Conard County Spy (3 page)

Trace sat in silence, staring down at his still-gloved, destroyed hand. They were right. He didn't want to admit it—he wished he'd never set foot in this town—but they were right.

He'd been a damned fool to ever come here, but he hadn't really believed he was in trouble. Not when he arrived here, simply because a colleague he knew lived here. The threat had been so vague that it seemed improbable that anything would happen. Someone looking for him under his real name? Could have been anyone and probably meaningless. He figured the suggestion of a threat had been used to shunt him aside until his medical retirement came through. He'd become useless, mainly because of the pain and the meds, and frankly no one wanted to see him hanging around like a reminder of what could happen to any of them. He'd known he made his coworkers uneasy.

But this? The burn of betrayal was returning, lighting a fire deep in his belly. The sheriff was right about one thing: he wanted to know who'd put him in this position and who was after him. He wanted those answers more than he wanted to preserve his own messed-up life.

He sighed. “I took my pain meds this morning. I'm not at my best. I need more coffee.”

“Three didn't do it?” Ryker asked.

“This is strong stuff. That's why I hate to take it.”

Dalton surprised him by rising and limping over to the door. He opened it and leaned out. “Hal!”

“Yo?”

“Get me six tall and strongs, black, from Maude's. Double time.”

Then he limped back to his seat, and with every one of his careful movements, Trace felt a twinge of sympathy for the sheriff. Evidently he hadn't escaped all the effects of the bomb that had killed his family.

“That'll tick Velma off good,” the sheriff remarked when he'd settled again.

“Velma?” Trace asked.

“The smoking volcano at the front desk. She makes us coffee every morning. We all pretend to drink it so as not to offend her. Might as well swallow thickened battery acid.” Gage waved a hand. “Her coffee is infamous. Enough about that. We'll pump some more caffeine into you, and when you feel ready, we'll get into some detail about what, if anything, Conard County can do for you, if you'll let us.”

Trace shook his head, trying to absorb this. “Why should you help me? You don't know me from Adam.”

“I have some inkling about the service you've been providing to this country,” Gage said quietly. “I get freaking frosted when people like you get cut loose. I don't like the stench, and I want to clean it up. Besides, you're Ryker's friend, and his wife means a whole lot to folks around here.”

That was when Trace realized he'd walked onto a different planet.

* * *

The coffee arrived within ten minutes. Trace drank the first as fast as he could without burning his mouth and throat, then started on another. The two other men took their time chatting about how another storm was about to blow in and how everyone hoped it would be the last of the winter.

Trace listened with only half an ear. Ryker had given him enough information to fly with this morning, and as the coffee drove away the fuzziness the meds caused in his mind, it slipped into high gear. He'd hated the last weeks of running from an invisible threat that might not even exist. Well, now he was pretty certain it was real. Not knowing who or what made it pretty hard to take evasive action, but at least there was a reason for what he needed to do.

As a field operative, he'd seen enough of the underside to know that sometimes assets were more important than operatives, that his employer would protect some of them at any cost. He'd never known personally of a case where an operative had been hung out to dry, but it didn't exceed his ability to imagine. It became even easier to imagine when the operative, namely him, had become useless. Yeah, they'd do it all right. If an important asset demanded Trace's blood, nobody would intervene.

He looked up, interrupting the conversation without apology. “My phone's on the road. The car needs to be, too.”

Ryker checked his watch. “Very soon. The driver of the truck I put your phone on was just walking inside to order breakfast when I spoke to him. He's probably just finishing up. Or maybe just pulled out of the lot. But you're right.”

“I'd better get to it, then.”

“Hold it,” said Dalton. “Give it five.”

“Why?”

“Because Ryker told me earlier we might need to get rid of your car. I've got a couple of guys who should be here any minute. So you think they've got a tracking device on your auto?”

“I don't know. It's unlikely, but I never looked for one. Besides, phones are easy to track. But if they're tracking both, then we don't want them to get too far apart.”

“Why in the devil would they want to track you when they've cut you loose?” Gage nearly growled.

“Because,” Trace said, “I might be a peace offering.” Dead silence answered him.

The burn was growing. He'd spent a long time preoccupied by his recovery and rehab, and hadn't been paying much attention to a lot of things. When they suggested it might be best for him to hit the road until they figured out if he was at risk, it had made perfect sense in the morphine-induced haze.

