Too Many Secrets (12 page)

“Jennie?” Ryan's voice exploded in the darkness.

Jennie let out the breath she'd been holding and dropped the gun back in her pocket. She clamped a hand over her mouth to stifle the scream that had risen to her throat. Jennie felt relieved and at the same time horrified by what she might have done. The first chance she got she intended to throw the thing in the ocean.

Ryan flipped on a flashlight and directed it at her. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah. Never been better.” She pushed away from the wall that had been holding her up. “I enjoy being scared out of my mind every few minutes. I thrive on the adrenalin rush a hefty dose of fear gives me. Of course, the biggest thrill I've had all day was coming this close to shooting you.”

Ryan frowned but didn't reply. He turned the flashlight beam on the stuff he'd brought and started unpacking.
Nice going, McGrady. What an idiot. It was your idea to use the gun for protection, and now you're blaming him
. Ryan was the last person she should have been mad at.

“I'm sorry. I didn't mean to snap at you.” Jennie wove her fingers through her hair. “I … I was scared. Joe and Dan were here. They were standing so close I could hear every word they said. I was afraid they'd come back. The gun … I couldn't let them …”Jennie's words sounded as fragmented as she felt.

“I know. They were here when I came back. I couldn't see them very well. I …” He cleared his throat. “I was afraid they'd found you.”

Tension stretched between them, like an overinflated balloon. Jennie wanted him to drop everything and take her in his arms—to tell her everything would be all right. But he didn't.

“Here.” Ryan handed Jennie his flashlight. “Hold this while I unpack.”

Somehow having something to do helped pull Jennie's scattered thoughts and fears into a more manageable form. While Ryan pulled out food, clothes, and whatever else he had in his backpack, Jennie examined the cave. Except for a deep jagged crevice on one side, the cave had the shape of a small dome—about ten feet in diameter. Since Ryan could stand without slouching, Jennie figured the uneven ceiling to be around six feet—seven in some places.

Ryan spread out two sleeping bags in the center of the cave, one on either side of the supplies. Watching him work sent all the butterflies in her stomach flying again. “Ah … maybe staying here isn't such a good idea.”

Ryan straightened. “Why not? Oh … I see. You're worried that I might want to …”

“No,” Jennie interrupted and turned away from him so he wouldn't see the flush in her cheeks. “Well, maybe. I mean … things aren't like they used to be between us. We're not just friends anymore and it's … more complicated.”

“I probably shouldn't have kissed you. Jennie, you don't have to worry about me. It won't happen again.”

“No. I mean … I'm glad you kissed me. And I'm not worried … not exactly.” Jennie started chewing on the end of her hair then spit it out. Yuk. She hadn't done that since the sixth grade. “This is so embarrassing,” she said, twisting back to face him. “I can't believe I'm having this conversation with you.”

“Me either.” Ryan stuffed his hands in his pockets and grinned. “Ah … look, I don't know about you, but these wet jeans are about to drive me nuts.” He knelt beside a pile of clothes and extracted two pairs of jeans. “These are for you. They're mine. Might be a little big, but they're dry. You can change in here. I'll go outside.”

Funny how a dry pair of Levi's can change your whole outlook on life
. Okay, so maybe it wasn't just the jeans. Jennie had also picked the moss and tree limbs out of her hair and pulled it back into a ponytail.

When Ryan came back in, they sat on the stone chair and ate the tuna sandwiches and nacho chips he'd brought.

“This is really good, Ryan. I'm starved. Thanks.”

“Don't thank me, thank Mom.”

“She knows we're spending the night out here?” Jennie nearly choked. She, Ryan, Lisa, and Kirk had often camped out on the beach during their stays with Gram. She'd never thought anything about it before, but things were different now.

“Relax. She knows
I'm
camping out. I decided not to tell her about you. And not for the reason you think. I just didn't want her to be able to tell Joe where you were.”

That makes sense—the less she knows the better
, Jennie decided. “I just wish we knew more. I still can't understand what part Gram is playing in all this.”

“Maybe if we knew who they were working with we'd be able to put it all together.”

Jennie swallowed a bite of sandwich and reached in the bag for a handful of chips. “You know what's so weird about this?”

“What?”

“The way nothing makes sense. I mean … Gram isn't a thief, but she's got both the crooks and the law after her. And there's Joe. I still can't picture him as one of the bad guys. He seemed so sincere. It really bugs me to think I could be so wrong about someone.”

