Torn Loyalties

by Vicki Hinze

  They danced and talked quietly of little nothings, and as she let herself get lost in his arms, for the first time since returning from Afghanistan, she forgot to be bitter or angry or to feel the sting of betrayal.

  As the evening wore on, they chatted with friends, others from the agency and local officials. Just before midnight, Madison glanced from the dance floor to the door and saw Commander Talbot and Vice Commander Dayton walk in. Their attendance at North Bay functions was a normal part of the military’s community relations, yet still she tensed.

  “It’s all right,” Grant said, not missing a step. “They come to everything. You know that.”

  She did, but it still troubled her. Especially when Talbot walked straight over to Mrs. Renault.

  “Renée, it’s wonderful to see you.”

  “You, too, Andrew.” She craned her neck and accepted his kiss to her cheek. “How have you been?”

  He answered, and then invited her to dance. She joined him and they did a Viennese waltz that looked polished and practiced, and Madison wondered just how many times before they had danced together.

  “Striking couple, aren’t they?” Grant asked.

  They were. And it irritated Madison because she didn’t trust the man. But was that fair? Could the man looking at Mrs. Renault with such genuine tenderness be capable of cold-blooded murder? Madison just wasn’t sure. The scent of all the red roses suddenly seemed cloying. She whispered to Grant, “Let’s walk down to the gazebo.”

  “You okay?”

  “Fine. I just need some air and I love it down there.”

  They went outside through the broad French doors, then walked in silence between tall white columns that stretched over a wide expanse of perfectly manicured lawn and down the walkway to the boardwalk at the water’s edge. It ended at an ornate gazebo. Once under its roof, Madison drew in a deep breath, inhaling the tangy scent of salt water in the air. The night was chilly, but not cold.

  “I see now why Maggie painted this place for you—the painting in your office. The expression on your face is pure bliss.”

  Madison nodded, a smile curving her lips. “It’s one of my favorite places in the whole world.”

  Grant looked around, skimming the shoreline, the cove, the houses on the far side. “What’s special about it?”

  To him it probably looked no different than many other coves in the area. But she saw something here he didn’t. She grinned at him and took two steps left. “My first kiss happened just about here.”

  Grant frowned. “I don’t think I want to walk down that particular memory lane, since you weren’t kissing me.”

  “I was eleven.” Madison laughed. “I attended social graces lessons here. Gilbert Moss was my partner, and I thought he was the most amazing boy I’d ever met in my life.”

  “Why?”

  “Between you and me, he always wore a suit. I discovered I had a real thing for cute boys in ties.”

  Grant laughed. “Wearing a tie got him an ‘amazing,’ huh? Lucky boy.”

  “Not really.” Sadness flooded her. “Gilbert quit the class the day before our debut gathering. I didn’t participate much, not having a partner, and I wasn’t too happy with him. I came out here and remembered how happy I was the evening he kissed me and...”

  “You were less upset with him.” When she nodded, he went on. “So when you need to feel happy—or grounded or need a change of attitude—this is where you come.”

  She nodded. “That’s why Maggie gave me the painting. So I’d feel grounded and happy in my office.”

  “She’s a good friend.” He stepped closer to her. “Did seeing Mrs. Renault with the commander upset you that much?”

  “No. Mrs. Renault can handle him just fine.” A little gust of wind teased her hair. She brushed it from her face, and tilted her head. If she was going to trust him, this was that moment. Madison studied his face, saw good in it, and trusting the twinkle, took the leap. “The truth is, you upset me.”

  He sighed. “What did I do now?”

  “No, that came out wrong.” She placed a hand on his forearm. “I meant, what I feel for you upsets me.”

  “That’s hardly better...or is it?” He frowned. “What exactly do you feel, Madison?”

  “A lot more than I’d like,” she admitted. “But I made myself a promise and I’m going to keep it.” She uncurled her hand. “This doesn’t have a pretty card with it, and there’s no shiny wrapping or bow, but it carries its own charm and it is precious to me. I want you to have it, Grant.”

  He looked into her open palm, and surprise spilled over from his face to his voice. “Your Purple Heart medal?”

  Madison swallowed hard, and nodded. “It’s a symbol of my affection for you...and of my trust.”

  He didn’t move.

  “Don’t you want it?”

  Grant lifted his gaze to hers, and the storm raging within him reflected in his eyes. “More than anything.”

  She bobbed her hand. “Then take it.”

  He raised his hand, but didn’t touch the medal. “Are you sure? I know what this means to you. Are you really sure you want me to have it?”

  His hunger for what stood behind the gift showed in every tense line on his face, in his rigid stance. He wanted her to want him to have it badly. And that yearning chiseled away yet another chink in the armor around her heart. It crumbled and fell away. “I’m positive,” she said and meant it. “I decided today that I’d been looking at us all wrong. I should trust you until I have reason not to. That’s fair. That’s right.”

  “Madison, you know this is complicated....”

  His oath. His requirement to report on activities at her agency. Well, she had nothing to hide there. Her trek to the perimeter of the Nest, yes, and Grant could hurt her if he reported it. But if he had reported it—and if he thought she’d find anything that shouldn’t be found, he would have reported it—she already would have been hauled in and in serious trouble with Commander Talbot. “I know it’s complicated, but I want to give you—us—a chance. It’s taken me a while, but I’ve finally gotten there.”

