by Liz Shoaf
“They sound like good people.”
She turned and gave him a fierce look. “They are, and they don’t deserve to get hurt because of me or my biological parents. Neither do my friends.”
“Chloe, you and your parents aren’t the ones at fault here. The killer has sole responsibility for anything that happens.”
She turned away again, staring out the window. “We don’t know what my parents were involved in.” She gave a sardonic laugh. “Maybe I’m just a chip off the old block. It appears as if my parents didn’t exactly live in a black-and-white world, either.”
Ethan couldn’t take it anymore. He reached over and touched her hand, which was lying on her thigh. “Listen to me, you’re your own person. You’re not your parents or anyone else. God made you unique, and He gave you the option of making your own choices.”
She pulled her hand out from under his. “Don’t.” She took a deep breath. “Just don’t.”
He experienced a sharp feeling of loss he couldn’t explain and didn’t even know if he wanted to try. Best to stick to business and forget all the personal stuff.
“Okay, we know the information that was on the disc is bank account numbers and we’re getting ready to meet with Stan. Do you think he’ll be willing to use FBI resources to help us and not turn you in?”
Her brown eyes flashed. “The letter my mother left me said to contact Stan if I found myself in any kind of unexplainable trouble or danger, and Sarah would know how to reach him. That means my parents knew Stan before they died, which means Stan knows something.”
He absorbed that information and placed his hand back over Chloe’s. “That doesn’t mean anyone betrayed you. It just means you don’t have all the information.”
“Whatever. We’ll find out soon enough.”
Ethan hoped there were no more unwanted surprises in store for Chloe. She might appear as tough as shoe leather on the outside, but the edges of her toughness were beginning to unravel, one piece at a time.
* * *
Chloe tensed as Ethan pulled into Stan and Betty’s neighborhood. Because of the killer, she was being forced to delve into things she’d rather leave alone, but maybe it was time for everything to come out in the open so she could live what most people considered a normal life. In one form or another, she’d been running since her parents died. From the fear of being left alone in the world, and from emotions she’d buried deep in a place where she’d thought she’d never have to deal with them.
Those days were over.
They pulled into the driveway of a pretty Georgian style house, and Chloe opened the door, got out, stood on the sidewalk and girded herself for what was to come.
Behind her, she heard Ethan get out of the car. Then he was trying to coax Geordie from the back seat. She almost smiled. Almost. She whistled, and Geordie hopped out and came to her left side. She looked down and petted her dog.
“At least I know I can count on you, my friend.”
Ethan came up on her other side with their duffel bags in his hands. “For what it’s worth, you can count on me, too.”
Chloe felt a moment of remorse. “I’m sorry, Ethan. I shouldn’t have involved you in this. I have help now and I can take care of myself. You should go back to Jackson Hole and be with Penny.”
He growled, sounding like her dog. “It’s a little late for that. I’m involved, so get used to it.”
Taken aback, Chloe was caught off guard at the ferocity of his statement. Did he mean get used to him being involved with the case, or with her personally? The red-painted front door flew open, and Chloe decided she didn’t have time to worry about that right now.
Dressed in slacks and a top, her hair in an updo, Betty was always prepared for company. Her adoptive mother didn’t own a pair of sweats. She considered them slouchy.
Chloe’s heart turned over at the love shining out of that slightly rounded face, and when Betty’s arms engulfed her in a hug, she fervently hoped she was wrong about her theories.
Betty pulled back and smiled wide. “My dear girl, I’m so glad you’re home. Stan called and said you were coming.” She stepped back and patted her hair. “And who is this young man?”
Betty probably assumed Ethan was a boyfriend or something. She had to squash that idea before her adoptive mother started planning a wedding. The thought of a wedding depressed her, so Chloe started to speak up. Ethan beat her to the punch.
“We need to take it inside. We’re out in the open.”
Betty took a step back, and Chloe immediately wanted to erase the look of fear in her adoptive mother’s eyes. Betty lived with an FBI agent and she knew what Ethan’s statement and tone of voice meant.
Betty glanced nervously around the neighborhood and motioned toward the house. “Come inside where it’s safe.”
Chloe followed Betty into the house. Warm memories swamped her when she entered the foyer. The entrance table held framed photos of Chloe alone, and others with the three of them. No matter what she discovered today, she had to remember what Stan and Betty had done for her.
As soon as everyone was inside, Betty took charge. “Have you eaten?”
Chloe chuckled when Ethan jumped on the offer. “I could use something to eat.”
“Leave your bags here. I have leftover lasagna from last night. It will only take a minute to reheat it.”
Chloe wasn’t hungry, but she knew it would relax Betty to feed them. Betty loved to cook for and mother anyone or anything that walked through the door. Chloe had always had an affinity for dogs, especially stray ones, and Betty faithfully helped her clean them up, take them to the vet and, of course, feed them.
The memories made her stumble, but she followed Betty and Ethan to the homey restaurant-style kitchen. Betty had every new gadget on the market. Chloe slid into a chair at the solid oak table across from Ethan and grinned when he sniffed the air and breathed deeply.
“Betty cooks from scratch.”
