Kitabı oku: «Stolen Secrets», sayfa 3

FOUR

A great weight pressed into Lucy’s chest, restricting her breathing.

The instant photograph was small, only a few inches square, and the colors were bleached. The two grainy forms in the foreground were barely distinguishable as her and Jordan. Despite the poor quality, there was no mistaking the content. The picture was of the two of them and had been taken outside her sunroom only moments before.

Jordan slammed the trunk and climbed into the driver’s seat of Lucy’s car. “I checked the angle. It looks like someone took the picture from your neighbor’s yard. Are you certain you didn’t leave that window open when you left this morning?”

“Positive.” She racked her brain for the last time she’d aired that room. “Although it’s been a while since I’ve checked the locks. The sunroom is south facing and heats up quickly in the spring.”

Jordan tapped his index finger against the steering wheel. “Whoever planted the listening devices probably left it open as a bit of insurance for easy access to the house when necessary.”

“Do you think they know we discovered the surveillance?”

“Even if they did, I don’t think they care. They want you to know you’re being monitored. Someone took the picture from the neighboring yard, then slipped it through the open window while we were upstairs. They want you to feel on edge. To feel trapped.”

Lucy huffed. “It’s working.”

She’d been vacillating between anger and terror since leaving the house. Content to sit on her lap, Mr. Nibbles gnawed on the edge of the photo until Jordan wrestled it away.

“That’s evidence,” he admonished lightly. “Stick to your carrots.”

He tucked the photo into his breast pocket and ran his fingers through his hair, then twisted around to reach into the back seat. A slight puckering of the skin near his left ear caught her attention. He wore his hair longer than Brandt, and she’d attributed the style to a subtle, maybe even subconscious, bit of rebellion. As she looked closer, she recognized the faint edges of a significant scar.

A chill gripped her. His hair wasn’t a fashion statement—it was camouflage.

“We’ll wait here a minute,” he said. “Westover and Karp are checking the perimeter.”

“Okay,” she murmured.

They’d told her little about the blast, and she knew only what she’d seen on the news. A suicide bomber had targeted the hotel where Jordan and Brandt had been staying. Two locals had been killed along with Brandt.

Jordan had been outside the building at the time of the attack and was struck by shrapnel. She’d known he was in the hospital at the time of the funeral, but not once had it occurred to her that he might still be in rehab this whole time.

The bombing had happened a year before, and yet he’d only recently made contact. The delay hadn’t seemed ominous to her before seeing the signs of his injuries.

Mr. Nibbles squirmed in her hands, nudging her back to the present. “What happens next?”

“We wait. He wants inside your head. He wants you looking over your shoulder. When he figures you’re nice and jumpy, he’ll make contact.”

The black SUV pulled to a stop beside them, and Westover rolled down his window. “There’s no sign of anyone. They must have hightailed it out of here after taking the picture. No one went by us, which means they came down the alley. Doesn’t look like anyone has a security camera or a doorbell camera pointed in that direction, and the neighboring house is empty and listed for sale. No help there.”

“I’d really like to catch a break one of these days,” Jordan grumbled. “Where to next?”

Karp passed a piece of paper over Westover and through the open window. “Take Ms. Sutton back to base housing. Westover and I will coordinate with local law enforcement. I don’t want to startle whoever did this, but we’ll have the police increase the patrols around her house.”

Jordan glanced at the paper, and his features relaxed. “Who else are we bringing in on this?”

“If need be, we can coordinate with the local FBI. I’ll send any security footage we dig up back to Maryland for analysis. For now, let’s figure out what we’re dealing with.”

“All right.”

The window slid back into place and the SUV pulled away.

“I’m sorry,” Lucy said, not quite certain what she was apologizing for.

“No need to be sorry. This is what I do.” Jordan grunted. “Well, not precisely. Normally I’m running offense. But you’re in good hands. I’ll coordinate with my staff in Maryland. I trust Karp and he knows the staff here.”

“Are you in Omaha for long?” Lucy asked.

She and Brandt had met through mutual friends at a party when he was in town for work. Though Brandt had never been particularly forthcoming about his job, she knew enough about the local base to recognize the communications he monitored were highly classified. Though drones were operated from a separate location, she occasionally visited when the software was updated.

Jordan flashed a wry grin. “My plans are up in the air right now. Had kind of a busy day.”

“That’s fair.” She chuckled in spite of herself. “This isn’t how I expected my day to go, either.”

“What did you have planned?”