He'd gotten off the morphine to milder stuff, meds he could mostly control with coffee, but he hadn't really thought about the entire setup. He was a field operative, for heaven's sake. Living at risk didn't seem strange or unusual to him. Being on the run had sometimes been part of his job. It had never occurred to him that the agency might just want him to be far away when fate overtook him. Plausible deniability was stamped all over this.

He looked up again as a tall man entered the office without knocking. His bearing, his gaze... Trace would have bet the guy had a special ops background. To the casual eye, it wouldn't show. To the experienced eye, it was unmistakable.

“Hi, Seth,” Gage said. “I'm not going to introduce you.”

Seth half smiled. “I wouldn't expect it. What do you need?”

“I need you and Wade to wreck a vehicle for me. Make it bad but nonfatal.”

“Easy enough.”

“Well, I'm not done yet,” Gage said. “We need to do this fast. There's a cell phone on a commercial truck headed for Denver. I need the crash to occur about one hundred and fifty miles from here, close to that phone. Maybe twenty or so miles ahead of the truck.” He looked at Ryker. “Whose truck?”

Ryker rattled off a license number and a description.

Seth nodded. “Got it.”

“Leave the vehicle, leave the plates on it. One of you can drive an official car so neither of you get stopped for speeding on your way out, okay?” He pointed to the wall. “Grab the keys for number sixteen. She's gassed and ready to go.” Then he turned his attention toward Trace. “Your keys?”

Trace stood, shoving his good hand into his jacket pocket and pulling them out, handing them over. “Might be smart to lose these in the snow, too.”

Seth smiled faintly. “Will do. Which car?”

“Virginia plates, dark blue.”

“See you in a few hours,” Seth said and departed.

Trace began to see a little humor in all this, out of place though it was. “Who was that masked man?”

Gage chuckled. “Hang around here for a while and you'll find out.” Then he leaned forward, reaching for his coffee. “We've got one more immediate problem. Julie Ardlow.”

Julie Ardlow
. Trace thought about her, of course, but what really chapped him was that he'd lost control of everything. Oh, he knew he wasn't at his best with pain pills in his system, and he seriously considered throwing them away. But each time he started to, he was forced to admit that he couldn't yet. The pain could keep him from thinking clearly even more than the meds. At least those he could fight with coffee.

But he was usually the manager of operations like this. The one who laid out the plan and directed it. Instead, he was along for the ride, and he didn't like it. He approved of the sheriff's actions. They were the same thing he would have ordered himself in a similar circumstance. But instead he'd been forced into the position of passenger.

What good would it do in the long run? Maybe he should have gone on his way with a sharp eye out and hoped to run into the tiger. Problem was, from the instant Ryker had reminded him there could be collateral damage, he'd been trapped.

But trapped in what? He couldn't spend the rest of his life in this small town waiting for the guy to find him. Yeah, he'd been blowing in the wind, and Dalton and Ryker had helped to give him a landing spot, but for how long? How long could he stand it? What if others in this town might now be at risk? Ryker had worried about it, justifiably.

All he knew was he had to find a way to get on top of this, take charge again. Or get the hell out very soon.

* * *

After school and a meeting, Julie drove by the motel and saw that Trace's car was gone. So he had taken off. That kind of saddened her. Someone new would have been nice to get to know.

So she swung by Ryker's place as the early winter night began to fall, saw that his car was gone but Marisa's was there, and she decided to pop in. Maybe she could satisfy her curiosity about Trace a little more, then put it away.

Marisa was awash in crying baby and dirty diapers and looking worn out. Julie stepped in immediately, taking the three-month-old into her arms. “Sit. Let me deal for a few, Marisa. What did the doc say?”

“Just a cold.” Marisa smiled weakly, her lavender eyes showing little sparkle. “Why isn't this in all the congratulatory cards?”

“Because no one would ever have a kid if they knew,” Julie retorted. “Anything special you have to do?”

“Suction out Jonni's nose from time to time so she can keep nursing. Something for the fever. Believe it or not, she does sleep sometimes.”

“Hah.” Julie's laugh was mildly sarcastic. “Not enough from the looks of you. Where's Ryker?”

“He ran to the store. We're about to burn through the last of the diapers.”

