Shattered Dreams (43 page)

He didn’t want to think he harbored a prejudice toward dead heroes, but if Sin were totally honest, he’d have to admit to one. He’d always held such men in contempt, those born with not only the silver spoon but also the whole meal.

“Crandall didn’t have Montgomery’s megabucks, but their backgrounds are parallel.” Sin scrubbed a hand over his face. How could they be anything but heroes with that upbringing? Poster boys like Montgomery always had it easy, had their way paved, so much so they never had to truly fight for anything, always got their pick of everything just because of who they were . . . the best jobs with the best salaries attracting the best mates. The gutter Sin had climbed out of was totally at the other end of the spectrum. Unlike Montgomery or Crandall, he’d had to fight for everything.

Still, he dealt in logic and probabilities. Logically, the probabilities pointed to their innocence. As the colonel had stated during their last meeting, they had nil to go on as far as motive for tying either man to any treasonous treachery.

“The wife’s involved. I know it. She’s been here every night we have.” Des pocketed the bullets and was now shining the light in the distance. “That means something.”

“Coincidence. She
is
Montgomery’s widow, after all.”

“Too much coincidence for my liking. Who visits a gravesite so often these days?” Des’s voice held disbelief. “And for so long?”

“A grieving widow whose husband recently died?”

“Maybe.” Des nodded, still searching. “Or maybe she’s in on it and the husband wasn’t?”

Sin’s gaze followed the beam of light hitting row after row of white stones. “She’s definitely someone to question, but you can’t really think she’s involved in passing stolen technology?”

“I’m suspicious of everyone until I understand their motives,” Des said. “If she were the target tonight, she’d be dead. And since she was alive enough to run away, my gut tells me she’s part of the ploy to draw us out.”

“You’re too cynical. I’d think you’d be less biased, given your previous occupation,” Sin teased. Such scorn resulted from Des’s colossal mistake—marrying the wrong woman. Sin understood because he hadn’t made the best of choices in a wife and had his own form of cynicism in dealing with the opposite sex. Still, he tried to be objective about it.

“Cynical or not, she’s someone I want to interrogate.” Des flicked off the light, but not before Sin caught the annoyance on his face.

Yep, Des’s expression and tone indicated he’d already tried and convicted the lady. Sin wasn’t inclined to condemn her so hastily. She just didn’t seem like the traitor type. Having never finished her degree, she’d dropped out to marry Montgomery ten years ago and had a baby some seven months after the wedding.

Okay, so they had to get married, Sin thought. But that was kids being too hot and heavy and not using birth control. As far as he was concerned, being stupid and horny rarely led to selling out your country for monetary gain. He could even see how it might have happened, given Avery was a woman a man could lose his sanity over enough to forget the condom.

Lucky bastard . . . then again, maybe not so lucky as the guy’s ashes are buried only two feet away and she’s still vibrantly alive. If she were his, he wouldn’t want to be separated from her for an instant.

“There has to be something,” he whispered, not liking the ditch his thoughts had plowed into. “Some link with her dead husband to all of this.”

“The wife
is
the connection, I’m telling you.” Des pointed his flashlight at him as if making a point. “Wives, especially wives who’ve been married for so long, generally know not only where the bodies are buried, but how many and how deep.”

Sin didn’t reply. Right now the widow was the only solid lead they had.

“What about Williams? Maybe the military’s made progress.”

Sin frowned. “I doubt it.” Colonel Williams was the Army official in charge of procuring and, in his mind, the person who supposedly got things done. Yet their Army liaison seemed useless in this situation. “He’s not concerned with the theft, thanks to the fail-safe.” If the prototypes landed in the wrong hands, they’d shut down without the proper sequence of numbers, and then self-destruct in fifteen hundred hours. Roughly seven days from now unless reactivated. “I rushed through the process and finalized our contract with the Army without thoroughly weighing the consequences. I certainly didn’t think anyone would steal our product before it’d been fully tested.” Sin sighed. “I thought the military would provide an element of security.”

“It’s understandable.” Des clapped him on the back and grinned. “If you can’t trust your government, who can you trust?”