“I was going to clean out the refrigerator and weed the garden.” This morning seemed like ages ago. She’d have to ask a neighbor to water her flowers if she was gone for long. “Then I was thinking about reading a book and watching some TV. Probably not as exciting as your life, eh?”

A shadow passed over his expression. “Most of my days are the same.” His stomach rumbled, filling the silence, and his cheeks flushed. “I was also planning on getting something to eat.”

Though she wasn’t hungry, Lucy said, “I’m starving.”

His obvious relief more than made up for the little white lie. She sensed he’d ignore his own needs in order to take care of hers first.

“How do you feel about burgers?” he asked.

This time she didn’t have to lie. “I adore them.”

The next instant, she flashed back to the coffee shop. She pictured the shattered windows and heard the noise. Her hand drifted to her bandaged cheek. The weight settled on her chest once more, and she fought the pressure building behind her eyes.

Jordan placed his hand next to hers on the seat, not quite touching. “Don’t worry. I know a really good drive-through burger joint. We won’t even have to get out of the car.”

Grateful for his understanding, she heaved a sigh of relief. “Thank you.”

“It gets better, you know. But it takes time. When something like this happens, it changes you. Don’t be afraid to talk about it.”

Her throat constricted, preventing her from answering, and she nodded instead. Brandt had always assured her that his job was boring and monotonous. He’d downplayed the danger. He’d lied to her. While she recognized that he was trying to protect her, the truth would have served her better. She didn’t want to think about what Jordan’s life was like when he was in the field.

If this morning was any indication of the kind of danger he faced when he was working overseas, she was better off not knowing the details.

A short time later, the delightful aroma of burgers and fries filled the car. Holding the bag in her lap, Lucy’s mouth watered. Maybe she was hungry, after all.

Jordan flashed his credentials to pass through the gate at the air force base and parked her car before a rather dull and sterile-looking building.

Safely sequestered behind a guarded gate, she was struck with an unexpected sense of calm, as though she was leaving the dangerous world behind. Jordan must have felt something similar, because he appeared more relaxed than he had all day.

She carried the food and overnight bag down the hallway while he struggled with the guinea pig cage.

Pausing before a nondescript door, Jordan gestured with his shoulder. “There’s an empty apartment down the hall. I’ll get your key after we eat. These fries aren’t much good if they’re cold.” Propping the cage on his bent knee to open the door, he met her gaze. “I’m not certain if pets are strictly allowed, so we’ll keep this guy under wraps.”

“Don’t worry. He’s very quiet.”

The inside of the temporary housing was as bland as the outside. The space reminded her of an extended-stay hotel. There was a small kitchenette and living room along with two closed doors that she presumed led to a bedroom and bathroom.

The moment they sat down, Lucy’s appetite returned with a vengeance. In a flurry of paper wrapping and napkins, they devoured their dinner in companionable silence. She glanced at the clock, shocked to see that it was barely six.

“I can’t believe it’s not midnight,” she said. “I feel like it should be dark outside.”

Jordan balled his wrapper and stuck it back in the empty sack. “You’re telling me.”

He stretched his arm and winced, then rubbed his shoulder.

Lucy cleared her throat. “They didn’t tell me much about the bombing. Were you…were you hurt badly?”

He shrugged. “Not bad.”

She glanced at the table. “I know it’s none of my business. I just wondered.” She made a vague gesture beside her face. “I saw the scarring earlier. When we were in the car. Was that from…was that from what happened?”

He started to say something, then appeared to change his mind. “Yes.” He threaded his fingers through his hair, revealing only a brief hint of the scar before dropping his hand. “I caught some shrapnel from the blast.”

“It’s okay if you don’t want to talk about it.”

She didn’t know why she needed to know, but being here, after what had happened this morning, she wanted to learn everything about him. She wanted to understand who he was as a person beyond what she’d heard from Brandt.

“It’s all right.” He stood and crossed to the garbage can. “I don’t really remember much about that day. I’d gone to the local market.” After pressing his toe against the lever, he tossed in the remainder of their shared dinner. “You’d love the markets there. Everything is colorful and exotic. The sights, the smells, the food. I usually bring something back for my family. My stepsister is expecting. I thought I’d get something for the new baby.”

Since he hadn’t lingered on the topic, she decided not to press him. “Do you have any other siblings?”

“Nope.”

She didn’t know why it surprised her to think of him as having a stepsister. He seemed solitary, but that was only because they’d met under such odd circumstances. “Do you get to see your stepsister often?”

