Love Inspired Suspense March 2015 - Box Set 1 of 2: Protection Detail\Hidden Agenda\Broken Silence (28 page)

TWELVE

B
ailey and Ed grabbed some sandwiches, chips and sodas at Erma's. Her usual menu was on hold until life—and their shipments—resumed to normal following the storm. The day felt balmy, so Bailey and Ed decided to take their sack lunches outside, where they sat on a bench near the piers and dug into their lunch.

Despite the pleasant weather, Bailey's mind kept going to the stuffed bear. That was Alex's bear. Bailey had bought it for him herself. Someone had been close enough to her sister that they'd grabbed the toy.

As if the man's threats didn't seem serious enough, he had to keep reminding her of how dire the situation was.

It had worked. Her nerves were frayed. She was on the edge of having a nervous breakdown. And she didn't know how much longer she could do this.

She cleared her throat, trying to get a grip, trying not to show how raw her emotions were. She needed to stick to logic right now and try to find some answers.

“So, can you please tell me why you think your dad was murdered? I'm really flummoxed that you think that. I was there, Ed.” Bailey took a long sip of her soda as she waited for his response.

He frowned, his sandwich raised to his mouth. “Let's just say that someone passed on some information to me that strongly implied that my father's life was on the line.”

She stared at him, waiting for him to say more, to offer more of an explanation. When he silently munched on his sandwich instead, she decided that wasn't good enough.

“Who gave you the information implying that?” she pressed.

He put his sandwich down and looked into the distance. “About a week before he died, a friend of his sent me a message implying that something was going on.”

“Yet you didn't contact your father until after he died?” She really wanted to understand, but she was having a hard time.

His lips pressed together. “I was out of the country, in a place where I couldn't be easily contacted. I didn't get the message from my father's friend, nor did I get the news of my father's death until five days ago. I came back as soon as I found out.”

“Out of the country? Vacation?”

He shook his head. “Work.”

“Do you always travel out of the country as a lawyer?” She didn't want to drop this; she wanted answers.

“International law is my specialty.”

She raised an eyebrow. “In places so remote you have no contact with the outside world?”

He turned toward her. “I'm not asking you to understand, Bailey. I'm just telling you like it is. It may not be pretty, but it's what I do.”

She decided to drop that particular subject. But she did have more questions that had the potential to be equally as uncomfortable.

She wiped her mouth, making sure there was no peanut butter there. “What exactly did your father's friend say that made you so suspicious?”

“It's complicated, Bailey.” He looked at her, sorrow in his eyes.

For a moment, her heart panged with compassion. “Maybe I can help you figure this out. If someone hurt your father, then I want to see justice served, as well.”

He stared at her a moment before nodding slowly. “My father's friend was Elmer Martin.”

“Elmer? I know Elmer.”

His eyebrows shot up. “Do you?”

Bailey nodded. “He came to visit...about a week before your father died.” She felt the blood drain from her face as she realized the possible implications of what she said. The visit had seemed so innocent at the time. But what if there were more to it?

“Do you remember anything about his visit?” Ed's eyes suddenly seemed more alert, his body language like someone ready to pounce.

Bailey tried to remember anything of value. She finally shook her head. “Not really. He showed up. We hadn't been planning on him being here, but your father had offered an open invitation to him in the past. I stayed with them for the first hour or so. I brought tea and made sandwiches for them. Then they started catching up about work, and your father told me I could have some free time, that Elmer would keep an eye on him. It seemed innocent at the time.”

“I see.”

“Do you think Elmer was the killer?” She hardly wanted to ask the question. The man had seemed kind enough. He was an older gentleman, small in stature, but big in spirit.

Ed shook his head. “Elmer died two days before my father.”

Her mouth dropped open as she sucked in a deep breath. “What? Are you serious?”

“Unfortunately, yes. It was a boating accident. Tell me this. Did Elmer bring anything with him?”

Bailey tried to remember what the man had looked like when he showed up at the door. She shook her head. “I only remember him wearing a windbreaker type of jacket. I don't remember any bags or anything. That's probably not very helpful.”

“How did he get here?”

“He came over on his boat. By himself. Said he lived up in Maryland.”

Ed finished the last of his chips and crumpled the bag. “That's true.”

“Ed, where is all of this going?” Her worry—and curiosity—continued to grow.

“I wish I knew, Bailey. I really do.”

“And what's this information you've mentioned? What do you think he may have brought with him?” Was this her chance to get to the bottom of all of this? Maybe she could find the answers and put all of this behind her. Maybe she could actually sleep at night, finally knowing that Lauren and her family were safe.

Ed tugged at the collar of his black leather coat. “It had something to do with their work, I think. I only got a message but was never able to talk to Elmer.”

“Did you contact anyone with the State Department? Maybe your father's former boss or something? Or did you talk to Elmer's family?”

He frowned, his gaze fixated on something in the distance. “Yes to both of those questions. You have to understand that I had to tread very carefully. I don't have a frame of reference as to what the message was pertaining to.”

She could read between the lines. “In other words, you think maybe someone at the State Department could have been involved?” She paused. “I thought your dad was an accountant.”

“Like I said, it's complicated.”

“Make it uncomplicated.”

His jaw hardened. “I wish I could.”

She let out a long sigh and raked a hand through her wind-tangled hair. Frustration spread in her. “I don't know what to say, then.”

Ed turned toward her, his eyes soft yet conflicted. “Bailey, I know you hardly know me, but I need you to trust me. There are things I can't talk about.”

Her jaw hardened this time. She didn't want to be played as a fool. “International-lawyer type of things?”

“State Department type of things.”

Bailey tried to put it all together in her head, but everything seemed too vague. She wished the answers were as simple as the blue sky and as clear as the bay on a windless day. Maybe asking for that was asking too much. “I'm guessing your dad was more than a number cruncher.”

