“Why would it be lighter?” he asked, even though he already knew the answer.
“In 2012, the army commissioned manufactures to reduce the weight of the brass casings in this type of round by 10 percent. That means that this weapon most likely belongs to someone who is either active military or FBI.” As she looked up at him and their gazes met, her expression changed from focused to guilty.
“Sabrina.” He said her name like it was just as much of a secret as whatever she was hiding from him. “Tell me the truth. Who sent you?”
Chapter Ten
She had screwed up, royally. Her hubris had caught up with her and she had no one to blame but herself. Why did she have to open her stupid mouth?
Her investigation was over. She was done. Her cover was blown.
Sure, she could lie about why she was here, but even if he pretended to believe her he would never really trust her again. And if she came out with the truth, he’d inevitably run her out of his life like the infiltrator she was.
But she had to try to cover her ass and buy more time with him. Maybe she could salvage something from this investigation—maybe even clear his name and keep his family out of federal prison.
He opened his hand and helped her stand. “Just tell me.” There was a deep sadness in his voice, and it broke her heart.
It hurt more than she ever would have expected. This wasn’t her first investigation to go off the rails, but it had never happened like this before. In this moment, it was her life—her real life—that was most impacted.
If she told him the truth, maybe they could work together and come through this—but that seemed like one heck of a pipe dream. To hope for something like that was like having faith in humanity—a great philosophy, but rarely worked in practice.
She had been sent here to stop him from putting weapons into the enemy’s hands, and yet as the minutes slipped by it was like her objectivity had collapsed. Her heart had come into play and she hated it.
“Trevor, I want everything to work out for everyone involved.” She reached over and cupped his face in her hands. “None of this is what I expected when I came to the Widow Maker Ranch. I’m hopeful everything is going to play out all right, but I need you to tell me some things.”
He nodded but remained stoic. “Is your name even Sabrina?”
She huffed. Of course he’d be questioning her from the ground up. If she was in his shoes she would be doing exactly the same thing. “Yes.”
“And what happened last night... Were you just playing me?”
She stepped closer to him, their bodies brushing against each other. She ran her hand down his neck and rested it on his shoulder. “I’m not the kind of woman who jumps into bed with a man. Ever. There has to be something there, really there, before I’ll even consider being intimate.”
His lips pursed and he nodded, remaining silent. Stepping away from her touch, he turned around and slowly made his way toward the smoke rising up from the stand of timber. His hands were limp at his sides, and the gun nearly dangled from his fingers.
He was in shock, hurt and probably analyzing exactly how this was going to play out. She had admitted nothing, at least not directly, but he had to realize what a liability she was for him and his family. He made it clear from the very beginning that his family was the most important thing to him, and she had no doubt he was willing to do whatever it took to keep them safe. And that placed her in more danger than when an unknown gunman had taken aim at her. At any moment, Trevor could decide to take her out.
It was unlikely anyone would ever find her remains if he chose to kill her.
She started walking after him, following his footsteps in the snow. The trees moved in on her like brooding sentinels, as if they, too, were judging her for the role she had taken on with the Martin family. Trevor, more than anyone, should’ve understood what it meant to do a job like hers. He had a life filled with secrets as well. Secrets that she still wasn’t privy to. And yet those same secrets could save them.
Trevor was growing ever more distant, and the shadows of the timber threatened to help him disappear. Right now, that was probably exactly what he wanted to do. In fact, it was almost exactly what she wanted to do as well. However, she didn’t want to lose him. She wanted to keep on living this fictional life—a life in which she was free to love and she could put aside the possibility that he was her enemy.
“Trevor,” she called after him.
He turned and waited for her to catch up. As she neared, she could have sworn there were faint marks on his cheeks where tears had fallen, but she hated to think she had elicited such a response from him—the warrior.
“Don’t say anything.” He raised his hand. “I need some time to work through all of this.”
She nodded. “I’m serious, just know that I want to help you. We can be on the same side.”
He turned away from her and kept walking; the subtle evasion amplified her pain. They walked in silence until they came upon a small clearing. At its center was a dying campfire. There was a collection of pots and pans, mugs, and blue plates. It looked as though at least five people had struck camp and had been eating breakfast when they suddenly fled.
The footsteps in the snow went off in all directions. If they followed each trail, they would be tracking for hours.
Trevor walked to the right, moving around the fire as he searched the ground. She made her way left, as she tried to focus on the work at hand instead of the conversation that Trevor didn’t want to have.
Not far from the back side of the camp there was a smattering of blood upon the snow.
“Trevor, can you look at this?” She pointed at the ground.
He made his way over. A faint smile played across his lips. “Looks like we may have hit the shooter after all.”
“Maybe we don’t make such a bad team,” she said, but the sentiment came out sounding more like a question.
He didn’t respond, squatting down beside the bloodied snow. “This is definitely fresh. It’s still melting. But based on the little amount of blood, I’m thinking we just winged him—or her.”