His expression grew wistful. “Not as much as I’d like. But I’m trying to be better. After I got out of the hospital, I stayed with my dad for a few weeks in Florida. Then I stayed with my stepsister for a few days. She’s only been married a little over a year, and I didn’t want to overstay my welcome.”

Lucy planted her chin on her hand. “You’re fortunate, you know? I always wanted a brother or a sister I was close to. It’s lonely growing up as an only child.”

“I can relate more than you think. I was twelve when my dad remarried. I was used to being alone. It took me a while to adjust.”

“I suppose it would.” Her smile was pensive. “But at least you had someone else to blame when there were cookies missing from the cookie jar. I’ve always wanted to talk with someone else who shared my memories of growing up. It’d be nice to have more family. More company.”

“There’s that.” He returned to his seat across from her. “Emma and her husband visited here once. He’s a good guy. We caught a college football game. Now that she’s getting closer to having the baby, she doesn’t like to travel as much.”

Lucy glanced around the room, noticing for the first time the signs of a prolonged stay. There were even a few framed pictures on a shelf and, alongside, a lonely stack of hardback books.

“How long have you been here?” she asked.

“Almost four months.”

She started, surprised and unexpectedly hurt that he’d been this close the whole time and had only just reached out. “I didn’t realize.”

Then again, she hadn’t exactly given him any reason to think she’d welcome a visit. She’d been too wrapped up in herself and her own suffering.

Jordan straightened the salt and pepper shakers on the kitchen table. “We’re implementing a new program to monitor overseas communications. We’ve got at least another six months before rollout. After that, I’m back to Maryland. That’s where the National Security Agency headquarters is located. But you already know that.”

They’d both had a long and difficult day, and Jordan deserved time to himself, yet Lucy found herself lingering. She’d been grieving by herself for so long, and now she didn’t have to be alone.

All of her memories of Brandt came with an ache. Having Jordan here, knowing he understood her loss, she recalled the good times. The happiness and the laughter. The hope. And the ache didn’t seem quite as bad as it had before.

“Where does your stepsister live?” she asked.

“Texas.” He pointed out a picture of a smiling couple standing before a two-story house with a wraparound porch. “We weren’t close growing up, and I regret that. It was a second marriage for both our parents. She’d recently lost her dad and wasn’t happy that we’d come into her life. I suppose she felt like my dad was trying to replace the one she’d lost. It’s hard for kids.” He shook his head. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t be telling you all this.”

“No,” she protested. “Please. I want to know. It helps. The talking.”

An emotion she hadn’t felt in a long time stirred inside her. She longed for something more in her life. But if she stepped outside the numbness, she’d have to open herself up to pain. To loss. And she wasn’t ready. Not yet.

Jordan made a vague motion toward his bookshelf. “Her name is Emma Lyons—”

“The journalist?”

“Yes.”

Lucy gasped and half rose from her chair. “I know her! I know her books. She wrote Unforgotten. She wrote that other one.” She snapped her fingers, dredging up the memory. “She wrote the book about the Lone Star State Killer. Which means you’re the Jordan Harris.”

“Yeah,” he agreed, clearly bemused. “I’m Jordan Harris.”

“The two of you found…” She trailed off. “I’m sorry. Maybe you don’t want to talk about it.”

“No. It’s all right. I’m growing accustomed to the questions.” He scratched his temple with his index finger. “You know most of the story if you read the book. When we were kids, the two of us found the body of a woman who’d been murdered. We were on vacation. Camping. Emma became obsessed with serial killers after that. She wrote about them. She studied them. Though she didn’t realize it at the time, she even managed to hunt one.”

Lucy sat in bemused silence for a few moments. “What a small world.”

“Yeah.”

The steady hum of the refrigerator filled the silence, and she wished she’d brought her e-reader. She wanted to find Emma Lyons’s book again, now that she knew Jordan was featured. She had only a vague memory of a dramatic shoot-out when the killer kidnapped Emma.

Brandt had never mentioned the incident to her, and she wondered if he’d even known about it. Jordan had admitted the connection only when she’d cornered him.

He rubbed a hand over his eyes and stifled a yawn. He was exhausted.

“Well, uh…” She glanced around. “I should be going.”

Jordan stood. “I’ll get the key. I’ll be right back.”

When he returned a few moments later, she reached for Mr. Nibbles. “Thank you. For everything. I don’t know what I’d have done without you.”

