by Alice Sharpe
“What about the woman you mentioned yesterday, the one who knows everything about everyone?”
“You mean Fran Baker.”
“How about asking her—”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“Because I talked to her today about…other things and it’s uncomfortable. I just don’t want her to get any more involved in my life.”
“Your life? Hannah, we’re talking the lives of a lot of other people, too.”
“They’re dead, Jack. David is dead. You’ll find out who else is involved and bring them to justice, but meanwhile, I’ve got some pretty big problems of my own to contend with. Aubrielle has to come first.”
“What about the practice sessions I saw—”
“That more innocent lives are in danger is your supposition. For all we know they practice things like that ’til the cows come home just in case.”
He narrowed his eyes. “What happened with this woman today?”
She looked down at her hands. How did everything get so complicated? “Hannah? Please?”
“She informed me there’s a rumor going around the foundation that I was seeing David, then she asked me point-blank if David was Aubrielle’s father and I told her no.”
“Are you sure you should lie to her?”
“I’m not sure of anything anymore,” Hannah said, and though that was true, she was painfully aware that Jack’s belief David was Aubrielle’s father was the real lie.
“Listen, Hannah, if she’s a know-it-all, that’s exactly why you should ask her some pointed questions.”
“You told me earlier to play it safe.”
“Safe isn’t working.” He ran a hand through his hair. “I can’t just sit here day after day waiting.”
“I’m not asking you to sit here day after day,” she said. “That was your idea.”
“Yeah, well, maybe it was a stupid idea.”
“Maybe it was. In fact, I’m sure it was. You should be outside this house, investigating things. It’s been a couple of days now and nothing more has happened to me or my family, so maybe it was all some kind of giant, I don’t know, mistake.”
“Wait a second. Are you suggesting someone mistakenly threw a rock through your window with a note tied to it? Was it meant for someone else whose car happened to get blown up that day?”
She glared at him. The silence between them stretched like a taut thread until the phone on the desk rang. It sounded like a fire alarm in the quiet room. She grabbed it before it could wake Aubrielle. “Yes?”
“It’s me,” a female voice said.
Hannah turned her back on Jack’s glowering face. “Fran? What’s up?”
“Mr. Correa has some papers he wants you to sign so they can get into tonight’s mail. Something to do with the open house—what else?”
“He wants me to drive back into work? Now?”
“No, I’ll deliver them. I’m going to a friend’s house a few miles north of you so I’ll be coming right through Allota in about fifteen minutes. I know it’s short notice, but my cell lost its signal until I got up to the top of the bluff. I could come to your place but it might be easier if you meet me at the car park on the beach.”
“Sure, I could do that.”
“I don’t remember how big and crowded it is. Shall we say the north end in fifteen minutes?”
“You got it.”
She hung up and faced Jack. “I have to meet someone at the beach.”
“Fran?”
“How did you know—”
“You said her name. This is great. It’s the perfect opportunity for you to ask her about who else traveled to Tierra Montañosa the April before this one.”
He never gave up. Well, she didn’t, either. “I’ll see,” she said.
“Damn it, Hannah—”
“Don’t swear at me,” she warned him.
He ground his teeth, took a deep breath and nodded. “Okay, sorry. But you’re going to have—”
“I don’t have to do anything, Jack.” She moved to the door, stopped and turned. “Since this situation is hardly working out the way you want, why don’t you pack up your stuff while I’m gone? Maybe that man will even trade you back your Harley for the truck. Cut your losses here, go after the people you’re so sure are up to something horrible. Just leave me out of it.”
“Knowing that David traveled to South America and lied about it and brought back all that money, you can still pretend—”
“You take care of that, I’ll take care of my family, okay? We don’t have to be enemies, it’s just time for you to go, that’s all. Grandma will listen for Aubrielle while I’m gone. You’re officially off the job.”
“Why do I always get the feeling there’s something else going on with you?” he asked with a suspicious glint in his eyes. “At first I thought you were trying to protect someone, and I was right, you were. David. Then when there were still barriers, I attributed it to the sexual thing between us. And I was right about that, too.”
“Honestly—”
“But it’s obvious there’s something else.”
“This is your imagination talking, you know that, don’t you?”
“Are you sure, cariño?” he murmured, stepping closer. “Do you really believe that?” He wrapped his fingers around her arms and stared into her eyes. It was like trying to absorb the blazing fury of a flamethrower.
But worse—she burned with the desire to tell him the truth about their baby, to trust him.
“I don’t have time for this,” she whispered, and, gently pulling free, walked out of the room. She knew he stared after her; his gaze burned holes in the back of her head.
After ducking into the kitchen for a quick word with her grandmother, she grabbed her purse and her grandmother’s car keys and left the house, refusing to think about the wisdom of what she’d just done, refusing to consider the risk she was taking, refusing to question the sinking feeling in her heart. There would be time for that later.
The beach car park was surprisingly full for a late weekday afternoon, both with commuters carpooling and with visitors to the rocky shoreline. On the bluff above the beach, a collection of steeplelike rocks gave the impression of a castle. Hannah had played there as a kid when she stayed with her grandparents, usually after her mother hooked up with one husband or the other. She cast it a fond look now.
