Читать книгу Shadows Of Truth - Sharon Mignerey - Страница 11

Micah didn’t even pretend not to know who Rachel meant. The man—the kingpin—he had been after last spring. The one who was still in business while Rachel had paid too big a price for being a suspect.

Her eyes were on him, direct and clear and demanding the truth. Facts, he could give her. The truth was a lot harder. “Tell me what happened.”

“He threatened me.” She shook the crumpled photograph. “Worse, he threatened my children. And the scariest part is, it was all so polite. Courteous. He could repeat every single thing he said to me from a pulpit and the meaning would seem innocent to anyone else.”

She shivered again, this time reaching for the sweater she’d left hanging over the back of a chair. Nerves, Micah knew, because his own were stretched thin. At the moment, he didn’t care about the investigation or the instructions from his superior that Graden be taken down. Micah wanted Rachel and her children far from this situation before anything could happen.

“Start from the beginning, Rachel.” Inwardly, he winced, knowing he sounded just like a detached investigator.

And she did, telling him about the call from Jane Clark and how excited she’d been, because for the first time since last spring, she hoped there might be a way out of the pit she was in. How frightened she had been at Graden’s benign-sounding threat. How recently this picture had been taken, and how close to home. How she wanted simply to disappear along with her children and her father.

“That part is a good idea,” Micah said, gesturing toward the phone. “Pick up the phone, call your dad, and I can have you on the road before midnight.”

Her expression crumpled even more as her glance strayed to the clock on the stove where the time read that it was a few minutes before ten.

“Rachel?” He wanted to gather her close and stand between her and whatever was hurting her so. He didn’t know how things could get worse, but he was certain they were about to.

She shook her head. “It’s too late.”

“What are you talking about?” he asked. For her to be reluctant to call her dad, no matter how late, didn’t make a bit of sense.

She lifted her chin and looked at him, sighing. “The truth is that my dad and I aren’t talking right now.”

Her completely neutral tone didn’t jibe with the tension radiating from her body as she once again wrapped her arms around herself. Micah was dead sure she had no idea how much she revealed with that protective gesture.

“Are you going to tell me why, or do we get to play twenty questions about this, too?” he asked, sitting down at the kitchen table. He took a sip of tea from his glass.

She turned away from him, but not before he saw a private, hopeful smile dissolve into near tears. A memory manacled him to the chair like a prisoner, and he wondered if she had been grabbed by the same one.

He had been working for her for only a few days when the handyman, Smitty Jones, had dropped a heavy armoire on Micah’s foot. Rachel hadn’t believed his assertion that his injury was nothing more than a bruise and she’d demanded he show her. After he’d put his boot back on, she somehow ended up inviting him to dinner. He wondered now if the invitation had surprised her as much as it had him.

He’d come, sure that he’d find the missing pieces of evidence he needed to prove that she was involved in selling drugs and laundering money. Instead, he’d practiced T-ball with Sarah and built a Lego fort with Andy. Instead, he had cooked dinner side by side with Rachel because it was an excuse to get close to her. And he’d forgotten about the investigation for a few cherished hours. He’d nearly kissed her that night, and as he watched her now, he regretted that he hadn’t, regretted that he’d never have another chance.

He’d been welcome then, trusted then.

Abruptly, he folded his legs under the chair, the present coming back into focus.

“You might as well tell me what’s going on between you and your dad,” Micah said. “You know I’m going to find out anyway.”

Her eyes strayed to the calendar, held to the refrigerator by a couple of magnets. “It wouldn’t do any good to call him tonight, anyway. He won’t be there.”

“Because,” Micah prompted.

Her lips tightened as she glanced at him, then looked away, pacing around the spacious kitchen as she wiped an invisible speck on the counter and moved a canister into position. “Because he goes to see Angela every other week, and he left this morning. He won’t be back until tomorrow evening.”

“Is that the reason you two aren’t talking?” Micah could imagine how that would rankle—having her father remain loyal to the woman who had betrayed her.

“One of several.” She gave her attention to another microscopic speck on the counter.

Micah glanced at the photograph she had left on the table. “But your kids see him.”

“Of course. He’s family.”

“And this is a life-or-death situation, potentially.”

“Thanks for the reassurance.”

Micah stood. “You wanted the truth, Rachel. So whatever your issues with your dad—”

“I’ll handle it,” she said, her tone flat.