Ryan shrugged. “You were wrong about me.”

“What do you mean?”

Jennie brushed the cheesy powder from the chips off her hands.

“Well, all these years you've thought of me as being your good old buddy, Ryan. The innocent next-door neighbor.”

“You're not?”

He shook his head and raised his arm to cover his nose and mouth. “I've had you fooled, haven't I?” Ryan's voice dropped to a low, husky growl. “Never once did you suspect that under all these good looks lurks an alien being. Once a month when the moon is full I come to this cave and turn into …” Ryan dropped his arm to reveal a mouthful of fangs. He lunged at Jennie. “A werewolf!”

Jennie wasn't sure why she found him so funny. Could have been the tension … all she'd been through in the last forty-eight hours. She squealed and collapsed in a heap of giggles.

Ryan hauled her off the floor and onto the ledge beside him. “I wasn't that funny.”

“No,” she hiccupped, holding her side. “You were awful.” She gave his arm a playful punch. The tension between them had evaporated and they were acting like comfortable old friends again. Well, not
just
friends.

“Thanks,” she said, leaning against him.

“For what?”

“For making me see that, except for liking each other a little more, things haven't changed that much between us. Hic …”

“Does that mean I can kiss you again?”

“No way … hic … not with those fangs in your mouth. Besides, I can't stop hiccupping.”

Ryan pulled out his Dracula dentures and stuffed them back in his pack. “Hmm … I think I've read somewhere that kissing cures hiccups.”

“Nice try. I think I'll stick to drinking upside down and holding my breath.”

“Upside down … you're kidding, right?”

“No. Seriously. Gram showed me. Hic … Got any water?”

Ryan retrieved a canteen from his gear and handed it to her. “This I've got to see.”

Jennie placed her lips on the opposite side of the canteen, bent over at the waist, held her breath and drank until she thought she would explode. She straightened and handed back the canteen. “There.” She took a deep breath and let it out. “I'm cured.”

Ryan chuckled. “Well, so much for my theory.” Ryan put his arm around her shoulders, and Jennie rested her head against his shoulder.

She didn't want to think about anything except Ryan. Unfortunately, Jennie's mind was determined to move onto other more pressing matters.

She thought about Gram and this complex mystery they had stumbled into. There were so many questions whirling around in her head and so few answers. “Are we ever going to figure out what's happened to Gram?” she asked.

“Let's not think about it now. It's late. We should get some sleep.”

“You're right. I'm bushed.” Jennie yawned and stretched. They took turns going outside to brush their teeth and wash up. After they'd crawled into their sleeping bags, Ryan switched off the flashlight.

Jennie lay there for a long time listening to his deep, steady breathing. Her mind ran through all the things that had happened in the last two weeks. She thought about Mom and Michael, Nick—and about Dad … and Gram.

Jennie was desperate to find Gram. Not so much because she wanted her to help find Dad, she realized, but because Jennie couldn't imagine life without her. She still wanted to look for Dad, of course, but the most important thing now was for Gram to survive.

Jennie realized something else too. She wasn't mad at Mom or Michael anymore. She wasn't certain when that change had happened. Maybe it had something to do with Michael telling her she could set their wedding date. Or maybe it was being with Ryan and discovering how good it felt to be held and kissed and feel loved. Maybe Mom needed someone like Michael in her life. “Oh, Dad,” Jennie whispered. “Why couldn't you have come home before she met him?”

“Did you say something?” Ryan mumbled.

“I was just thinking about my Dad.”

“Hmmm.”

“Everybody thinks I've got some kind of emotional hang-up.” Remembering what the counselor had said, she added, “That I'm in denial.”

“Hmmm.”

“I'm not. I mean … it's like there's a door open between Dad and me. Not like when Grandpa McGrady died. That was hard too, but different. Gram and I have talked about it. She feels the same way. She says with Dad it's like a book without an ending. Neither one of us is ready to put it down until it's finished. I'm going to ask her to help me look for him this summer. Did I tell you that?”

Ryan didn't answer. Jennie rolled onto her back and stared at a ceiling she couldn't see. Tears welled up in her eyes and spilled into her hair. She was beginning to understand why Mom might want to marry Michael. She could even understand why her mom thought Dad was dead. Jennie just hoped her mom wasn't right. Maybe if Dad had given up his work like Mom wanted … spent more time at home. If he'd known the pain his job was going to cause, would it have made a difference? Would Dad make the same choice again?

