Conard County Spy (13 page)

“Let me see if he's awake,” she said, grabbing the sling and heading toward the guest room.

“Keeping him up all night?” Ashley teased.

“I wish. Hang on while I see if he's napping, then I'll make some cocoa.” Unreal, she thought as she walked down the very short hallway that had two doors, one on each side. Trace's was wide open, and she immediately saw him waiting.

“You're up,” she said with forced cheer, and handed him the sling. “Come meet my friend. Consider it a command performance.” Command performance indeed, and at the worst time possible. She'd been getting somewhere with Trace and then Ashley had shown up. The universe must have a wicked sense of humor.

“Don't use my real name,” he muttered. “Just call me Race.”

From back in the living room she heard Ashley still laughing at her remark. But she didn't miss the concern in Trace's face as he struggled into the sling. Now someone else was involved. Oh, he must be loving this, but she didn't know what else to do.

“First name only,” he murmured. “Let me handle most of the explaining, okay?”

Sure, she thought. He probably had loads of practice at this. Feeling a bit sour, she returned to Ashley, who had settled at the bar, still wearing her bibbed snow pants. “So cocoa, right?”

“Anything hot,” Ashley answered. “I won't be able to stay long. The forecast is getting worse, but after being cooped up for two days I had to get out. Skiing a few blocks seemed safe enough.”

“Well, you'd better call me as soon as you get home. I'll be worried.”

Ashley waved her hand. “It's not like I don't do this all the time.”

“In a whiteout? At night?” Julie retorted.

Ashley laughed. “Not usually. But I can actually see where the streets are, thanks to the lights, and while the houses almost disappear, I can see the glow from the windows. No, I'm more worried about the plunging temperature, so one hot drink and I'm out of here.”

Julie would never have believed she'd be glad to see Ashley leave. Then she had another thought. Under any other circumstances, she'd ask Ashley to stay the night. Until it was safe to go out.

Oh, dang! Was she going to fail to do the right thing because Trace was here? No matter the circumstances, she couldn't needlessly expose a friend to danger. Except that for the first time in her life, she didn't know where the true danger lay. In the storm? In the man who was hunting Trace? Saying the guy wouldn't be able to reach them in this storm, or find Trace, had just been proved a comforting fiction by Ashley's arrival.

“Something wrong?” Ashley asked. Her expression conveyed real concern.

Some spy she'd make, Julie thought, realizing she had stalled somewhere in the process of making cocoa. She was setting off alarms in her friend. She looked around and realized she'd gotten out the instant mix. Heat water, find the cream... She started moving again, feeling strangely stiff, as if she no longer belonged in her own body. “You shouldn't go back out in this,” she said, hoping her internal turmoil wasn't evident. “Stay tonight at least.”

“No way,” Ashley answered. “I'm still not done wearing off my excess energy. Relax, Jules, I can make it the short distance. I have my phone in case anything happens. Now where is this mystery man?”

“Right here,” Trace said.

Julie swung around from the stove to see Trace stepping out of the hallway. He'd tousled his hair a bit as if he'd just awakened and the sling was firmly in place, concealing his hand and his arm up to above the elbow. And looking awfully good in a navy blue flannel shirt and jeans as he approached. “Hey, I'm Race.”

“Ashley.” Ashley smiled back. “So you followed Julie all the way here from Oregon?”

“
Followed
isn't exactly the word,” he said pleasantly as he slid into one of the stools. “We emailed a bit since her trip to the Cascades. She was kind enough to invite me to visit while I'm laid up.”

“Cocoa?” Julie asked Trace, growing tenser by the moment. How many lies was he going to give Ashley? How many did he have to?
Cover story
, she reminded herself, but she really didn't like lying to her friends. In fact, she lied as rarely as she could. She'd learned from kindergartners that lie detectors seemed to be built in at an early age, and one falsehood could sacrifice trust forever. Adults might become deadened to them, but not kids. And since she'd learned never to tell lies, not even innocent ones, in the classroom, she'd extended it to most of the rest of her life.

But Ashley wasn't shy about making conversation. “So do you believe in bigfoot?” she asked.

“Me?” Trace's eyes widened a hair.