“Okay.” Since she was already annoyed, he decided to broach the next sensitive subject. “Until I can get your family to safety, you need to have someone here with you.”

She shook her head.

“This isn’t like last spring,” he said, “when you were suspected of being one of the bad guys. Your safety is paramount. Think about it. Graden keeps raising the stakes, by your own admission. First an e-mail, then an anonymous letter, then a rock through your window and now today’s threat. Keeping you, Sarah and Andy out of harm’s way is just as important to me as—”

“Getting your man?”

The accusation carrying the sting of truth, Micah came to a stop in front of her. “Seeing you reconciled with your dad,” he corrected, taking the washcloth from her and tossing it in the sink. “Seeing you have your dreams for this house come true.”

Her lovely eyes clouded even more, making Micah feel like a heel for having brought that up, remembering how last spring she had begun the application process to create a bed-and-breakfast out of this stately old house.

“Another pipe dream,” she whispered.

“If keeping the house is an issue,” he said, reaching for her hand, “I’ll give you the money.” He hadn’t intended to say that.

“Give?” She stepped away from him. “You or the DEA?”

“This has nothing to do with the investigation.”

“That’s taking guilt a little far, don’t you think? Even for you?”

“Lend, then.” Guilt. She had that nailed. Guilt or not, he’d gladly give her the money. If it chased the shadows from her eyes, it would be worth every cent. “Until you’re back on your feet.”

“No.”

She looked at him then, and once more he found himself drawing comparisons to last spring. Then, her eyes had been filled with delight and contentment. She’d loved her work, her children and the life she had created for herself after her husband had died. Micah didn’t like knowing he was responsible for taking that away. She swallowed, and his gaze was drawn to her pulse fluttering at the base of her neck.

“If you’re back here to pull the rug from under me like you did last spring…” Her gaze searched his while she paused, then she continued in a whisper. “…That would just about kill me.”

Needing to touch her and hoping she wouldn’t slap his hand away, he brushed a tendril of her fine hair away from her face. “I’m here to help you, Rachel. I promise.”

“But you still have to get your man.”

“Yes, I do.” His hand trembled when he let it drop to his side. Relief she had allowed that much? Fear that he wanted more? He didn’t know.

Rachel held his gaze for a long silent moment, grateful that he hadn’t looked away as he so often did. The depths of his dark-brown eyes seemed kind and compassionate to her, but then, they had last spring, too. She wanted to trust what he was saying. Oh, how she wanted it. But, with the memories came that ever-present fear.

Suddenly aware of how close he was and too tempted to lean into his comforting strength, she stepped away. “I’ll talk to my dad when he gets home.”

“Good.”

“I’m not that keen about taking the kids out of school,” she said. “They’ll fall behind.”

“Are you saying that you’ll agree to go into a safe house?” he asked, leaning against the kitchen counter and looking as though he belonged here. She remembered thinking so last spring. She’d been a fool then. She could only hope she wasn’t now.

As the memory of Graden’s threats surfaced again, she closed her eyes. Micah hadn’t questioned any of that being real, and that was something, at least. It was the first time anyone had taken her seriously in a while. Finally she nodded.

“Good,” he said, once more. “Now about having someone keep an eye on you—”

“We’ll cross that bridge tomorrow. Since all this happened just this afternoon, Mr. Graden can’t expect that I’ll deliver tonight.”

“If I were him,” Micah said, “I’d be expecting you to run.”

“Where would I go?”

“People who run don’t need a place to go—merely something to run from.”

As unsettling as the suggestion was—especially since she’d had that very thought—Rachel shook her head. “He’s not going to do anything tonight.”

“I’ll stay.” He waited until she looked at him. “Keep a watch out. Allow you to get a full night’s sleep and maybe erase those circles under your eyes.”

“No.” She had circles under her eyes? Disconcerted that she wanted to look good for him, she looked away from his penetrating gaze. With effort, she brought her thoughts back to the topic at hand. Him staying and watching over her and her children. She decided that she had lost her mind since she was far too tempted to take him up on his offer. Too tempted to trust him. Under the circumstances, that was stupid. “We’ll be fine tonight.”

Micah couldn’t blame her for refusing the offer. She had no reason to trust him. He picked up his glass and took a healthy swallow of tea while she watched him, the silence between them just as tense as their conversation had been.