Jennie turned back over and wiped her face with her sweatshirt sleeve. She listened to the ocean crashing against the rocks below and tried to imagine the water beating against all the confusion and hurt inside her. She let the sounds soothe away the wrinkles in her mind like the waves washed the sand, leaving it clear and clean.

Jennie must have slept because the next thing she heard was a chorus of gull cries and a faint scratching noise. Dawn sneaked slivers of light through the cave opening. Ryan scooted out of his sleeping bag and scrambled to his feet. “C'mon, sleepyhead,” he said. “You have a choice of dry cereal or dry cereal for breakfast.”

Jennie groaned. She tried to shut out the light—and Ryan—by burying deeper into her sleeping bag. She was just beginning to remember where she was and why she was there. The sleeping bag was warm and cozy and safe, and Jennie wished she could stay there forever.

A loud groan and a thud brought her fully awake. Jennie scrambled out of her sleeping bag and crawled toward the sound. Ryan lay crumpled near the cave's entrance. A trickle of blood oozed from a cut on his temple.

Frightened, Jennie peered out the opening. No one.
Did he trip?
She put an ear to Ryan's chest and felt it rise and fall—heard the strong steady beat of his heart. She had to get something to stop the bleeding.

Jennie dug around in Ryan's pack, found a red bandana, and pressed it to his head. It was then she felt it, a presence. She chanced a quick look behind and wished she hadn't. Even in daylight the rear of the cave was black. Had Dan and Joe come back? Had they hurt Ryan?

You're paranoid, McGrady
, she told herself.
If someone had been here you'd have heard voices. You'd have seen them. He fell—probably hit his head on a rock
.

Still, she had to be sure. Jennie slowly reached for the flashlight and heard a swishing sound behind her, like the sound of cloth against cloth. Jennie flipped on the light and spun around. Her arm connected with a solid mass. The light flew out of her hand and crashed to the floor.

A hand gripped her shoulder. She felt a sharp sting in her neck. Jennie jerked free. Almost immediately she felt the burning sensation travel from her neck to her brain, throwing her into slow motion. She'd been drugged.
Run, McGrady. Get away. To the opening
. Her mind sent orders her legs couldn't obey. Her knees buckled and pitched her forward.

“Easy now …” Strong arms lifted her as though she were a small child. “You're going to be all right,” the voice murmured. The voice sounded far away. She'd heard it before.

“No,” Jennie heard herself cry. She had to fight it, but couldn't remember why. Jennie struggled against the man who held her. Struggled against the fear and nausea. “No …” she whimpered. “Daddy, don't let them hurt me.” Jennie leaned her head against the man's chest and gave in to the swirling darkness.

Jennie fought against waking. An awareness from somewhere in her brain told her she didn't want to wake up. Her head hurt and her mouth felt dry and sticky. Scenes from her jumbled dreams resurfaced. Ryan lying on the cave floor, bleeding. She'd been running, trying to get away, falling. Terrified.

She tried to think—tried to separate dream from reality. The late afternoon sun poured its honeyed light through Gram's windows. The radio alarm beside Gram's bed read six o'clock. She'd slept all day. Maybe longer.

Someone was playing “Music Box Dancer” on Gram's piano downstairs. Gram? It was her favorite piece. But that didn't make sense. Gram was in the hands of a gang of ruthless criminals, wasn't she? Unless … Maybe she had been dreaming.

Jennie liked that idea. It would explain why everything had been so disjointed. If it really was a dream, Gram wouldn't be missing at all. She'd be downstairs right now, playing the piano.

Jennie eased her aching body out of bed and looked down at her rumpled shirt, stained with Ryan's blood, and the loose-fitting jeans rolled up at the hem. Ryan's jeans. Well, that shot the dream theory. You don't change clothes in a dream. Dreams don't cause the skin on your wrist to rub off from the ropes you were tied with. Jennie looked around for her jacket and found it lying across the end of her bed. She reached for it. The lightness of it told her even before she checked the pockets that the gun was gone.
You wouldn't have used it anyway, McGrady
, she reminded herself. That was true, but she'd have felt better knowing it wouldn't be used against her.

As Jennie passed Gram's dresser, the image of a wild-haired, waiflike apparition appeared in the mirror. Her heart slammed against her chest, then settled as she realized it was her own image. She grabbed Gram's brush and pulled her hair into a ponytail.

