Love Inspired Suspense May 2015 - Box Set 1 of 2: Trail of Evidence\Gone Missing\Lethal Exposure (52 page)

“He chose me because he knew how much I admired and respected you. He knew I would let you grieve in your own way and take all the strain until you were strong enough to pick up your life again.”

His unsaid words hung in the air.

“And now I'm strong enough to pick up my life again,” she said. “And your job is done.”

“Right,” he said slowly. “I guess I've had a hard time coming to terms with that.” He rested his forehead on hers. “You see, I didn't count on falling in love with you.”

She reacted quickly, pushing him away and walking to the other side of the kitchen. “No,” she said with a shake of the head. “You
think
you love me, but I don't think you're seeing straight.”

Jack leaned against the counter, crossing his ankles as a wry smile passed over his lips. “I've been fighting it a long time, making excuses, pretending it's not real, lying to myself that I'm happy to just be your friend.” He walked toward her. “Truth is, Bec, I don't want to be your friend anymore.”

“So you want to walk away?”

“No,” he said with a firm voice. “I'd like to be more than friends.” He stopped for a moment. “Much more than friends.”

She put her hand over her mouth.

“No, Jack,” she mumbled through her fingers. “I can't.”

He held his hands in the air, palms forward. “I know you need time to think about it—”

She cut him off. “No, I don't need time to think about it. I'll never love again. I already lost one husband, and that's plenty enough for me.” She felt her heart begin to race. “And if you can't accept that, then maybe it's time we made a total break. No contact.”

A look of shock and pain swept over Jack's face. “You don't mean that.”

“Yes, I do,” she said, unable to stop her voice from rising. Cole and Dillon came into the kitchen and stood in the doorway.

“All okay, guys?” Cole asked. “It seems to be getting pretty heated in here.”

“We're done,” Rebecca said, walking to the stairs without a backward glance. She needed to escape. Her chest was tight, and she had trouble breathing.

She felt Jack's hand tug on her arm. “Wait, Rebecca,” he said. “We're not finished.”

She spun around. “Oh, yes we are, Jack,” she said. “We're totally finished.”

She walked quickly up the stairs, knowing she had spoken more harshly than she should have. But if she didn't take a firm stand now, she knew her resolve would crumble to dust.

* * *

Jack felt like he'd gone ten rounds with a heavyweight boxer who had focused entirely on pummeling his heart. He had never known that love could cause a physical pain, one that squeezed his chest like a vise. He knew Rebecca was insecure and scared, unwilling to believe that her life could be happy again, but he had never felt so certain of one thing in his life—she was the only woman he could ever love.

Cole came to sit next to him on the sofa and slapped him on the back. “What's up, Jack? You look like you've got the weight of the world on your shoulders.”

“I do,” he replied mournfully.

Cole and Dillon exchanged glances and Dillon settled himself into a chair next to the couch. “She doesn't feel the same way, huh?” he asked, shaking his mop of curly hair.

“I think she does,” Jack said. “She just can't admit it. Since Ian died, she's built up such strong defenses, it's impossible to break through.”

Cole shrugged his shoulders. “Then stop trying.”

“What?” Jack asked incredulously. “And just let her go without a fight?”

They both smiled at him in unison. “There are plenty of ways to fight for someone,” Cole replied. “Rebecca's hurting. She's not listening to you. But I'm sure she's listening to God.”

Jack nodded. “She's probably praying right now.”

“Then why don't you do the same?” Cole suggested. “Just give it up. I know you've never been much of a believer—”

“Actually,” Jack interrupted him, “that kind of changed recently.” He thought of Rebecca's faith shining through her like golden rays. He knew that Cole and Dillon both shared her Christian beliefs, too. “It's hard to stay cynical when you get close to someone whose faith gives her a purpose. Even when Rebecca's going through tough times, she's never lost her trust in God. That's pretty awesome to see.”

Dillon threw his hands in the air. “So you finally get it?”

Jack smiled. “I finally get it. I really do.” He turned solemn. “I prayed for the guy I shot today. I'd never have done that a few weeks ago.”

