by Debra Webb
“That’s a tree house,” Andy said.
“Another of Nico’s engineering marvels.” She climbed the stairs and nudged open the door.
She turned on the light and illuminated a one-room cabin with a half-size refrigerator, a two-burner stove and a pot for coffee on the miserly counter. At the other end of the room, two bare twin-size mattresses were balanced on plywood and cinder blocks. He couldn’t decide immediately which shack he preferred.
“It’s the best option,” she explained. “No one’s used the camp for years.”
“If you’re sure.” Drew didn’t like being so far from the boats. As soon as they were settled he would go back and hide them. “I’ll build that fire for s’mores.” Uneasy, he renewed his commitment to convince her to cooperate with Casey.
Andy dropped his backpack on one of the beds and spun around, clearly the recipient of a second wind. “Can I help?”
“Sure. C’mon.”
Once they’d settled in for the night and Andy was asleep, Drew knew she’d ask him what he’d found that prompted the move. He also knew she wouldn’t like the answer. Although the hard evidence was circumstantial, his gut instinct said Craig Everett or his associates were steady on her trail.
Chapter Eight
Washington, DC, 8:10 p.m.
Director Casey’s phone vibrated in his pocket. He hesitated to interrupt dinner with his wife, but with so much on the line he had to check.
“I know what I got myself into,” Jo said. With her warm and wry smile she waved him off to take the call. “Go on and do your thing.”
Standing, Thomas rounded the table, bent down and brushed his lips across her soft cheek. “These days are numbered, I promise,” he whispered against her ear.
She only grinned at him as he made his way out of the dining room.
The display on his phone showed a missed call from Deputy Holt but no message. That likely meant they had problems on an operation.
Thomas returned the call, cautiously hopeful the news wouldn’t be awful.
“I know you’re at dinner,” Emmett began, “but this couldn’t wait.”
“Fill me in,” Thomas ordered, braced for the worst after hearing the gravity in his deputy’s voice.
“Craig Everett was spotted near the University of Mississippi, but we couldn’t drop a net over him in time.”
“He’s not even trying to hide his identity?”
“Not a bit.”
In a case like this, a fugitive behaving as though he were untouchable increased the odds of serious complications. “We expected him to search for Addison. He must be hoping she reached out to someone there. We thought the same thing at first.”
“Yes.”
There was a “but” coming and Emmett’s reluctance meant Thomas wouldn’t like it.
“Our tech team recently discovered alterations in Addison’s personal history,” Emmett said.
Damn it. “Financial?”
“To start.”
“Crap. He’s working to discredit her if she ever testifies against him.”
“She must know more than she’s already shared.”
That would be good for the case, but it meant Everett would do anything to silence her. Thomas couldn’t help thinking about the latest school picture of Addison’s son in the file. Drew had to get to her first.
“He’s afraid,” Thomas said, thinking out loud. “He must believe she’s capable of eluding him.”
“Agreed.” A world of concern weighed down the single word.
“How far did our team get before they lost Bryant?”
Emmett laughed. “They lost him just outside DC. Picked up the GPS in the car we provided again near Oxford, Mississippi, but lost him on the highway south. We assumed he was aiming for New Orleans. That man hasn’t lost a step, no matter what the army thinks.”
Addison had a few childhood connections in the New Orleans area, though no one who’d heard from her recently. “Then he’s still our best chance at saving Addison and her son, so we can use what she knows to take down Everett and whoever he’s working with.” Thomas prayed the fast and loose plan wouldn’t blow up in their faces.
“Whoever the leak is on the inside,” Emmett said, “he’s covered his tracks with a damned cloaking device.”
“That will make it all the more satisfying when we expose him,” Thomas pointed out.
“True.”
He appreciated Emmett’s determination to see justice served to a traitor. “Drew will find her. He’ll bring her in.” Thomas had to say it, if only as an affirmation.
“I took another hard look into Addison’s life,” Emmett said.
“What did we overlook?” If he’d dragged Bryant into this unnecessarily...
“Nothing, really. But she struck me as the sort to cover all contingencies.”
“All right,” Thomas agreed, curious now. Picking over the facts hadn’t led them any closer to where she might be hiding. “That led you where?”
“Ole Miss law school is a pretty tight community. One of her classmates works for the FBI now.”
Thomas didn’t need the file in front of him to recall those details. “You think that friend lied in the interview to protect Addison? She said she hadn’t heard from her.”
“It might be a matter of not hearing from Addison yet. This woman is a hard-core overachiever. She doesn’t leave anything to chance. It’s one thing to send out the information authorities needed to make the arrest. But she’s not stupid. She didn’t blow the whistle on Everett without understanding all the implications.”
“Keep going.” They’d talked through this before he’d brought in Drew. What was Emmett leading up to?
“She has to recognize if not who, at least how Everett was connected to his so-called investors. She sells her car and drops off the radar, but the big what-if is playing through her head the whole time.”
“What if Everett wriggles off the hook,” Thomas supplied.
“Right. The man knows her weakness is the little boy. Addison’s a tiger, she’s got something in place to make sure her son is safe and provided for if the worst happens.”
