***
Dylan’s life panned through her mind, from her earliest years to this terrible unforeseen moment. She could see it in Richardson’s tormented expression. It would all end here and now, shaping her brief life into a pointless melodrama.
In terms of her professional life, she harbored no regrets, but what about her personal life? Richardson’s fingers bit into her wrists. His chest seemed to expand as he prepared to hurl her off the ledge to her death. And out of the corner of her eye, she glimpsed the camera man bracing himself to film whatever happened. She was going to die. The anguish and regret on Toby’s face told the same story. At the same time, it communicated just how much he loved her. He’d told her the truth about that. He hadn’t lied!
From the recesses of her being, her spirit protested. Why should she be forced to leave this world and the resurrected life she had found in Toby’s arms. “No-o-o!”
Her visceral protest cleared the haze from Kevin’s eyes replacing it with sudden clarity. His eyes jerked left, center, then right, absorbing the presence of agents in the basement and on every side; townsfolk gaping; the media filming; even Milly, all poised in positions depicting dread as they waited for him to act. When he looked back at Dylan, the realization of what he’d done and what he was doing registered on his face.
“Oh, Dylan. Please forgive me,” he rasped. The crushing grip on her wrists abruptly eased. His eyelids sank shut with an air of resignation He folded his arms across his chest and pitched backward, in slow motion, off the ledge into nothing but space.
“No!” Dylan lunged for him instinctively. Her own scream filled her ears as she lost her balance, her arms wheeling in an effort to recover. In the next instant, a powerful grasp snatched her back, suspending her shrill cry as she watched Kevin’s body strike a projection, bounce, flip, and plummet some more.
“Don’t look.” Tobias crushed her to him, blocking her view and banding her in the safety of his arms.
“Oh, God, oh, God!” she cried in a high, frightened voice.
“It’s over,” he crooned. “Shhh.” His soothing voice and the sound of his heart galloping under her ear suspended her outburst as he guided her to safety. A number of hands reached out, hauling them out of sight of the crowd and back into the cellar. From there she was swept up the steps into the warmer sacristy where Tobias drew her down on the sofa next to him. Palmer and his three subordinates, even her priest, formed a tight circle around them.
Too overcome to speak, Dylan hid her stricken face against Tobias’s shoulder. His warmth fended off the icy coldness that made her shiver uncontrollably. The sweet assurance of his embrace mingled with her recollected horror, keeping her detached from the storm breaking loose around her, as Tobias thundered, “Palmer, you son-of-a-bitch, you used her as bait!”
“Now, calm down, Burke,” Palmer warned, pointing a finger at him. “We had her monitored the entire time. Nothing would have happened to her.”
“That’s bullshit. Richardson could have thrown her out that door, and you couldn’t have done a thing to stop him.” Patting her down with gentle hands, Tobias found the recording device in her breast pocket. He drew it out and waved it accusingly. “Is this how you were monitoring her?”
“Give me that,” Palmer snapped. “Do you seriously think we could’ve convicted Richardson on the basis of a single, synthetic fiber? Wake up. We needed more proof than that.”
“At Dylan’s expense?” Toby slapped the wire tap into Palmer’s hand. “Here’s your goddamn proof. And now your suspect is dead, having nearly killed Dylan in the process. I can’t believe you threw her in this room with him without checking first if there was a basement door.”
“Er…I’m afraid that was my idea.”
Father Nesbit’s timid confession pulled Dylan’s face out of Toby’s shoulder. She looked over to find the priest hovering at the door.
“I’m so sorry, Dylan,” he cried, meeting her eyes and shaking his head to forestall her suspicions. “I swear to you, I had no idea what he intended. Richardson and I often discussed the tragedy of war and what it’s done to veterans like you. But I had no idea he was willing to kill to keep another war from breaking out. My God!” He wrung his hands in obvious distress. “Who would never have guessed that he could murder in the name of peace, especially when he expressed so much concern for others—and for you.” Nesbit broke into a sob. “I was so afraid you might hurt yourself! I arranged for him to meet you, thinking he would help, never suspecting…”
“It’s okay.” Relieved that her priest hadn’t betrayed after all, Dylan crossed the room to console him. “It’s not your fault.” Glancing back, she impaled Palmer with an accusing gaze. “It’s exactly what the FBI hoped would happen.”