“Wow, you really jumped in the deep end,” Cole said. “Forgiveness isn't always easy, even for long-time Christians.” He dropped his head. “Believe me, we all struggle with it sometimes.”

The three men let a silence descend over the room, acknowledging that none of their lives had been smooth sailing since Ian died. Living by faith clearly didn't mean that life would always be good, but it would always have hope.

“If you want Rebecca to be truly happy, then ask God to guide her to make the right decision,” Dillon said.

Jack laughed. “Can't I just ask Him to guide her toward me instead?”

Dillon's face was serious. “You know it doesn't work like that. God doesn't bend to your will. You bend to His, even though you may desperately want to fight against it.”

The laughter faded from Jack's lips. “So I may still lose her after all. What's the point in praying anyway if God doesn't lead her to me?”

Cole rested his hand on Jack's shoulder. “Because you love her.”

“And if you love her,” Dillon jumped in, “you'll ask God to guide her according to His will, not yours.”

Jack ran his free hand down his face and cupped his fingers behind his neck, pulling tight with frustration. “You guys sure know how to shoot me down in flames. I think I preferred it when I had no faith at all.”

Cole raised his eyebrows high. “Really?”

Jack shook his head. “No,” he admitted. “How can it be better to be in darkness than in the light?”

“Exactly,” Cole replied. “You learn fast.”

“Well, you two are pretty good teachers,” he said. “It's weird how you're here just at the exact time I need you.”

“Yeah,” Dillon said with a smile. “You may find stuff like that happens a lot.”

Jack leaned onto his knee, keeping his injured arm squeezed into his chest. “It's not easy advice to take, though. We all pray for things we want, right? It's hard to pray for things to
be
right instead.”

Cole and Dillon nodded in agreement.

In the distance, Jack heard Mrs. Harper's terrier begin to bark. He knew the dog always responded to an unexpected noise or presence outside, acting like an early warning system. He rose from the couch and walked to the window, parting the drapes to see the police patrol car sitting at the curb under a streetlamp. Yet it appeared that no one was inside.

He reached for his gun. “We may have some trouble,” he said. “I guess now is the time to put my newfound faith to the test.”

Cole and Dillon both reached for their weapons, walking to stand next to Jack. It felt like old times, SEALs reuniting once again to protect innocent lives. The barking of Mrs. Harper's dog became louder and more insistent.

“You lead the way, Jack,” Cole said. “I'm right behind you. Dillon will stay to protect Rebecca.”

Jack opened the front door slowly and stepped out into the cool evening air. The two men instinctively positioned themselves in a back-to-back formation. Moving as a single unit, they skirted around the side of the house where they found Detectives Harman and Smith searching through the hedge that separated Rebecca's house from her neighbor's.

The detectives sprang up, startled by the sudden appearance of the men. “We saw somebody here at the side of the house,” Detective Smith said. “But we've checked all around the yard, and there's no trace of the person. There are no signs of entry, either.”

Jack's eyes scanned the area. A neatly trimmed shrub beneath Rebecca's bedroom window was split apart, its leaves and branches snapped in numerous places. He instantly looked up and made a visual sweep of the wall. It took him a moment to spot a crouched figure in the shadows, huddled on the small balcony that led into Rebecca's bedroom.

Jack trained his gun on the person with his good arm. “Stop right where you are!”

The figure stood up in alarm, trying to scramble over the balcony toward the trellis, which provided access up the wall. An object started to fall. It was a shoe, flying through the air, landing toe first into the flower bed that bordered the house. The shoe was a black, slip-on flat, small in size, made to fit a woman's foot. As the person tried to gain a good foothold on the trellis, Jack saw her hat slip down, revealing long, auburn hair.

“Claire,” he shouted, realizing who they were dealing with. “We'll help you down. Stay still.” He turned to the detectives. “Be alert to other intruders. She's not working alone, and this may just be a distraction.”

“Claire,” he repeated, seeing her swing her legs back over the balcony and stand there with her back turned, perfectly still. “Whatever you do, don't move.”