  He smiled, clearly bemused.

  She smiled back and leaned in, then gently kissed him.

  A long moment later, Grant looked down at her, dragged his fingertips down her jaw. “You take my breath away.”

  “The feeling is mutual.” She smiled up at him.

  He reached into his pocket and pulled out a pink object. “I have something for you, too.”

  In the moonlight she saw that it was an oblong, flat pink stone. Something was written on it. Trust. “It’s a worry stone,” he told her. “You rub it when you’re tense or worried. I thought you’d like that.”

  She did. “Does it help?”

  “I hope what it means will.” He lifted her chin so she looked him in the eye. “I’ve carried that stone my entire military career—to keep me grounded—and I’m giving it to you. This is a reminder.”

  Confusing. “Of what?”

  Urgency filled his voice. “That no matter how things look or seem, you should always trust your instincts.”

  A warning. One that burned as clearly in his eyes as in his words.

  A warning that chilled her to the bone.

  * * *

  The Valentine’s Day ball wound down after midnight and just after one in the morning, Madison returned to her office, quickly changed into her black hoodie and smeared her face with camouflage paint, then headed out to the Nest.

  Her emotions were in turmoil. Trust your instincts. Grant had clearly been warning her about something. About him? Was he telling her to trust her innate responses on everything? Or that now he, too, thought Talbot and/or Dayton had killed Beth Crane and David Pace?

  The uncertainty was frightening. He’d taken
the Purple Heart and she had replaced it with his pink rubbing stone as her talisman to stay focused on her mission. Trust. Funny, she thought, sprinting through the woods. His warning should have her breaking out in hives, but it didn’t. It felt protective, and the leap of faith she had taken on him deepened. And to trust a man she was attracted to and cared for, whether or not she wanted to, felt good. Better than good.

  When she reached the fence, she lay flat on the ground and positioned her binoculars. The guards stood with their backs to the buildings as they had the night before, about twenty feet apart and armed to the teeth. This definitely was not a readiness exercise. Installations functioned under the THREATCON System and its levels ranged from Alpha to Delta. Each level carried a corresponding set of measures, policies and procedures. The Nest, being isolated and confined to a small need-to-know loop, typically stood at THREATCON Alpha, but the signs were all evident they had activated the measures under Bravo. The threat might be specific or general, but the commander expected trouble.

  A crunching sound came from her distant left. She stilled, listened intently.

  Crackle. Crunch. Snap.

  Definitely footsteps...and they were getting closer.

  Springing to a crouch, she strained to see with and without her binoculars and saw no one, but twigs continued to snap, leaves crush. Whoever it was either wasn’t proficient at stealth maneuvers or didn’t care about being overheard. She turned to run and snagged her hoodie on a spiny bush. The fabric ripped.

  The tearing sounded like a blast in the darkness. Whoever was tramping through the woods would catch her for sure. The footsteps came closer, faster.

  Her heart raced. Whether or not they knew she was there, she couldn’t tell, but she didn’t dare hang around to find out. She tore the hoodie loose from its snag, and then ran through the woods toward her point of entry.

  Images of Afghanistan and the night of her capture flashed through her mind. She’d run then, too, and found herself surrounded by a dozen armed men. She’d failed to evade them, and feared she’d fail again now. Blood surging through her, pounding in her ears, she pushed back against the memories, trying hard to focus only on now, this moment, but the capture images persisted, creating a jumbled tangle of then and now. Stop it! Stop! She forced herself to stay in the moment, to keep running.

  When she made it back to her Jag and got in, she quickly locked the doors and took off, gasping in air. She wished Grant were here, sitting in her passenger seat, even if it meant he’d be searing her ears with a lecture and asking her for promises to stay away from the Nest. Promises she couldn’t make and wouldn’t keep.

  But Grant wasn’t there.

  Whatever came, she’d face it alone. God, help me. I can’t do this again on my own. Help me.

  When she pulled into her own garage and the door shut behind her, she drew her first easy breath. For a long moment she couldn’t seem to move, so she just sat there, slumped over the wheel, thanking God for protecting her and getting her safely home.

  Calmer, she removed the ignition key, saw how badly her hand was shaking and covered her eyes. “You’re fine. It’s all okay,” she told herself. “You’re safe.”

  * * *

  In her office at ten o’clock the next morning, Madison discovered everything was not fine.

  A brash young lieutenant walked into her office unannounced. “Ms. McKay?” he asked.

  Startled, she looked up from her paperwork and into the soldier’s ruddy face. “Yes?” Where was Mrs. Renault? Why hadn’t she intercepted him? “Are you in the habit of walking into offices uninvited, Lieutenant?”

  “I didn’t see anyone.” He didn’t meet her gaze.

  The name tag above his pocket read Blake.

  Mrs. Renault suddenly appeared at the doorway behind Blake, her expression stern. Madison lifted her chin, warning her not to make her presence known. “In that case, my apologies. What do you want, Lieutenant Blake?”