“If we did hit one of them, they’re going to be moving slow.” She looked out into the timber. “We could probably catch up to them if we move fast.”
Trevor sighed as he stood up. “Nah, I think we should head back.” He brushed by her as he looked around the camp.
She should have been following suit, looking around to see if they could find anything to give them a clue about who had been shooting at them, but all she could focus on was Trevor.
The second they got out of the woods and headed back to the ranch everything would be completely over—her investigation, the case, her job and their relationship. But she couldn’t blame him for wanting to get out of the woods and away from her.
They walked around the timber near the deserted camp for a bit longer, but time seemed to lose any reference. She kept looking to him, hoping the right words would find her, but none came. Between them there was only awkward silence smattered with unspoken feelings.
It felt like a breakup, even though there was nothing formal to end.
Maybe this kind of work, as a UC, wasn’t something she was cut out for. Normally she was fine, but her emotions had never come into play. If she couldn’t keep her heart out of her work, she had no business doing it.
She’d have to give Mike her notice as soon as she got back into service. Not to mention the fact that she’d have to tell them she had let them all down. Mike was going to have a field day with this. He’d always told her she was weak, and now it turned out that he was right.
Trevor finally stopped as they came back to the edge of the timber and to the camp. He looked in the direction of the shooter’s perch. “How did you know about the HK416 being a FBI weapon? Is it because you’re an agent?” He turned to face her, but from the emotionless look on his face sh
e couldn’t tell exactly what he wanted her to say.
A lump formed in her throat. She tried to swallow it back and to replace her nervousness with bravery, but it didn’t work. She was scared for so many reasons, the biggest being that if she walked away from Trevor, she would be walking away from the love of her life. The thought tore her apart.
“I...” She struggled to find the right thing to say. There was no easy way out of this. “Yes, I was sent here because of what happened in Turkey. We have reason to believe that you were responsible for several civilians’ deaths... That, and a few other things.”
He reached over and braced himself against a tree. The bark crumbled under his fingers, littering the ground with the ashy remnants of what had been so beautiful only moments before. Everything was disintegrating.
“So you came here believing that I was some kind of monster?” There was a pained look in his eyes.
“No, I came here to find out the truth. And the moment I met you, I knew that things weren’t going to be as black-and-white as I’d hoped. You are nothing like the man I expected to meet.” She wanted to reach out and touch him, to reassure him that everything was going to be okay—but the truth was, she didn’t know whether everything would be all right or not.
“And you know about Trish’s death?”
She nodded. “What happened to her...from what I know, it wasn’t your fault.”
He leaned against the tree, crossing his arms over his chest. “You’re only saying that to create a bond—empathize with your target, make them feel safe. I know your game.”
His words tore at her, ripping away what little was left of her defenses. “I’m not playing a game. If I were, I’d never have told you the truth about me being an agent. Until very recently, I wasn’t sure about you. But I’ve come to believe that you are incapable of hurting an innocent person.” She couldn’t stand it; she reached over and put her hand on his chest. His heart was thrashing beneath her touch. “Don’t think I didn’t notice that you weren’t shooting earlier. You could’ve gone in there guns blazing, but you took the high road. That takes an entirely different level of bravery.”
“That wasn’t bravery, it was curiosity.” He looked down at her hand but didn’t move to take it. “I didn’t want to kill the one person who could have possibly known about the Cussler brother’s death. I have to know how close all my enemies really are.” He moved away from her.
She’d broken the bond they’d had, irreparably.
“I know you probably don’t believe me, but I’m not one of them. I have the power to condemn you—if I’d found evidence—and I also hold the power to clear your name. But I need to know some truths from you, something I can take back to my handler to prove that you’re the man that I know you are—and not the gunrunning terrorist the FBI believes you to be.”
His indifferent expression changed to one of complete shock as he opened and closed his mouth like he was struggling to find the right words. “How much do you know about me?”
The way he asked made her wonder if she had missed some glaring detail.
She’d already admitted her truth to him, so all she could think of was the old adage in for a penny, in for a pound.
“I know that you and your family are in fact a group called STEALTH. You’ve been running guns around the globe for a number of years now. I know, and the FBI has proof, that you are involved in the trade. I don’t know to what degree, and I’m hoping our intelligence was wrong—that you are just the little fish and we are going after the whales. From what I’ve seen, you don’t seem like the type of man who would put guns into the hands of those who wish to do the most harm.”
“You’re right, I don’t want to hurt anyone who doesn’t deserve to be taken to their knees. But being in the FBI, you have to know as well as I do that there are truly wicked people out there. And the only way to bring those kinds of monsters down is to send monsters after them...and just like you first assumed, I am that monster.” He sat down on a log next to the dying campfire.
She didn’t know what to make of what he was saying. Was he admitting his crimes? If so she had no choice but to turn him over when they got back to the ranch. Perhaps that was what he wanted, to fall on the sword and go to prison...otherwise, why would he have so easily admitted to his mistakes? And yet there was something about the way he spoke that made her wonder if there was more to the story.