Julie paced with the baby against her shoulder, hating to hear the little snuffles between cries. At least there was no coughing. “So what did you think of that friend of his?”

“Friend?” Marisa's brow creased. “Oh, he said someone stopped by last night. Did you meet him?”

“Briefly. What was your impression?”

“I didn't even see him,” Marisa admitted. “Jonni fell asleep, so I did, too.”

Well, so much for curiosity, Julie thought. “I guess he didn't say much about the man?”

“Just that he used to know him. Apparently he was in town for only one night.”

Julie didn't know whether Ryker had been withholding or if Marisa just wasn't interested enough to be curious herself. Probably Marisa was just too dang tired. It didn't matter anyway, since Trace had moved on.

Disappointment filled her again, but even as it did she told herself not to be silly. What was disappointing? That a guy who'd barely left a footprint in town had already departed?

Sheesh, was she getting desperate or something?

But no, there'd been something in his brown eyes that had reached out to her. Those eyes had stuck with her. Then that crazy scene at the motel this morning.

Was Ryker keeping secrets again? God, for Marisa's sake, she hoped not. “Why don't you grab a nap? Unless this kid is going to starve in the next hour, I can walk her and change her.”

“She won't starve. We just finished a feeding.”

Julie eyed her. “And she's still awake? Good heavens!”

“Poor baby is miserable,” said her miserable mother. Marisa rose and touched Jonni's forehead. “She's a little cooler. An hour, no more, okay?”

“An hour,” Julie agreed, although if she could get the baby to sleep longer she'd give Marisa more than that.

Marisa disappeared into the bedroom and closed the door, a great sign, Julie thought. She
was
going to try to get some sleep, although how anyone could sleep with this racket escaped her. Babies seemed to have a volume out of all proportion to their small size.

But as she paced from kitchen, through foyer to living room and back, eventually Jonni did fall asleep. Little twitches and occasional snuffles replaced the heart-rending cries.

Eventually she heard the side door in the kitchen open. Probably Ryker. She stayed in the living room so that inadvertent sounds wouldn't wake the baby. A minute later, Ryker appeared, his jacket unzipped.

He smiled at her and the child. “Marisa?” he whispered.

“Asleep, I hope.”

“Think you can come into the kitchen and pace? I want to make some coffee.”

“I'll wait until you've started it. I gather peace is hard to come by right now.”

He laughed silently. “Understatement.” He stepped closer. “You're going to have to keep some secrets, though. Will you?”

“Not from Marisa.”

“Not from Marisa. Just from everyone else in town.”

“That I can do. I've been practicing my skills almost since I learned to talk.”

Rocking side to side to provide a soothing motion, she waited and enjoyed how good it felt to hold a sleeping infant. Baby smells, warmth, soft little noises and cute little movements. Heavenly.

Ten minutes later, the baby still slept. Ryker returned with two mugs of coffee, followed by Trace.

“My, my,” Julie murmured, her heart quickening. “Somebody's got some explaining to do.”

Chapter 3

T
race left his jacket hanging open, set his coffee on a table, then eased into the gooseneck chair again. He stared at Julie and the infant and felt guilty as hell. This wasn't right; nothing about this was right. Now they were dragging an innocent woman into the middle of this and he decided that the smartest move might be to catch a bus for Seattle in the morning.

Then he remembered, yet again, Ryker's warning about collateral damage. He wanted to pound his fist on something to express his frustration with the way this was going. Maybe he ought to just shoot himself before this went any further.

But Gage's words surfaced. The only thing that had kept Gage from cutting his own throat was a desire to catch the rat. Oh, he could
so
identify with that. Plus, he had a feeling that if he gave himself over to this guy, some people who had set him up might not learn a lesson: not to cut an operative loose and leave him to his fate. There were other people, people he worked with, respected and liked, who might suffer the same fate. Assuming, of course, that all of this was about an asset being after him, and he had no idea who that might be.

Galled by it all, he sucked down more coffee and waited for Ryker. His hand burned like fire in a forge and felt as if a blacksmith were hammering it. Just a little longer, he promised himself. Then he could take a couple more of those pills. Right now he needed his wits, every last one of them.

It was Julie who broke the silence, her voice quiet. Her question surprised him and made him wonder how much she had already been told and how much she had guessed.

