Horror filled his eyes. “No. And don’t you be saying anything about this to Shelley because she’ll tell Caleb and then it’ll be all over.”
Laughter bubbled out. “Something to hold over you. I love it.”
A panicked look crossed his face. “I mean it, Olivia. I’ll never be able to live it down.”
“Okay. I mean, I wouldn’t want you to lose your reputation as a tough guy. Even though you’re really a marshmallow.”
“Enough,” he said on a mock growl. “Do you want them or not?”
“Yes, I want them. And thank you very much. You were right. I needed something pretty.” The last few days had been ugly.
Sal tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear. “They don’t hold a candle to you.”
She didn’t know how to respond to that. Didn’t know how to respond to him. Her heart stuttered, a quick beat of panicked wings. She barely stopped herself from placing her hand there to calm the racing pulse of it. When he looked at her with such undisguised warmth, she felt as awkward as a schoolgirl.
But she wasn’t a schoolgirl. She was a woman filled with a bunch of untidy feelings that she didn’t know what to do with.
All traces of humor had vanished from Sal’s face. If she hadn’t known better, she’d say he looked guilty, but he had nothing to be guilty over. Come to think of it, he had been acting strangely ever since yesterday. When she’d questioned him about what was bothering him, he’d brushed her off.
Enough.
“Okay, tough guy. Something’s been eating at you. Spill it.”
He didn’t pretend he didn’t know what she meant. “The timing’s off.”
“What do you mean, ‘off’?”
Sal took his time in answering. “I’ve been going over what happened before Chantry...”
Taking pity on him, she helped him out. “You mean before he was blown up.”
“Yeah. Before the boat exploded.”
The change of wording wasn’t lost on her.
“In the army, we operate on facts.”
Impatient, she nodded. “So?”
“So, we’ve been making assumptions. We don’t know if they’re true or not.”
“Like what?” What was Sal trying to say? And why did she have the feeling that she wasn’t going to like it?
“What did we actually see on the boat?”
She worked to recall the series of events in her mind. Calvin had waved to her. She had started toward him, but, before she had taken more than a step, the boat was engulfed in flames. “We saw Calvin die in an explosion.” It hurt to say the words.
“Did we? Think about it. We concluded he died in the fire. That’s all. Until the authorities finish their investigation, we don’t have anything. We saw him on the boat. Then came the explosion. We didn’t actually see him die.”
“We couldn’t see anything because of the smoke.”
“Exactly.”
“There was a body.” She’d learned that firefighters had pulled a body from the wreckage.
“That’s right. A body. There’s no proof yet that it’s Chantry.”
“DNA testing takes time.”
He nodded. “Time for a man to slip away unnoticed if he wanted.”
“What are you saying? That someone else died in Calvin’s place? That doesn’t make sense.”
“I don’t know what I’m saying. Not yet. I’m just asking that you keep an open mind.”
“As long as you do the same.” Olivia struggled to process what Sal was suggesting. “Are you saying you think Calvin is alive?” Hope shimmered in the question, but there was fear as well. What did it mean if Calvin were alive?
Sal didn’t answer her question. At least not directly. “We still have more questions than answers.”
“If he’s alive, why hasn’t he gotten in touch with me? Do the kidnappers still have him? Maybe he’s injured.” Neither possibility was pleasant.
Sal’s expression didn’t give anything away. “Like I said, more questions.”
“What makes you think Calvin faked his own death? What reason could he possibly have?”
“I don’t know. What do you know about his personal life?”
Now it was her turn to avoid answering. Calvin had been unusually secretive lately. That didn’t mean anything. He’d always been closemouthed about his life outside the office.
“Whatever you’re thinking about him is wrong. Calvin’s dead. I won’t listen to you talk about him that way.”
* * *
Sal understood that he’d crossed a line. He tried to apologize, but she wasn’t having it. He searched for a diversion and remembered that they were going to check on Hewston’s claim that he hadn’t been taking bribes.
“We need to follow up on Hewston.”
Olivia nodded shortly. “We owe him that much.”
They spent the morning looking into Hewston’s finances, aided by Shelley. He and Olivia didn’t get very far, but two hours later Shelley came through.
“I dug deeper into Hewston. There’s nothing in his bank records to show any big sums of money,” she said. “On the contrary, it appears that a ton of money is going out with very little coming in other than the embezzling. And right now, we can’t be sure whether the money is coming from the embezzling or him taking a bribe.”
“Thanks, boss.” Sal hung up and turned to Olivia. “This doesn’t prove his innocence, but it does confirm at least part of his story.”
She nodded, started to say something, then hesitated. “I’m sorry for coming down on you like I did,” she said at last. “You didn’t know Calvin, didn’t know the kind of man he was. I can’t expect you to have the same faith in him that I did.”
Sal only hoped that faith was justified. A call from Nynan saved Sal from having to respond. “What’s up, Detective?”
“We have preliminary findings. I thought you and Ms. Hammond would want to know.” A pause. “Can you come down to the station?”
