by Debra Webb
Heath pushed aside the whole subject and directed his attention to reading reports. Simon had suggested that he read the past year's case reports in order to get a better handle on how the Colby Agency conducted business and the level of insight expected from him. He'd already worked on a couple of cases with other investigators. Soon he would get his first assignment. He wanted to be prepared. The internal affairs investigation notwithstanding, he really liked it here. He wanted to fit in and do a good job. It had been a while since he'd felt right with his life, professionally or personally.
Despite this morning's overbearing announcement by Danes, Heath wasn't worried. Cole Danes was looking for someone who'd fed information to Victoria's longtime enemy over a period of years. The guy, Leberman, had been eliminated before Heath received news he'd been hired. He had nothing to worry about in this investigation. Still, Danes made him uncomfortable.
Someone very much like Cole Danes had ended Heath's career as a cop. Well, that wasn't exactly true. Heath had been the one to resign on his own. But it was the kind of cold intimidation tactics he saw in Danes that had made him walk away. The distrust and suspicion heaped upon him had been a rude awakening for a guy who'd put in eight good years. Had never once gotten out of line or failed to do his duty.
In the end that hadn't counted for squat. He'd been looked upon as just as guilty as his partner until Heath had been cleared. What happened to innocent until proven guilty? Apparently during an internal affairs investigation there were no innocents. That was the part that bothered Heath the most. He'd trusted his partner and look where that had gotten him. Maybe Cole Danes wasn't so far off the mark. When things got down to the nitty-gritty a guy could only trust himself.
A cold hard fist of memory hit him square in the gut. And then there were those times when he couldn't even trust himself.
A quick rap on his door jerked Heath from the troubling thoughts just as it opened.
"I need a few moments of your time, Mr. Murphy."
Cole Danes entered Heath's office and sat down before he could assimilate an appropriate response. Damn. Maybe this guy could read minds and wanted to make sure Heath didn't feel left out.
Heath set aside the report he'd been reading. Might as well get this over with. "What can I do for you, Mr. Danes?"
Piercing blue eyes studied him for what felt like a mini-eternity before an answer was forthcoming. "I'm aware that you've gone through an investigation of this nature before during your days on the police force in Gatlinburg, Tennessee."
Tension tightened in Heath's gut. "That's right."
"Although you were cleared of any guilt you walked away from a promising career."
"I did." He scarcely kept the rest of what he wanted to say in check. What the hell did his past matter? What did it have to do with here and now?
"Then you're aware a certain level of intimidation is necessary to accomplish the mission."
The impulse to grind his teeth was irresistible. Oh yeah, this guy read minds all right. He'd known exactly what Heath had been thinking this morning. "I'm aware that people in your position appear to think so."
Danes's mouth quirked with a less than polite smile. "Touché, Mr. Murphy."
Heath considered briefly whether he should relax or get worried. He decided on the former. Cole Danes was only doing what he did best, unsettling his target's piece of mind.
"I understand you've worked a couple of cases with other investigators here at the agency."
Heath nodded. "That's right."
"Good. I spoke with Victoria this morning and she agrees with my decision on the matter at hand."
That announcement surprised Heath. He hadn't figured Danes for the sort who would take advice from anyone, much less seek it out.
Danes pinned him with that laserlike gaze, demanding full attention. "Since this I.A. investigation doesn't actually pertain to you, I intend to put you to work for me."
"Come again?" Heath must have misunderstood. He was brand new here, hadn't worked a single case on his own. Not to mention that Danes clearly saw the I.A. investigation in his past as a black mark whether he said as much or not.
Danes explained, "The only lead I have at the moment regarding Leberman's connection to the Colby Agency is a man named Howard Stephens. Lucas Camp believes Stephens worked closely with Leberman. I need to find this man."
"Okay," Heath said slowly, drawing out the syllables.
"What do you know about him?"
"Not very much. He's former military, a black operations unit within the realm of Special Forces. Twenty years ago his family believed he left the military to join the CIA. According to the intelligence Lucas has collected, Stephens's wife died five years ago and he has made the rare appearance to see his only child, a daughter, since. She's the sole link we have to the man."
Heath considered the information for a moment. "Is he still CIA?"
"He never was CIA. According to military records, Howard Stephens died eighteen years ago. We believe that's when he started working for Leberman, but we have no conclusive evidence."
"So the only hope you have for discovering Stephens's whereabouts is through his daughter?" Heath didn't like where this was headed.
"Therein lies the trouble," Danes went on. "She is our only link to him—however, I doubt she knows where he is any more than we do. From what I've gathered, he simply shows up from time to time. She never knows when." Another of those utterly fake smiles twisted Danes's lips. "Kind of like a kid waiting on Santa Claus. Sad, wouldn't you say?"
A sickening sort of dread pooled in Heath's gut. He could feel the worst coming. "You're going to use her to find her own father."
"Actually—" Danes leaned forward a bit "—you are."
The impact of those three words slammed into Heath. Every instinct shot to a higher state of alert. "Why me?" He had the least experience of anyone on staff. He understood that he was the only employee exempt where the I.A. investigation was concerned, but surely that alone was not qualification enough for such an important mission. Bottom line: he didn't like this. He had a bad, bad feeling about it. Heath didn't like using people period. Not like this certainly.
