Читать книгу Yuletide Suspect - Lisa Phillips - Страница 14

FOUR

Tate wanted to hold her hand. He also wanted to yell at her and get her to tell him why she’d jumped off the snowmobile. He’d nearly had a heart attack when he realized what she’d done. Yes, she was a Secret Service agent. He’d been one as well, and that stuff didn’t just disappear. He was wired to protect, and that meant Liberty along with everyone else. Feelings didn’t matter. Even after she’d torn his life apart. Maybe especially. They didn’t get to pick and choose who they protected.

Thank You for keeping us safe. God had protected them. That man had tried to kill them, and in the end had chosen to end his life by forcing her hand. He’d known what it meant to attack Tate one last time. It couldn’t have ended another way.

Now there was a dead man in the woods. Liberty had taken a million pictures of the body while he checked for ID and found nothing, then noted as many details as he could in a text to the sheriff that would send just as soon as he got a signal. Liberty had said she would email the photos to Dane later after she downloaded them to her laptop.

Aside from that, there wasn’t much they could do about a dead body in the woods. Tate needed to find the plane so he could prove to the Secret Service—and anyone else—that he hadn’t been involved in its disappearance.

Then there were the two men at his house. One had tried to kill him, and the other had planted evidence by leaving the plane’s black box by his front door. The first had come back and tried again. It couldn’t be a coincidence; there was no such thing in their line of work, he had learned. So it wasn’t just the Secret Service pointing a finger at him. Someone else wanted to make sure he was implicated in this. But who? And what did they have to gain, getting him arrested and thrown in prison?

Liberty was silent beside him, and Tate didn’t try to draw her out of it. He had no idea what was going on in her head, but when she was ready to talk to him she would. That had always been their way. What would be the point of making her talk?

Even though it had been more than a year since he’d seen her, a lot of who they had been together still seemed to fit. Despite that, he couldn’t imagine them working as a couple after everything. But then, Tate couldn’t imagine it working with anyone now. Clearly he wasn’t the kind of guy any woman kept around.

Soon enough they were at the old mine, the place Tate had thought of immediately when she’d mentioned a missing plane in this area.

Assuming it hadn’t crashed and there wasn’t debris splayed across the terrain somewhere around here just waiting to be found.

If this was indeed a case of foul play, the plane had to have landed somewhere close to here. After all, the black box had been removed and was intact. It hadn’t been destroyed or crashed with the plane and buried in the debris.

If the people who were doing this truly wanted the plane to remain undiscovered, it meant they had to be hiding it somewhere. The front part of this system of caves and tunnels making up the entirety of the mine was an opening big enough to taxi a plane into. It would not be completely closed in, but it would at least hide the aircraft for a while.

Tate couldn’t think of a better place to put it.

Liberty stopped and looked across the clearing, at least eight acres of snowfall. “This is it?”

“It’s where I would hide a plane.” When she shot him a look, Tate added, “If I was the one who was behind this. Which I am not, and you know that. Or at least you should.”

Maybe she’d never had total faith in him, and their relationship had been shakier than he’d known. But he’d thought they were good. Preparing for the future, making plans together for when they were no longer Secret Service agents. They’d been busy all the time, out on the road campaigning every few years. On overseas details, protecting the secretary of state and other dignitaries.

They had lived in some amazing places and seen some amazing things, but the strain of that life weighed a person down until they felt old beyond their years. He knew he felt it, but Liberty didn’t look it. Her mom didn’t look her age either, so he figured it was probably inherited.

“How are your parents?” Tate set off toward the mine.

Liberty strode through the snow beside him. “They’re good. My dad won a golf tournament last weekend, beat all of his friends and everything. He was seriously proud. They even got him a little trophy.” She grinned, and her teeth flashed white in the moonlight. “Have you seen your brother at all?”

He’d told her the story about his parents’ car crash when he was in college. It was the first time he remembered being really, truly angry. Tate’s younger brother had been sixteen at the time and had spiraled on a downward descent since then. Braden had hit rock bottom so many times Tate had lost count.

“He doesn’t return my calls. I invited him to Christmas, but I figure he’ll probably just ignore the holidays.” Tate paused, unsure whether or not to add this next part. In the end, he decided to brave the potential heartbreak. “The house I’m living in right now is actually our family’s vacation cabin. I fixed it up so I could live there.”

“But you told me it’s for sale.”

“I tried. I really did. I just can’t face it by myself, Lib. I can’t live with all those happy family memories and be by myself.”

Liberty stared at him with some kind of wonder he didn’t understand. “Tate, why haven’t you found someone?” Her voice was full of so much pain it almost hurt to hear it. Like she couldn’t believe he didn’t meet eligible women every day.

It wasn’t like they just showed up on his mountain.

She cleared her throat, and he let her change the subject. “Your Christmas tree is very nice. And the place looks great.” She spoke tentatively, like she wasn’t sure how the words would be received. “I haven’t even had time to get mine up yet. And I was planning on going down to Florida anyway, but that isn’t going to happen now.”