FOURTEEN

J
ack carefully slid back the bolts on the balcony doors in Rebecca's bedroom. He ran his eyes over Claire through the glass, taking in her unkempt appearance. She looked as though she'd been sleeping rough—her pants and sweater were covered in dirt, and her usually smooth auburn hair was now frizzy and tangled.

Behind him, Rebecca, Cole and Dillon stood watching Claire edge her way into the room, looking wild-eyed and scared. The police detectives guarded the doorway, hanging back, clearly sensing the need to tread carefully.

Jack lowered his gun and gestured for Cole and Dillon to do the same. “What are you doing here, Claire?” he asked gently.

“Darius is gone,” she said, rushing her words. “He said he'd come for me, but he never did. He left me all alone with nothing. I came here because I thought he might be with you.” She looked hopeful for a second. “Is he here?”

“No, he's not,” Jack said, using a soothing tone. “He's vanished, but the FBI is looking for him.”

“Are they looking for me, too?” she asked.

“Yes, they are.”

She fell silent, her eyes searching the floor, no doubt trying to comprehend how she had gone from a mild-mannered secretary to a wanted criminal in a matter of days. Jack instinctively felt that she wasn't dangerous. She was simply immature, naive and gullible—perfect fodder for a man like Darius Finch.

Jack broke the silence. “Did Darius ask you to arrange Rebecca's kidnapping?”

She looked up from the floor, and her eyes darted around the room while she spoke in rapid bursts. “Yes. He gave me money to pay somebody to help me. I didn't want to do it, but Darius said if I did this one big job for him, we could be together forever.” Her hands began to shake. “He told me he loved me.”

Jack remembered the way Darius and Claire had looked at each other the first time he saw them together. He should have spotted the obvious fact that they had met before. “How long have you been dating Darius, Claire?” he asked. “Did he make first contact?”

“I met him at the bus stop two weeks ago,” she said, her voice wavering. “He said he worked in real estate and his car was in the shop. When he got his car back, he started giving me rides to work every day.” She looked wistful for a moment. “We found we had so much in common that the age gap didn't seem like such a big deal. I know it sounds crazy, but we connected instantly. He told me that he was coming into a lot of money and we could travel the world together.” She let the tears roll down her face. “He said there was something important I had to do first. On Friday, he asked me to take some photographs from a desk at the
Liberty News
.”

Rebecca stepped forward. “Didn't you ask why?”

Claire looked confused, as if the question had never occurred to her before. “I didn't care why,” she said. “I just cared about him. I took Simon's master key and went to look for the photos in your desk, but Simon had already taken them. He said he wanted them for some big story. He locked them in the cabinet in my office, so I used my key to take them, and I gave them to Darius. But then Darius said he wanted the negatives as well as the photographs, and I needed to help him get them.” She shook her head. “It all started snowballing and I was in too deep to get out.”

Rebecca went to Jack's side. “Darius wasn't vacationing in Palm Coast,” she whispered. “He was here all along, planning to steal my photos, terrorize me and destroy my life to make sure he could sell the stolen art without an investigation.”

Jack found himself not being able to find the words to express how he felt at that moment. Even though Darius had become a suspect, Jack had always harbored a hope that the chief would turn up, explain the misunderstanding and restore his honor. Claire's story hammered a final nail in that coffin. The chief had tricked them all. “He's brought shame on the military. I hope they lock him up and throw away the key.”

Claire began to sway a little unsteadily on her feet. “I've lost everything,” she cried. “My job, my reputation, my sanity. And now I've lost Darius as well.”

“Darius used you, Claire,” Rebecca said. “The love he gave you wasn't real.”

Claire flinched like she had just been slapped in the face. Jack turned his head to Rebecca and gave a tiny shake of his head to let her know that Claire needed to be treated with kid gloves. Her vulnerability was plain to see.

“Where have you been?” Jack asked Claire. “You look like you need a hot bath and a meal.”