“With Drew out of the picture, who would she trust with that kind of insurance?”
“I’ve reached out to a buddy at the FBI. He can check with Addison’s friend. But I don’t believe Everett would bother with the law school unless Addison mentioned someone there.”
“She’s got the family farm in Mississippi she inherited.”
“Still no action there. Not even Bryant went through, as far as we can tell. I want to keep eyes on this law professor at Ole Miss. The file said he was supposed to give her away at the wedding.”
“Another ‘yet factor’?”
“If we’re careful, I think we can ask again without tipping off Everett’s connection.”
“Don’t put Addison’s friends in jeopardy,” Thomas warned. “We know that connection has significant access.”
“Okay, I’ll wait on that. One more thing,” Emmett said. “About New Orleans.”
Hope sparked in Thomas’s chest. “Tell me it’s good news.”
“We lost Addison heading east from Arizona. Everett has been nosing around in Mississippi. Drew was last seen on the road to New Orleans. What if we set a trap Everett and his insider informant can’t refuse?”
“Dicey.” But he knew if it worked, Drew would be off the hook and Addison and her son would be safe. “We don’t even know where she’s hiding.”
“No one does. That’s exactly why it has potential. It gives us a chance to corner Everett with some discreetly placed bread crumbs.”
Resigned, Thomas listened to the deputy director’s idea, considered his available Specialists and gave his deputy the green light.
As he walked back into the dining room, Thomas felt the full weight of taking this chance. Dicey was an understatement, especially with the gross lack of real leads on Everett’s government insider or even which department he served. Bu
t Emmett’s daring plan, taking note of who responded and how, might be just what they needed to start peeling back the layers of the convoluted situation.
Chapter Nine
Louisiana bayou
From the elevated porch of Nico’s sparse hunting cabin, Addison watched her son and his father build a small campfire. Small enough to avoid notice, she realized, wondering again what he’d found near Mama Leonie’s shack. Drew showed Andy how to put the stones in a circle and the best way to stack kindling and wood so it would burn well.
Andy could’ve learned those same skills from her. She had in fact taken him camping in Northern California, but she recognized the differences. She could give her son the world, meet all his needs, but it wouldn’t replace the father-son bond. Other men might step into the void occasionally as role models, but until now, she hadn’t realized she’d given up on finding someone as good as Drew.
She put graham crackers and marshmallows on a paper plate and then broke a chocolate bar into pieces, hoping they wouldn’t melt before she got them out there. The small tasks helped keep her mind off why she’d come back to the bayou in the first place. Whatever Drew had found, it had to be a coincidence. She respected his precautions, but Craig couldn’t possibly have discovered ties that weren’t on paper, ties she’d never shared with him.
Her past wasn’t something they’d ever talked about. Looking back, she couldn’t tell if she’d withheld the details because it felt as if she was betraying Drew’s memory or if she just didn’t think Craig would find it interesting. What did that say about their relationship? That it hadn’t been real, even in the beginning?
She carried the plate piled high with s’mores ingredients out to Drew and Andy, watching her son grin as Drew gave an overblown, in-depth lecture on the importance of finding just the right stick for roasting marshmallows.
Being a mom, she could see things would get messy in a hurry. She set the plate on the next to last step and went back inside for bottles of water and paper towels. It was hard to believe Nico managed to keep this place a secret, but she was grateful. Drew claimed he could protect them, but she wasn’t ready to rely solely on him. Craig had fooled her once. She wouldn’t let anyone fool her again.
“We found chairs and we got a roasting stick for you, too!” Andy rushed forward. “Drew made it sharp.”
“Thanks for the warning,” she said to her son, avoiding eye contact with Drew.
They took places around the fire in folding metal lawn chairs that had seen better days. She wasn’t sure she wanted to ask where they’d been stashed. Andy settled beside her, Drew across from them. She kept the supplies near her, just to make sure Andy didn’t overindulge this close to bedtime. A few marshmallows went up in flames, but Drew shared his technique and Andy practiced until he could make them almost as well.
“This is a great summer,” Andy said, his mouth full of his first successful s’more.
She couldn’t argue. Indulging in the sweet, melting marshmallow, the gooey chocolate and the crisp graham cracker made her feel almost normal. The sensation was a welcome respite.
“Do you play any sports?” Drew asked her son.
“Soccer.” Andy swiped a hand across his forehead, smearing it with dirt. “Mom says I can’t play football yet, but I have friends who play already.” He slid her a look.
She reached over and wiped his forehead before he could protest and squirm out of reach. “It’s the coaching style that troubles me,” she explained. Her son was tenderhearted and when she’d overheard the deep voices and tough words at practices, it raised her concerns. “They’re in an eight-and-under league. It should be more fun than work.”
Drew shrugged. “Moms worry a lot,” he said in a stage whisper, making Andy giggle.
“What about baseball?”
Andy sighed, gazing longingly at the plate of marshmallows. “I want to try.”