“I’m sorry this has ruined your Christmas plans.”

“I might still be able to get them back on track. I have a few days of travel left before Christmas Eve. If this gets wrapped up before then, I’ll probably still try to head down to see my parents if I can.” Liberty tucked some hair behind her ear, the way she did when she was avoiding something.

Tate figured she didn’t want him to know her Christmas wouldn’t be anything special, just a visit with her parents. It would be more than what he was looking forward to—assuming his house didn’t sell in the next week.

A fire in his fireplace, hot coffee and a book. Sounded about perfect, but it wasn’t anywhere near as enjoyable as the years they’d meet up on Christmas Eve at one of their homes and watch an old movie together. It had been a tradition, a part of their life together. One he’d dearly missed last Christmas Eve.

Right now wasn’t the time to dwell on memories. Not when they had a plane to find.

“I’m sure that’ll be great,” he said.

She shot him a funny look, but he didn’t have time to figure out what it was about. Tate led Liberty over to the mine’s entrance. Once one of the most prominent sources of coal in this entire area, the cave had an opening big enough to accommodate heavy equipment. It stretched above their heads and to their left and right. The inside was a dark cavern he could barely see into. Good thing he’d brought a flashlight.

When they were close enough for her to see just how big it was, Liberty gasped. “You could totally hide a small aircraft in there.”

“Me, specifically?”

“You know what I mean, Tate. This place is big enough to hide a business jet like the one that disappeared. I really hope we find it and the people who are missing. I can’t imagine what they’re going through.” She started to walk fast.

Fifteen feet from the mine’s opening, a rumble shook the ground. Before Tate could register the fact that it was an earthquake, an orange fireball split the space between the roof of the mine and the walls.

The force of the explosion pushed them back onto the snow with a rush of hot air and flames.

* * *

Dirt and rocks rained down over the entrance like a tsunami of earth as the mine exploded in on itself. Tate grabbed her arm, but Liberty was already climbing to her feet and running. The roar was almost as loud as the deafening explosion. Her ears rang, and she thought he might be yelling instructions to her, but she couldn’t hear. Thankfully, the terrain wasn’t sloped, or there quite likely would have been an avalanche.

The ground started to shift under her as she ran. Liberty stumbled, and Tate scooped her up like the hero he’d been to her for years. Underneath he was still the same protective guy she’d loved. Being in his arms had been the safest place, second only to right at his back during a fire fight. And she knew which she preferred.

Tate picked up the pace, forcing her to keep up. Liberty ran until sweat chilled on her temple and ran down her back. She estimated it was almost half a mile before they were clear of the explosion and the debris it had caused, and Tate slowed.

Liberty set her hands on her knees and bent forward, sucking in breaths.

Tate set his hand on her back. When she looked up he was scanning the area. Then he looked at her. “I think we’re clear.”

Liberty straightened. “What do you want to do now?” She could barely think. They’d nearly died. Her head spun, and it was entirely possible she was going to fall over. Just swoon and pass out, like she wasn’t a Secret Service agent.

She sucked in a breath and squared her shoulders. Then gasped. The mine was gone. The mountain had caved in on itself like an empty burlap sack. Tate stepped toward it, but she waylaid him with a hand on his arm. “We’ll be careful,” he said.

“You want to go over there?” Was it even safe to walk over the debris?

“We need to see if the plane was in the mine. We might be able to get a look.”

“We should tell the Secret Service.” Not to mention the FBI and the sheriff. “There’s no way that explosion was missed, even if it is the middle of the night.”

“It’s only one in the morning.”

She glanced at him. He’d always been Mr. Night Owl, while she was an early riser. Something about the dark had always creeped her out. She didn’t like being outside in the middle of nowhere at night. But even though she wasn’t alone, she still couldn’t relax too much. He would protect her, and she would hold up her end, but it wouldn’t last.

Liberty looked at her phone, just so she could do something unrelated to Tate. His presence had always filled a room. When he was calm, that calmness seemed to permeate the air. When he was agitated, like he was now, she had to let him work through it. He’d told her he had tools he used to process his emotions. Methods for reining it in while he thought through what needed to be worked out.

She couldn’t imagine it had been easy to lose his parents so young and suddenly have to take care of his brother full-time. He’d said it was going into the military that saved him and gave him the structure and discipline he’d so badly needed back then. He’d thrived, making it all the way to a senior NCO. The Secret Service had been a good move, though he’d brushed up against the bureaucracy more than once.

Tate was all about improving methodology instead of doing things the same way over and over. If it could be improved, it should be. Liberty agreed, though she was more of a follower than a leader. Some people were naturally take-charge people. She could do it if she had to, and she had in her personal life. But only when it was a necessity.

“No signal?”

She sighed. “Nothing.”

“I figured as much. The whole mountain where my cabin is, I get nothing.” He held up his own device—one of those ancient flip phones.

