Keeping Her

by Holly Hart

  I flip open Sara’s laptop to call up my secure webmail and see if my neighbor has picked up his deposit yet.

  And just like that, the world flips upside down.

  Nova Chemicals Owner Sebastian Dacosta, 35, Dead; Police Investigating.

  Jesus Christ. Dacosta dead the day after I find out about Nova. It can’t be coincidence. He has to be connected with this. But why kill him? Did he talk?

  My mind is spinning again, wheels within wheels, when it hits me: I called up a screen that Sara had been reading. It was still up when I opened it, meaning she must have closed it in a hurry when I came in.

  Fuck! No wonder she was acting so strange. First I lie to her about where I was, then she sees the man we were talking about not twelve hours ago has been murdered. Of course she’d jump to conclusions, you stupid bastard!

  I glance around the room, heart racing. Her laptop is the only thing of hers left in the room. Everything else is gone. I run to the window to see the Camry is still there. She must have literally run out of here.

  My brain is working overtime as my guts crawl with panic. Finally, my training kicks in and I hear Sully’s voice in my ear: Breathe. Focus. Think.

  Breathe. My chest expands as I inhale deeply through my nose, exhale through my mouth. Once. Twice. Three times. It’s enough to slow my heartbeat so that at least it’s not pounding in my ears.

  Focus. I wipe everything from my mind except what I can control right now.

  Think. Pearce or his associates have to be behind this – there’s no other explanation. And my instincts tell me they figured out what I did last night and saw it as an opportunity to frame me.

  If I wasn’t technically on the run before, I sure as hell am now. It won’t just be the DoD looking for me, it’ll be homicide detectives.

  I need to make sure Sara is safe. I pull out my burner phone and call her number. It rings six times before going to a voicemail that’s simply a beep, no message, like we agreed.

  What do I say? I can’t talk in any detail in case the authorities find her and get into her phone. It has to say so much in just a few words.

  Before I know what I’m doing, my mouth says: “Please trust me.” I wait a beat before adding: “I love you.”

  Chapter Sixty-Six

  66. SARA

  The twenty-minute train ride to Kelsey’s gave me far too much time to think. So many questions without answers, so much at stake, so many crazy emotions. It seems I’ve barely blinked and I’m at the station up the street from her condo.

  My phone buzzes. The number on the caller ID is Chance’s. My stomach sinks as I hit “ignore.”

  Have I made the biggest mistake of my life? Or have I saved myself from making the biggest mistake of my life? I just don’t know.

  “Jesus, girl, you look terrible!” Kelsey blurts as she opens the door and sees me.

  “Thanks,” I say with a wan smile as she leads me inside. “That’s what I was going for. It’s all the rage this season.”

  Kelsey brings me a coffee and sits down at the other end of the sectional in her living room, a place where we’ve whiled away countless evenings with popcorn, beer and Netflix. I’ve always associated it with good feelings and safety.

  Now, I’ll never be able to think of it as anything other than the room where I finally had my nervous breakdown.

  “What the hell is going on, Sara?” she asks. “Sudden wedding, cryptic phone calls, a new number, blonde hair. You’re not…”

  Then her eyes widen as she realizes what she’s saying. I can read her mind; she’s thinking about my mother.

  “I’m not bipolar,” I say. “At least, I don’t think I am. My problems are coming from the real world, not inside my head. Sort of.”

  I wonder if I sound as ridiculous to her as I do to myself right now.

  “Then tell me,” she says. “Let me help.”

  With Dacosta’s death, things have gone from just crazy to downright dangerous. I can’t let Kelsey be pulled into this. But I need her clear thinking right now more than ever.

  “I can’t really talk about all of it. What I need from you right now is your opinion of Chance.”

  “My opinion? You married the guy, isn’t it a little too late to be asking that?”

  I sigh. “I can’t help but wonder if maybe I made a mistake. It’s important for me to get your read on him.”

