In Harm's Way (Heroes of Quantico Series, Book 3) (25 page)

"I hoped you'd look at it that way."

"How else could I look at it?"

He stroked the back of her hand with his thumb. "You have
every right to be angry. It wasn't fair that you were kept in the
dark about your sister."

"I am. But I learned long ago that life isn't always fair, Nick.
And being angry doesn't change anything:" She fingered the cross
at her neck, recalling the minister's comment in Sunday's sermon
about leaving judgment in the hands of the Lord. "Instead, I'm
going to try to focus on being grateful for this amazing blessing.
It's almost big enough to inspire me to pray"

She was only half joking, and Nick seemed to recognize that.
"You already made a start on that last Sunday. Maybe we can
go together again once this case is settled"

"I might take you up on that"

He squeezed her fingers and released her hand. "What time
shall I tell Rebecca to arrive tomorrow? I promised to call her
back tonight, after I talked with you"

Rachel tucked her hair behind her ear. "Do you think she'd
want to come here for dinner? Or should I meet her somewhere?"

"I suspect she'd prefer the privacy of your house:"

"Okay. But ... could you come too? At least for a while? Join
us for dinner, maybe. Stay until the ice is broken?"

"If you want me here, I'll be here. And now"-he glanced at
his watch-"it's time for me to head home. And for you to get
some sleep"

He rose, and she trailed behind him toward the door. "I doubt
I'll sleep a wink tonight"

"Why do I think Rebecca feels the same way?" He smiled as
he retrieved his coat from the closet.

"Nick? Is she nice?"

At her soft question, Nick slid his arms into the sleeves and
turned toward her. "Very. Just like her sister" He touched her
cheek ... let his fingers linger against her skin ... then retracted
his hand and shoved it into his pocket. "And you'll have a lot to
talk about. She's into music and art, like you are"

A sudden cloud robbed some of the joy from Rachel's heart.
"Do you think the main reason she wants to meet me is because
she hopes I can help with the case?"

Searching her eyes, Nick closed the distance between them
and took her upper arms in a light but reassuring grip. "I'll be
clear about that with her tonight. But I doubt it will make any
difference. I think she's as happy to discover a sister as you
are."

"I hope so" A wistful longing crept into Rachel's voice. "I've
done okay on my own, but it gets lonely sometimes when you
don't have anyone who really cares about you. You know?"

"Yeah. I do:"

As Nick looked down at her, Rachel watched his eyes begin
to smolder. Felt the spark of electricity zap between them. And
knew he wanted to kiss her.

Perhaps as much as she wanted him to.

But he was a professional through and through. A man who
didn't believe in mixing business and pleasure. So while he might
be tempted to make an exception tonight, she wasn't surprised
when he released her and stepped back.

"I'll call you later, as soon as I talk to Rebecca"

"That would be great:"

She followed him to the door, waiting as he pulled it open.

"Lock up behind me"

Once more he touched her face.

Once more he pulled back.

Then, stepping into the night, he lowered his head against
the icy wind and strode toward his car.

A gust of frigid air chilled Rebecca's cheeks as she watched
him retreat, but she hardly noticed. Because her heart was
warm.

"Hi, Claudia. Got a minute?"

Claudia tucked her cell phone under her chin and kept typing,
trying to block out the noise in the newsroom as she responded to
her sister. "That's about it, Keri. I'm on deadline. What's up?"

"There was an article in the Tribune this morning I thought
you might find interesting"

"Yeah? What about?"

"You know that psychic piece you emailed me last week? I
thought it was a hoot. But the Tribune ran a follow-up today
on the O'Neil kidnapping, and guess what? The baby's doll has
been found. A beat-up Raggedy Ann, like the one in your story.
Think there's any connection?"

Claudia's fingers froze on the keyboard. "It's a long shot"

"When has that ever stopped you from following a lead?"

"True. Okay, I'll pull up the online version of the Tribune story
and take a look. How did you happen to notice this, anyway?"
Claudia loved her sister, but Keri was a bit of a flake. She was
usually more interested in going on auditions for dog food or
deodorant commercials than reading her city's daily paper.

"I was at my agent's office and the paper was lying there. It
was a front-page story. I noticed the picture of the baby-cute
kid-and skimmed the first few lines. The reference to the doll
was at the beginning"

"If this pans out, I'll owe you big time"

"Just invite me to the ceremony when you win the Pulitzer
Prize."

"Yeah. Right" She had about as much chance of that as Keri
had of winning an Oscar. "Any good gigs lately?"

"I'm up for a spot in a toothpaste commercial:"

"Break a leg, kid. Talk to you soon"

As Claudia flipped her cell phone closed, she checked her
watch. Five o'clock. Stacy would still be around. The editor never
left before the end of the official work day, and often stayed late.
Good thing. Because Claudia needed her permission to put the
people-with-unusual-pets piece she was working on aside and
focus on a follow-up to last week's psychic article. With copy due
at noon tomorrow, she would need every single waking minute
to glean enough new information to write an intriguing story.