“We’ll be there in ten.”
Sal filled Olivia in on what Nynan had told him. They met the detective at the police station in the promised ten minutes.
After inviting them to have a seat, Nynan folded his arms across his chest. “We found several teeth in the wreckage. We matched them to records at Mr. Chantry’s dentist.”
“So that’s it?” Sal thought through the implications. “It was Chantry who died in the fire.”
“I didn’t say that. Only that we found some teeth. I’m not speculating on what that means.”
“What aren’t you telling us?”
“I’m telling you what we found. You have to draw your own conclusions.”
“Detective,” Olivia said. “I’m having a hard time understanding. You say you found Mr. Chantry’s teeth on the boat. Doesn’t that mean he died?”
“There were only a few teeth,” he said, appearing to choose his words with care. “In this kind of explosion, we’d expect to find more.”
“And the body?” Sal asked.
“Is still being processed by the ME. And that’s another thing. The body didn’t have any teeth attached. None. It almost looks like the body and teeth were thrown in different directions when the boat exploded. We’ll have DNA tests run, of course, but they take time.” The detective stood, signaling the end of the meeting.
Olivia and Sal walked back to the truck. “We need a break,” he said. “You can afford to take a few hours off.”
“A drive in the country?” The hope in Olivia’s voice told him he was right. She needed time away from grief and work.
“I don’t get it,” she said as they headed out of the city. “Why are the police stalling? Of course Calvin is dead.”
Sal didn’t answer. He was too busy watching the
navy SUV that had been following them since they’d left the outskirts of the city.
“We’ve got company. Don’t,” he cautioned as she started to turn around. “We’ll see how far these bozos are willing to go.”
He took a sharp right turn, the SUV on his tail. A series of evasive maneuvers failed to shake whoever was following them. His route took them farther into the country. The road narrowed until it was a thin ribbon of asphalt, scarcely wide enough for two lanes. He heard the engine note harden up, the grinding crunch as the driver switched gears.
Sal saw the stock of a rifle appear at the passenger side window of the sedan. This wasn’t Homeland. These were hostiles.
“Get down.”
A bullet shattered the driver’s side mirror. Too close. He swerved back and forth. He didn’t waste his energy firing back. Shooting at a moving object was much more difficult than television shows and movies made it out to be, and he needed all his concentration to keep the truck on the road.
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a turnoff, little more than a cow path. He hoped their pursuers would miss the road and speed on by.
When he didn’t hear the meaty rumble of the souped-up engine behind them, he took a breath of relief. Too late he saw the metal barrier, obviously put there to keep vehicles out. “Hold on.”
He cut the wheel just enough to avoid hitting the barrier, but the truck veered into a mud-filled gully, the engine stalled out. His entire body shuddered with the impact.
“Are we still alive?” Olivia’s voice reached him as though from a great distance.
“I don’t know.” He supposed the voice was his. At the moment, he wasn’t sure. He wasn’t sure of anything. He tried to turn toward Olivia and immediately regretted it. His shoulder and neck screamed in protest.
“You’re bleeding.”
He touched his forehead and his hand came away bloody.
“Here.” She tore a piece off her shirt. When he made to reach for it, she gently pushed his hand away. “Let me.” With infinite gentleness, she placed the strip of cloth against his forehead. “That should help.”
“Thanks.” The gruffness in his voice belied the feelings her touch stirred within him.
“Do you think the doors work?”
It was a valid question. A crash like they’d taken could very well have bent the frame to the doors, jamming them into place.
Sal pushed against the driver’s side door. It refused to budge. Okay. That wasn’t going to work. “Try your side.”
Olivia pushed her door with the same result. “I’ll crawl in the back, try one of the doors there.”
She undid her seat belt and climbed over the seat. “Easy peasy.” She scrambled out. “C’mon.”
With considerably less finesse than Olivia had shown, Sal crawled over the seat and climbed out the door as she had, but not without a great deal of pain. He landed with a thud on the ground, further jarring his shoulder, and couldn’t bite back the groan that escaped his lips.
“What is it?” she asked.
“Nothing.” He needed time to assess the damage to his shoulder. At the same time, he scanned the surroundings. Recon. Once a Delta, always a Delta.
They had to put a whole lot of distance between them and the men who’d run them off the road. Even now he could hear the trampling of underbrush. Gritting his teeth and leaning on Olivia, Sal forced himself to move. Every step was agony, but he kept going. Quitting was not an option. When he judged they’d traveled far enough and the crackling in the underbrush from the men chasing them had faded, he stopped.
The good news was that there was no sign of their pursuers. The bad news was that he was injured more than he’d let on. He and Olivia needed to get out of these woods before he wasn’t able to move at all.
He tried to focus on that, rather than on the growing pain stabbing through his shoulder. He’d sustained enough injuries in his army career to know that it wasn’t a simple sprain.
“Sal?” Olivia’s voice betrayed the fear she had to be feeling.
