“Please, Olivia. Big brother will have my hide if I don’t do what he says.”
When he put it that way, she couldn’t refuse. “Come in.” She flushed at the grudging tone. “Thank you for coming. You didn’t have to.”
For the next hour, Nicco did his best to entertain her. While she appreciated his efforts, she didn’t need or want to be entertained.
Olivia tried to shake off the depression that had swallowed her whole. Sal didn’t want a future with her. He’d made that plain. She wasn’t doing herself or anybody else any good moping, so she tried to engage herself in the board game Nicco had found in her hall closet.
He moved a piece. “I win,” he crowed.
Despite her heartache, she laughed. “How do you know you won? Neither one of us can figure out the rules.”
It felt good. The laughter. “Thank you. I needed that.”
“My pleasure.” Nicco pushed aside the game and looked at her with eyes so much like his brother’s that she wanted to cry. “Whatever Sal did, he did because he loves you.”
“You’re wrong there. He doesn’t want anything to do with me.”
Whatever Nicco had been about to say was interrupted by the ringing of his phone.
She watched as consternation settled on his features as he spoke. “What is it?” she asked once he’d hung up.
“It’s my father. Mama took him to the hospital. Chest pains. She says it’s not serious, but she’s scared. I hear it in her voice. She can’t get a hold of Sal or my sisters.”
“Go. I’ll be fine here.”
He looked torn. “I promised Sal I’d stay with you.”
“I’ll be fine,” she repeated. “You need to be with your parents.”
“Stay inside. Lock the doors. Don’t let anyone in. I’ll be back as soon as I can.”
Olivia locked the door behind him and wondered what she’d do with the rest of the day. When her phone rang, she picked it up eagerly, hoping, praying it was Sal.
A glance at the caller ID showed that it was Walter.
When you’re feeling blue, do something for somebody else. Her father’s words bolstered her, so when Walter asked if she’d visit him, she said yes. How must the son be feeling upon learning what his father had done? Add to that Calvin’s murder, and Walter must be devastated.
She scribbled a message for Nicco and tacked it to the door. Went to see Chantry’s son. Be back soon. She set out for Walter’s place but knew a momentary qualm. Calvin was dead. Whoever killed him was still out there, but he’d have no interest in her, she assured herself. Not anymore.
There was no harm in going to see a friend.
TWENTY-ONE
Sal left the hospital after visiting his father. It hadn’t been a heart attack after all, but severe indigestion. His father was blustering that he was fine and wanted to go home. With the encouragement of his wife, children and the doctors, he’d been convinced to stay overnight.
“Think of Mama,” Sal had said in a coaxing voice to his stubborn father. “She’ll worry herself sick if you come home too soon.”
“Listen to Sal,” Mama said. “He makes good sense.”
Upon finding Nicco there, Sal knew he had to get to Olivia.
He was the last person she’d want to see, but he couldn’t let her be alone. The gunman who’d killed Chantry was probably long gone, but Sal wasn’t taking any chances. Not with Olivia.
As he sped to her townhome, his thoughts spun in a whirlpool of uncertainty. It wasn’t regret that sucked him in; it was shame. He hadn’t felt that for a long time, but he recognized it immediately. He’d turned away the love of a good woman, the woman he loved, because he was a coward.
He’d have flattened any man who dared to call him that, but he couldn’t deny the charge now. He’d been afraid to accept what Olivia offered, afraid that he couldn’t live up to the image she had of him. So what had he done? Thrown her love back in her face.
Much of the guilt, the rage, the grief he’d felt over his actions during his time in Afghanistan had dissolved. Olivia had given him that. Then she’d issued a challenge. Coward that he was, he’d rejected it.
When his normally robust father lay in the hospital bed, pale and wan, Sal had come to grips with the fragility of life. He could continue in his self-imposed isolation or he could reach for life and light. With Olivia.
Now he was ready to accept it, to accept the love she offered, if she’d give him another chance. It was time he got on with the business of living and that meant learning to let go.
When he was with Olivia, he felt whole.
A quick read of the note on her front door had him scowling. Why hadn’t she stayed at home? He needed to head to Walter’s house to find her. When he knew she was safe, he could tell her how he felt.
* * *
Walter welcomed her warmly. “Thank you for coming. Learning about Dad and all... I needed someone. You were the first person I thought of.”
At any other time, Olivia would have been flattered, but her heartache was too new, too raw to fully register the words. “You’re welcome.” Walter was a friend and he needed her. “Anything I can do, you know I’ll do it.”
“I always loved that about you.” Walter looked away. “When the news broke about Dad, a lot of people suddenly decided they’re too busy to see me.”
She didn’t know what to say to that. “Give them time,” she said at last.
Walter’s raised brow confirmed just how weak that sounded.
“I’m sorry. I don’t know what you’re feeling. I can only guess. But please know that I’m here for you. Whatever you need, whenever you need it.”
Walter grasped her hands. “You always were a good friend. The last years... I let so many things go. I could see Dad slipping further into a web of his own making. I tried... I tried to stop him, but nothing I said made a difference.” His voice caught on the last word.