Danes shrugged nonchalantly but his expression was anything but casual. "You're the only investigator clear of my suspicion at the moment. You know that."
Heath also knew that there was much more to this decision. A man like Cole Danes would never pin something so important on so little.
"I also know that I'm the least qualified." Heath stated the obvious that Danes appeared to overlook or to skirt. "Being a small-town cop doesn't prepare you for investigations involving guys like Leberman and Stephens. Even homicide detectives don't get the James Bond super-spy course. You want to share the real reason you picked me for this assignment?"
Another of those disingenuous smiles. "Jayne Stephens works as a tour guide and volunteers on a mountain rescue team in Aspen, Colorado. Your mountain-climbing skills are essential."
Ice spread through Heath's chest, freezing every thing in its path in a single heartbeat. "If you know as much about me as you think you do," he said tautly, "then you know I don't do that anymore." A dozen painful memories flashed through Heath's mind before he could stop the soul-shattering process. He clenched his jaw and squashed the images. He would not go there.
"That's right." Danes looked thoughtful for a moment. "Your girlfriend fell to her death. It was an unfortunate accident, of course. Those things happen," he offered glibly, "even to the best."
And Heath had been the best. That's what made the whole situation so unbearable. Heath never met a rock face he couldn't scale. He'd stayed in shape more for that hobby than he had for his job as a robbery/homicide detective. It wasn't like there was a lot of crime in his town, but living in a tourist hot spot like Gatlinburg had ensured that he'd met all kinds. A couple of skiers from Utah had changed his life. They'd invited him rock climbing in what they called the real world. Not the kind of uphill hiking he'd d
one his entire life in the Blue Ridge Mountains of Tennessee, but the vertical treks up the Rockies of the West. The true danger zone. The kind of challenges an adrenaline junkie couldn't resist.
He'd loved it, had lived for the thrill. And then he'd made his one mistake. He'd wanted to share his passion for climbing with the woman he loved. Had told him self he could teach her all she needed to know…could keep her safe.
"You picked the wrong man for the job," he told Danes, his voice strangely emotionless as he dragged himself from the place that still gave him nightmares in the dead of night.
Danes shook his head. "I'm never wrong, Murphy. Trust me on that." He tossed a file onto Heath's desk. "Study it. You leave tomorrow."
Heath's gaze riveted to the manila folder as if it contained a contagious, deadly virus. He hadn't skied or climbed in three years. Had sworn he would never…
"Let me know if you have any questions."
Heath's attention jerked upward. "Wait."
Danes hesitated at the door, an unmistakable impatience in his posture.
"I'm not sure you understood me," Heath said flatly.
"I can't do this." Uncertainty quaked through him, leaving a too-familiar tremor of weakness. It was out of the question. Impossible.
"Fear can be a good thing," Danes told him, "if you use it to feed your determination."
Anger pushed Heath to his feet and he held up both hands, stop-sign fashion. "Just a damned minute." The fury rushed through him, burning away the chill of remembered pain…the regret and fear that ate at him still. Who the hell did this guy think he was? He was playing God here. Messing around with things that were better left alone. "Even if I did agree to do this, which I won't, how the hell do you expect me to get the information from this woman? Howard Stephens is her father. She isn't going to roll over on him without some big-time motivation."
Silence hung in the air for a pulse-pounding second that felt like ten with Danes's relentless glare boring straight through Heath.
"Any way you have to," Danes told him. "Coerce her, seduce her—whatever it takes. Just get the information."
Heath shook his head. "You said her father just pops into her life," he argued. "You said yourself she likely has no idea where he is."
"Correct," Danes allowed. "I'm certain she doesn't know his location any more than we do."
Heath scrubbed at his forehead and the tension nagging there, hating the fact that his hand trembled with the effort. "Then what the hell is the point?"
"I've put the word out that we intend to get to Stephens through his daughter," Danes said bluntly. "I'm certain that will get our target's attention. We shouldn't have to wait long."
A new blast of outrage obliterated all other emotion. "Doesn't that put her directly in the line of fire?" Heath demanded. Who knew what a guy like Stephens would do to protect himself? Surely Victoria Colby-Camp hadn't sanctioned this kind of maneuver.
"Right again, Murphy. She's the only connection we have. The only bait." Danes opened the door but hesitated once more before exiting, that Arctic gaze pressed in on Heath with renewed ferocity. "I would suggest that you get on the case before he has time to react to the news. Blood isn't always thicker than water."
Danes walked out, closing the door behind him with a succinct thud of finality.
Heath could only stand there, trying to get his fury back under control. What kind of man was this bastard? Obviously the kind willing to risk an innocent life to accomplish his mission.
"Dammit." Heath dropped back into his chair and stared at the folder on his desk. He closed his eyes and forced away the memories that tried once more to re-surface. How the hell could he do this? He'd come to Chicago to put the past behind him. He never wanted to think about the mountains again. Never again wanted to see the way his family and friends back home looked at him. It was his fault she was dead. He knew it. They knew it. He hadn't been the same after that. If he had, he'd have picked up on his partner's dirty game before it was too late. But he'd failed there, too.