Rachel smoothed a tiny crease out of the linen tablecloth, adjusted a spray of the baby's breath she'd salvaged from Nick's roses
and worked into a fresh bunch of carnations, and refolded a napkin
at the table set for three. A pork tenderloin was roasting, homemade biscuits were sitting on a baking sheet on the kitchen counter
ready to be popped into the oven at the last minute, an apple pie
was cooling on a rack. From the second she'd left school she'd been
in a frenzy of preparation for tonight's momentous meeting.

But that was okay. Activity helped dispel some of her nervous
energy. Sitting around waiting would have stretched her taut
nerves to the breaking point.

The bell chimed, and Rachel's hand flew to the cross around
her neck-a gesture that was becoming instinctive at times of
stress. Where once she'd looked upon it as no more than a lovely
piece of jewelry and a link to the mother she'd never known, more
and more she was beginning to recognize it as a symbol of a far greater truth. One she didn't yet fully understand but which drew
her in a compelling way. And, thanks to Nick, she intended to
explore it further, as soon as her life quieted down a bit.

Taking a deep breath, Rachel crossed the living room. Nick
had said he would arrive first, at six, and a quick peek through
the peephole confirmed he'd kept that promise.

When she opened the door, he smiled and gave her green
silk blouse, slim black skirt, and classic black pumps a quick but
thorough inspection. "Nice"

Her pulse quickened at his appreciative perusal. "It's not too
dressy?"

"It's perfect:" A gust of wind buffeted him from behind, and he
took a step inside, chuckling. "I think that's my cue to come in"

As he shrugged out of his coat, she opened the closet door.
Fumbled with a hanger. Dropped it.

He bent to retrieve it, his eyes inches from hers as he rose.
"Nervous?"

"Is it that obvious?"

"It's normal:" He hung the coat himself and closed the closet
door. "I'm sure Rebecca feels the same way. Is there anything I
can do to help you get ready?"

"Pray?" Her tone was half teasing, half serious.

"I've already done that:" There was no humor in his response,
and she was touched by his concern. "Anything else?"

I could use a hug.

In the silence that followed his question, Nick's eyes darkened,
and an ember flared in their depths. Had she actually spoken the
words? No, of course she hadn't. But she began to suspect Nick
might have some psychic abilities himself. She had the distinct
feeling he'd read her mind.

Thrown, she took a step back and tried for a conversational
tone. But the slight catch in her voice gave her away. "I j-just
need to put the salad together"

She watched, mesmerized, as he slowly tamped out the ember,
admiring his self-discipline even as she had an irrational wish
that he had a little less self-control.

"I'm good with salads. Let me take care of that for you"

His mild reply was a stark contrast to the electricity zipping
between them. But she did her best to follow his lead as she led the
way to the kitchen. She had enough emotions to deal with tonight.
Adding a romantic encounter would not be a good idea.

But it sure was appealing.

Interesting.

Very interesting.

As Claudia slowed to a stop several houses away from Rachel's
bungalow, she scrutinized the dark sedan parked in front, her lips
tipping up into a smug grin. Pulling out her notebook, she flipped
through the pages. Yep. It was the FBI agent's car, the one she'd
seen in the restaurant parking lot when the man had met Rachel
for lunch. The description and license plate number she'd jotted
down that day matched. It always paid to be thorough. You never
knew when those kinds of details would come in handy.

Before driving to Rachel's house, she'd also done some research
on the O'Neil case. Scanned back issues of the Tribune, studied
the photos of the infant and parents. It was a sad situation. The
baby had been gone for eight weeks. A long time in the world of
law enforcement. Claudia doubted there was much chance the
FBI would find her unless they got some kind of big break.

Like a psychic who picked up vibes from a Raggedy Ann doll.

Not that she put much credence in such things herself. Who
did? But neither did she have a closed mind. Perhaps once in a
great while there was a person who had special abilities. She'd
learned a lot while writing the original article, and there were definitely things in the psychic world that logic couldn't explain.
Maybe this was one of them. If the FBI was still in touch with
Rachel Sutton, they must think so.

Neither the Bureau nor Rachel had been willing to talk to her
before, but Claudia intended to give it one more try. Even one
quote would enhance the article.

Retrieving her purse from the seat beside her, Claudia was
about to open her door when a second car pulled to a stop across
the street from Rachel's house.

Fingers poised on the handle, she watched-and waited.

One minute passed. Two. Three. There was no movement from
the car, and it was too dark for Claudia to see who was inside.

Five minutes went by. Her car began to chill in the subfreezing temperature, and she tapped one gloved finger on the
steering wheel. Who was in the car? What were they waiting
for? Did they have any connection to Rachel Sutton, or was it
just a teenage couple that, by chance, had chosen this spot to
do a little making out?