Olivia’s heart ached for him.
Walter swiped a hand across his brow. “The press has been brutal. I suppose he deserves it. Still, seeing his name splashed across the papers as some kind of monster... I’ve been thinking of getting away. Taking a trip. Somewhere. Anywhere.”
“That’s good. You need time to heal. Away from here and all the memories.”
Walter’s laugh was hardly more than a cough. “There’s no getting away from memories. We carry them around with us, whether or not we want to.”
“You’re right. I’m sorry. I’m making a mess of things.”
The ugly word that spilled from Walter’s mouth startled her. He’d always been such a gentleman. Of course, so had Calvin.
He grimaced. “Now it’s my turn to apologize. The stress is getting to me.”
“Of course.” She looked about, saw the sink full of dishes, the cluttered counters. “Why don’t I straighten up in here?”
“That’s not why I asked you to come. Can we just talk?”
For the next thirty minutes, they talked of inconsequential things until Olivia realized she was doing most of the talking. She picked up her keys. “I should be going.”
“So soon?”
“If you want me to stay...”
“Please. As I said, I haven’t seen or talked to anyone.” He shook his head. “All of this over some files.” Another shake. “Dad must have lost his mind.”
Encouraged, Olivia leaned forward. “That’s the best way to think of what he did. Remember the man who was your father and took you fishing and taught you how to ride a bike. Let the rest go.” She knew, better than most, how difficult that was, but she wanted it for Walter. No child should have to remember his parent as a traitor, a murderer.
A phone rang. Walter looked momentarily annoyed. “Sorry. I’d better get that. Business.” He disappeared i
nto another room.
Olivia walked around the great room, approving the rows of bookshelves and the untreated windows that let the morning light spill through. A Cerberus figure in bronze caught her attention.
She picked it up. It was identical to the one Calvin had prized so much. It didn’t mean anything, she told herself. Cerberus was a common figure in mythology. There was no reason to believe that Walter was involved with terrorists simply because he had a cheaply made trinket exactly like his father’s and that it bore the same name as the file on the jump drive.
A coincidence. That was all.
There are no coincidences. Sal’s words came back to taunt her. No. Not Walter. It couldn’t be.
She searched for another explanation, any explanation but the one that was staring her in the face. For the second time in less than a week, her heart twisted with the acceptance that someone she’d thought of as a friend had deceived and betrayed her.
Walter turned, saw what she was staring at. “You saw it. Too bad.” And the shadow of greed and deceit moved into his eyes. Gone was the boy who had once taught her to skip rocks across a stream. In his place was a man she didn’t know, didn’t want to know.
She pretended ignorance. “What is it?”
The last vestiges of warmth vanished from his eyes. “You know what it is. It’s what this is all about. Dad left the bronze with me for safekeeping. Looks like it’s mine for keeps now.”
“But you...you aren’t a part of it.”
The harsh laugh gave her his answer. “I asked you to come here to see what you knew. I should have left good enough alone.” He shook his head, negating his words. “No. That’s a lie. I wanted you to know. I wanted you to see what I’ve done, that by tomorrow I’ll have pulled off one of the biggest terrorist plots to take place on American soil.”
She tried to process it. “You’re bragging about it? Bragging about being part of something that will kill hundreds—thousands—of innocent people?”
“Why not?”
“And Calvin? You and he were working together all this time?” She’d thought they weren’t that close. It turned out father and son were closer than she’d ever imagined.
“Yeah. We discovered we had a common interest after all. Making money. Did you think dear old Dad knew how to make millions? I showed him how we could by acting as the go-between for the Russians. He wasn’t about to give that up. Only trouble was the old man got greedy. He wanted more.”
Olivia tried to make sense of his words. “You turned against your own country? You were a SEAL.”
He lifted a shoulder in a negligent shrug. “It was either join the service or go to jail. I chose the former.”
“Go to jail?” Her head was spinning with every word he uttered.
“Remember that little scrape I was in fifteen years back?”
She probed her memory. “Some misunderstanding about a car, wasn’t it?”
“Yeah. Only it wasn’t a misunderstanding. I stole the car. Turns out that it belonged to a city councilman. He was out for blood, but good old Dad intervened, said how I was only acting out after losing my mother.” Another laugh. “Wasn’t true, of course. I couldn’t stand the old bat. But I faked a few tears, said I didn’t know what I was doing. It kept me out of jail, provided I enlist.”
Olivia recalled that Calvin’s wife had died fifteen years ago from an allergic reaction to penicillin. A quick calculation put Walter at nineteen at the time.
“So, no. I didn’t enlist because of Mom, flag and apple pie. It worked out pretty good. Turns out I had a knack for manipulating numbers on invoices. I learned how to scam everyone, from the mess hall cook to the sergeant over our platoon. When I got shipped overseas, I started selling on the black market. It came out, of course, but no one wanted it to get out that one of the almighty SEALs was nothing but a common hustler.”
She recoiled from his words, from the ugly look in his eyes. How had she ever thought she’d known him? He was a stranger.