“Why, Trevor?” She sat down beside him.
“Why what?”
“Why do you think you’re a monster?” She tented her fingers between her knees as she leaned forward and looked back at him.
“I had nothing to do with civilian deaths in Turkey. Yes, I took down my enemy combatants—I’ve killed. And if you asked me if I’d do it again, I wouldn’t hesitate to say yes. Especially when it came to trying to save Trish. I’ll do anything to save the people I love,” he said, a deep sadness in his voice. “But I’m also the man who is willing to run into a burning building and save the innocent. I’m the man people call in the dead of night when the demons seep out of the cracks and wish to do them harm. So you can judge me however you wish. I’m guilty of plenty of things that society deems wrong, but in my heart, I know that I’m the man who is doing what many others can’t. I make the hard choices.”
She sat in silence, trying to come to terms with the things he was saying. He wasn’t like any gun dealer she’d ever met before—not that she’d met many. He didn’t seem to be after money or driven by greed. Instead he seemed almost like her, focused on humanitarian need and the prospect of justice—but in the most unconventional way. And she still didn’t understand how giving guns to warlords was saving the innocent. Was this an elaborate rationalization?
“Trevor, why were you running guns?”
He smirked and ran his hands over his face. “That’s past tense. We don’t do it now. We got out of the game after everything with Trish. So if you think you’re going to help the FBI and federal prosecutors by coming after my family, it’s nonsensical. We’re out of the game.”
She didn’t know whether or not to bring up Seattle. He was lying to her—they were still very much active in the trade—but she couldn’t reveal everything she knew. Not if there was a chance he was playing her for a fool. “But you admit you have been putting guns into the wrong hands?”
“Just like you said trust me, now I ask the same of you. What I did, I did because I had to. Yes, the ethics were somewhat ambiguous, but there were greater things at play than even you know.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean that you don’t have all the answers, and neither do I. But I’m not the bad guy here. Just like you, I do what I have to do—sometimes at the cost of others.”
“You don’t care that civilians are dying because of you?” The question came out and slashed like a sword. She hadn’t meant it to be as harsh as it sounded, but she needed to know exactly where he stood. Both of their futures depended on it.
He shook his head. “I know it doesn’t look like it from the outside, but I wanted to keep people safe just as much as you do. When I realized I couldn’t, that’s when I came here. If I can’t even keep my own sister safe, then I have no business out there. Thinking I could make a difference, it’s almost the definition of stupidity.”
“You’re not responsible for your sister’s death. I’ve seen the reports. Maybe they didn’t have all the facts, or the answers, but I saw the forensic analysis. From where you were standing, you could have never gotten there in time to help. The shooter had the advantage.”
“You may have seen the science behind everything, but what you didn’t see was someone you love looking up at you and knowing that they needed your help, and yet all you could do was watch them die.”
She wanted to hold him and tell him it would be okay, that time would heal. And yet he wasn’t hers. They were enemies, at least in his m
ind. If she even tried to console him, it would come off as false—and only drive them further apart.
She couldn’t make his heart feel something toward her that his mind wouldn’t allow.
And as much as she knew she shouldn’t reach for him, she did. She took his hand in hers and lifted it to her face. “Trevor, I’m so sorry. For everything. For Trish. For this. For the investigation. But you’re not alone in your suffering. When I was young, I lived in Redmond—”
“On a military base, or was that a lie, too?” he asked, pulling his hand away.
He had every right to snap at her. “Some of what I told you was backstory, but there is some truth to it. I find it easier to have an identity that I can actually relate to. My dad was in the military. He was controlling and passionate about his Second Amendment rights—until he and my mother were found in a parked car at the bottom of Mount Rainier, murdered. I was sixteen.”
They sat there in silence for a long moment. “I’m sorry, Sabrina. I know how hard it can be to lose people you love.” He turned to her. “Is your parents’ murder the reason you decided to become involved in the Bureau?”
She nodded. “After their death, I had nowhere to go. I was shipped around foster homes in the area for a while until I ended up in a nice couple’s house in Redmond. The guy worked for a local law firm and the woman worked at the federal office. My guardian set me up with an interview at the FBI after I graduated from college. Go Huskies,” she said, raising her hand in the air in feigned excitement.
“Did they ever solve your parents’ murder?” he asked.
She shook her head. “And the files are buried. I’ve tried to look into them a few times, but I don’t have the clearance.”
“It sounds like there’s more to your parents’ murder than the Bureau wants you to know.”
She chuckled. “We live in a world full of conspiracy theories, don’t we?”
“They’re not always theories. Sometimes the most outrageous things I see and hear are the truth.” He picked up one of the blue camp plates like he was inspecting the edges. “As much as you want to get to the bottom of your parents’ murder, you probably need to let it go. You’re chasing ghosts, and when you do that you open yourself up for a lifetime of disappointment. One ghost leads to another, which leads to another, and then all you end up with is heartbreak and a life haunted by questions you’ll never have the answers to.”
Hidden Truth Page 11