Love Inspired Suspense March 2015 - Box Set 1 of 2: Protection Detail\Hidden Agenda\Broken Silence (34 page)

EIGHTEEN

T
he night was quiet, and Bailey slept surprisingly well, but that was mostly because Ed was stationed outside her door. He wouldn't be able to keep up that schedule for long, though. Despite his toughness, his energy and clearheadedness would wane soon.

Today, the two could work together to find that information, those secret files that had been supposedly passed on to Mr. Carter. The only problem was that Bailey needed to find it first—before Ed. She had to hand it over to the man. She had no other choice.

Every time she closed her eyes, she pictured her sister and her niece and nephew. She couldn't put them at risk.

Yet she couldn't put the safety of a country at risk, either.

The thought was enough to make her stomach slosh with nausea. This whole experience was like waking up in a nightmare. She had no idea how to navigate her way out. Her only comfort was in knowing that God—and Ed—was by her side.

Though Ed had opened up to her—and she felt she understood him better—part of her still remained cautious around him. Though he hadn't outright said it, she knew he worked for the CIA. He lied for a living. She only hoped he wasn't fooling her now.

She lay in bed for a moment, her body still sore from the crash. She and Ed could have easily died, she realized. God had obviously been watching out for them. She only prayed that He would continue to watch out for them.

The whole situation felt like a ticking time bomb. If Ed weren't beside her, doing this with her, then she wasn't sure she'd be able to handle it, either mentally or physically. He'd been her rock over the past couple of days, a realization that was crazy in itself.

Maybe, just maybe, she'd been wrong about him.

She opened the door from her room and blinked when she saw the hall was empty. Cautiously, she stepped out.

“Ed?” she called.

Silence answered.

She crept down the hallway, remaining on alert.

Moving slowly, she went downstairs. Nothing appeared out of place. There were no signs of struggle.

So where was Ed?

She tiptoed into the kitchen. A pot of coffee waited there. She couldn't wait to pump some of that caffeine into her system.

But first she had to figure out where Ed had gone.

Just then, the back door opened. Ed stood there, his hair moist with dew and the earthy scent of grass and seawater saturating him. He wiped his feet on the rug.

“Bailey. You're awake.”

She let out a small laugh, chiding herself for her overreaction. “I'm here. I was worried when I didn't see you.”

“I was just sweeping the place again, making sure there was nothing suspicious I needed to be aware of. I did the inside earlier, and I decided to take a look outside this morning.”

She crossed her arms, telling herself it was to ward away chills. “Anything?”

He shook his head. “Surprisingly, no. Everything looks clean.”

“Strange when you consider they had a whole twenty-four hours to set their little traps.”

He shrugged. “Maybe they were too busy trying to follow us.”

His words didn't sound convincing, though. Certainly the network they were using was larger than one or two people. If these people had wanted someone here, they could have had someone here.

Ed stepped inside and pointed to the fridge. “Mr. Wilkins dropped some groceries by here.”

“Mr. Wilkins did?” Bailey opened the fridge. She'd never known the man to buy food and stock the place.

“I asked him to. I think he appreciates the additional income.”

Bailey nodded. That made sense.

“After breakfast, I say we go through the house again and see if there's anything my father left that might give us a hint as to what was going on. Maybe look for those letters. My father's friend obviously either told him or gave him some kind of information. There's a good chance it's still here. If we're able to find it, maybe we can figure out a resolution to all of this.”

Bailey nodded. “That sounds good to me.”

Ed grabbed an apron that was hanging on the wall, a red one with polka dots. “Now, how about if I fix some breakfast?”

Bailey smiled, some of her tension easing for a moment. “That sounds perfect.”

* * *

Four hours later, Ed paused and stared at Bailey a moment, resisting the urge to wipe away the dust smudged on her cheek. She sat back on the floor of the library and let out a long sigh, her hair escaping from the loose ponytail that held it back.

“Nothing. We've searched everything, everywhere I can possibly think of.”

Ed stood and stretched. “Let's take a break. Maybe some fresh air will help us think more clearly.”

He reached for her hand and pulled her to her feet. When she popped up, they were standing closer than he'd anticipated—close enough that electricity crackled between them.