  “Honey, letting your friends influence how you feel about a man can be a really slippery slope. It usually leads to heartache in one form or another. Besides, you’ve known Chance since you were kids. What am I going to bring to the table?”

  “I know all that, but this situation is… unique.” To say the least.

  “All right,” she shrugs. “Want something specific or just a general ‘hot-or-not’ answer?”

  “You’ve had combat experience,” I say. “You’ve been around soldiers in dangerous situations. Plus you only met him a couple of times.”

  “What are you getting at?”

  “What’s your gut impression of him? If you were headed into a firefight with him and had to sum him up in a few seconds, what would it be?”

  She frowns in thought. After several seconds, she says: “He keeps himself tightly controlled. He’d be the kind of guy you could trust to have your back.”

  “But?” I can sense she’s holding something back.

  “But controlled guys tend to be calculating, too, and they play things close to the vest. You never know what they’re going to do until they’ve already done it. That makes them unpredictable in combat, which can be a good thing and a bad thing, depending on the circumstances. Does that make sense?”

  “It does,” I say.

  “But it doesn’t help you. You want to know if you can trust him with your heart.”

  I sigh. “You read my mind.”

  Kelsey puts a hand on mine.

  “Listen, Sara, for what it’s worth, my gut tells me Chance is a good man.”

  I don’t doubt that. It’s whether or not he’s an honest man that’s killing me right now. I know he’s done things that crossed the line, and I’m okay with that. But he’s keeping things from me, and I don’t know what they are.

  And I can’t help but wonder if Sebastian Dacosta is dead because of me. Because I happened to know who he was.

  Too many questions.

  Chapter Sixty-Seven

  67. CHANCE

  I can’t take the risk of using my phone – even if they can’t trace it, they may be monitoring the people I call. So I surprise Mrs. C for the second time today.

  “You’re popping up like a stray cat today,” she smiles as she answers the door. “Just like when you were a boy, hanging around my door looking for food.”

  I take her hands in mine and her eyes widen.

  “What is it, hon? Something wrong?”

  “Is Tre planning to come over again tonight?” I ask.

  She nods. “He’s going to help me finish last night’s leftovers. Why?”

  “I need you to give him these for me.”

  I hand her an envelope full of notes I scribbled on motel stationary before I left. She cocks an eyebrow as she takes it.

  “Why don’t you just give this to him yourself? You sure nothing’s wrong?”

  “I can’t explain right now,” I say. “I wish I could. Can you make sure he gets these?”

  “Course,” she says. “But I want to know what this is all about when it’s over, you hear me?”

  “Yes, ma’am,” I say, kissing her cheek. “One last thing: tell him that Sebastian Dacosta wasn’t me.”

  Her eyes widen. “Sebastian Dacosta? The man from the news?”

  Shit. I couldn’t risk writing it in my notes, just in case they get intercepted somehow. I didn’t realize she might have seen it already.

  “Chance, what the hell is going on?”

  “I need you to trust me, Mama. Okay? Tell Tre and only Tre. And only when he comes over tonight, not over the phone.”<
br />
  She stares at me for a long moment before nodding. “All right,” she says. “But like I said, you owe me an explanation.”

  “You’ll get it,” I say, taking her hands in mine. “Thank you for trusting me. One last thing: if Sara gets in touch with you, tell her I love her.”

  She glares at me. “Why don’t you just tell her that yourself?”

  “Circumstances,” I say. “I have to go.”

  As I turn to leave, she grabs me and pulls me into a hug.

  “I don’t know what’s going on,” she says in my ear. “But you take care of yourself, you hear? And you keep Tre and Sara safe, too. I need all of you kids.”

  “Roger that, ma’am,” I say, wishing I felt as confident as I’m trying to sound.

  Chapter Sixty-Eight

  68. SARA

  Last night was the longest night of my life since the one when I sent Chance away from my door all those years ago.