Of course, thought Julie. The one story she was sure her friends would remember about that trip. She hoped Trace could manage it.

“You, of course,” said Ashley. “I know Julie mentioned those huge footprints she found and you thought they might be from a bear.”

“Well, they could be. I track a lot of stuff. Bears have a way of walking where the back paw lands almost exactly on the spot the front paw already hit. So you can get an overlay that looks like a really huge five-toed print under some circumstances.” He looked at Julie and smiled. “Just coffee for me, please.”

She busied her hands, making the cocoa, pouring the coffee, waiting for the bombs that must be incoming already.

“But you spend a lot of time in the wilderness,” Ashley argued. “No opinion?”

Yeah, wilderness. Only Trace lived in a different kind of wilderness. Tensely, Julie gave Ashley her cocoa.

“My opinion, if you really want it, is that enough people have found tracks, have seen things, well... There's at least a reason to seriously check it out. Scientifically. But belief? That's a whole different realm. I'll reserve judgment until there's scientific proof.”

Ashley sighed, clucked, then laughed. “That's exactly the kind of advice I'd give my fourth graders. So you've never had the kind of experience that made you wonder?”

Trace smiled. “Of course I wonder. I'd have to be deaf and blind not to. I've heard things I can't explain or identify. I've seen footprints that might be bear, but then again... So yeah, I wonder. Julie saw that wilderness. There's even more of it up in Canada. It's within the realm of possibility that a large primate lives out there and keeps hidden. But I need proof, not stories.”

Ashley nodded and thanked Julie for the cocoa. “Some stories have led people to species no one believed existed.”

“True,” Trace agreed. “So are you a believer?”

Ashley laughed and shook her head. “Not yet. The stories, the legends, make me wonder. They go back a long way, and sometimes they turn out not to be just legends, but recountings of things people have actually seen. Anyway, it's far from a settled thing. I was just wondering what you thought because of that story Julie told us.”

Julie glanced at Trace and found his smiling brown eyes on her.

“I can't afford to lose my head,” he said, then returned his attention to Ashley. “My job depends on being practical and levelheaded. I'm paid to keep people safe, not fill their heads with fear.”

Ashley laughed. “I bet you could tell a good campfire story. Not even one little spooky one?”

“I can,” said Julie, intervening swiftly. “Just before I hired Race to guide me into the wilderness, I
did
have a spooky night. I was all by myself, too. In fact, that's when I decided I needed a guide.”

Ashley's eyes lit up. “Tell.”

“Not much to it. I'd been following a logging road and decided to camp about twenty feet to the side of it. While I was cooking my dinner, I heard some howls. Probably mountain lions. They can sound almost human, like a man in pain sometimes. Anyway, it creeped me out, so I hurried up and got into my tent as soon as I could. Later, when I was sleeping, something woke me. It sounded like something hitting my tent. I didn't dare go out, but I didn't sleep much after that. It happened once more, and then the night went quiet.”

“Ooh,” Ashley said. “What was it?”

“Pine cones probably falling from the tree over me,” Julie said drily. “If I hadn't been spooked by the mountain lions, I probably never would have been scared by them.”

Ashley laughed. “Well, there goes a good story.” She lifted her mug and drained it. “Okay, all warmed up.” She stood. “Nice meeting you, Race. Maybe I'll see you again.”

“Are you sure you don't want to stay?” Julie asked.

“I'll be perfectly safe. Besides, I don't want to be a third wheel.” She winked at Julie and went to don the rest of her outerwear.

Trace spoke. “I hope I'm not making you uncomfortable.”

“Nope,” Ashley answered as she pulled down her ski mask, then zipped up her hood. “I wanted to bug her mostly because I needed to get outdoors. Besides, who could pass up a chance to meet the guy that Julie actually asked to visit her? Now there's a red-letter event. Anyway, if I'm too late getting home, people will start looking for me. I wouldn't want that.”

With a wave, she went out the door and closed it behind her. Julie could faintly hear the sounds as she stepped back into her skis, and then silence returned.

“That was a whirlwind visit,” Trace remarked presently.

“Just checking you out, I guess.”

“So I'm okay because I don't believe in bigfoot?”