  “Commander Talbot sent me, ma’am.”

  Madison’s heart jackhammered. Why hadn’t Talbot just picked up the phone? “For what purpose?”

  “He ordered me to escort you to his office.”

  Mrs. Renault’s slight nod warned Madison to be amiable.

  Madison forced herself to smile. She stood up. “Well, I’d better grab my purse and follow you over there, then.”

  “I’ll drive you, ma’am.” He shifted on his feet. “Talbot’s orders.”

  Whatever this was about, it would play out far better for her to seem cooperative. With Mrs. Renault aware of what was happening, cooperation couldn’t hurt and might help. “How thoughtful of him. I guess you’ll drive me back as well—or will I need to phone someone to retrieve me?”

  His face turned ruddy. “The commander didn’t say, ma’am.”

  That worried her even more. Mrs. Renault stepped away from the doorway so the soldier wouldn’t see her. Where was Grant? Had he reported her to Talbot after all? Her heart hurt. No. Please no. Trusting him at all had been so hard and it had seemed to go well. She’d actually been relaxed and happy and...not bitter. “Very well. Just let me tell my assistant—”

  “I’m sorry, Ms. McKay. The commander specifically asked that you not tell anyone where you’re going.”

  So she was supposed to be sitting in her office one minute and vanished the next. How convenient for them—and how badly this boded for her. Her heart beat harder, faster, threatening to take out her chest wall and break her ribs. “I see. This isn’t an invitation—it’s a command performance.”

  The lieutenant didn’t answer.

  He didn’t have to. No car, no driving herself, no way home... It was a command performance, all right. And all signs pointed to it being a testy one. But Grant couldn’t be involved. She’d seen the twinkle in his eye. She’d dared to trust him. She’d given him her Purple Heart and he knew what it meant to her and had accepted it. He couldn’t have betrayed her.

  So what was this about, then?

  The man in the woods. Had whoever had been out by the Nest last night actually seen her?

  She would have said no, definitely not. Even aided with night vision gear, she hadn’t seen that person.

  But now, she wasn’t so sure.

  * * *

  “Madison, thank you for coming.” Commander Talbot rose to his feet and motioned to a visitor’s chair on the opposite side of his imposing desk.

  There were no windows in his office. For security purposes, that was common for high-level officers, and she’d mentally prepared herself for it, but the absence of daylight still gave her that confined feeling she’d endured in the cell in Afghanistan. That same cold, clammy feeling that threatened to steal away her breath. His office was sterile—smelled of cleaner, and nothing was out of place, nor were there any personal items. “I could hardly resist such a charming invitation, Commander.”

  He had the grace to look away. “I’m sorry if my tactics offended, but I needed to get you here immediately.”

  “Quietly, too, apparently. I couldn’t even let Mrs. Renault know I was leaving?” Hopefully, his feelings toward her would carry over to Madison. He knew how close they were; everyone did. “Why?”

  Behind her, someone walked into the office and the commander fell silent. She looked over and saw Vice Commander Dayton, carrying a neon-orange file. He opened it on the corner of the commander’s desk. “May I?” he asked Talbot.

  The commander’s expression tensed and he gave Dayton a curt nod.

  What was going on here? Talbot looked wary and worried. Dayton looked like a cocky conqueror. Both were making her feel like stalked prey. Her skin crawled. “I don’t mean to be ungracious, Commander, but I do have a business to run, so if we could—”

  Dayton cut her off. “Where were you last night, Ms. McKay?”

 
“Why?” Her whereabouts were truly none of his business and she had every right to demand civility or to ignore him.

  Dayton gave her a warning look. “This can be a pleasant exchange or a not-so-pleasant exchange. I’m up for either.”

  “As am I.” She smiled at him.

  He got the message, but Talbot interceded. “We’ve had another security incident, Madison.”

  Dayton took the cue. “We would appreciate it if you’d tell us where you were last night.”

  Much better. “I was at the Valentine’s ball at the country club. Commander Talbot was there—he can attest to it.”

  Dayton looked at Talbot, who nodded.

  “And after the ball?” Dayton’s civility slid.

  She dipped her chin, looked up at him. “I’m hearing an accusation in your tone. Need I remind you that I’ve already agreed to cooperate?”

  He masked his expression, reached into the file and removed an evidence bag, then held it up. “Does this look familiar?”

  Too familiar. A piece of torn fabric was inside the clear bag. Her hoodie fabric that had gotten snagged on the bush.

  Lieutenant Blake knocked at the door, walked in and handed Dayton a larger plastic bag. “Retrieved from the bath adjacent to her office, sir,” he said. “Mrs. Renault photographed it and made me sign for it.”

  “Excellent.” Dayton smiled, but there was no warmth in it.

  The hoodie. They had her dead to rights.

  “Does Mrs. Renault know Madison is here?” Dayton asked Blake.

  “No, sir. No one knows where she is. Mrs. Renault assumed she’d gone to Miss Addie’s Café for breakfast.”

  Madison’s relief was palpable. Mrs. Renault did know, but if she’d admitted it to Blake, no doubt she, too, would have been hauled in. She said a silent prayer of thanks for her friend’s silence.