Claire looked down at herself. “After the kidnapping went wrong, Darius told me to wait for him in an abandoned building on Industrial Park Drive.” She wiped her nose on the sleeve of her sweater. “I waited there all night, sleeping on the filthy floor. I knew the police would be looking for me, so I was too scared to even go and get something to eat.” She looked at Jack with incredulity. “He left me there to rot.” She hung her head. “I've been such an idiot, haven't I?”

Jack put his gun on the floor, hoping that it would enable her to put her trust in him. “No, you're not an idiot. You've been tricked into believing a man who wanted to use you for his own ends. But you don't have to let it ruin your life.” He glanced behind to the two detectives standing in the doorway. “If you turn yourself in to the police, they can help you find a lawyer and face up to your responsibilities.”

“But what I did was so wrong,” she said. “I can't believe I listened to his lies.”

“There's always a way back, Claire, no matter what you did,” Jack replied. “You can help to put right what you did wrong.”

Claire's hands began to shake even more as her body heaved with sobs. “I feel so bad.”

Jack took a tentative step toward her, but she backed away, out onto the balcony, and leaned against it, producing a small knife from her pocket and holding it in front of her.

“It's okay,” he said gently. “I know it's hard to imagine how you can get beyond this point, but you can, I promise. We can help you. Put the knife down.”

Claire shook her head. “I don't want to go to jail.” She gripped the rail tightly as one of the wooden supports gave way with the pressure. Jack knew that the wood had partially rotted away. He'd declared the balcony off-limits until he replaced it. The railing was now more dangerous than ever, as Claire's climbing had further weakened some of the supporting beams.

“Claire, please,” said Rebecca. “I understand why you acted the way you did, but you have to face up to your actions and take the punishment. It's the only way. That balcony isn't safe. Come inside.”

“Why are you being so kind to me?” Claire asked, pushing back even harder against the rail. “I don't deserve it.”

The two detectives stepped forward and spoke gently, encouraging her to trust that she would be treated fairly. She looked almost ready to believe them.

The sound of splintering wood suddenly filled the room, and a whole portion of the balcony came free from its base. Claire's face took on a look of surprise and bewilderment as she fell backward. She dropped the knife and began to grab at thin air to pull her back to safe ground. Jack sprang forward, just managing to get his fingers on her sweater, but the fabric was smooth, and he couldn't maintain his grip, especially with the use of just one arm. He felt as though he were watching a scene unfold in slow motion. He saw her try to reach for his hand, but she was panicked and uncoordinated. She disappeared right before his eyes.

Jack felt sickness rising from the pit of his belly. He looked at the others in disbelief, and together they all raced for the stairs, hoping beyond hope that they would find Claire broken yet breathing.

Jack's faith had been put to the test, and he had failed.

* * *

Rebecca didn't need to take Claire's pulse to know that she was gone. She had missed the flower bed and landed headfirst on the driveway. Her devastating injury was clearly visible, too severe to survive. Detectives Harman and Smith were checking Claire's vitals, shaking their heads, before Detective Harman radioed for an ambulance. She heard him say the words “already deceased” and began to say a prayer, but she felt Jack pull her back by her shoulder.

“We should try and save her,” he said, kneeling down and putting his ear to Claire's chest to listen for a sound of life.

“She's gone, Jack,” Rebecca said. “We can't save her.”

Cole stepped forward. “Rebecca's right. There's no point.” He squatted down beside them. “We've been in this situation before, Jack. Let the detectives do their job.”

The street on either side of the house was quiet, and darkness was eating into every corner. She felt sick. Even with the presence of two police detectives, Rebecca didn't feel safe. Knowing how callously Darius had manipulated Claire gave her an unpleasant insight into his cruel heart. She spun around in all directions. Was he watching them now, waiting for the right time to strike? Had he watched Claire die?

Jack stood up and walked to the garage door. He leaned against it with an outstretched arm. “I should've moved quicker. I could've stopped her from falling.”

“It's not your fault, Jack,” Rebecca said, taking off her sweater and laying it over Claire's face. She rubbed a streak of blood on her T-shirt and tried to stop her body from shivering with shock. “You did what you could. Don't blame yourself.”