“Maybe so.” Julie took a deep breath and exhaled the tension. “I hope she gets home safely, but I'm glad she didn't stay. I don't want her exposed to this mess.”

“Me, either. And so much for your idea that we'd hear the dogs barking before someone got here.” His face had grown still, almost stony, and she could tell he was worrying about the problem again. Why wouldn't he? Someone had just shown up unannounced and silently. Crossing the room, she locked the door again and thought that a dead bolt was pretty flimsy security.

The nascent experience they had shared just before Ashley arrived had escaped them. The room was filled with a different kind of tension now. She wanted to resent it, but couldn't.

Maybe just as well, she decided. Yeah, she'd been reaching for an experience, something she often did because an adventurer existed somewhere inside her. But perhaps this time it would be better if she just left it alone. Maybe her own cabin fever had been pushing her as hard as her attraction to Trace.

However, it remained that the likelihood she'd meet another man who attracted her as much as he did was pretty slim, given where she lived. Unless “State” regularly started dumping agents in Conard County...well, it was enough to make her laugh at herself.

What did she feel drawn to, anyway? He was a good-looking man, but that had never been enough. The fact that he was in trouble? She should know better by now. That the danger excited her?

That wouldn't surprise her at all.

Chapter 8

T
he weatherman assured them on the increasingly poor TV signal that the storm was still worsening. Poor guy, Julie thought, watching him. Some of his cheer had vanished.

“This storm shouldn't be happening. Not to this degree or size. None of the usual signs we look for were there and we're reviewing our models to find out what happened. Regardless, now we're looking at another full day...”

She turned down the volume, letting him continue quietly in the background. Her phone rang and she reached for it, hardly surprised to find it was the teacher above her on the phone tree. “We're sending out emails, too,” Lou Tolliver said, “but schools will be closed tomorrow. In case internet service to some of our outlying faculty is down, please make your calls.”

“Sure thing, Lou. Weird or what?”

He laughed. “It's not often we close school. Or that we do it before the last minute. You watching the weather forecasts?”

“Who wouldn't be?”

“Yeah. I just hope the emails to parents get through. We need that automated phone system that would call every household.”

“Good luck getting that in the budget.”

“I know. Anyway, the notice will also be popping up on all available TV and radio stations soon. I just hope someone living in a cave doesn't drop their kid off at school tomorrow. Debbie Meacham and a couple of other teachers have volunteered to be there in case.”

“I can't imagine anyone moving in this mess.”

“I know. But you also know someone will. Anyway, Debbie and the others live right next to the school. They can get there safely.”

After she hung up, she sighed, put her chin in her hand, and stared out the window. “People,” she muttered.

“What's wrong?” Trace asked.

“Nothing yet. I have to make a couple of phone calls.”

She flipped to the back of her assignment book and opened up the folded paper that held her section of the phone tree. A beeping sound drew her attention to the TV, and she saw the crawler begin announcing the school closings. The list seemed endless, and would probably go on for a long time since their cable provider covered a wide area. She tried to remember the last time this had happened. Well, she knew it had, but it had been a while.

Reaching for the phone again, she called the two teachers below her on the tree and passed along the message, making sure they'd make their calls. If she'd missed either one, she had some of the names they were responsible for. As it happened, both said they'd reach out immediately.

“Snow day,” she said, closing her lesson book and swiveling around.

“I'm kind of noticing,” he remarked, indicating the TV.

“I didn't realize how late it's gotten. I need to find us something for dinner.”

“Something simple? Can I help?”

“Let me check the pantry. Honestly, I'm in no mood to cook.”

“Then don't,” he said, rising. “How about sandwiches? You have some of that ham left?”

She had a ton, mainly because she'd bought a spiral ham and had her friends over to dinner a few weeks ago. The leftovers, of which there had been plenty, had been carefully frozen in packets about the size she'd want to use to make a sandwich or dinner for herself.

“Good idea. I'll pull some out of the freezer. The thing about dinner is that I need to think about it early in the day, when it is the last thing I want to think about.”

He laughed.

“Well, it's true,” she admitted. “Don't ask me about dinner at breakfast.” She opened the freezer and looked in. “I also have some mac and cheese I could heat up.”