  Sleep avoided me like an angry ex all night. I lay awake staring at the ceiling of Kelsey’s living room for what seemed like an eternity, going over my decisions in my head. So many regrets. So many uncertainties.

  I wonder what Chance is doing this afternoon as I walk to the Starbucks near Bishop & Associates’ office. When Grace called in a panic, I tried to think of an out-of-the-way place to meet that wouldn’t be under surveillance, but then I thought fuck it. I’m already tired of running.

  She waves at me through the window as I approach the door. Once inside, I slide into the seat across from her.

  “That’s my blouse,” I grump. “And you couldn’t have bought me a coffee?”

  I can tell by her eyes that Grace is busting at the seams to tell me something. I told her not to talk about it over the phone, even though I can’t help but wonder if Chance isn’t completely full of shit about all this surveillance stuff.

  “What’s got you so wound up?”

  “Shit is getting real, Sara,” she hisses as she leans over the table. “Quentin Pearce came by the office this morning with a check for $150,000. He said he needed to talk to you – he used the word ‘imperative.’ And he told me to mention somebody named Sebastian Dacosta to you. He said you’d know what he was talking about.”

  It’s as if I dared the universe to throw me one more fucking curveball, come on, let’s see what you got. Now it’s flying straight for my head.

  Grace looks around to see if anyone is listening to us. The coast is clear.

  “And then I saw the news online,” she whispers. “The guy Pearce said to mention was murdered yesterday afternoon, Sara. What the fuck is going on here?”

  God, I wish I knew.

  “What did you tell him?” I ask. “Did you give him back the check?”

  “No!” she snaps. “We still have bills to pay. And to be honest, Pearce didn’t seem like the bad guy you made him out to be. He was concerned about your safety.”

  “His friends attacked me in the park, Grace!”

  “Are you sure about that?” she asks. “Or were they defending themselves against you?”

  The moments run through my mind again: they definitely started it, but if I’m being honest, Pearce didn’t condone what they did. He tried to get them to stop. “Don’t hurt her! I told him this was a stupid idea!”

  Christ, I’m actually sitting here wondering if I can trust Quentin Pearce. Of all people.

  Grace’s voice snaps me out of my head.

  “I told him I’d try to get in touch with you,” she says. “So here I am. Tre is working with him, Sara. Why won’t Chance? What’s the deal?”

  I shake my head. “It’s too complicated to go into here.”

  “How convenient,” she says with a fake smile. “Look, Sara, all I’m saying is that Quentin Pearce didn’t seem like the demon you made him out to be, and Tre thinks he’s all right. And he paid us what he said he would. Meanwhile, you and Chance just keep saying ‘bad guy.’ Well, pardon me for not thinking the same way you do.”

  I’m so exhausted that I’m actually considering this. ’I told him this was a stupid idea!’ Is Pearce under the thumb of his partner? Maybe he actually is trying to help me. I can’t be sure of anything anymore.

  “So what does he want with me?” I ask.

  “He said he just wants to talk,” Grace pleads. “That can’t hurt anything, can it?”

  How should I know? The last time we talked, I beat the shit out of his associates. But that was before Dacosta showed up dead and Chance started lying to me.

  “Fine,” I say. “Give me his number. I don’t have the contacts from my other phone.”

  She slides a piece of paper across the table and I tuck it into my purse.

  “Sara, are you really okay?” she asks. “You’re in the same clothes you were wearing yesterday. And where is Chance?”

  “I’m fine,” I lie as I stand up to leave. “And I don’t know where Chance is.” That’s the truth.

  “Then what are you going to do?”

  I run my hands down my face to try and wipe the exhaustion from my mind.

  “I’m going to get to the bottom of this,” I sigh. “No more running. I’m going to start taking the fight to them.”

  Chapter Sixty-Nine

  69. SARA

  A mall food court isn’t exactly the place you’d expect high intrigue to go down, which is exactly why I chose it for this meeting. Anything out of the ordinary happens here and people will have their phones out recording it in no time flat.

