Catch a Shadow (36 page)

She didn't know how long they stayed that way. So many words unspoken. But she knew he wouldn't say anything to her until he was free of the charges that had trapped him. And even then …

He pulled away and went into the bathroom, returned with a warm cloth, and carefully washed her. Then he went to the window.

How many times had he done that? How many times had he tried to tame the restlessness and energy that was so much a part of him? How could any woman hold him, much less Kirke Palmer?

The sun flooded through the window, and she looked at the clock.

Seven thirty. Just twelve hours since someone had tried to kidnap her. Less since the shoot-out in Texas. She sat up and looked at her clothes with dismay.

He picked up the phone and called several airlines.

When he finished, he turned back to her. “Our flight leaves at noon. We get into Richmond at seven p.m. I think you should call your reporter friend. You said she can be trusted, and so can her husband. I want to surrender to him at the storage facility.”

“What if there's nothing there?”

“Then it's over,” he said flatly. “I'm not going to endanger you further. If we don't find what I hope we will, maybe your writer friend can write a story about the past few days. Once the story is in the open, Adams won't dare go after you. It will only confirm the fact that he's alive.

She knew from his tone he couldn't be dissuaded.

She made the call.

Ames knew he'd lost this battle. Maybe not the war. Four men hadn't returned. One or two might well talk. There were enough people involved now that his existence would eventually be confirmed. He would be on the run.

He needed to get back to Argentina, take what he could, and disappear again.

First things first, though. He was going to finish the job that should have been finished seven years ago. There was also a chance that Jake Kelly and the woman knew where Del Cox had kept the diamonds he'd stolen from Ames. Not only would he close the loose end named Jake Kelly, he'd recoup any diamonds that might remain and any proof that might help condemn him.

He picked up the phone and dialed. He had one ace left in his hand. His contact in the CIA.

Ben and Robin Taylor were waiting at the storage facility when Jake and Kirke arrived at ten p.m. Ben acknowledged introductions with a curt nod. It was apparent he was not happy, but Jake had sworn he would surrender immediately after opening the stall, no matter what they found.

Jake was gambling all or nothing. Being a fugitive on the run wasn't much more appealing than prison. He certainly wasn't going to draw Kirke into that kind of life.

Taylor obviously didn't like the rules, but he wasn't a fool. It would be a coup to bring in someone like Jake Kelly, and it wasn't unusual for a fugitive to surrender to a particular agent. As for Jake, he needed a witness to opening the stall.

“Do you have a weapon?” Taylor asked.

Jake shook his head and stood silent as Ben frisked him.

Once the formalities were over, the two couples faced the locked gate of the facility. Jake punched in Cox's numbers to open the gate. Instantly, the green light flashed that the code was accepted, and the huge iron gate began to swing open. Once inside, it was easy to tell the unit number was the last three numbers of the code.

Jake drove to the stall, and Ben and Robin followed in their rental car. Jake looked at Kirke before getting out of the car. She gave him a tremulous smile, reached over and squeezed his hand, then handed him the key Dallas had given them.

They all gathered around the lock, and Jake took a deep breath. He slowly inserted the key and tried to turn the lock. The lock hesitated for only a second before the tumblers caught and popped open.

Jake reached for a hanging light switch and turned it on. Despite the big sign outside that claimed climate control, the room smelled musty and dank. There were two cardboard cartons on the floor. On top of them were two envelopes, one with his name and one with Dallas's name. He picked them up, hesitated.

Letter? Or boxes?

He opened the letter for him. He was very aware of the FBI man next to him. A letter some two pages long came out into his fingers along with several diamonds.

Mitch, or is it Jake?
it read.
I haven't had the guts to write you directly, and so I hope this might reach you not long after my death
.

Long story. Long journey. Lots of mistakes along the way. The biggest was Dallas. The second biggest was you
.