“What’s your schedule tomorrow?” he asked.

“I’ve got to be at the motel before six-thirty,” she said with a slight shake to her head. “I’d forgotten all about that. Tomorrow is my first full day on the new job. Six-thirty to two-thirty.”

“And the kids, what do they do until school starts?”

“Dolly Jackson comes over. She’s a sixteen-year-old who lives two doors down. She walks them to school and my dad picks up Andy when kindergarten lets out at noon, except for the days when he’s gone.”

“Like tomorrow?”

“Then Andy goes home with Jeremy Simpson and I pick him up after I get off work.” Rachel was back to her nervous cleaning while she talked. “I guess I should talk to their teachers—let them know the kids will be out of school for a while.”

Micah was glad to hear the kids were still friendly with some of their classmates, since it was clear that Rachel had been shunned by many of her supposed friends.

“I’d rather you didn’t. That would immediately telegraph to Graden that you’re not going to cooperate. Tomorrow, you need to go through your day just as normal, and when the kids get out of school tomorrow afternoon, I’ll have things set up.” When she didn’t look at him or respond, he tacked on, “Okay?”

“Okay,” she agreed with a quick nod.

Micah drained the last of the tea, put on his hat, and headed for the back door. “I’ll see you tomorrow, then.”

He went outside and paused at the bottom of the stoop, letting his eyes adjust to the darkness of the backyard, waiting for her to close and lock the door behind him.

“Micah,” she called from inside the screen.

“Yeah.” He turned around and drank in the sight of her framed by the light above the kitchen table.

“This isn’t going to get all fouled up like the last investigation, is it?”

Making sure that he was looking straight at her, he said, “I’ll do my best to make sure that it doesn’t.” He took off his hat and cleared his throat. “I hate what happened to you, Rachel, and if I had it to do over—I’d do a lot of things different this time.”

She stared at him a long moment before murmuring goodnight and closing the door. He stood motionless until he heard the click of the lock, then headed around the side yard. Deep within the shadow of the big blue spruce between her house and her neighbor’s, he came to a stop, studying the street as far as he could see in both directions. Only a couple of parked cars on the block and they looked empty. No telltale movements or shifting of shadows that indicated Rachel’s house was being watched.

Only then did he head for his car where he began making the calls that would ensure Rachel’s safety.

The next day was the longest ever for Rachel. Her imagination galloped in a dozen different directions. Though Micah had been at the house when she left for work, assuring her that he’d keep an eye on the kids as they went through their day, she worried. And she kept worrying until she picked Andy up from the Simpsons’ house, following the normal routine. Despite Micah’s promise to watch over them, if he was anywhere around, she didn’t see him.

“Jeremy got a basketball hoop for his birthday,” Andy told her the minute his seatbelt was fastened, and they were on their way. “I think we need one. We could put it on the side of the driveway next to the garage.”

“Need, huh?” They’d had the talk several times about the difference between need and want. She had promised both of the kids they would have everything they needed, but for a while they might not have the things they wanted.

When she looked at him through the rearview mirror, he grinned. “It’s real cool, Mom, but I guess I don’t need one.”

“Tell me about your day at school.”

“We did all kinds of stuff and then Cindy Mac-Allister threw up and there was a great big mess and, boy, did it stink. Mrs. Wells said that’s ’cause of bacteria. Did you know that, Mom?”

“I’d heard that.” Rachel turned onto their street, her breath catching when she realized the car that had been behind them turned onto the quiet street also. “What else did you do?”

“I don’t remember.”

His not remembering was the usual, and Rachel knew that his day would come out in bits and pieces between now and bedtime.

The Jeep Wrangler that Micah had been driving when he came to the door this morning was in front of her house, the sight familiar, somehow, and reassuring. As always, the doubts immediately surfaced, despite Micah’s looking her straight in the eye, everything about him proclaiming he’d told her the truth.

She’d thought about their conversation for a good part of her sleepless night, eventually deciding he had no reason to lie this time, no reason to be here except for the one he’d told her. Maybe her dad was right. Maybe the first step was to begin trusting again.

She turned into the driveway and pressed the garage opener. Through the open side door, Rachel saw a woman about her own age sitting at the picnic table talking on a cell phone. When she saw Rachel, she waved and stood up.

