great. I’d love a hairbrush.”
He nodded. He left the office and ducked into his bedroom to quickly throw some things together. He added shampoo, toothpaste and a couple of spare toothbrushes. Anything else Kari needed could be grabbed later.
As long as he was in his room, he double-checked the drawers on his nightstand, just to be sure he hadn’t brought the folder in here. But of course it wasn’t anywhere to be found.
The missing folder nagged at him, even though he knew he couldn’t afford the distraction from the case he was currently working on. He slung the strap of his duffel bag over his shoulder and returned to his office, where Kari was waiting.
His lips curved in a grin when he saw that she’d taped her colorful drawing of the lakefront to the front of his desk, so that it was the first thing anyone noticed as they walked into the room. “Nice.”
She shrugged and came over to meet him. “You need a bit of color in your life, Marc,” she said in a low voice. “Both your wife and your dad are in a better place with God. And they’d both want you to move on with your life, no matter how painful or difficult that might be.”
His throat swelled, choking him with emotion, making it impossible to speak. He nodded, then held out his arm, silently inviting her to lean on him as they made their way out of the condo.
He wasn’t convinced Jessica was with God, but he was absolutely sure his father was. Max Callahan had lived a good Christian life, instilling a sense of community service into his children. His dad had put his life on the line more than once to protect the innocent.
Until the night he was shot down in cold blood.
Kari tightened her fingers on his arm, causing him to look down at her. “Are you okay?” she asked gently.
The invisible binds around his throat loosened. “Yes, I’m fine. Thanks.”
Her smile was tentative, as if she didn’t quite believe him.
When they reached the door, he paused. “We’re going to do the same routine on the way out of here, okay? Unfortunately, you’ll need to crouch down on the floor again.”
“Understood,” she agreed.
He wondered if leaving within an hour of arriving would look suspicious to anyone who might be watching, then shrugged it off. The SUV with tinted windows might not even belong to the gunmen.
Kari opened the door leading into the hallway of the condo. It was still empty, not unusual for this time of the day, when most of the occupants were at work.
They rode the elevator down to the parking garage in silence, and he was glad they didn’t run into anyone else as they returned to the truck. He lifted Kari inside, his heart lurching a bit when she smiled at him and murmured, “Thanks.”
He slid behind the wheel, then waited until she was settled back on the floor. After pulling on the knit hat and the shades, he put the gearshift into Reverse and backed out of the spot.
The remote control on his key ring opened the garage door. Marc gripped the steering wheel tightly, hoping the black SUV was gone.
It wasn’t.
Keeping his gaze averted from the vehicle parked across the street, he drove up the ramp and turned right, taking the opposite direction away from the SUV.
“Are we clear?” Kari asked.
One glance at the rearview mirror made his gut clench with worry. The SUV with tinted windows had pulled away from the curb and appeared to be following them. He wanted to believe it was nothing more than a coincidence, but then he noticed the small dent in the roof of the vehicle, right above the windshield.
Was it possible the dent was from the heavy-duty scraper Kari had hurled at them?
TEN
“No. We’re not clear,” Marc said in a voice that vibrated with tension. “The SUV is behind us.”
Kari curled herself into a tighter ball, closed her eyes and prayed.
Dear Lord, keep us safe in Your care!
Her body swayed when Marc turned a corner. He didn’t pick up his speed; in fact, he turned on the radio to a rock and roll station and bobbed his head to the beat.
What in the world was he doing? He wasn’t acting at all like an FBI agent.
Maybe that was the point?
Her body swayed again, and the momentum of the truck increased. It was disconcerting to be huddled down here unable to see where they were going.
“You can get up now,” Marc said, turning down the radio.
“Really? They’re not behind us anymore?” Kari began to uncurl herself from the floor.
“No, they turned around. Either they weren’t the gunmen or they went back to watch the condo.”
It took a few minutes for the words to sink in to her brain. “We g
ot away? The disguise worked?”
The corners of his mouth lifted in a smile. “Yep.”
She crawled into the passenger-side seat and snapped the seat belt in place. She didn’t want Marc to know just how vulnerable she’d felt on the floor, knowing he wouldn’t have asked her to do such a thing if there had been another way.
“Now what?” Kari glanced through her window, looking at the now-familiar landscape. They were headed west, leaving Lake Michigan behind.
“First we’ll find a drugstore,” Marc said. He glanced at her but the sunglasses hid the expression in his eyes. “Then I’d like to check out the last known address listed for Tomas Lee.”
She was thrilled at the idea of getting some toiletries, but inwardly grimaced when she remembered she didn’t have any money. Of course Marc would lend her some, but she didn’t like the idea of using his money on personal items.
Fifteen minutes later, Marc took an exit off the interstate and headed for a well-known drugstore chain. It wasn’t the same place he’d stopped earlier and she knew he’d made that decision on purpose.
When he threw the gearshift into Park, she unlatched her seat belt. Before she could ask him for cash, he pulled out his wallet and handed her several crisp twenty-dollar bills.
“Thank you,” she murmured, sliding the bills into the pocket of her sweatshirt. “You can stay here. I won’t be long.”
He nodded, as if sensing she didn’t particularly want an audience to buy personal items and other toiletries.
Kari quickly found everything she needed and made sure to mentally tally the items in her basket before stepping into line at the checkout counter.
The woman behind the counter didn’t look twice at her purchases. Kari paid the bill and then limped outside. She found herself scanning the parking lot, double-checking to make sure the black SUV wasn’t anywhere in sight.
Marc jumped out of the truck and came to meet her halfway. “Find everything? Do you need more money?”
“No, I’m good.” She kept the bag clutched close to her chest, too embarrassed at the thought of him seeing what she’d purchased. He opened the truck door for her and once again lifted her into the seat.