“Sandwiches,” he said firmly.

So she pulled out three packets of ham and started them running under cold water. “It shouldn't take long to thaw. How's your thinking coming?”

“My list of possible problems is shrinking. I'll check them out tomorrow.”

“How can you do that, exactly?”

“By accessing some very classified files. Trust me. That's all you want to know.”

“But...” She turned from the sink. “Does everything get recorded somewhere?”

“Oh, yeah. Butt-covering galore. Truth, even. Reports are made. And by compartmentalizing everything and putting it on a need-to-know basis, in theory nobody but the right people get to see anything they shouldn't. Assuming I haven't had all my clearances canceled, I should be able to see anything that happened on my watch as operations chief.”

She chewed her lower lip. “But you don't want anyone to know you looked.”

“The most important thing is that they not find out I looked from
here
.” He smiled faintly. “There'll be audit trails and they'll find out I looked, but I know how to evade them for at least a while.” He sat on a stool and leaned forward. “I need time, Julie. More than anything, I need some time. I have to have some idea which direction the threat will come from, and then some time to get ready. This snowstorm has been a blessing for me. I appear to have reached Denver. When I start looking into files in the morning, I'm going to appear to be somewhere beyond Denver. I think I mentioned that. Anyway, the longer I can postpone them backtracking me, the better a position I can get into.”

“How will it help you to know who's after you?” She hated this whole situation, she realized. After diving in for the excitement and to protect Marisa, she had to face the fact that the tension wouldn't completely go away. She couldn't hide from it, couldn't bury it, couldn't tell herself that nothing could happen until that storm settled down out there, not after Ashley's visit. Trace's life was at risk, and by extension her own. She couldn't just blow it off until the weather cleared.

“Because I'll have some idea of his capabilities. And that'll tell me how dangerous he could really be, and in what ways.”

“So you deal with people like that?” Her stomach turned over a bit.

“When I have to, yes. In fact, some of them are the people we can least afford to ignore.”

“But how will you know?” she asked, her heart aching for him. Her major concern here had become him, and what might happen to him. “Trace, how will you know?”

“Know what?”

“Who he is? What he can do? I mean...” She didn't know exactly what she meant. “Someone who can just come into this country and come after you? Someone who maybe has the backing of the...your agency? How can you be sure?”

“By what came before. By what kind of work he does for us. By how important he is to protect. It's got to be somebody who's been working for us for a long time, someone who's worth more than I am.”

She hated that and felt a spark of anger. “Don't say that. You're worth as much as anyone else.”

“Depends on what measuring stick you use,” he said flatly. “It always has.” Then he said, “Let's talk about something else.”

“I'm having trouble thinking about anything else.”

“I can tell.” He rose and came around the bar to slip his arm around her and give her a gentle squeeze. “I'm sorry I got you into this.”

She shook her head. “I told you already, I got into this myself. Big adventure. Although it's not seeming as much like an adventure as a trip to the executioner now.”

His gentle, one-armed hug was proving to be a distraction, though. It eased her apprehension and began to send her thoughts spiraling in another direction. Unfortunately, she figured it wasn't going to last long.

It didn't. After a moment he let go and put the bar between them again. A safe distance. He was quite good at creating those. She wondered if she should try to break through those barriers, then wondered if that would be the worst thing she could do. He had a lot to think about—his life was on the line—and now he was worrying about protecting her as well. Distraction might be welcome, but it also might be deadly.

There was, she realized, absolutely not one normal thing about this situation, not even making ham sandwiches. Tension infused every single moment and action. Walking a high wire must be like this, she thought. Like that guy who had crossed the Grand Canyon. One slip, one moment of inattention, one misjudgment...

In an instant she understood all the way to her bones just how unforgiving life could be. Trace sat there ruminating by the hour with few answers available to him, if any. Working a problem with dimensions he couldn't see. Yet he had to be aware with every breath that making a mistake could cost him everything.

“How do you handle it?” she asked abruptly as she put the sandwiches on plates and moved them to the bar.

“Handle what?”

“This constant tension. This constant thinking about a problem with so little information.”

One corner of his mouth lifted, and his gaze gentled. “I'm sorry it's so hard on you.”