“That’s no excuse.” Sin clenched his jaw. “Not for us. Not for me. Fulfilling this contract is too essential to our success.” If the components weren’t found in time, Williams would declare the project a failure. SPC Electronics, would be out millions, a loss they couldn’t afford right now. Due to a provision in the contract stating SPC would be paid only upon confirmation of the technology working, there wasn’t a damned thing Sin could do to stop the verdict.

“It’s obvious the colonel has little interest in helping us.” Sin shook his head in frustration. “He doesn’t give a shit about whether or not we go under. His main concerns are saving face and not having to deal with military bureaucracy.” With only a week left, the clock was ticking.

“I’ve still got a few friends on the force who owe me some favors.” Des started walking toward the road. “I’ll see if they can analyze these bullets.” He patted his pocket. “Maybe we’ll learn something useful.”

Sin nodded and silently fell into step. At least Williams had provided him with a special sticker, the same one surviving spouses and family members received to enter the national cemetery after hours. “Maybe we should reconsider hiring a PI.”

“We don’t need outsiders.” Des exhaled heavily. “They hold too many risks.”

Sin nodded. Trust was the biggest issue, that and finding an investigator with the clearances necessary to deal with such sensitive information

“You’re right, of course,” Sin finally said as they reached his car. When Des sent him a questioning look, he added, “We should talk to Mrs. Montgomery, and the sooner the better. Let’s go back to the office to see if Eric’s still there.” Eric Coleman was their third partner.

He hit the keyless entry. Both opened their doors and slid inside simultaneously.

Sin wasn’t looking forward to questioning the lady, given his earlier reaction. Maybe Des could do it without him. The minute the thought was out, he discarded it.

An ex-homicide detective, Des could spot inconsistencies and lies within seconds of talking to a person, a handy skill to possess due to the sensitive nature of their business. He was also a real pro at solving puzzles, but his friend wasn’t what Sin would call a people person. With his square, muscular physique, he’d make a perfect bouncer in one of D.C.’s hottest nightclubs. And despite his stern, military-like bearing and short, dirty-blond buzz cut, both throwbacks from an early Marine Corps experience, the ladies must like him as he never lacked female company.

Sin watched Des snap his seat belt into place. Smiling, he started the engine and pulled onto the road. As he drove, his grin spread. He stifled a chuckle. Since Sin had already irritated the female in question with his actions, he couldn’t risk poking the stick of Des’s contemptuous personality at her and inflaming her further. SPC’s chief of security might attract women like pollen-loaded daisies attracted bees, but his demeanor toward them was spiked with vinegar, not honey.

Questioning Mrs. Montgomery required teamwork, and they made a great team . . . sort of like good cop/bad cop when they interviewed prospective employees and clients.

Sin’s breath came out in a long sigh. Unfortunately, he’d have to play his good cop part if he wanted to gain any useful information.

The memory of having her soft body under his flashed and he shifted uncomfortably on the leather seat.

“Damn,” he said under his breath, punching the accelerator. No matter how hard he tried, the image wouldn’t shake free. He didn’t need any more complications.

And Avery Montgomery might prove to be a huge one.

• • •

Once Avery was miles down the road, well away from
him
, the incident replayed in her mind.
Incident?
She snorted, unable to describe what happened so simply.

An out-of-control kiss, maybe, but definitely not a mere incident. Guilt immersed her, filling her with more self-loathing. How could she have acted like a complete idiot . . . a lovesick fool without any restraint? She was a grieving widow, not some sex-starved hussy.

If that were true, then why did some part of her wonder what would have happened if they hadn’t been interrupted? No. She hadn’t liked kissing him. Fear, grief, and remorse had hit her all at once, creating her erratic behavior. Even so, she had to admit that Mike’s kisses had never affected her like that.

At a red light, she closed her eyes for a brief second. Without the man’s influence, she could finally think clearer. Someone had shot at her. Her earlier fear returned full force. Ice water ran through her veins replacing some of the other emotions. She stared in the rearview mirror searching for unseen threats and making note of those behind her.