He'd let the woman he loved down and he'd let the Gatlinburg police department down, as well.
All he wanted now was to start over.
He could talk to Ian or Simon. Maybe get one of them to call Victoria and get something done about this.
Heath braced his forehead in his hands, kneaded the tension throbbing there. Then they would all know the truth about him.
He was a damned coward.
Afraid of a couple of ghosts from his past.
Scared to death he'd make the wrong decisions all over again if presented with a similar scenario.
How the hell was he supposed to do his job when he couldn't get past the fear?
Reluctantly, his fingers trembling in spite of his every effort, he opened the folder. Big green eyes stared back at him. Long brown hair and a smile that, despite being captured in a mere photograph, took his breath away. Jayne Stephens, 24, soon to be 25, he noted. Her birthday was only a few days away. She looked young and innocent, but there was something else in those eyes that Heath hadn't seen in his own for a very long time. Happiness. This young woman had the world by the tail and her whole life ahead of her. She was in love with life. He could see it in her smile…in those incredible eyes. But that wouldn't last long.
She had no idea that her own past was about to come crashing into her present. Could she possibly know who and what her father was? Though Heath didn't get around much to seeing his own parents anymore, they did talk on the phone fairly often. But that was his fault. He'd made the choice not to go back. Yet, no matter how he felt about his past mistakes, he would still do any thing to protect his folks.
This woman would be no different.
Heath read her file from cover to cover. Absorbed the details and facts that made Jayne Stephens who she was. Her life was quiet, organized and predictable. She had nothing to hide. Avoided the limelight and always gave credit to her team members rather than herself after a rescue.
Then he did the only thing his conscience would allow, he called the airline and booked himself on tomorrow's earliest flight to Aspen.
He refused to consider what the weather would be like there right now with February making up for January's lack of potency. Lots of snow. Lots of tourists. Valentine's Day weekend was coming up. Couples just wanting to enjoy a weekend getaway while hard-core skiers and climbers piled into the town like an overdue avalanche.
When he reached the page that outlined his cover profile a laugh choked from his throat. An investigative journalist? Oh yeah, that was perfect. He'd been cleared by the owner of a local guide service, Jayne's boss in fact, to do a piece on the mountain rescue team. He'd have to give Danes one thing, he'd tied up every detail in a neat little bow. The way had been paved with gold bricks for Heath's entrance. All Heath had to do was show up…and pretend that the past didn't matter. That the snow and the mountains hadn't cost him far too much already. He swallowed back the emotion that scaled into his throat.
He needed the Colby Agency. He couldn't fail, couldn't walk away from his first assignment. Even the shrinks would say that it was past time he'd come to terms with the ghosts that still haunted him.
But that didn't make it any easier.
He flipped back to the photograph of Jayne Stephens. He'd much rather stay here and be stuck right in the middle of the maelstrom this I.A. investigation would surely generate than to set foot on a snow-covered mountain.
Heath closed the file and stood. Well, considering that Danes had already put out the word that Jayne Stephens was a target of this investigation, Heath had little choice but to do what had to be done.
Every instinct he possessed warned him that her father would want to make sure she kept quiet about him.
There was no way to gauge what Howard Stephens might be capable of or willing to do to assure his own safety.
Jayne Stephens's quiet, organized life was about to spin out of control.
CHAPTER THREE
Move
it or die.
Jayne Stephens plunged forward, climbing at a relentless pace over and through the snow, her snowshoes sinking into fresh powder and dragging at her determined efforts. White was all around her, interrupted only by the occasional fir tree. She focused on the goal: the avalanche beacon that would ultimately save the lives of three trapped climbers.
As team leader, Jayne kept moving, not slowing even as her forty-pound rescue pack dragged at her weary shoulders and the lung-searing cold puffed in and out of her mouth like blasts of frozen fog. The four-man "hasty" team she led would reach the victims first, do what they could and prep for the arrival of the "support" team. The support team, weighted down with a full rescue load, couldn't move as quickly and efficiently through the morning's fresh snowfall. A full twenty-four inches had fallen in the wee hours before dawn, the snow-packed ice beneath making for perfect avalanche conditions. The absolute crappiest conditions for a rescue.
Jayne glanced at the oddly dark sky. More snow would fall. Soon. If they couldn't get those climbers out this morning, they might not make it out at all. The coming storm would force both teams back.
It was the first rule of rescue: Create no new victims.
But Jayne had no intentions of failing those hikers or her team. They would all make it out.
A new rush of adrenaline urged her onward, pushing her body past the point of exhaustion…past the dark timber of subalpine fir. Just a little farther now. Move faster. Push harder. Don't think, just move it.
Despite the fierce cold a line of sweat slid down her neck. All she had to do was make that ridge and rappel over the side to reach the trapped climbers. Assessing health condition and treating anything life threatening was the most pressing order. Then fuel for the body, solid and liquid, both of which she carried in her pack. By the time the support group arrived she and her team would have the victims ready for transport.