“But she was so young, with her whole life ahead of her,” he said, pushing heavily against the garage door. “If only she'd accepted her mistakes, she could've taken the punishment and lived a good life. I thought...”

“You thought what, Jack?” Rebecca prompted him.

“I thought our faith could save her,” he concluded.

Rebecca looked at him in surprise. Had he just said
our
faith? She glanced at Cole, who nodded to let her know that she had heard right.

She approached Jack. “We can ask God to help people, but we can't force them to see the goodness of what's in front of them. Everyone has free will.” She looked behind to see Dillon emerging from the house with a sheet to cover Claire from head to foot. The act of hiding Claire's body from view reminded her of the tragic reality of what had just happened, and she couldn't stem the flow of tears. Jack saw the tears and took his arm from the wall, hooking it around her shoulder and standing close.

“Don't be scared,” he whispered, feeling her body tremble. “Darius won't get away with this. I promise.”

“Do you think he's here?” she asked anxiously. She felt that every movement she saw, every car that rounded a corner, every sound on the wind could be dangerous. “I can't shake his presence. Don't ask me how, but I sense him all over the house, like he's in every room.”

Jack looked around at the neighbors who had come out of their houses to look at the scene. Another police patrol car arrived, parking next to the one already outside the house.

“Darius wouldn't risk this level of scrutiny,” he said. “He's too clever for that. We're safe here.”

“For now,” she agreed. “But for how long?”

* * *

It was late by the time the crime scene investigators packed up and left. Claire's body was removed in an ambulance, and Jack was power washing the driveway where a bloodstain had pooled. The detectives were removing the police tape from the fence, and the onlookers had drifted away now that there were no visible signs of drama.

As he removed all trace of Claire from their lives, Jack thought of Cole and Dillon's advice, accepting that he had no entitlement to Rebecca's future. She had chosen a life without him. He must accept it with good grace and forge a new and different path. God's plan was not his to know. He heard his name being called from the front door, and he looked over to see Rebecca standing on the porch.

“Jack,” she shouted. “I've been calling you for ages. You're in a world of your own.”

He smiled at the irony of her statement. He certainly was in a world of his own. And he was likely to remain there for the foreseeable future. “I'm almost done here,” he called.

“Supper is ready,” she called back. “You hungry?”

“Yeah,” he lied. “I'll come inside and get washed up.”

Rebecca turned to go into the house, but she stopped. He watched her hesitate before turning back around. She pulled her cardigan tightly around her small waist. “Everything okay, Jack?”

He put down the hose and walked across the lawn, nodding to the detectives as he passed to stand on the porch. Rebecca had taken the pins out of her hair to let it flow loose over her shoulders. The glossiness of the strands shimmered in the porch light. She looked tired and sad, yet stoic.

“I'm fine,” he said, knowing she would see this glib statement as a brush-off.

She touched his arm lightly. “Cole and Dillon told me about a conversation you had earlier,” she said. “I'm so pleased you've opened your heart to living by faith.”

He smiled. “I'm only just realizing how hard it is. But it's worth it.”

“Is there anything I can do to help?”

He looked skyward, thinking of all the things he wished for at that moment. “You could pray for me.”

She smiled. “I already do.”

“Thank you,” he replied. “That means a lot to me.” He swallowed hard. “
You
mean a lot to me.”

“Let's not go there Jack,” she said. “There's nothing new to say.”

He nodded, expecting the words. “If you ever change your mind, I'm always here.”

He skirted past her to go into the house, and she reached out and gripped his forearm tight. “I'm sorry, Jack.” Her blue eyes were full of sadness. “I hope you can understand why I feel the way I do.”

He put his hand on her head and wound her hair through his fingers. “Of course I understand,” he whispered. “I know you're scared, but fear is never a good reason to stop living the life you're meant to live.” He decided to bite the bullet and do something totally impulsive. He leaned down and pressed his lips against hers. They were smoother and softer than he had ever imagined. When he pulled away, he saw that Rebecca had closed her eyes and was completely still. She touched her mouth with her fingers, as if uncertain whether Jack's lips had really been on hers.