He closed his eyes. “I can’t remember the last time we ate.”
“Airport.”
“Yes, I can barely visualize that greasy burger with the sweet aroma of ambrosia now tickling my olfactory senses.”
“Why, Sheriff, I had no idea you were so poetic.”
His eyes opened and he gazed at her intently. “I can be when the situation warrants it.”
Betty beamed, looking at the two of them. The break from Chloe’s whirling thoughts was nice, but she didn’t want her adoptive mother to get any ideas.
“Yeah, well, I’m sure one day you’ll make some woman happy.”
Betty frowned when she set two plates in front of them and one on the floor for Geordie. Chloe felt bad for bursting her bubble, but it had to be done. As soon as the killer was caught, Ethan would go back to Jackson Hole, and Chloe would pick up her life where she’d left off. Which reminded her... “I need to check my email. I’ll use Stan’s computer.”
She shoved one last forkful of lasagna into her mouth and stood to head to Stan’s office, but time had run out. Stan came through the front door just as she entered the foyer. She looked up and they stared at one another for what felt like an eternity. She couldn’t even name the myriad of emotions flooding his face, and she didn’t want to.
“We need to talk,” he said in that firm voice she remembered all too well from her teenage years, but she wasn’t a teenager anymore.
“Yes, we do.”
“You told me to trust you, and I have. I’ve been fielding calls from several agencies who are looking for you.”
Chloe’s heart was bleeding inside, but she forced herself to say it anyway. “The question is, can I trust you?”
Stan looked as if she’d slapped him, but she held firm. A gasp came from the doorway leading to the kitchen, and Chloe jerked her head toward the sound. Betty’s face had gone pale as she stared at Stan.
“Stan? What’s going on?”
Ethan stood tall beside Betty, but Chloe ignored him.
“That’s what I’m here to find out,” Stan said.
Betty’s color came flooding back. She moved to Chloe’s side, stuck her chest out and defied her husband. “If this involves my daughter, I’m coming, too.”
Stan peered at Ethan. “And who is this?”
Ethan moved forward, holding out a hand. “Sheriff Ethan Hoyt.”
Stan shook his hand and looked back at Chloe. “Do you want him involved?”
Chloe hesitated only a moment. There was no reason her juvenile past should come up in the conversation. If it did, she’d steer the discussion in another direction. After all they’d been through, she felt she had to include Ethan in the conversation. Taking a deep breath, she said, “Yes, I do. He’s been with me since I went to Jackson Hole to hide.”
Stan strode down the hall toward his office. Chloe, Betty, Ethan and Geordie followed.
Chloe entered what Stan always referred to as his sanctuary away from the women in the house. It smelled of old leather. She didn’t want to have this conversation, but she had no choice. People’s lives depended on it.
Ethan pulled the drapes closed. Stan sat behind the desk, Betty and Ethan took the sofa positioned partially in front of the window, and Chloe planted herself in a chair across from Stan.
Stan leaned forward, his elbows on the desktop. “Shall we start with the dead body found in your apartment?”
Her heart heavy, she looked him straight in the eye. “Did you know my biological parents before you adopted me?”
Betty gasped at her question, but Chloe kept her eyes on her adoptive father, searching for the truth. If she still prayed, she would have asked God for it not to be true.
He bowed his head and a knife plunged into her heart.
After what seemed like forever, he looked up and sighed. “Yes, I knew your parents before they died.”
The knife went deeper and twisted. “Tell me everything.”
Stan looked at Betty, and Chloe heard her sobs, but she kept her gaze on Stan. She would never get through this if she saw Betty crying.
Stan fiddled with a pen lying on his desk. “First, I want you to understand that we adopted you because we fell in love with you, not because of what happened. If we’d met you sooner, we would have taken you when you were younger.”
Chloe literally felt Ethan coming to attention and quickly refocused the conversation. “That’s not important. I want to know how you knew my parents.”
“Why now? What’s happened to make you question everything?”
Chloe gave him credit. Stan was good. Evade the question and fire one of your own. Well, she’d give him something to chew on. “That dead body found in my apartment?” Stan nodded. “It’s related to something my parents left me all those years ago, something I just became aware of.”
Stan’s eyes narrowed. That got his attention. The FBI agent jumped to the fore. “I want the whole story.”
She shook her head. “How did you know my parents?”
Stan looked at Ethan and Betty seated on the sofa. “It’s classified. We need to have a private conversation.”
Chloe gritted her teeth, but slowly relaxed herself. “They stay. How did you know my parents?”
His shoulders slumped. Chloe knew she’d won, but it was a hollow victory.
“Years ago—you would have been a toddler then—one of our agents was handling some company business in Kuwait.”
Chloe lifted a brow.
Stan cleared his throat. “The CIA wasn’t aware that we were over there. Anyway, our guy was captured and thrown into prison. We needed intel to be able to go in and get him out. We did our research and discovered that your parents were missionaries in the area, and the prison allowed them to take food to the prisoners. Your parents canvassed the area, did a guard count, etc., and slipped several notes to our guy, letting him know we were coming and when.”
Chloe tried to take it all in. “How did it end?”