Tobias glared at Palmer also. “Since you now have what you came for, I’ll be taking Dylan home.” His tone brooked no argument; nor did it allow for a return to jail to process papers. “I assume she’s no longer a suspect.”
No longer a suspect. The words blew through Dylan’s mind like a warm, spring breeze. She felt compelled to pinch herself. Was it truly over?
Palmer flicked her a dismissive look. “We may have questions for her later, but—yes—she’s free to leave.”
A bitter laugh worked its way up Dylan’s throat. “That’s it?” She narrowed her eyes at the agent. “No apology? No statement to the press?”
“Our public affairs officer will issue a statement in time,” Palmer promised. “As for an apology, I spent three nights hunkered on the cold, hard ground making sure your trigger-happy soldiers didn’t open fire on federal agents. Count yourself lucky you got off as easy as you did,” he retorted.
“Lucky? Is that what you call it? I have every right under the American Constitution to defend my own land.”
“That’s our cue to leave,” Tobias interjected firmly. “You have a body to collect,” he coldly reminded Palmer. “Come on, sweetheart.”
With a hand under her elbow, he escorted her past the priest into the now-empty sanctuary, where she broke away to collect the urn from its pedestal. Carrying it reverently, she marveled that she would, in fact, get to disperse Terrence’s ashes, after all. The events of the past twenty minutes replayed in her mind, subjecting her to shivers that would not subside, not even when Tobias took her other hand and led her to the exit.
The doors had been bolted shut, presumably to keep the public from reentering. As Tobias opened them and drew her out, the crowd hovering on the portico and in the piazza before it erupted into exclamations of victory.
Unable to push past them, Dylan acknowledged the well-wishes with a strained smile. A journalist, forcing her way through the crush of bodies, stuck her microphone into Dylan’s face and barraged her with questions. Dylan turned with relief to Milly, as the dog wriggled through the crowd, planted her front paws on Dylan’s chest, and licked her face with exuberance.
“No comment. Let’s go.” Tobias and the light-skinned agent who’d once worked for Palmer used their athletic frames to carve a path through the crowd toward the parking area on higher ground.
The tenacious journalist pursued them. “Who was the man who just fell to his death?” she demanded. “Is it true that he tried to kill you?”
Another journalist shouted from the crowd. “Are you still the primary suspect in the Nolan and Treyburn murders?”
Halfway up the steps, Dylan halted. “I have to say something,” she told Tobias. Here was her chance to reclaim her reputation as an ordinary citizen with God-given rights, not the fanatic the federal government had portrayed her as.
Tobias gestured for her to go ahead.
Facing the crowd, Dylan raised her voice to thank the town of Harpers Ferry and her militia members for supporting her. “In the famous words of my ancestor, John Brown,” she called out, raising her voice so that everyone could hear her, “‘This is a beautiful country.’ We may all have our differences, but ultimately, we are all united and protected under the America
n Constitution, which guarantees us the right to bear arms against tyranny and corruption. Today, my good name has been restored, and the charges against me dropped.”
Her announcement elicited a roaring cheer. With a final wave for the crowd, Dylan allowed Tobias to guide her up the remaining steps to a waiting vehicle.
“I want to sit with Milly,” she insisted when he tried putting her up front.
Before he could protest, she dove into the back seat where she wrapped her arms around a supremely happy dog. Milly’s warmth eased the shivers that continued to wrack her. The memory of her horror on the ledge replayed through her mind as she processed what had happened.
Tobias’s colleague drove them away, but moments later, they were idling at a standstill in the congested, narrow street. The whoop-whoop of a siren startled Dylan into looking up. Sheriff Cal Fallon circled their vehicle on his motorcycle. With a wave of his hand, he signaled for them to follow him, using his lights and his imperious gestures to part the traffic before them.