As she replaced the brush on the dresser, Jennie's gaze strayed to the photo of Gram, Grandpa, and J.B. A fuzzy memory skidded into place. J.B. had been the man at the cave. Jennie picked up the photo J.B. had given Gram and studied his face. He didn't look like the criminal type.
He's Gram's friend
, she told herself. But so was Joe.

Even after all she'd gone through, Jennie felt more curious than afraid. Why had J.B. brought her to Gram's? Where did he fit in? Did he have anything to do with Gram's disappearance or the diamonds? Jennie figured the only way to find out was to ask.

Not smart, McGrady. He's got Dan's gun. And what if he's one of the diamond thieves? It could be a trap
.

Somehow Jennie didn't think so. If he had been working with Dan and Joe, wouldn't he have taken her back to the Wakefield house? The fact that she was still alive probably meant she was safe, at least for the present.

Jennie took in a deep breath of what she hoped were both air and courage, and headed for the stairs.

He came into view as she reached the landing. A broad-shouldered, gray-haired man. Tall. He looked almost like his picture only a little heavier, more wrinkles around the eyes and mouth, and less hair. Jennie watched as he left the piano and lowered himself into Gram's favorite chair.

Jennie took a step forward. His steel-gray eyes met hers. Her bravado slithered away like an old snake skin.
What are you thinking of, McGrady? This man could be dangerous. What if he's the boss, the one Joe and Dan had been talking about?
She was about to turn and run back to Gram's bedroom when he raised his hand and motioned for Jennie to join him.

“Come sit down, lass.” As Jennie approached she noticed his eyes had changed from hard granite to a muted ocean gray. “Terribly sorry about the business in the cave this morning, but I thought you and I should have a chat.”

“Did you have to knock Ryan out for that? Why didn't you just ask me? I'd have talked to you. And how did you find the cave?”

“Quite by accident, I assure you. I'd taken a walk out on the rocks last evening and saw you and your friend disappear into it. I hadn't intended to involve either of you in my investigation, but realized you might be able to help.”

Strange
, she thought as she moved toward him. Jennie couldn't explain it, but she wasn't afraid of him. She should have been terrified. Maybe whatever he'd used to put her out had melted a few brain cells. Or maybe it was his accent. He sounded a lot like Grandpa McGrady had, only more English than Irish. Jennie dropped onto the sofa. “Who are you?”

He studied her as though she were an amoeba under a microscope. He smiled again, then leaned back in his chair, stretched out his long legs, and rested his feet on the overstuffed footstool in front of him.

“And what did you do with Ryan?”

“Easy now, lass,” he crooned. “Your friend is fine. Didn't mean for him to get hurt …” He paused for a moment to stroke his chin. “When I arrived this morning I'm afraid I startled him. He took a swing at me, slipped, and hit his head. I was just about to see to his injury when you got up. Didn't think you'd come with me quietly, particularly after seeing your young friend, so I used a mild tranquilizer. Once you were out I brought you back here, rang the sheriff, and asked him to look after the boy.”

“You didn't have to drug me.” Jennie hated drugs. The thought of this man injecting her with something without her knowledge or permission infuriated her.

He shifted and cleared his throat. “Look, lassie, that was a minor miscalculation on my part. Didn't know who you were at first … only that you'd been staying here. Thought you might be mixed up in Helen's disappearance. I hadn't seen you since you were a wee child. When I brought you back here and saw the photos upstairs, I realized my mistake. I hope you won't be telling your Gram about it. She'd have my hide. At any rate, it was quite a mild sedative,” he said, frowning. “Quick-acting and few, if any, side effects.”

Jennie considered arguing with him. Drugs were seldom harmless. She also thought about trying to escape, only she kept thinking about the phone message and the picture on Gram's dresser. She didn't think he'd hurt her and figured she was better off asking questions and trying to find out what part he was playing in all this.

“Who are you?” Jennie asked again. “What do you want? And what have you done with my grandmother?”

“One thing at a time, lass,” he said. “First of all, I've not done a thing with your Gram. I've been trying to locate her.”

“How do I know you're telling me the truth?” Jennie wanted to believe him. He seemed nice and she had this feeling about him.
You felt that way about Joe too
, she reminded herself.
But you were wrong—almost dead wrong
.

He hesitated, then pushed the footstool aside and leaned toward her. “I don't blame you for being weary of me.” He reached into the breast pocket of his suit. Jennie flinched, remembering the missing gun. When he pulled out a wallet and flipped it open, she relaxed again. The flap of his wallet dropped to reveal a badge. “Jason Bradley, Central Intelligence Agency. Your grandfather and I worked with British Intelligence—came to the States together.”