“The lady’s shocked. I guess I should apologize.”
“The lady’s repulsed,” she said baldly and backed away from him.
“Where do you think you’re going?” He took two long strides, grabbed her arms. “You and I are taking a little trip together.”
She tried to pull away from him, but he was too strong. “I’m not going anywhere with you.”
“Think again.” He pulled a syringe from his pocket. “I thought this might come in handy. Turns out I was right.” Before she could react, he pressed it against her arm.
Olivia felt herself falling into a sea of blackness.
* * *
Sal needed help.
He’d driven to Walter’s place, found the house empty and Olivia’s car parked out front. Olivia wasn’t answering her cell; his calls had gone directly to voice mail. His anxiety grew with every moment.
If she didn’t want to talk with him, fine. But if it was something more... He couldn’t shake the feeling of foreboding.
He set aside his animosity for the DHS agents and punched in the number he had for Timmons. A terse explanation later, he did recon outside Walter’s house while he waited for the agents to show up, and found a set of tracks heading west. He recalled that a Land Rover had been parked outside Walter’s house when he and Olivia had visited there.
The son had to be torn up about what his father had done. Who could blame him? Calvin Chantry had not only broken the law, he’d sold out his country. For an ex-SEAL like Walter, that must have cut deeply.
Sal clenched and unclenched his fingers. He had no need to keep his eye on the clock. His internal timing knew exactly how many minutes, how many hours had passed since Olivia had gone missing. It was a skill born of long hours of watch duty. When a soldier was waiting for something big to happen, he allowed his mind to lock into the steady rhythm of passing minutes and seconds.
Ten minutes later, Timmons and Jeppsen arrived.
Sal took them through the steps that had brought him here. “There’s no sign of Walter or Olivia,” Sal said, voice tight with worry.
Sal saw the look the agents exchanged. Their grim faces matched the fear that had settled in his chest. “What aren’t you telling me?”
The agents looked at each other, looked at him. “We suspect Walter Chantry is part of the terrorist cell,” Timmons said at last.
Sal exploded. “You didn’t see fit to tell us?”
“It’s need-to—”
“Need-to-know. I get it. Your precious need-to-know might cost Olivia her life.”
“Look,” Timmons said wearily. “We’re sorry. But we had orders.”
Sal ignored that. He had no idea where Olivia was, and what was more, he didn’t know if she was even alive. His entire world had narrowed to finding her. If he lost her... He didn’t finish the thought. He didn’t think he could bear where it would take him. And he did something he hadn’t done in a very long time: he prayed.
Lord, I could really use some help right about now. Olivia’s missing and I don’t have a clue where she is. Please take care of her until I can find her.
Her life depended upon his ability to disregard the emotions threatening to consume him and to rely upon the training that had been drilled into him. He was no good to Olivia if he went off half-cocked. He took a breath. Another. Never had a mission been more important.
Think. Find a way. Assessing and evaluating before the beginning of an op were among his top strengths as a Delta.
“Chantry’s got her. I know it. He’s got nothing to lose by killing her.”
Timmons held up a hand. “Assuming you’re right, how do you suppose we find her?”
Sal forced himself to think like the soldier he was and did what he was trained to do: stay calm, stay ready, stay alert. His muscles relaxed, his bre
athing became slow and even. Burning his energy with useless worry wouldn’t help Olivia.
He told Timmons and Jeppsen of the tracks he’d spotted. “His Land Rover leaves distinctive tracks. We follow them.”
“I’ll call for reinforcements,” Timmons said and punched in a series of numbers. “It’ll take them a while.”
“I’m not waiting. They can follow when they get here.” Sal divided a hard look between the two agents. “Are you coming?”
Part of him wanted to go off on his own, but he reminded himself that he’d been successful in Delta because he was a member of a team. The unit had operated as one, with each man performing his duty.
“We’re with you,” Timmons said.
It was slow going, but they managed to follow the tracks to the edge of the marsh where they found the Land Rover.
The three men climbed out of the truck. Sal scanned the vast area. Crushing guilt filled him. The combined weight of his Delta uniform, M4 tactical vest, M9 holstered at his hip, and an eighty-pound backpack had nothing on the one sitting on his chest right now. If he’d stayed with Olivia, protected her as he’d promised to do, she wouldn’t now be at the mercy of a man like Walter Chantry.
“There’s tens of thousands of acres of marsh. How’re we supposed to find one woman?” Jeppsen demanded.
“We do whatever it takes.”
The agent had the grace to dip his head. “Yeah. Okay.”
A shot pierced the air. Clutching his shoulder, Jeppsen fell. A grimace of pain crossed his face as he tried to stand, fell back.
After making certain Timmons had taken cover and pulling Jeppsen behind a log, Sal returned fire. He recognized the futility of it, though, as he couldn’t make out the shooter in the dense forest and thick mist.
When the shooting stopped, Sal knelt at Jeppsen’s side to check the wound, saw that it was through-and-through. It would hurt, but it wasn’t life-threatening.
“Sorry. I’m afraid I’m out of commission for the time being,” the agent said between gritted teeth.
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