“So,” said Julie, “did Fiona see Trace arrive?”

“Fiona?” Trace asked immediately.

“Nosy neighbor,” Ryker answered. “No. It's dark out there and that's why I came by the side door. Trace had his head covered and ducked. If Fiona saw anything at all it was me pulling a week's worth of diapers out of the SUV, and that pretty much occluded her view of the kitchen door.”

“Okay. Well, I'll be the first one she asks if she's curious. What do I tell her?”

“Nothing,” Ryker said flatly.

“Nothing isn't a good answer for some people. Relax, if necessary, I'll deal with that woman.” Julie smiled. “This is fun.”

“No,” Trace said. “It's dangerous and I shouldn't be here.”

Ryker shook his head once. “You're sounding like a one-note fiddle. Wherever you go, others will be at risk, so it might as well be willing participants who know what's going on.”

Trace scowled at him. Damn, he hated being boxed in.

Julie spoke again. “So let me guess. The so-called State Department doesn't only have jobs that lead to an exciting life of world travel and fancy parties.”

Neither Trace nor Ryker answered her.

“Oh, come off it,” Julie said. “Johnny died. What kind of fool do you take me for? No, don't answer that. Don't answer anything. Just tell me why you're cutting me in. Then tell me how you're going to keep Marisa and Jonni out of it. Because frankly, that's all I really care about now.”

Trace admired Julie's spunk. Right now she looked like the epitome of womanhood, an infant rocking on her shoulder, her long hair flowing down her back, a delightful body encased in a green sweater and black slacks. And all she was worried about was the safety of her friend and the baby. Not herself. He wondered if he needed to be more emphatic. “We're talking deadly danger here. I am not exaggerating. You should want to be as far from me as possible.”

“Kinda hard when you're in my best friend's house,” she retorted. She looked at Ryker. “Start talking and then tell me what we're going to do to protect your family. I am not leaving here until I know.”

Ryker smiled faintly. “Gage was right about you. He said you take no as a challenge.”

“Is that why you're talking to me? Because right now, I need some filling in. So Trace here is in danger and is worried about everyone around him. For some reason he's not leaving town. I assume the reason is a good one. So...what can I do to help?”

“We need to disguise him and stash him somewhere.”

Julie shook her head a little. “Stashing someone in this county isn't easy. He needs to hide in plain sight.” She looked at Trace. “Tell me you don't know how to do that.”

Astonishment grew in Trace. This woman was talking like an experienced operative. Where was this coming from? “Yeah, I know how to do that.”

“Cool,” said Julie. “Change of hair color would be good unless you can grow a beard fast.” She ran her gaze over his face. “Glasses can fool facial recognition software, too.”

Ryker started laughing quietly. “Where's this coming from?”

“I studied a bit of theater in college. The biggest problem we have is Trace's arm. That'll be hard to conceal when he can't use it. Can you wear a sling? I can wrap it up so it looks like an ordinary injury.”

“I don't know if I could stand it,” he answered frankly. “But it's worth a try.” He decided to let go for just a few minutes and let this woman take the lead. He was beginning to enjoy the way she was just diving in, dealing with the problem presented to her, without demanding explanations. She'd assessed the situation amazingly well and was working with it. No faint heart, this one.

Still rocking the sleeping baby gently, she continued. “He can't stay here. Period.”

“Right,” Ryker agreed.

“But he can stay at my place. All we need is a cover story. So, Trace, you're an old college friend of mine, you got hurt in a skiing accident, and you're visiting me for a few weeks. You can use my spare bedroom.”

That was the instant when he came dangerously near an eruption. All that kept him from giving in to the sudden blast of anger was the sleeping baby. Keeping his voice low and level, he said, “I will
not
put you in that kind of danger.”

“You're the one in danger,” she answered. “And if you were so all-fired worried about the rest of us, why didn't you just keep moving?”

“Now, wait...” Ryker began.

He shut up when Trace interrupted, “I tried to. When I arrived here, I had no reasonable belief I might have someone after me. Now that I know, of course I'm worrying about everyone else. But Ryker and your friend the sheriff pinned me here, at least temporarily.”