I want you to know I never agreed to the killing of Ramos and Chet. I was walking behind you when suddenly I heard gunfire and saw the three of you go down. Adams told me to finish you off. I couldn't do it and fired a shot into the ground
.

I had agreed to help him steal the diamonds. It seemed like a way to get Dallas away from Williamsburg. He never said he was going to kill anyone, but I should have known. Maybe I didn't want to
.

We would have enough money, he said, to change our faces and live anywhere in the world. He knew I needed money. Dallas had told me she wouldn't marry another company man and, hell, I didn't know anything but explosives. The kind that kill people. I thought if I had enough money, I could buy a ranch
.

After he shot the others, I knew it was only a matter of hours before he killed me as well. He wanted no witnesses. He included me in the beginning because he knew I was a pilot. The only weak thing about Adams was a fear of flying he kept hidden from the Company. He could never bring himself to learn to fly. For a time, he needed me more than I needed him, but I realized that would last only until we got to our destination. I grabbed Chet's pack with the million dollars and another half million in diamonds and ran for my life
.

I got to the plane before he did and took off. He's been looking for me ever since, and I knew he would kill me if he ever located me
.

Now I have a bad heart. Probably not long to live. Cowardly to wait until now? Yeah. But there it is. There are tapes and journals in the box as well as five hundred thousand in diamonds and Chet's money belt. I hope it will clear your name
.

Del Cox

Jake silently passed the letter and diamonds to Ben Taylor, who skimmed over it, then handed it to Kirke, who read it.

“Will that be enough?” Jake asked.

“With the stuff he says is in the box, I would think so,” Taylor said. “In the meantime, though, I have to take you in.”

Kirke put her hand on Jake's back. He was finally vindicated after all these years. She could only imagine what he must be feeling.

She started to turn and say something to Robin, but a sudden glint caught her eye, and she saw a figure outside.

Adams!

His hand held an automatic. He lifted it and pointed it directly at Jake. She couldn't think. She could only react, and she stepped in front of Jake as the pistol fired.

Robin and Ben accompanied Kirke when she visited Jake in the hospital. He was in the detention area, his wrist handcuffed to the hospital bed. Ben Taylor had assured her, though, that it was a temporary thing.

The agent had shot Adams almost at the same moment the rogue agent had fired. Adams—his real name, she and Jake had learned, was Ames Williamson—died on the way to the hospital. It solved any number of problems for both the government and Ben. No long trial for Williamson. No embarrassment for the government, unless Jake made the affair public. That put him in a great bargaining position.

Jake looked pale. He'd been shot in the chest when he'd pushed her out of the way and fell on her. She remembered the weight of him, the blood that flowed.

A lung was hit. She was able to pack the wound and help him breathe until they got to the hospital, then waited for hours during surgery.

He gave her a faint smile. “I hear I'm lucky that I had a paramedic with me.”

She grinned at him. “Good thing to have around,” she said.

His smile turned into a frown. “I thought … I might lose you when you did still another damn fool thing. You need a keeper, lady.”

Her hand reached for his. “Any offers?”

He looked to Ben.

“I've talked to JAG,” the FBI agent said. “They've already reopened your case. Williamson is dead. Now that we know who the hit-and-run victim is, we can compare his DNA with the contents of the storage area. It's only a matter of time before you're cleared.”

“My thanks to both of you,” Jake said to the Taylors.

“Thank Robin,” Ben Taylor replied, glancing fondly at his wife. “She's like a bull terrier with a bone. She wouldn't let it go.” He put an arm around his wife.

After they left, Kirke sat next to Jake and took his hand. Her fingers played with it, wanting to reassure herself they were, indeed, warm. He was alive. And soon he would have his life back.

His fingers caught hers, and he brought them to his lips.

“I always thought I didn't need anyone,” he said. “My father taught me that. You take care of your own problems. You keep your troubles to yourself.” He shifted in the bed. “Thank you for not letting me do that. I've been thinking of all the people who helped me along the way, sometimes because of you, sometimes because they thought it was the right thing to do.”