“He had a high-level security clearance.”

Her throat tightened. “I see.”

Ed shifted to better face her. “Bailey, where did my father get his prescriptions filled? Specifically, his heart medicine.”

“Well, the island only has one doctor, and he usually comes three times a week. There's no pharmacy here. Most people go over to the mainland to one of the pharmacies there. Most residents take a weekly trip to get everything they can't get here.”

“Who picked up those prescriptions for him?”

“I did a lot a lot of times. But Mary Lou, the housekeeper, she picked up supplies for us sometimes.”

“Who picked up his last batch of medications?”

“I did.” Suddenly, she realized Ed's implications. “You think someone switched out his medication.” She swung her head back and forth vehemently. “That's not possible. I was the only one who had access to it.”

“That you know of,” Ed interjected. “I'm sure you didn't keep the medications on you all the time, did you?”

She shook her head, sobering. “No, they were in your father's bedroom, locked in his drawer.”

“How many times did you leave the house after you picked up that batch of medications?”

She searched her memory. “None. I didn't leave at all after that. Not until after your father died.”

“Someone either switched them at the pharmacy or switched him here at the house.”

“Why are you so certain the medication was switched?” Bailey couldn't understand where he was coming from with all of this. She tried to follow his logic, but jumping to the worst conclusions possible just wasn't in her nature.

“One of the first things I did when I came here was to send off his medications. The results were in my inbox just today.”

What? When did he do that? How did I miss it?

Where was Ed getting these resources? Exactly who was he? Something still wasn't adding up.

Yet her gut told her she could trust him.

She just hoped her gut wasn't terribly wrong.

She looked around. They were essentially alone. She wanted to pour out the whole story. The man who threatened her would never know...would he?

Bailey suddenly bristled as she sensed someone watching them. She couldn't shake the feeling, even though every time she looked around, she didn't notice anyone looking their way.

All around them were dockworkers and other people milling around, picking up deliveries from the mainland. Bailey waved at the island's doctor and a couple of people she knew from church.

She glanced toward one of the piers and saw a man staring at her. He turned away and continued to push a broom on the dock. Was he the source of her uneasiness?

She stared at him some more, hoping for a clue as to who he was. He was tall, maybe in his thirties or forties. He wore a baseball cap over his eyes and a heavy sweatshirt. But he almost looked like... No, it couldn't be.

But what if it was?

She nudged Ed. “Do you recognize that man?”

He looked up and shook his head. “No. Should I?”

“I'm getting a strange vibe from him. Could be nothing. He almost—almost—looks like your father's cousin.”

Ed's intense gaze remained on him. “Let's keep an eye on him.”

Just then, the man glanced back over. When he saw both Ed and Bailey looking at him, he dropped his broom and took off in a sprint.

Ed jetted after him.

Bailey took a few steps, but knew the chase would be futile. She'd never been a particularly fast runner. But she hated the thought of something happening to Ed, and no one being there.

She quickened her pace, at least trying to keep the two men in her sight.

But they were fast. In what seemed like the blink of an eye, both were gone, disappearing in the direction of the town.

Her hands went to her hips, and she lifted up a prayer.

Dear Lord, please watch out for Ed. Keep him safe.

She began pacing as the minutes passed, worst-case scenarios racing through her mind. Scenarios where Ed died or disappeared or was seriously hurt. Scenarios where she never found the information, where people kept getting hurt.

Finally she saw Ed walking toward her down Main Street. Some of the tension left her shoulders and she rushed to meet him.

She hoped he had news and sometimes hope was the only thing a girl had to hang on to.

* * *

Ed spotted Bailey standing at the end of the street and recognized the concern on her face. She was worried about him, he realized. Something about the thought warmed him.

He hurried toward her.

“Well?” she asked.

“He got away. He had too much of a head start. I don't know how he disappeared, but barring knocking on every door and invading people's privacy, I have no way of finding him.”

“What do you say we go talk to a couple of those other workers and see what we can find out?” Bailey asked.

Ed raised his eyebrows, impressed by her deductive reasoning and initiative. “Sounds like a good idea.”

They headed for the man who seemed to be giving orders on the dock. The smell of fish and the sound of seagulls defined the area.

He was about to speak when Bailey beat him to it. “Mr. Jeffries, how are you?”

The man, who initially looked gruff, smiled brightly when he spotted Bailey. “It's always good to see you, Bailey.”

Bailey knew the man? That was surprising.

“Ed, this is Mr. Jeffries. We go to church together,” Bailey explained.

Ed shook his hand, taking in his features. He was probably in his sixties with the thick wrinkles of someone who worked hard outside in the sun. He had white hair, thinning on top, and wore a faded flannel shirt, jeans and work boots.

“That man who was sweeping down here. Do you know much about him?” Bailey asked.

He looked back toward the abandoned broom. “Yeah, that's Arnold. He's new. Just comes in a few days a week.”

“How long has he been here?” Ed asked.

“A couple of weeks.”

“Know anything else about him?” Ed asked.

“Is he in trouble or something?” Mr. Jeffries crossed his arms, his eyes narrowed with curiosity.

Ed shrugged, trying not to alarm the man. Not yet, at least. “Not trouble, necessarily. We just wanted to ask him some questions.”

“I've got to be honest. I didn't do a background check on him. I needed a hand, and he just happened to be there. Seemed like a decent worker. He was quiet, didn't say much.”

“Why would he run when he saw us?” Bailey asked.

Mr. Jeffries shrugged. “Beats me. Maybe he's the nervous type. Maybe he has a record and thought you guys were the police. I always noticed that he managed to make himself busy somewhere else every time the sheriff came around, too.”

Interesting, Ed thought.

“When's he scheduled to work again?” Ed asked.