  I see them walking toward the eating area before they see me. They’re both in impeccably tailored suits, and it suddenly strikes me that Tre actually has a lot in common with Quentin. They’re both business majors with money on their minds at all times. The fact that they found a way to work together shouldn’t surprise me.

  Tre catches sight of me and his eyes widen. He jogs over and pulls me into a hug.

  “Thank God,” he says. “I was so worried about you!”

  “I’m fine,” I say stiffly, not returning the embrace.

  “Where’s Chance?”

  “I don’t know. That’s probably for the best.”

  Pearce points to a table and we sit, the two of them side by side, me opposite them. I want them to know in no uncertain terms that I don’t trust anyone right now.

  Pearce speaks first: “I was hoping that you would at least hear Tre out, since you’ll likely never trust me again after that night in Lincoln Park.”

  “You think?” I say with a quizzical smile.

  He nods. “You have every right to be angry. My choice of companions was an associate’s idea; I was against it but he insisted. I apologize for their conduct. Although, to be honest, you were the one who resorted to violence first.”

  “I might do it again right now if you keep pissing me off,” I say evenly.

  Tre holds up his hands in surrender and turns to Pearce. “Don’t take this the wrong way, Quentin, but I’d appreciate it if you kept your fucking mouth shut for the rest of our time here. Okay?”

  Pearce glowers, but does as he’s told.

  “Thank you for agreeing to this,” Tre says to me. “I was hoping to be able to talk to you without Chance being here.”

  I flash back to the afternoon when Tre came storming out of Chance’s office after arguing.

  “Why?” I ask. “He trusts you. What can’t you say in front of him?”

  He frowns. “Chance has always been like a brother to me, but I’m worried about him right now. I think this offer from Empire has him on the ropes. At first I thought it was just his pride, that he didn’t want to lose Atlas. But now I think there may be more to it.”

  “Like what?”

  “You remember when we were kids, he got in trouble. That one time he went after his foster father –”

  “Because that so-called ‘father’ tried to put his hand down Chance’s jeans!” I bark. “What of it?”

  “Shit,” Tre breathes. “He never told me that part of the story. But even th
at speaks to the point I’m trying to make. He’s dealt with a lot of shit in his life where he didn’t have control over what happened to him. His way of coping with that was to become the kind of person who takes charge, who gets things under control. It’s why he was such a good Marine, and why Atlas is what it is today.”

  “You’re listing off his character traits,” I say, trying not to draw lines to what Kelsey said about control. “So what?”

  “So this offer from Empire was beyond his control, and he didn’t like it. He didn’t want to lose control of the company, but he also couldn’t come up with a plan to convince the Sullivans not to sell.”

  “And?”

  “And when you found out about the angel investor, he lost even more control.”

  My stomach drops. “You’re saying that marrying me was just part of a scheme?”

  Tre shakes his head. “I can’t say that for sure. All I know is that before we had our falling out, he was talking about manipulating you because you were investigating the company. I told him I was against it, that putting your feelings on the line was out of bounds.”

  Suddenly all the sounds around us in the food court seem to fade into the distance. I’m surrounded by people and yet I feel utterly alone.

  “Sara, did Chance ever tell you about Sebastian Dacosta?”

  “Yes,” I say through numb lips. “And I know he’s dead now.”

  “Did he tell you they both worked for Sully in Iraq?”

  My heart freezes. “No. He never mentioned that.”

  “Dacosta was one of Sully’s hired guns in the days before he and Chance expanded Atlas. There were always rumors of ties to the CIA. And Quentin here has told you about the intel he has on CIA money being embezzled into Atlas as a so-called ‘angel investment.’”

  I say nothing. My mind can’t form any words.

  “It’s very possible that Dacosta knew about that and was the source of that intel to the people who gave it to Quentin.”