“And sometimes because of you,” she said.

He looked pleased at the observation.

“What are you going to do when you're cleared? Go back to the military?”

“No,” he said flatly. “I should have a hell of a lot back pay due. I'm going to talk to Mac and Cole about going into business with them. Some kind of investigative agency.”

“That sounds good,” she said, a lump forming in her throat. So that was that. He hadn't meant anything when he'd teased her about needing a keeper.

“I think we'll need a manager,” he said. “Someone who can think of university libraries and solve puzzles and sew up people if they ever get in trouble.”

Her hand trembled in his.

“There will be another duty, if she's interested,” he said.

“What?”

“Taking on a cynical old warrior.”

Her heart started to beat hard.

“That a requirement?” she asked.

The light left his eyes. “No.”

“I accept,” she said. “But only with the last duty guaranteed.”

“I can't kiss you,” he said, his hand tightening around hers.

“I can,” she replied. She leaned over. “I love you.”

He closed his eyes for a moment, then opened them and smiled. Really, really smiled.

“Ditto,” said the man of few words. But when her lips touched his, his expression could have filled a dictionary.

EPILOGUE

ATLANTA

Kirke straightened Jake's collar.

He pushed back a curl, leaning down to kiss her neck as he did.

“Mrs. Kelly,” he said, “you look beautiful.”

“Beautiful,” agreed Merlin from the corner.

“You look … delectable,” she replied.

“Help!” squawked Merlin.

“The only one who is going to need help is a parrot,” Jake said in mock threat.

Merlin cackled.

Kirke looked at his watch. She didn't like watches when she wasn't on duty, and she wouldn't be, after tonight. Watches shouldn't control one's life, she believed.

But now they really should go.

She gave him one more look.

He was wearing navy blue slacks, a light blue shirt, and a navy sports coat. No tie. She didn't argue about that. She liked the way his shirt opened at the neck.

She wore blue, as well. A simple dress with a flared skirt. She and Robin had shopped together, and both fell in love with it immediately.

“Time to go,” she said.

“I would rather do something else.”

When his eyes looked at her like they were at this moment, she would, too. Their time would come, though. In just a few hours. Heat flooded her at the thought.

But this was their wedding reception, and guests were waiting.

The wedding had been held in a small chapel in Richmond. Their only attendants were Robin and Ben, but now they wanted to share their happiness and appreciation with everyone.

Sam had returned to Atlanta, and he'd arranged to use the nightclub where he once again was playing the saxophone. It was the night when the club was usually closed, so they had it all to themselves. His band had volunteered to provide music.

Cole and Mac had flown in, as well as Cole's father, who'd helped so much when Jake had been released. Dallas, her husband, and her brother had agreed to come as well. Jake was paying their expenses.

There were others: fellow paramedics, including Hal and young Ben Wright, who had fully recuperated; some old friends from the newspaper. The invitation list kept growing.

Kirke couldn't take her eyes off Jake. His hair was longer now, and he looked tan and fit, and he was, indeed, utterly delectable. He smiled more now. Not as much as she would like but certainly a vast improvement. He was more open as well. It had even been his idea to have the party. She'd been stunned. And delighted. In the past months he'd learned that everyone needed someone. Many someones. Friends were to be valued.

Tonight was to be a celebration of many things: Jake's exoneration, the subsequent wedding in Virginia, the coming together of friends who'd made it possible.

The investigation that had followed Cox's confession and the death of Ames Williamson had lasted four months. Jake had been in custody two of those months, and Kirke had taken a leave of absence to be at his side.

Williamson's cell phone had led authorities to the CIA official who had been assisting him for eight years, first in helping set up the mission, then in protecting him. He'd been the one who'd helped intercept phone calls between Robin and her husband. Williamson was easily able to get inside the storage facility; the security system posed few problems for someone trained in burglary techniques.