Against his better instincts, he reached forward and, using his knuckles, wiped away that smudge. “Dust,” he explained.

Based on the look in her eyes, she felt just as electrified as he did.

“Thank you,” she muttered.

At once, his arm went around her waist. He leaned forward, waiting for Bailey to object, giving her a moment to back away. When she didn't, his lips met hers.

Something about the two of them fit so well together. He could get used to her soft skin, her sweet smell and her compassionate eyes.

When they pulled away, Bailey tucked herself into his arms. “We shouldn't have done that, should we?”

“Says who?” He rubbed her back.

“Common sense perhaps.”

“Circumstances like this...they can accelerate feelings. I know it sounds crazy. We've only known each other a few days, but—”

“But I've never felt like this before, which is in some ways scarier than the fact that there are people out there who want to kill us.”

He stepped back, wanting to look Bailey in the eye. “I won't hurt you, Bailey.”

Her eyes flashed with something. Doubt? Distrust? Skepticism? He couldn't be sure. But, more than anything, he wanted to put her worries at ease.

“I hope that's true,” she finally whispered.

He grabbed her hand. “Come on. Let's go outside.”

Maybe they both needed to clear their heads.

They didn't say anything as they both seemed to instinctively head toward the beach.

Halfway across the lawn, Bailey stopped. “What's that on the sand over there?”

Ed squinted toward the distance. There was a lump of black and white on the shore. It could simply be something that washed up from the ocean—a creature, trash, even seaweed.

“I don't know,” he said. “Let's go check it out.”

They picked up their pace and hurried toward the sandy banks. The closer they got, the more clearly Ed realized that the lump was not trash or seaweed.

The lump was a body.

A dead body.

NINETEEN

B
ailey stared down at the lifeless man, emotions colliding inside her. She felt an uneven mix of anxiety, dread and forewarning that she just couldn't shake. Now there was a dead body that had washed up outside of the Carter house.

Things weren't going to get better. Not until the information was found. Not until the bad guys were behind bars.

There was no going back and no hoping that things would work themselves out or that these people would go away. And that thought made her feel off balance.

They called the sheriff, and he arrived at the scene fifteen minutes later.

“So, you have no idea who this man is?” Sheriff Davis asked.

Ed shook his head. “I've never seen him before.”

“And you, Bailey?” The sheriff turned toward her. His eyes were shielded by his sunglasses, but she'd always known the sheriff to be a fair man. He was simply investigating this death now. She knew there would be no accusation in his gaze.

That was what she tried to tell herself, at least.

Things like dead bodies washing ashore just didn't happen here on Smuggler's Cove. This would be the story of the decade, maybe even the century.

She still clutched her throat, unable to get the image of the man out of her mind. “No, I have no idea. He looks a little like that man who was working down at the docks, doesn't he?”

Ed looked closer. “Now that you mention it, he kind of does.”

Bailey shook her head, resisting the urge to cry. “It's hard to tell. He's awfully swollen.”

“You have a name for this dockworker?”

“I think it was Arnold. I thought he was watching me one day while we were down there and when we tried to talk to him about it, he ran,” Bailey explained.

The sheriff bent down toward the rumpled heap of a man, who wore a black coat with jeans and boots. There was clearly a bullet hole going through his temple. Was this the man from the docks? She couldn't be sure. Even if it was him, why was he dead? What had happened? Did this relate in some way to everything else that was going on?

Using a pen, the sheriff opened the man's jacket. From where Bailey stood, she saw a wallet peeking out from an inside pocket. The sheriff pulled on some gloves and carefully pulled it out. As he opened the fold, something fluttered to the ground. A paper. Maybe a photo.

Bailey stepped closer, anxious to see what it was.

She gasped when the object came into focus.

It was a picture.

Of Ed.

The sheriff looked up at the two of them. “You sure you don't want to revise your earlier statement?”

Thoughts collided inside Bailey's head. Ed had been outside this morning. He had a gun. He'd probably used that gun in precarious situations before.

Could Ed have killed that man?

She shook her head, trying to clear her thoughts. Just an hour earlier, she'd been longing for forever with the man. Or, at least, the possibility of it. She'd been feeling things she hadn't felt in years and was beginning to trust.