He lifted the cage before she could protest. “I’ll get that.”

She peered inside. “He looks tired.”

“He looks ornery.”

“That, too. Although looks can be deceiving.”

She stepped on her sore ankle and winced. Jordan looped his free hand beneath her arm and steadied her. Her pulse kicked into overdrive. She was confused by the feelings he stirred in her and the spark of awareness at his touch.

Testing her weight once more, she moved away. “It’s fine. Just a twinge when I step wrong.”

He walked her down the hallway and showed her into a small apartment that was a mirror image of his own, right down to the kitchenette.

As she arranged the cage, he hovered in the doorway. “You’ve got my number. I’m down the hall if you need anything.”

“Thank you.” Unsure what the future might hold, she screwed up her courage and said, “I should have written to you or something. I’m sorry. I knew you were hurt. I didn’t know…I didn’t know if you’d want to hear from me.”

His expression was inscrutable. “I wasn’t sure of your response, either. I missed your emails, though. When I think of Brandt, I think about him reading your stories. I remember how happy you made him.”

Tears pressed against the backs of her eyes. “That’s all I ever wanted.”

Guilt and sorrow tugged her in opposite directions. Even though the fear was a relief from the oppressive pain, she didn’t welcome either emotion. She wanted to retreat into the oblivion she’d grown accustomed to before Jordan’s arrival.

“Get some sleep,” he said, backing into the corridor. “Chances are, we’ll have this whole thing wrapped up by tomorrow and this will all just be a bad memory.”

“I hope so.”

The door swung closed behind him and she stood unmoving for a long moment. Isolated with her thoughts, she reached for her phone. She wasn’t quite ready to be alone. Not yet. Without giving herself time to reconsider, she quickly dialed the number.

After several rings, her mom picked up.

“Is this important, Lucy?” she demanded without preamble. “I was just walking out the door.”

Lucy studied the ceiling. “No. It’s nothing important.”

“Okay, then. Call me back next week. I’m leaving for California tomorrow.”

“Oh. Uh, you didn’t say anything about taking a trip.”

“Didn’t I? Well, I’m telling you now.” Noises sounded. “I saw on the news there was a shooting in your neighborhood this morning. Really, Lucy, it’s time you grew up. You’re an adult now. You shouldn’t be living in such a…a bohemian…area of town.”

“I like my neighborhood.”

“That neighborhood is for millennials who claim they want to be artists but are really just living off their parents.” She huffed. “Maybe you’d get a promotion at work if you did something about that hair. It’s all connected. If you made more money, you could afford something nicer.”

“There’s nothing wrong with my hair.”

“No one will ever take you seriously until you change your style. It was mildly amusing when you were sixteen. People expect a little rebellion out of a teenager. When you’re twenty-six, it’s embarrassing. Now you’re turning into a recluse, as well. When was the last time you left the house?”

“It was a rough year, Mom.”

“Not that again. Is this still about that guy you got engaged to after only dating for six months? I read in Dear Amy that you shouldn’t mourn a relationship longer than you were in the relationship. And it’s been a year. There’s no point in wallowing in self-pity. You have a good job, even if you could do better. A good life. Enjoy it.”

“I better let you go.” Lucy sucked in a jagged breath. “You have a safe trip.”

Calling her mom was a mistake. Vicky Sutton wasn’t going to change, and it was Lucy’s own fault for expecting something different. At least now she didn’t have to feel guilty about not mentioning that she was present at the shooting. There was a chance this would all be over by the time her mom got back from California.

“Lucy? Are you still there?”

“Yes.”

“We’ll talk more next month. My friend Donna has a lovely town house in West Omaha. We’ll tour her complex. Just don’t wear those awful combat boots.”

“Love you, Mom.”

“All right, then. We’ll talk more about this when I get back.”

After disconnecting the phone, Lucy stared at the wall for several long minutes.

A knock sounded, and she opened the door to Jordan.

He smiled sheepishly and extended his arm. “I found some carrots in the fridge for your guinea pig.”

Their fingers brushed and her heart did an unexpected little hopscotch. “Thanks. You didn’t have to do that.”

“I wanted to.”

He was gone just that quickly, and she stared at the pile of carrots, absurdly touched by the gesture. He was a good man. He’d been a good and loyal friend to Brandt. Despite the circumstances, she was glad he was here.

Jordan had given her something she hadn’t had in a very long time. He’d given her something to look forward to.

He’d given her someone to look forward to.