“Mom, there’s a stranger in our backyard,” Andy announced.

“Yes, there is.” Rachel unfastened her seatbelt and looked back at her son. “Why don’t you sit here for a minute while I find out what she wants.”

“Aw, Mom. I need to get a snack.” He fumbled at his own seatbelt. “Need, Mom. I’m starving.”

“Just give me a minute.” By the time she got out of the car, the woman was halfway across the lawn, a welcoming smile on her face. Not smiling back was impossible.

“I’m Erin Asher,” she said, pulling a wallet from her pocket and extending it to Rachel. “Micah sent me ahead. In fact, he’s right behind you.”

Rachel glanced at the official-looking badge and identification for the DEA before looking toward the street. Micah was getting out of the car that had followed her with another man. The reinforcements Micah had promised had arrived.

For once he’d told her the truth.

The constriction in her chest eased, and she said to Andy, “You can get out of the car now.”

“I bet you didn’t expect to find a stranger in your backyard when you came home.” Erin shook hands with Andy after he came around the car. “You must be Andy.”

“Andrew Chester Neesham,” he said, shaking her hand briskly, “I’m named after my grandfathers.”

“Are you? Now that’s something.”

Just then, Andy caught sight of Micah around the side of the house, and a huge smile lit his face as he ran toward the man. “Sarah said you came back.” He launched himself into Micah’s arms. “I’m really glad to see you.”

“Me, too, buddy.” Micah met Rachel’s gaze over the top of her son’s head before looking back at the boy. “You’ve grown a foot since I last saw you.”

“Are you gonna stay this time, or run away like a rat?” Andy asked.

Rachel felt her color rise since those had been her exact words in describing Micah.

“I plan to stay,” he said, his voice gravelly.

Since his head was bent toward her son, his hat hiding his face, Rachel couldn’t see Micah’s expression.

Andy evidently took that for a promise because he said, “Good.” Wiggling out of Micah’s arms, he headed back toward Rachel. “I want a peanut butter sandwich for my snack. Okay, Mom?”

“Carrots, too?”

He grinned, pressing his tongue against one of his loose front teeth. “Maybe if I bite hard, my tooth will come out sooner.”

“Maybe,” she agreed handing him the keys to the back door, her attention caught by the vivid blue eyes of the man with Micah. Vivid and cold.

“This is Special Agent Flannery Kelmen,” Micah said.

The man stepped forward, his handshake as brisk and no-nonsense as the expression in his eyes. “I met you briefly last spring.”

“I remember.” Everything then about the man’s demeanor had been intimidating. It wasn’t a lot better now.

He glanced back at the street, then nodded toward the back door that Andy was unlocking. “Maybe we could go inside?”

Though voiced as a question, Rachel was positive it was a command. “Of course.”

The next few minutes were taken up with making Andy’s snack and offering tea that they didn’t want to the others. Micah was mostly quiet, his eyes never quite meeting hers, which set Rachel’s nerves on edge. After Erin professed wanting to see a Lego tower that Andy was building, the two of them disappeared upstairs.

Rachel cleared her throat. “Since you all are here, it looks like things are in place for the safe house. What’s next?”

Kelmen met her gaze straight-on. “The primary focus of this mission is to finish the job, and you’re the key to tying together all the evidence we’ve gathered against Simon Graden.”

He paused while Rachel looked from him to Micah, whose dark eyes steadily locked with hers, an expression there she couldn’t define. Then he looked away, and the knots in her stomach began churning.

She replayed what Kelmen had just said. “There’s no safe house, is there?” Her lips felt numb.

Micah shook his head, his expression unreadable, his dark eyes once again not quite meeting hers.

“You’re going to help us take down Simon Graden,” Kelmen said, drawing her attention, his eyes on hers, his tone matter-of-fact. “Given the business he’s in, the half-million dollars he wants from you is small potatoes, but something about it is personal and has made him reckless. So we’re going to take advantage of that.”

“We?” Rachel began to tremble, and a roar echoed in her ears as she looked back at Micah. “You’ve lied to me again, Agent McLeod.” She gestured angrily to the door. “Get out. All of you.”

“Nice bravado.” Kelmen smiled at Rachel, though there wasn’t a single warm thing about the expression. “But we aren’t going anywhere until this case is closed.”