Stan held his hands out. “That’s just it. We got our guy out, and your parents moved to another missionary location. The whole operation went like clockwork. The last time I heard from your parents, they were headed home for a furlough to spend time with their daughter. It was a long time after they died that I heard they were killed in the field. I assumed they were murdered by the locals. I also assumed you went to stay with family members.
“When you turned sixteen, Sarah called me out of the blue. Your parents had given her my name as a contact person in case they ran into any kind of trouble while working for us that one time. And you know the rest.”
Yes, she did. She had hacked into a bank and transferred money to the orphanage’s accounts.
Stan wore a pleading look on his face. “Chloe, I don’t know what’s going on, but please, let me he—”
Glass shattered as the window in Stan’s office exploded. Chloe jumped to her feet and watched in horror as Stan slumped headfirst onto his desk. Her gaze automatically jerked from the bullet’s point of entry to the drapes that Ethan had closed. There was a sliver of an opening. Enough for a skilled shooter to aim through.
EIGHTEEN
As soon as he heard the gunshot, Ethan grabbed Betty and pulled her to the floor. He jerked his head sideways to see if Chloe was okay and took a relieved breath when she moved, but wanted to strangle the woman when she started crawling around the corner of the desk.
“Chloe, what do you think you’re doing?” he muttered.
She glanced over her shoulder and the tears in her eyes were his undoing.
“It’s my fault he was shot. I have to see if he’s okay.”
Ethan shook his head. “Stay put. I’m calling 911.”
“No! Don’t you dare make that call. Let me see if he’s alive. We’ll call his people and they’ll take care of this situation.”
Fury tore through Ethan. “You’re putting Stan’s life at risk so you won’t be picked up by the police as a person of interest?” Ethan couldn’t believe it. He thought he knew Chloe better than that, but evidently not.
She scowled at him, and he had to admit that was better than the tears.
“You’re wrong. He needs medical help, but he also needs to be protected from the killer. Let me handle this.”
He nodded slowly in understanding. “See if he’s breathing, then we’ll decide what to do. Be careful. The killer might still have Stan in his sights.” He glanced at the slightly open drapes and winced. A careless mistake on his part. He should have been more careful. “I’ll get the drapes closed and take care of Betty.”
Chloe nodded, and Ethan held his breath as she slowly worked her way behind Stan’s chair and snaked an arm up to lay two fingers on his neck.
“His pulse is strong.”
The relief in her voice spoke volumes. He reconsidered his previous assessment. Maybe Chloe was right. It would be easy to kill Stan in an ambulance or in the hospital.
“Who do we call?” he asked after he convinced Betty to stay down and quiet, then crawled on the floor and jerked the drapes closed all the way.
Betty sat up and the firmness in her voice surprised Ethan. He would have thought she would be close to hysteria after having seen her husband get shot.
“I know who to call. Give me a phone.”
Ethan dug his cell from his pocket and handed it to her.
Betty punched in a number and someone answered.
“Thomas, this is Betty. No, I’m not fine. We have a situation. Stan has been shot and we need to keep it within the agency. We’re at home. Yes, please come quickly, and we’ll need medical help. Thank you.”
Ethan looked at her in a new light. “I see where Chloe gets her backbone.”
Betty gave him a fierce look. “
I didn’t birth her, but she’s my daughter and I’ll protect her until the day I die.”
A warning? Ethan wondered. He would assess Betty’s statement later. Right now, they needed to get Stan onto the floor and check out his wounds.
“Chloe?”
“What?”
“The curtains are closed, but we should stay down, just in case. I’m crawling toward you. We’re going to get Stan onto the floor. I don’t think the shooter would hang around, but we have to be careful.”
“Okay.”
Her reply was filled with emotion, but she sounded stronger than she had before. Ethan looked at Betty, and she shooed him forward. “I’m fine. Take care of my husband.”
Ethan nodded and followed Chloe’s path around the desk. He expected to see sadness and self-incrimination written on her face; instead, he found an infuriated woman when he rounded the corner.
“I’m going to find out who did this if it’s the last thing I ever do.”
The determined comment filled Ethan with dread because he had no doubt that Chloe meant every word she said, even going so far as to risk her life. He wasn’t quite sure what was going on between them, but he wanted time to find out.
“We’ll talk later. Let’s get Stan on the floor.”
Chloe nodded and they gently pulled the chair backward, away from the line of fire through the window. Ethan grabbed one of Stan’s arms and Chloe took the other. They pulled him forward, then slid him down so his back would be on the floor.
Stan moaned when they moved him. His eyes flicked open as Chloe ran her hands across his chest, following the blood, trying to find the point of entry.
“I’m okay.” He coughed. “It’s a flesh wound. It burns like fire, but the bullet only skimmed the front of my chest. Got the wind knocked out of me. I must have passed out for a moment.”
Stan looked at Chloe and tears fell from her eyes. Ethan wanted to wrap his arms around her in comfort, but he had mixed feelings about her. There were still secrets, and everyone but him seemed to know what they were. She didn’t trust him enough to tell him, and any relationship was doomed without trust.