Julie glanced at Ryker. “Really? This is a story I want to hear someday, but first we have to get Trace out of this house. As soon as the baby wakes, I'm going to the store for what I need. Ryker, you bring Trace over to my place in the wee hours when all sane people will be asleep. He's going to be my old flame until you two figure out something that works better. And that's my final word. I don't want him within a mile of Marisa and this baby.”

Jonni woke abruptly, and her crying resumed. Ryker took her immediately, rocking her and talking to her. Trace was amazed. Never in all the time he'd known Ryker had he thought such soft, soothing sounds could issue from that man's throat.

“I'm off,” said Julie. “Bring Trace around three a.m.”

Ryker nodded. “Thanks, Julie. See you then.” He headed toward the back of the house with the unhappy baby.

But Trace couldn't leave it alone. He stood and faced Julie. “You don't want to get involved in this, Julie. I'm not kidding about the danger. You could get killed.”

She looked at him, her smile completely fading. “Some things are worth risking your life for, Trace.”

“Not me. Least of all me.”

She frowned. “Is that how you feel? God, that's screwed up. See you at three.”

He stood without another word to say as she donned her jacket and left. His arm reminded him he was still very much alive, but he wasn't sure that was a good thing. Why should Julie think so?

He had no answers. All he knew was that the people who should have been protecting him had thrown him to the wolves, and a man who could have justifiably kicked him to the curb to protect his family had decided to stand with him.

But the biggest mystery of all was Julie Ardlow. Something in her gaze had told him she didn't think this was a lark, that she grasped how dangerous it might be.

Why should she do this for a stranger?

* * *

Just before 3:00 a.m. Ryker pushed his car out of the driveway and onto the street. Helping as much as he could, Trace sat in the passenger seat at an angle with one foot over the brake and steered the car as Ryker pushed it down the street a few hundred yards. When it rolled to a stop, Trace manipulated the lever into the park position. Then Ryker climbed in beside him, started the car and headed away.

“Fiona?” Trace asked, remembering the nosy neighbor. That would explain pushing the car this far before starting it.

“I suppose there are all sorts of valid excuses I could use, having a sick daughter and all, to explain what I'm doing at this hour, but actually I'd rather not explain squat. Less explaining is better, as I'm sure you know.”

“Absolutely. Anyway, I'm more concerned about Julie. That woman has the instincts of a field operative.” Just enough of them to create additional problems, anyway. Worse, with every step he seemed to be drawing a new person into his hell.

Ryker snorted. “Thinking about recruiting her?”

“After this? Never. Just commenting. She sure took charge and her ideas were good. But she's unstoppable.”

“Pretty much,” Ryker agreed. “I thought Gage was exaggerating when he said she wouldn't take no for an answer. I was almost positive that when she learned this was dangerous, she'd back off.”

“I didn't get the impression she's deluded.”

“How could she be?” Ryker asked. “She knows Johnny Hayes died on the job. She's hardly likely to dismiss what we told her.” He turned a corner and soon a moderately sized building appeared. “I'm going to drop you on the street, assuming you can manage that duffel.”

“I can manage. I don't want to draw attention to the woman. Which unit is hers?”

“Apartment fourteen, ground floor, this end of the building. I don't think she has any immediate neighbors right now.”

“Good.” Trace paused. “You know I'm getting out of here as soon as I can.”

“I get it. But first we need to figure out what you're up against. Know your enemy, and all that. In the meantime, you can't just keep moving without knowing what's after you. So let's not argue this all over again.”

Trace reflected for a few moments as the car slowed. “The thing is, I can't stop wanting to clear out. You know why. So at least give me the space to figure out how and when.”

“Of course,” said Ryker, stopping the car. “No buses before tomorrow afternoon, so don't get any cockeyed ideas about cutting out tonight. You'd freeze to death. Need any help?”

“I've got it.”

Trace climbed out, grabbed his duffel from the backseat and stood beside the road watching Ryker drive away. The pavement was clear, but there were snow banks between him and the parking lot. He spied a place that had been shoveled open and walked toward it.

He wished he thought this would work out well, that he'd get cleanly away and leave everyone behind him safe, but for some reason that wish was growing dimmer by the moment.

He had to figure out who wanted him. Only then would he know how to react. And figuring that out wasn't going to be easy, because he had zero information.

Sighing, he slogged toward Julie's apartment, hoping like hell that death wasn't right on his heels.