Dylan closed her eyes with relief. Soon the town of Harpers Ferry and the chaos that had surrounded her for days would be a thing of the past. Opening her eyes again she found Tobias studying her over the back of his seat. His protective gaze cloaked her in warmth
“You okay?” he inquired.
Dylan drew a shuddering breath. “I thought he was my friend,” she whispered, stating out loud what disturbed her most about the recent tragedy. Despite her efforts to stem them, tears of betrayal and dismay welled in her eyes. How could such a well-meaning man have turned into a murderer? Not only that, how could he have lived with himself for making it look like she was guilty of the crimes he’d committed?
“He was your friend, sweetheart,” Tobias assured her. Reaching through the seats, he laid a hand on her knee. “If he weren’t, he would have thrown you over that ledge and told everyone that you’d committed suicide. I’m sure he was tempted, but he didn’t do it. He took his own life, not yours.”
The memory of Kevin’s body bouncing like a rag doll down the side of the mountain made her stomach pitch. She swallowed down her sudden nausea. “He said he never meant to hurt me,” she relayed. “The way he figured it, my life was already ruined, so what difference did it make if he framed me? I could plead dissociative identity disorder and live like a queen in a mental institution, and it wouldn’t make a lick of difference.”
“That’s not how you feel about your life, is it?” Tobias asked, giving her knee a gentle squeeze.
Tree branches flashed past the windows followed by open pastureland. She would soon be home. With Tobias’s steady hand on her knee, she could feel her shock and disillusionment falling away behind her. The fact that she was free, no longer a suspect, filled her with giddy relief. “Not since I met you,” she dared to admit.
His slow smile drove away her shock, once and for all. “Sweetheart, this is my colleague, Jackson Maddox,” he said, making introductions.
Jackson sent her friendly glance through the rearview mirror. “Nice to meet you, ma’am,” he said, in a voice suggestive of the Caribbean Islands.
“Likewise,” she replied, wondering how much Tobias had told him about her. “Thank you for your help today. I’m…I’m not usually this much trouble,” she added by way of apology.
Tobias snorted at her outright lie.
“No, it’s true,” she insisted. “I like to just keep to myself and do my own thing.”
“Right. And that’s why I am always rescuing you.”
“About that,” she said, laying her hand over his and threading their fingers together. “Thank you. I would have died today if not for you.”
His smile faded, yielding to unaccustomed gravity. “I would never have let that happen,” he swore, as they swung into her driveway.
Sheriff Fallon veered to one side, gesturing for them to stop, and Tobias was forced to turn his attention out the lowered window. Cal peered into the car, cast Dylan a respectful nod and speared Tobias with a hard look. “Guess I owe you an apology, Burke,” he bit out.
“None needed, Sheriff,” Tobias assured him. “I would have treated me the same way. Friends?” he offered sticking his hand out the window.
Dylan was fairly certain Cal’s handshake would have crushed a lesser man’s hand. With a parting nod, Cal sat back and roared off, freeing them to proceed up the gravel drive toward Dylan’s home.
“If it’s all the same to you,” Jackson told Tobias, “I think I’ll head back to the city. Lena’s been texting me.”
Tobias flicked Dylan an uncertain glance. “You want me to stay, beautiful?” he asked. “Or leave with Jackson?”
“Stay,” she said, trying to keep her tone breezy and impersonal and failing miserably.
He rewarded her with a grin, and heat suffused her face.
The instant the car stopped, Dylan leapt out, freeing Milly to bound across the yard to her favorite elm tree. As Dylan watched her go, her gaze lit with dismay on the mess her militia had left behind.
“Don’t even look at it,” Tobias advised, shutting both their doors. Several tents lay strewn across her grass. Trash littered the lawn, fluttering in the wet breeze. “I’ll help you clean it later,” he promised.
