Authors: Patricia; Potter
“You don't think.⦔
“I think they have killed a lot more people than we know about. And over a longer period of time. It's possible they killed three generals, including my grandfather. Now that takes some kind of organization.”
“That's ridiculous. You told me yourself your grandfather died of a heart attack.”
“That's what I thought, until I discovered the other two generals who served with him when the Nazi train was captured, died somewhat mysteriously. My grandfather never had heart trouble.”
“That doesn't mean.⦔
“It looked like a heart attack, and because of that there was no autopsy. You and I both know that there are drugs that can cause attacks.”
“Then come back, and we can order a new autopsy.”
“I can't leave Amy Mallory.”
“You don't have a choice, Irish. Any number of officials want to talk to you. I've been putting them off, saying that you had no obligation during leave to check in with me. But they are getting impatient.”
“Doug, I can't leave Amy Mallory now. There've been three attempts on her life.”
“Let the police or FBI protect her. You can't do it alone.”
“You haven't been listening, Doug. If they have enough power to ensure a promotion or change of assignment, they have enough power to have sources in the FBI.”
“You're not Superman, Irish.”
“I need a few more days.”
“You don't have them. I can't protect you any longer. There's a record of this call. You have been officially ordered to return to base.”
“I can't.”
“You can be court-martialed for disobeying a direct order. I can almost guarantee you will be. Are you willing to give up everything you've worked for?”
Irish closed his eyes for a moment. But then he'd made his decision days ago. It had stopped being about his grandfather. It had started that way, but now it was all about Amy. It was about giving her safety and security and her life back.
Would he leave if he thought she would be safe?
He wasn't sure. He was fascinated by Amy Mallory. He was even more attracted by the bond between them, the instinctive knowledge they had about one another, the sense of belonging he'd never had with anyone else. He'd been intrigued by their conversation this morning, by her admission that she was more than a little attracted by danger. It wasn't the fact that she had been. He'd mused about that before. It was the fact that she admitted it, picked at it, weighed it.
She was like that about everything. He'd watched her as they had driven up the coast. Everything interested her.
The simple fact was he didn't want to leave her. He didn't want to risk anyone else looking after her.
The thought was unsettling at best.
“I'll take my chances, Doug. I have to go now.” He hung up before Doug could say anything else.
He'd just burned his last bridge.
W
ASHINGTON
, D.C.
“I thought I'd hired the best. A graduate from a correspondence school detective course could do better.” The voice on the phone was angry.
“We know she's with Eachan now,” his employee said.
“Ah,” the caller said. “And how do you propose getting to her? We needed compromising photos. We have no chance of getting them now.”
Silence.
“Keystone cops. You were supposed to be the best of the best, but you've let two women get the best of you.”
“We hadn't anticipated Flaherty.”
“I pay you enough to anticipate everything.”
“I have a tracking device on Eachan's car.”
“You had one on Flaherty's, and it didn't do a damn bit of good.”
“I'm putting two more men on Dustin Eachan.”
“Watch his house but don't bug it. He's just recently had the department sweep it, and he'll do it again. No sense putting him on notice.”
“We're putting the rest of our resources on finding Flaherty and the woman.”
“Have you narrowed it down?” “The last credit card was in North Carolina. He's obviously heading north.”
“But why?” the call's originator asked. “To see Eachan? That would be very unfortunate. We can control Eachan by himself. If they join forces.⦔ A pause. “Flaherty's smart. He can't use credit cards; we would have that information immediately. That means no upscale hotels. We already know they've used some hourly hotels. But we've been checking those.” A pause, then, “He's military. He'll know how to get lost in military communities. Check them up the coast from North Carolina. Motels. Trailer parks. Rooming houses. I don't care what it costs.”
twenty-two
N
ORFOLK
Amy tried to concentrate. Hour after hour passed. She reviewed everything for the tenure hearing and found little to add. She knew her answers to probable questions, could back her research, present pending grants and future research projects. Included in her material was a prospective publisher for her proposed book. She needed only to give them the first three chapters.
She knew it was a sound package. Student assessments of her courses had been excellent. She thought she had the support of most of the faculty, although Jon had been her strongest advocate. Would his absence change the dynamics?
The tenure hearing, though, seemed a million miles away at the moment. It just didn't seem that important any longer. And that simple fact scared her. This ⦠adventure was not going to last forever.
Amy sighed, fighting herself, tamping down all those wayward, traitorous, foreign thoughts.
She went back into the boxes. She decided to take every name she found and research it on the net. The final list included those recommended for decorations, staff members dating back from Normandy, everyone mentioned in his notes.
She started going through the last box again, making a list of those names. When she was finished, it was noon. Her back muscles were tired from leaning over the laptop. She stood, stretched.
Bo nudged her leg with his nose. She decided to take him for a walk. When she got back, she would start tracking down the various individuals on her list.
The day was hot, humid, smothering. The sky looked as if a storm was in the offing. Dark, thick clouds hovered. She felt the electricity ready to explode.
Her gaze moved around the parking lot, from trailer to trailer, to the roads that branched like veins in a hand. Toddlers played in a playground, and she walked Bo over to them and watched. Mothers who looked more like high schoolers than married women watched them and chatted together. She felt an ache deep inside. She'd often thought about children. She thought she would probably make a good mother. But she'd wanted them only with someone she truly loved.
Until now.
She'd substituted career for family, and she'd never regretted it. Not really. But now, as she watched children playing, running to their mothers, a yearning hit with unexpected intensity. What would Irish's child look like? Dark hair? Inscrutable eyes? That odd little twist of his lips?