“I'm not looking for sympathy. I'm asking how you do it. This can't be the first time you've been faced with a box you know nothing about.”

“No, it's not.”

“Well, you're sitting there ruminating. I can barely imagine the kinds of things that must be running through your head, and you have no one to talk to. You can't even brainstorm. You must feel very alone.”

“I'm used to it.”

He was used to it. A very sad answer. Coming around the bar, she sat beside him and reached for a piece of her sandwich. She felt helpless, but she supposed that wasn't true. She
had
given him a place to stay where he wouldn't inadvertently endanger Marisa and her baby or Ryker. That was important, and that's why she'd done it.

But right now she needed to do more. She hated being passive, and not knowing when or how she might have to react. That just didn't suit her at all.

“The waiting game can be hard,” he said after he ate a couple of bites of sandwich. “I'm used to it. Sometimes I had to wait months, or even years to see if an asset would yield any fruit. After a while, you get used to the fact that there are no quick answers to most things. That everything comes in its own time. That events have to coalesce in a certain way, that everything has to come together to get a result. It's not a job for the impatient.”

“I guess not. Am I being too impatient?”

“From whose perspective?” He turned his head and smiled at her. “I told you this storm has been a blessing for me. They have no idea where I am right now. They last pinged me in or near Denver. They've probably heard by now that I wrecked my car, and from the way your sheriff set things up, they assume I hitched a ride into Denver just ahead of this storm. If I'm still in that area, I'm pretty well nailed down. Right now they're probably waiting for some action on my bank account or credit card, or for me to pop up looking for financing for a new car. When the storm blows out, I'll get maybe a day before they get uneasy. My guess is that first they'll check hospitals to see if I'm laid up from the accident. Once they clear that...well, then they have to decide in what direction to look. That's going to take time, Julie.”

“I get it. And that's good, right? But how much good? Are you getting anywhere thinking about this? Why don't you just go on my computer now and do your magic?”

“Because I'll leave an audit trail. No way to avoid it. It won't trace back to here, I'll make sure of it. But sooner, rather than later, someone's going to note that I've accessed certain files. At that point they'll pretty much guess I'm onto them. I'm in no rush to pass them that message.”

She sank into thought as she ate, considering all that he'd just shared. So while he hadn't mentioned it earlier, had even made it seem like it wouldn't be dangerous at all, because he could conceal where he was when he entered those files...it would send a message. Why? Well, she didn't need him to explain it to her. Hell, no. Once he started snooping around, they'd know he no longer believed they merely suspected that someone was after him, and no longer believed they were trying to protect him.

She couldn't eat any more. She pushed her plate aside. “If you're still hungry, eat my other half. How long will it take them to figure out you've accessed those files?”

“Depends on whether they're looking for me to turn up. If I've been flagged, it won't take long at all.”

Well, she could certainly understand why he was taking all this time to think. Once he had to go after hard information, he might as well call them on the phone.

“This stinks,” she announced.

“No kidding.”

She sighed and went to make more coffee. The guy drank it as if his life depended on it, and right now she could use a cup, even if it interfered with her sleep tonight.

“Are you getting anywhere at all?” she asked after she started the machine, then caught herself. “I'm sorry. I must sound like a nag.” She changed the pitch of her voice to complaining. “What are you thinking? What are you going to do? Why is this so difficult?” Then she let her voice return to normal. “Yeah, a nag. Or maybe a whiner.”

“Neither one,” he answered promptly as she returned to her seat beside him. “The thing is, I could feel every bit as frustrated as you, but it would get in the way. Like I said, right now is not the time to let anger take over. I need a clear head.”

“And I'm not helping. I should just get a book out to read.”

“No, you're fine.” He once again surprised her by slipping his arm around her waist, this time his right one. His glove was back in place, and she sat looking down at it. She guessed he felt more comfortable with it on, even though she'd already seen his hand.

Then, again to her disappointment, he let go of her and rose, carrying his plate to the sink. She watched as he pulled down two fresh mugs, one after the other, and filled them with coffee. He gave her one and put the other in front of his seat.

“I'm going to take a pain pill,” he said. “Just one. Thanks for making the coffee.”