Five minutes later it became obvious Fran had misjudged how long it would take her to drive the last few miles. Hannah got out of the car and looked around. Most of the vehicles appeared empty but there were a couple of vans without windows and work logos on their doors along with several cars in which people waited for one reason or another.
And all of a sudden, she felt watched…
There were concrete restrooms a few hundred feet away. No one occupied the sidewalks in front of them. Just to make sure, she circled the buildings, even darting inside the women’s. She couldn’t quite bring herself to peek in the men’s….
She turned and scanned the beach. It was covered with jagged dark rocks. A whole SWAT team could be tucked out of sight behind those boulders and she wouldn’t know it.
It was with a tremendous sigh of relief that she recognized Fran’s car rolling through the gates.
IF SOMEONE HAD POINTED A GUN AT his head and demanded to know why he stopped in the nursery to take one last look at Hannah’s baby, Jack could not have explained himself. He stood next to Aubrielle’s crib for a few seconds, some of his anger abating as he watched the tiny girl sleep.
Carefully, he lowered his hand until one large brown finger brushed her pink cheek. “Bye, Abby,” he whispered. “See you around.”
Now he had to face Aubrielle’s great-grandmother whom he suspected might be annoyed he had agreed to abandon them.
A few minutes later he was driving out of Allota toward Fort Bragg, Mimi’s teary eyes something he wasn’t proud of. Well, she would have to take up her tears with her granddaughter, not with him. Not h
is fault.
Still, he hoped Hannah knew what she was doing by asking—okay, telling—him to leave. But maybe she was right, maybe spinning his wheels at her house was a giant waste of time.
Face it, wasn’t there the tiniest bit of him that was relieved to be free again? He’d had months of imprisonment, of being told what to do and when to do it. Wasn’t it great to be on the road, to have control again? If Hannah Marks wanted to put blinders on and limit her concern to just her family, who was he to stand in her way? He had bigger fish to fry.
Maybe Hannah’s reluctance to face the violence that was slowly seeping around the edges of her controlled life was that she was afraid of what she’d find. Maybe she’d been afraid for so long she’d gotten used to it.
So, Jack, think. David, a man Jack knew from experience could be bought, had traveled secretly to Ecuador a few weeks before the ambush. He’d come home with a huge hunk of money he’d given to someone to hold overnight until he could go to a bank. He got called into work before he could retrieve the money. On his way to this impromptu job, he was killed in an accident.
Soon after that, Hannah’s apartment was broken into and the other mishaps she’d alluded to had started. It seemed to have come to a head just recently with direct threats at her family’s safety and directions to stop what she was doing. She claimed she was doing nothing.
Was she lying? There was something not quite right. Did she know more than she was willing to tell him?
Yes, he was sure of it.
What about the upcoming open house and the governor showing up? Could David’s money be totally unconnected? Could this have something to do with California politics?
No way to know for sure.
Okay, first thing: find out about David’s accident. Get the name of the guy who ran him over and check on him. Maybe go out to the foundation and do a little snooping, think of a disguise…
Use your head. Hurry.
HANNAH HAD KNOWN HER HOURS would increase as the foundation’s anniversary celebration grew closer, but when a call came the very next morning to come into work for an emergency, she wished she had the option of saying no.
Things were just so unsettled. Mimi was anxious and looked as though she hadn’t slept, Aubrielle was fussier than normal and Hannah’s head ached. However, Harrison Plumber made it very clear he wanted her to personally straighten out a mix-up with the caterers and as all the contact information was at the office, there was no choice.
Mimi once again invited her poker ladies to come babysit with her and promised this time she wouldn’t send anyone home before Hannah returned. As soon as the ladies started trickling in, Hannah kissed her sweet infant goodbye and left, driving the road to Fort Bragg distracted by her concerns for her family and her sadness over the way things had ended with Jack.
She liked him. He was a little on the intense side and not the kind a woman should ever count on to be around for several decades, but there was something inherently likeable about him that went beyond basic sex appeal. Watching him interact with her daughter was gut-wrenching on one hand, but it touched her to witness small acts of fondness on his part.
Better he was gone. Better for him, better for Aubrielle, better for Hannah.
By the time she parked at the foundation, her headache had gone from barely there to splitting and she began to think longingly of the aspirin bottle in her desk drawer. As she pushed open the lobby door, she ran into Hugo Correa, who was coming out.
Hugo closely resembled his father in looks. Both men were solid, stately, both had deep brown eyes and round faces. Where Santi’s hair had grown completely white, however, Hugo’s was salt-and-pepper and he wore it shorter than his father. He was also a snappier dresser, preferring well-fitted suits to the casual clothes his father wore.
Since his capture, he’d developed a limp due to the injury suffered when the GTM had shot him in the leg. It wasn’t always obvious; sometimes it was much worse than other times. Today it was barely noticeable.
“Mr. Correa,” she said with a pleasant smile. “How are you—”
He cast her a look that not only stole the words from her mouth but sent a visceral jolt to the middle of her stomach. Her hand unconsciously flew up to her throat. Breaking eye contact, he kept walking without saying even a word.