As he turned his attention to seeing Jackson off, Dylan headed up the porch steps. Using the key she kept under a flower pot, she let herself inside. Her footsteps echoed in the quiet hallway as she carried Terrence’s urn into the command room. She paused a moment by his desk, recalling snippets of the previous year and how loyally he had supported her radical efforts to heal by heading up a militia. The house had never felt so empty as it did without him. Approaching the unused fireplace, she set the urn on the heavy mantle where it dignified the space. One day soon, when she was ready, she would scatter his ashes on her land.
The screen door creaked open and then thudded shut. Milly padded into the room to bump Dylan’s hand with her head. Sensing Tobias, but not hearing him, Dylan turned her head to find him standing at the threshold, just watching her. She wasn’t so alone, after all.
“It’s so quiet without him,” she commented.
“Too quiet,” he agreed.
They stood for a moment simply regarding each other. Dylan’s heart thudded out the seconds. What happens now? she wondered. How did they move beyond the past, the lies, the betrayal, their many differences?
“Let’s start over,” Tobias proposed, answering her unspoken question as he took a step in her direction, and then another. “My name’s Tobias Avery Burke. I’m thirty-three years old.” His crooked smile spanned the distance between them like a beam of sunlight. “My dad’s a career Army Ranger, who works at the Pentagon. My mom does charity work. I grew up on bases all over the world. I have three older sisters who spoiled me rotten. I like singing, working out, training dogs, and wearing obnoxious T-shirts.”
She searched his eyes as he stopped in front of her. “You don’t have to do this, Tobias. I understand why you lied to me. I just don’t understand why you would let the government tell you what to do in the first place.”
He sighed and stuck his hands into his pockets. “Because I thought the government had good reason to suspect you. And it’s my job to stop people from building bombs or owning firearms to kill people,” he added reasonably.
His words panged her. “Do I look like a killer to you?”
His gaze drifted over her, lingering first on her lips and then her breasts. “Not at all,” he admitted. “And that did throw me, at first. At the time, you seemed to fit the profile of a terrorist—that is, until I got to know you better,” he added, warding off her indrawn breath. “I have to confess it worried me that I was so attracted to a potential enemy of the state.”
Folding her arms across her chest, she studied him through narrowed eyes, not knowing whether to be offended or pleased. She tapped a toe. “And what about now?”
“Now, I’m just worried that you’ll never forgive me,” he said with a vulnerable look in
his eyes. “Believe me, once I saw the real you through the smoke and mirrors, I knew you hadn’t killed anyone.”
Like a high tide washing footprints out to sea, his words eradicated her lingering resentment. Abandoning her defensive stance, Dylan dropped her arms and bit her lip, instead. “Just like that? You knew?” she asked, lapping up the desire and willingness to commit that blazed in his eyes.
“Just like that.” He stepped closer. “I meant it when I said I love you. I fell hard for you, Dylan. Your passion, your commitment to everything you believe in impresses the hell out of me. I need you to understand that I was just following orders, just doing my job. Once I knew you were innocent, I pulled out every stop I could think of to prove it. I want to be part of your life. Please don’t put up barriers to keep us apart.”
Shimmering warmth spread from Dylan’s core to every extremity. Throwing caution to the wind, she rolled up on her toes, tossed both arms around his sturdy neck and kissed him with abandonment.
This, she thought, savoring the sweet, languorous melding of their mouths. This is what we have in common. The hardwood floor beneath her boots seemed to tip as if the entire house was falling over. Pressing closer, she encountered irrefutable proof of Tobias’s devotion.
But was it enough? Practicality dragged her lips from his. “I’m terrified,” she whispered.
He pulled his head back to frown down at her. “Of what, baby? What’s to be afraid of?”
“Come on, Tobias. You know we’re complete opposites, from different ends of the political and religious spectrum. You grew up in a military family; you work for the government. I’m an individualist. You’re a statist.”
“Love can overcome our differences,” he replied with certainty.
The conviction shining in his eyes made her long to agree with him. “But you’re an agent of the federal government,” she reminded him, trying to mask her disgust. “Why would you waste your unique skills working for an entity that stifles your creativity and regulates every aspect of your being?”
The Enforcer Page 30