Jennie shifted her gaze from the badge to his eyes. Maybe it was the way he'd said it, or the sincere expression on his face, but she was beginning to trust him.

“Knew your father as well—named after me, he was. Jason McGrady was a fine young man.”

At the mention of her father's name, Jennie melted.

“You really knew Dad? Do you know what happened to him? They worked for you, didn't they? Grandpa and Dad. They were agents.”

He nodded. “The best.”

She held her breath, wanting, yet not wanting, to know the answer to her next question, afraid the hope rising in her would be crushed again. “My father was working for you when he disappeared, wasn't he? Is … is he still alive?”

J.B. stood up and walked to the window. He seemed to study the landscape outside. “We don't know, lass,” he finally answered. “There's a possibility.”

Jennie pulled in a long, ragged breath.

“Is Gram an agent, too? Are you working on a case? Is that what all this is about?” If Gram was an agent after some international jewel thieves …

“No,” he said. “Not an agent.” He moved away from the window and sat down on the couch beside me. “You're a perceptive young woman. Remind me of your Gram, and your father too. Helen does the occasional odd job for me. Interviews people. Delivers documents—that sort of thing. Nothing too dangerous, mind you. She was running an errand for me in Calgary. When she didn't call in, I made a call to Sheriff Taylor, who told me she'd stayed on in Canada and was working on an article. I wasn't too concerned until Tuesday morning. Someone called my private line asking for her, and I knew something had gone wrong and thought I'd better lend a hand. I've been trying to find your Gram since I arrived yesterday.”

“You don't know anything about the diamonds, or the guys who took them?”

“Diamonds? I'm afraid not. As I said, after the phone call … but then that was you, wasn't it? Smart girl, cracking that code. Why don't you tell me what you've got and maybe we can work together to find your Gram.”

Why not? Jennie was exhausted and more than ready to hand this entire affair over to someone more suited to detective work than she. And J.B. was not only Gram's friend, but a CIA agent.

Jennie told him about Joe, Dan, and their mysterious boss, and how they had kidnapped her so Gram would tell them where she'd hidden the diamonds. By talking it through with him and eliminating the Canada trip and Gram's dealings with J.B., things started to make sense.

“If I know your Gram,” J.B. said, “she's gotten herself involved in exposing this crooked deputy. I suspect she passed herself off as one of them to get into the thick of things.”

“And the deal went sour.”

J.B. gave Jennie a speculative look. “That's one way to put it. Now, how about showing me those diamonds?”

“If they're still here.” Jennie led him upstairs. Once she'd loosened the panel, she let J.B. reach into the wall space. He pulled up the brown paper bag and set it on the floor between them.

“Quite a stash.” He lifted up a handful of jewelry and let it fall into the bag again. “Do you have any idea who she might be working with?”

“What do you mean?”

“Helen's too smart to work alone. She'd have at least one contact.”

“Like Sheriff Taylor?” Jennie asked.

“Possibly.” J.B. closed the sack and started for the stairs. “If I'm not mistaken, the thieves will want the diamonds more than they want Helen. I think it's time to do a little negotiating.”

“What are you going to do?”

“I'll talk with Sheriff Taylor. See what he knows about it. If he is her contact, the warrant may have been issued to throw the real thieves off the track and to give her an in. Then we'll see if we can't strike a bargain—your Gram in exchange for the diamonds.”

“And once Gram is free, you and the sheriff can move in and arrest them.”

Once downstairs, J.B. set the bag of jewels on the dining room table. “We're going to need something stronger to carry these in,” he said. “This sack is splitting.”

In the utility room off the kitchen, Jennie found a canvas bag. She handed it to J.B. and watched him make the transfer.

J.B. started for the door, then turned back as if he'd changed his mind. “I know you're worried about your Gram, lass, but promise me you'll stay put. These people are dangerous and I don't want you getting hurt. And try not to worry. I'll have your Gram back in no time. And I'll check on that young man of yours as well.”

Jennie didn't argue. As much as she wanted to tag along, she'd had enough excitement and adventure to last a decade. This business about being a detective was fine in novels, but in real life? No thanks.

As J.B. disappeared into the woods, she closed her eyes. This had to work. It would work. Gram would come home. They'd go to Florida just as they had planned. “Please be all right, Gram,” Jennie whispered. “I love you so much.”