She finally forced her gaze away from the children. They'd stirred ridiculous thoughts. Impossible thoughts. She and Flaherty had sex because they'd been caught in a storm of danger. And need. Even dependence. It was nothing more than that.
She looked around. Bo growled, and she stiffened. Then she saw it was only another dog.
Amy forced herself to walk away from the playground. She went to the office, where she'd seen a newspaper vending machine. Putting in a quarter, she took out a newspaper and returned to the bench. She wasn't ready to go back inside.
She read the front page. More trouble in the Middle East. A battle in Congress. A robbery. A trial. She looked inside. Nothing about an explosion farther south. She read it, as she always read newspapers, scouring every article and filing the contents in the cabinet of her mind.
Bo sniffed the areas immediately around her, then came over to her and put his paws on her lap. “You miss him, too, huh? Well, buddy, we have to get used to it.”
She gave one last look toward the children, then returned to the trailer and started her search. There were any number of people search sites, and she started with the name at the top of her list. She soon found that most, quite naturally, were dead. Some had died during the war. Some shortly afterward. She eliminated one after another. She was finally left with nine names.
She didn't get any further. She didn't have the skill to gain access to the sites she needed. She did find something interesting, though. She stopped and just stared at the notations next to two men.
Amy rose and looked outside. It was nearly five. Panic started building up inside her. She wasn't used to it, and she didn't like it. Had something happened to Flaherty?
Irish
. She was beginning to think of him that way now. It was more personal.
A lot more personal.
Then she saw him driving up in the purple car, and her heart did a little jump. She went back to the computer, turning to the Internet, then focused on North Carolina newspapers. It was then she saw the article.
The door opened. Flaherty filled the trailer with his presence. She hadn't realized how empty it was until then.
She looked toward him. She didn't want to say how much she had missed him. She only hoped she didn't convey the message in other ways.
“I reached Eachan. He wants to meet with us.”
She waited for him to continue.
One of his eyebrows arched. “No questions?”
“Why should I? You'll tell me when you're ready.”
“Patience?”
“No. I just think it's quicker this way.”
He gave her that lopsided grin. “You think differently from any woman I've ever met.”
“Is that good?”
“Different,” he insisted. She was aware that he didn't want to destroy the mood by returning to the issue. The life and death issue.
“Tell me,” she finally said.
His smile disappeared. “It'll be dangerous. I want to send you someplace else.”
“No,” she said. “I'm a part of this as much, if not more, than you are.” She hesitated for a moment, then added, “And I feel ⦠safer with you.”
“I'm not sure we've done the right thing. I've been thinking that perhaps you should contact the local and state authorities.”
“Why?”
“I talked to my commanding officer. The local police in Myrtle Beach want us for questioning because of the explosion. Apparently they received an anonymous call that we were the ones in the house just prior to the explosion. Our friends are trying to smoke us out.”
“And your commanding officer?”
Flaherty shrugged. The gesture said a lot, however.
She swallowed hard. He could well lose his career, even his freedom. Disobeying a direct order could have significant penalties. “You should go.”
“I'm not ready to surface. Not until I hear what Eachan has to say. But you can.”
“Do you really think we can trust this Eachan?”
“He has some questions of his own, it seems,” he said. “Apparently his cousin has been having some unsettling encounters.”
“Sally Eachan?”
He nodded.
“They like picking on women, don't they?” she observed indignantly.
“Easier targets than an Assistant Deputy Secretary of State.”
“And a CID officer.”
“I think the bad guys knew Eachan just wanted to bury the entire matter.”
“And you?”
“They probably thought they could buy me off with a new assignment, get me out of the country.”
“So the promotion didn't just happen?”
He didn't answer.
“Where are we going to meet?”
“Here,” he said.
She looked at him curiously.
“It's as good as any place.”
“When?”
“Tomorrow night. I want to meet with them when the park is full of sailors.”
“I don't want anyone else to get hurt.”
“They won't. I'll meet them in Newport News and drive them here. I'll make sure no one follows.”
“Them?”
“His cousin is coming.” He paused. “I can try to find some place for you to stay ⦠just for the evening. Maybe even with the chief.”
She shook her head. “The violence seemed to have started with me.” She knew her face must have shown uncertainty, or he wouldn't have pressed her to leave. It wasn't what he thought. She wasn't reluctant to meet with them. But she knew she and Irish would have to leave here then. She just wasn't sure she wanted to do that.
The trailer had become a temporary refuge.
And the place where she'd fallen in love.
“I'm not going to leave,” she declared. Then she changed the subject. “I made a list of everyone my grandfather specifically mentioned in the papers. Of thirty-one, twenty-two are dead. I found addresses for three of the others; I couldn't find anything on six of them.” She decided to leave her biggest find to the end, to lead him there.
He sat down in a chair. “How many of the thirty-one survived the war?”
“Fifteen were reported as killed in action in the war.”
“That's a high number,” he said. “What about the others?”
She gave him the list. She had listed the dates of their deaths next to name and rank. All were either high-ranking officers, sergeant majors, or staff sergeants. He leaned forward in his chair, studying the list. His eyes were that piercing blue she saw when he was focusing on something.
She watched his eyes pass over the names, then linger over the three names and addresses she'd found as well as the six names that remained elusive. She knew the second when he continued on and noted the dates of death of those who had died. Flaherty's grandfather and her grandfather both died in 1980. Nothing unusual about that. They were both elderly. What was unusual was that they died within a month of one another. Flaherty of a heart attack; her grandfather, a suicide.