She turned in the door to look after him, confused at the lingering sense of unease the encounter had created.
And then it came to her—the rumor about her and David. He must have heard it. With fingers pressed to her forehead, she passed into the inner hallway and almost made it past Fran’s door before Fran called out.
“Hannah? What’s wrong?”
“Nothing,” Hannah said, pausing. There was a man perched on the edge of Fran’s desk, his back to Hannah. He wore a black suit, his black hair cut short.
“Are you sure?” Fran asked.
“Just a headache,” Hannah responded, staring at the man’s back.
“You just didn’t seem yourself last night at the car park,” Fran continued.
Really, did she have to discuss things like this with a stranger listening in? Okay, so she’d been odd. Upset about Jack and still fidgety over that feeling of being watched, she’d been more than happy to sign the stupid papers and go home, letting Fran deal with mailing them. She hadn’t been her usual efficient self.
“Do you need something for your head?” Fran pressed. “I have—”
“No, I have aspirin in my desk. Thanks anyway.”
“Hey, before you escape,” Fran added, “let me introduce you to Jack Carlin. Jack, this is Hannah Marks.”
The man turned and smiled at her. She’d known whom to expect from the phony ID name, but seeing him eye to eye, up close and personal, sitting on Fran’s desk as though he belonged there still took a little getting used to.
“Pleased to meet you,” Jack said, smiling.
“I met Jack last night,” Fran gushed. “He was waiting out front for me when I got home.”
Jack got to his feet and extended a hand. Hannah shook it and he passed her a blue business card. “Carlin Real Estate” was printed in bold black letters. Obviously, he’d discovered the quickie business card dispenser at the mall.
“Pleased to meet you,” Jack said. He looked so different with his hair cut, more like he had a year before, more civilized, less risky if you discounted the reckless look in his eyes. “I’m new to Fort Bragg,” he continued. “I was driving around last night looking at what’s available and I ran across the sign on Ms. Baker’s front lawn. What a great location she has. I hung around to talk to her about it in case her current broker can’t move the property.”
Hannah was about to ask if that was an ethical thing for a real estate broker to do when she came to her senses and went along with it.
“I didn’t know you were selling your house,” Hannah said.
Fran shrugged her slim shoulders. “I want something a little roomier. Anyway, Jack and I had fun talking about land values and such. I’m going to help him get acquainted.”
Jack beamed at her. “Fran promised me a tour of the foundation. It’s quite a set-up you have here.”
Fran cast him a flirty look that included a wink. Whoa. Had Jack worked a little night-time Costa del Rio magic on Fran? Hannah’s head was two seconds away from exploding.
“Are you a home owner?” Jack asked. He was speaking to her.
“Uh—no. I live with my grandmother.”
He managed to look disappointed. “Ah,” he said.
“Well, it was nice to meet you, Mr. Carlin.”
“The pleasure is all mine. If your grandmother ever decides to sell her house, I hope you’ll encourage her to give me a call.”
With a glimpse over her shoulder as she exited, Hannah saw him resettle on Fran’s desk.
Three aspirin and two hours later, Hannah had cleared up the catering issue if not the headache. She had purposely closed her door in order to concentrate without the distractions of seein
g Jack and Fran. The thought he’d taken her to bed last night ate away at her although she had no right to care one way or another.
More pressing, or at least it should be, was what to do about Hugo Correa’s obvious unhappiness with her. In all the years she’d known him, he’d never been anything but polite and generous. This morning’s cold shoulder was disquieting. How did she fix it?
If she could take back the months with David she would in a heartbeat. Maybe she should have come forward after his death and admitted their affair, but it had seemed too little too late by then and really, in so many ways, their relationship had not seemed like that big a deal.
All justification. She’d screwed up everything lately and no doubt as soon as the open house was over, she’d be asked to look for work elsewhere. Play the game, pay the price.
She looked around for Harrison Plumber to assure him everything was ironed out and found he’d left for the day, so she sent him an e-mail. Fran wasn’t in her office when Hannah made her way out of the lobby. Jack must be getting the deluxe tour….
It was sunny outside although she could glimpse a fog bank hovering over the hills toward the ocean. Great. It would be cold and dismal in Allota. There went her planned beach walk with Aubrielle.
She was only a few feet from the building when Jack dislodged himself from the old truck he’d traded his bike for and approached. He’d obviously been waiting for her.
“I’d like to talk to you about your grandmother’s property,” he said in a loud voice although Hannah couldn’t see anyone else around.
“It’s not for sale, Mr. Carlin,” she said in an equally carrying tone.
“Everything is for sale, Ms. Marks,” he said.
“Including Fran Baker?” she asked, voice much lower now.
He smiled. “Actually, I have something to tell you about your friend Fran and I’m not sure how you’re going to take it.”
“Let me guess. She’s an undercover terrorist with the GTM?”
“Funny.”
“I thought you were nervous about Hugo or Harrison recognizing you.”
“I was. I am. But I figured it was time to take a few chances. Stop stalling. You need to know Fran broke the same company policy you broke at about the same time you were breaking it.”