When the light changed, her foot pushed the gas pedal. Hard. The car shot forward and sped up quickly. Her eyes kept checking the rearview mirror as she drove. One car in particular caught and held her attention. Her heartbeat increased.

Avery breathed out a relieved sigh the moment the car turned off, blocks from her house.

She pressed the garage door opener so that it was fully open when she pulled into her driveway at the rear of her Georgetown house. She didn’t wait to hit the button to lower the door. As it closed, she put the car in park, turned off the engine, and stared at the wall in front of her.

Maybe she should have gone to the police. No. Arlington was military jurisdiction and she’d rather avoid anything to do with the military, especially Colonel Williams. She didn’t fully trust him. Yet, what about the guy she’d kissed? Who was he?

Her hand went to her pocket, where she’d stashed his business card. She pulled it out and read:
Jeffrey Sinclair—CEO of SPC Electronics
. He said he wanted to talk to her. What was he doing at the gravesite, and not just tonight? She had no doubt he’d been there on those other nights she’d visited. And her biggest concern . . . who was shooting and why? Was she the target or was
he
?

Had to be him.
And I got caught in some kind of crossfire.

Movement at the door separating the kitchen and the garage drew Avery’s attention and Terry poked her head out after opening it.

Her sister watched for several minutes before she stepped forward and smiled. “Everything okay?” she asked, opening the car door when Avery made no attempt to move.

Avery couldn’t help but notice how close the question was to what
he
had asked. As far as she was concerned, the answer hadn’t changed. She wondered if she’d ever be
okay
again. She sighed, tucked the card away, intending to research the company later, and climbed out of the car.

“Sure.” She returned the smile. Except it felt forced. Without meeting Terry’s curious gaze, she grabbed her purse and headed inside. She needed to think . . . analyze her behavior . . . before she told anyone about the events of the past hour, and that included her sister.

The minute Avery got through the door, her son rushed her, extracting a more natural grin. It was hard not to smile when Andy was around.

“Hey, kiddo!” She ruffled his hair before wrapping her arms around him as he hugged her waist. She walked farther into the kitchen without breaking contact. “You have school in the morning. Shouldn’t you be in bed?”

“I was too scared to go to bed alone. Aunt Terry said I could wait up for you.”

Avery hugged her son more fiercely. “Sorry I wasn’t here, honey.”

“That’s okay. But I’ll be able to sleep if you tuck me in.”

Andy didn’t wait for an answer, instead went skipping off toward his room with absolute conviction she would follow. Avery did, relieved he was so resilient, and wishing she could steal some of his resiliency. If only her mind worked like a child’s, then she could forget the past and bounce back, ready to tackle the next phase of her life. Like a mantle, the shadow of her deeds fell on her shoulders again, weighing her down like the heaviest stones.

When she entered her son’s room, Avery found him under the blanket, holding up a book and watching her with hopeful expectation. She grinned and strode toward him, unable to deny his unspoken request. Manipulated or not, she was a sucker for Andy’s sweet expression.

She slid in next to him, got comfortable, and pulled him closer. With him curled beside her, she opened the book and began reading. Ten minutes later, she unwound herself from his slumbering form, careful not to wake him.

Avery stood and stared at her son’s features, so much like Mike’s. Raw pain gripped her, held her in its clutches, and ripped her heart in two. Andy was the spitting image of her husband at the same age. She had the many pictures in albums to prove it. Was this her punishment . . . to be haunted by her actions every time she looked at her son . . . never to forget?

Why had she sent that letter? Why hadn’t she spoken up when she’d had the chance? Now it was too late. Would Andy forgive her if he knew? Avery sighed and tugged the blanket around him, more as a protective gesture than to keep him warm in the late May evening. She brushed a lock of dark hair off his forehead and smiled, still staring but no longer seeing her son’s face.

Of course he’d never learn of it. She’d gone to great lengths to make sure. That last letter to Mike was now safely locked away from prying eyes, as was his answer. For some perverse reason, she’d saved both and kept going back to them night after night, as if she needed the reminder to never make the same mistake again. Sometimes she wished the military hadn’t been so efficient in sending Mike’s belongings back to her.