“I didn’t even know they sold those anymore. Does it even connect to the internet?”

Tate shrugged. She knew he’d never enjoyed email and probably hadn’t done a Google search in his life. The man still used a phone book to look up numbers. She’d called him a “dinosaur” about technology more than once.

Tate stepped over snow mingled with dirt and rocks, testing each step to make sure it would hold his weight. Liberty did the same, carving out her own path to his right. “The ground seems pretty stable.”

“But the mine is toast.”

She nodded. “We aren’t going to be able to see inside.”

“Still, the explosion might have made the plane visible. We at least have to look at it from all angles, in case we can see something.”

“The FBI and the Secret Service are going to have to bring earth movers up here to clear it out if they really want to find out if the plane was here. Is here.”

He pointed left, past the mouth of the mine that was no more. “There’s a road on the other side. We can follow it out and get to town, get the word out that we think we know where the plane might be.”

Liberty nodded. “That’s a good idea. We can start convincing them you don’t have anything to do with this.”

“Is that why you came by yourself?”

She glanced at him.

“There has to be a reason you didn’t come with your team. You drove out by yourself to my cabin.” He paused. “I didn’t think about it until now, since we’ve been busy fighting off guys. But now that I think about it, shouldn’t you be working with the Secret Service instead of flying solo?”

“Locke knows where I am.” Liberty figured it was time to admit the truth. “He wanted to wait out the snow, but I said I was leaving right away. So yeah, it was bad and I almost didn’t make it. But I got to your cabin, and they should have been maybe an hour behind me. They were going to check into the hotel first.” She shrugged. “I figured I could get a jump on proving you weren’t part of it.”

“So you didn’t think I was guilty.”

“Your mental state isn’t the best, but it doesn’t exactly scream ‘domestic terrorist.’”

He gave her a dark look. “What exactly do you know about my mental state?”

“The blog—”

“Right, the blog.” He lifted both hands, palms up. “I have no idea what blog you’re talking about. I’m not even sure what one is.”

She had thought it was weird that a technologically inept man such as Tate would suddenly start a blog. “About eight months ago you started posting monthly rants. At first they were just generally disgruntled, stuff about the government and how it’s run. Federal agencies. Budgets.”

“And you thought that was me?”

“It was all stuff we’ve talked about.” What else was she supposed to have thought?

“I don’t own a computer, Liberty. I have no internet access.”

“I didn’t know. It seemed like you, kind of.”

“Kind of?”

Liberty shrugged. She’d hurt him, and when he had started the blog—or when the blog had started—it’d made sense to her he’d feel that way. She just hadn’t figured he’d spew his feelings online. “What do you want me to say? I thought you were lashing out because I hurt you.”

“And you came here to what...apologize?”

“Would that be so awful?” she asked. “I felt like I owed you something at least.”

Tate didn’t react. Not in his face, and not in his stiff body language. “The last thing I want to hear from you is that you’re sorry. At least have the guts to stand by what you did. You tore us apart for whatever reason was in your head.” He paused. “Does the reason still apply?”

Liberty nodded, unable to speak past the lump in her throat.

“Then there’s nothing more to say about us.”

Liberty nodded again. “It’s good you think so. You’ll be able to move on with no ties to us or anything else in your past.” It hurt to say those words, but she wanted him to know he was free. He needed to believe she would be happy for him. “Is there anyone in town you’re...interested in? Have you met someone?” Maybe he would answer now.

Tate’s eyebrows drew together. “You want me to be with someone else?”

“I want you to be happy, Tate.” It was why she’d let him go.

“Guess I’m just not wired for happily-ever-after.”

Liberty blinked. “Of course you are. Why would you say that?”

“You made it pretty clear we weren’t going to work, so why would it work with someone else?”

“Why would it not?” She hated that he thought this. She had to change his mind. “Of course you can be happy.”

“And waste months—maybe even years—trying to find out? I’m done with relationships. Otherwise I’d have figured it out by now.”

“Plenty of people find happiness in their thirties.”

“Yeah? Like you?”

Liberty wanted to say something. Instead she just closed her mouth. What was there to say? Relationships were great, but she wanted more for Tate than she could give anyone, and a man who didn’t realize the demands on Secret Service agents would never understand her life. It wouldn’t work, and since Tate was gone from her life, she hadn’t even been looking. She had thought he was her future, but that wasn’t the path God had set before her.

A car engine revved.

Liberty spun around to see a truck round the corner over where Tate had pointed out the road. The vehicle rumbled fast over the ruts of debris, right toward them.

Tate set one hand on her stomach and moved her back so he was in front of her. Liberty glanced around the breadth of his shoulders. “It’s coming right for us.”

“Give me the backpack.”

She did so, and they started to run. But before Tate could get it open gunshots exploded the dirt around them.

“Freeze!”

Liberty halted. Tate slammed into her, backpack first. He dropped it and slid his arms around her. She lifted her hands.

“Both of you, in the truck.”