He didn’t blame her. Their situation was grim.
“My shoulder. I think it’s dislocated.”
“What do we do?”
“You’re going to have to set it.”
She backed up. “You’re kidding. Right?” The last word held a note of hope. He wished he didn’t have to dash it.
He let his expression answer for him. “Take off your boot.”
“My boot?”
“Yeah.” Sal lay back and propped himself up on his forearms. He hated asking Olivia to do this. He didn’t mind the pain for himself; he’d been through worse. But Olivia’s tender feelings were bound to take a hit when she learned what she had to do. She’d always possessed a fragile courage, but it was going to be put through a grueling test.
“Okay,” she said, having pulled off the ankle boot. “What next?”
“You’re going to put your foot in my armpit, then yank on my right arm until you hear a pop. That’ll mean the shoulder’s back in place.”
She looked at him as though he’d told her to shoot him in the head. “I can’t.”
“Yes, you can.”
She knelt beside him. “Isn’t there any other way? Like I carry you to the nearest hospital and then perform surgery on you with my nonexistent surgical skills?”
“A sense of humor. That’ll help.”
“Why?”
“Because I’m probably going to pass out for a few minutes, and you can tell yourself jokes while you wait.” He scraped up a laugh. It came out sounding rusty, but it would have to do. “You’re Delta-strong, lady. So let’s get it done and get out of here before some bear decides he wants an extra dinner.”
“Sal. Please.” The plea in her voice speared straight to his heat. “I can’t do this. I’ll hurt you.”
“It’ll hurt a lot more if you don’t do it.” He spied a sturdy-looking twig, grabbed it and bit down hard. “Do it,” he said, the words garbled as he talked around the piece of wood.
Olivia placed her foot in his armpit, then pulled on his right arm. The last thing Sal heard was the pop of his shoulder before he passed out.
* * *
“Sal, wake up.” Olivia heard the chatter of her teeth. Was she cold or just plain scared? Probably both.
What if he didn’t wake up? She’d done as he’d instructed and yanked on his arm with all her strength, while pushing with her foot against his armpit. The popping sound had come just as he’d predicted.
Her stomach roiled at what she’d done. She was the kid in the 4-H Club who had passed out when the troop had visited a farm and witnessed the birthing of a calf. She pushed that memory from her mind. She had to hold it together. For Sal.
She shook him gently. “Sal. Can you hear me?”
He muttered something unintelligible.
She moved so that she could cradle his head in her lap. “I’m so sorry I hurt you.”
He opened his eyes, blinked a couple of times. “You did great.” His voice sounded like his mouth was full of marbles, but at least he was coherent.
“Can you move?” She glanced around, her gaze seeking out the deepening shadows.
“Don’t know.” Beads of sweat formed along his hairline and above his lip as he tried to sit up.
She pushed him back down and was alarmed when he didn’t resist. “Not yet. Stay put and let me tend you.” Though how she was supposed to do that with no supplies, she had no idea.
“We can’t stay here. They’ll be back.”
“It won’t do either of us any good if you pass out again.” She made her voice deliberately tart. If she didn’t, she feared she’d give in to the fear that was crawling up her throat.
She pulled out her phone and wasn’t surprised to discover that she
didn’t have service. “Guess my cell plan doesn’t include coverage in the middle of a forest.” Though she tried to keep her tone light, she heard the quiver in the words.
Sal must have heard it as well. “All the more reason for us to get out of here.”
He was clearly in no shape to walk. What was it with some men that they couldn’t figure out that they weren’t invincible? She smoothed the hair back from his forehead.
He pushed her hands away. “We’ve got to put a whole lot of distance between us and whoever was shooting at us. Those were semiautomatic weapons.” He’d carried such a weapon when he’d been in Afghanistan. The bursts of fire, impossibly fast cyclic rate and foot-long muzzle flash made the automatic-semis among the most dangerous.
“But why? Whoever’s behind this has the drive now.”
“We’ll figure it out later. In the meantime, we’ve got to move.”
She helped him to a standing position, then propped a shoulder under his arm.
He looked about. “I figure we’re about ten miles from the nearest town.”
Ten miles? Sal wasn’t in any shape to go ten feet, but nothing would convince him of that.
She gritted her teeth. “Let’s go.”
At first, he refused to lean on her, but as his strength waned with each step, she found herself taking more and more of his weight. At five feet nine inches, she was no weakling, but Sal was a big man, and she knew she couldn’t go much farther.
Apparently he knew it as well. “Stop.”
She lowered him to the ground, then sank down beside him. His breathing was labored, and she wondered if he had a broken rib.
“You need to go,” he said, letting out a thin sigh. The weariness behind it alarmed her almost as much as the pallor of his face.
She forced a light note into her voice. “And leave you? No way, soldier boy. You and I are joined at the hip until this is over.”
He wasn’t fooled and didn’t bother pretending that he was. “It won’t do us any good if both of us are killed.”
“I thought you Deltas had a motto about no man left behind.”
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