“And you will.” She hadn’t forgotten Drew’s stories of playing for his high school team in Detroit. More correctly, of his being a star on the high school team. Her plan to surprise Andy with a week at a baseball camp this summer had been ruined when she’d discovered Craig’s horrible dealings.
“There’s a community league that plays year-round. I thought I’d enroll him just after school resumes.”
“Really?” Andy jumped up and threw his arms around her neck. “That would be awesome.”
“I played baseball,” Drew said.
Andy’s arms slid away, his enthusiasm and a barrage of questions carrying him over to sit by Drew.
She listened, balancing a mix of awe and irritation as Drew and her son—their son—talked about baseball. She knew Andy watched ESPN, and in San Francisco there was always plenty of sports news, but she didn’t realize he’d absorbed so much. It wasn’t as if they made a family habit of catching the local games on television.
While they talked, she wondered if she’d really been as overprotective as Drew implied. He’d been nice about it and it had felt as though he was backing her up more than criticizing, but still.
She watched her enamored son hanging on every word Drew spoke. If they’d had a ball and a couple of gloves, she could see this conversation playing out over a game of catch on a sunny afternoon. The image made her breath catch and she reached for a bite of chocolate, letting it melt on her tongue while she tried to relax. Drew wasn’t intruding. Whether Andy knew it or not, this was his dad. Drew wasn’t the type of man to force himself where he wasn’t wanted. At least, he hadn’t been.
Whatever had happened to him after the army thought he’d been killed clearly had changed him. She was only sure of one thing right now. She wouldn’t risk Andy’s heart before she knew Drew’s intentions.
“When the summer adventure is over, I’ll take you to a ball game. A professional game.”
“That would be the best!” Andy turned to her. “Can I go?” He spun back to Drew. “Can Mom come with us?”
“Possibly,” she replied with a calm she didn’t feel. She didn’t need Andy siding with Drew, though the hero worship had obviously set in. “Right now you need to go to bed. It’s been a long day.”
Andy’s shoulders slumped, but he rallied quickly, knowing that sulking wouldn’t help his case. “Okay. We’re going exploring tomorrow, right?”
“Count on it,” Drew said. “And you’ll need a good night’s sleep if you want to keep up with me.”
Andy looked up at her, his eyes brimming with excitement that wasn’t entirely fueled by sugar. “Can I—I mean, may I?”
“Of course you may sleep,” she said, deliberately misunderstanding. Grinning, she added, “And yes. You may go exploring with Drew tomorrow.”
Giving in was worth it for the sheer delight shining in Andy’s eyes. They walked back into the cabin and she listened as he chattered on and on about riding in the boat with Drew.
“I like him, Mom.”
“Mmm-hmm. I can tell.”
“Do you like him?”
She couldn’t lie to his earnest face. “Yes. He’s a good friend.”
“Will you come along when we go to the baseball game?”
Would she? Her heart and mind leaped to opposite conclusions. Of course she’d go, she thought, as would any protective mother with an ounce of sense. But her heart imagined how it would be, her son and his dad coming home and telling her all about their guy adventure.
“Mom?”
“We’ll see how things go.” It could be weeks or even months before she felt it was safe for Andy to be out in public. “First this adventure, then the next one.”
“Okay. But I really want to go to a ball game with Drew.” Andy wriggled into his sleeping bag on top of the bed. “He knows everything.”
“He’s had lots of experiences.”
“Like this adventure is our experience?”
“Pretty much. You need to get some rest now. Which comic should we read?”
“Can Drew read it?”
The innocent
request prickled along her skin like a poison ivy rash. She didn’t want to share this precious time. She had, in fact, long since given up on the idea of sharing her son. Marriage to Craig would’ve been a partnership, but they’d had an understanding that she’d have the final say about issues involving Andy. Craig hadn’t protested. Drew would make his opinions known even when she didn’t want to hear them. “Maybe Drew can read tomorrow night.”
“Okay.”
Addison ignored the heavy dose of disappointment and picked up another issue of Captain America.
“I could read it,” Andy said.
“Sure.” She nudged him over to the other side of the bed, her back propped against the wall and her son tucked against her side.
“I meant by myself.”
She checked her first reaction and forced herself to smile. “How about you read it to me? Then I’ll be here to turn out the light when you’re done.”
Andy considered, his small fingers tracing the vibrant design on the cover. “Okay.”
She listened and turned pages as needed until Andy’s eyelids drooped and his voice faded. Satisfied he’d sleep through until morning, she walked back out to the fire to confront Drew.
He was leaning back in one of the ratty chairs they’d found, his long legs stretched out toward the fire and his fingers laced behind his head. For a moment with the firelight flickering across his features, the years fell away and she was walking toward the man of her dreams. But life hadn’t been so kind. To either of them.
“You have to stop that,” she said, halting before she got too close to him.
His eyebrows snapped together as if he’d forgotten where he was, who she was. “Stop what?”
“Stop promising my son things you can’t deliver.”
“Our son.”
She knew it. Knew it would come down to that. It didn’t matter that his claim was valid. “It’s not my fault you haven’t been involved,” she said. He’d left her once in the name of duty, and when he’d had a chance to set things right he’d left her again.