Now, with one picture, all of that started to vanish.

You're being ridiculous,
Bailey
, she scolded herself.
There's probably another explanation for this. Maybe someone is trying to frame Ed.

“Sheriff, we didn't get back here until late yesterday afternoon,” Ed said. “Bailey and I both were checked into a hospital because of a boating accident, so they can verify my presence there. Bailey and I were here for the rest of the evening, trying to get my father's estate in order.”

“And this morning?” Sheriff Davis pulled his sunglasses down, his gaze clearly showing that he meant business.

“The man has been dead for longer than today.” He pointed to the body. “He's waterlogged, rigor mortis has set in. This crime didn't happen this morning.”

“And what did you say you did for a living again?”

Ed didn't flinch. “I'm a lawyer.”

“And you know all about dead bodies how?”

Ed shrugged. “Watching crime dramas on TV? I don't know. Everyone knows that information.”

He was doing a good job playing as if he didn't know. He was good at skirting the truth. Certainly he had to be in his line of work.

“How about you, Bailey?” The sheriff turned toward her. “Did you know that?”

Panic raced through her. Guilt flashed through her that, only minutes before, she'd been questioning Ed's guilt. “He...he has good points, Sheriff. My guess, based on my experience as a nurse, is that this man has been dead for several hours, and out to sea for longer than that.”

“And the fact that he washed up here?” the sheriff continued.

Bailey shrugged. “It could have happened anywhere on the island, really. The tide just happened to be working against us and washed him up here.”

Sheriff Davis held up the picture. “How did your picture end up in his wallet, then?”

Ed shook his head. “I wish I could tell you that. I have no idea. Like I said, if this is the man from the docks, then I've never spoken with him.”

* * *

A few hours later, Bailey finally found some time by herself and she called her sister. She climbed up to the widow's walk, her favorite place, to clear her head. She nestled down on the lone bench and held her breath, waiting for Lauren to answer and making a mental note to water the spider plant sometime that day.

When her sister's voice finally sounded across the line, Bailey let out a long, relieved sigh. “How are you, Lauren?”

“Busy as ever, but we're doing okay. How about you? You coming back for a visit anytime soon?”

“I'm trying to wrap things up here. As soon as I'm done, I'll come for a visit.” She glanced out the widow's walk and saw the police were still there collecting evidence. The horrors of the past week still made her head spin. How had everything spun out of control?

“Your patient must have left a lot of loose ends. I didn't think this was in your job description.”

“It's not. Officially, at least. But someone's got to do it, and I'm already here. Besides, I don't mind.” Originally she wanted to help for Mr. Carter's sake. But now she knew Ed, and she wanted to help him.

“Did the man's son ever show up?” Lauren asked.

Ed's picture flashed in her mind. “He did. I've been helping him.”

“Would serve him right it he had to do it all by himself. That's what he deserves for missing his own father's funeral.”

Bailey's cheeks flushed. That was what she'd thought at one time, also. “He actually had a decent excuse for not being here, and he felt terrible about it.”

Her sister paused. “Wow, what's that in your voice? I want to say compassion, but that's not quite it. Is Mr. Carter's son handsome, by chance?”

“Lauren!” Bailey's cheeks heated even more. “Yes, he is. But that's not why I'm defending him. You know me better than that.”

“You're right, sis. You're not superficial. You always see the best in people, for that matter. Speaking of which, I got the strangest knock at my door the other day.”

Familiar apprehension stretched across her shoulders. “Is that right? Who was it?”

“It was some guy who worked for the city and he was surveying all the yards in the neighborhood for something. Anyway, he said he used to know you.”

Familiar tension filled her. “How did he know who you were? We have different last names now that you're married. Plus, I've never lived in Florida.”

“I know. Weird, right? He was a real friendly guy. We just started talking. He said we look alike. Isn't that crazy?”

Her sister was a petite brunette. “That's crazy. But, all that said, I have no idea who you're talking about. Is the world that small that someone I dated in North Carolina is now down in Florida?”

“He said his name was Vince.”

“I don't ever remember dating a Vince. And I would remember.”

“Let's see if this rings any bells. He was super tall. Probably six-three. He looked like he works out, he had light brown hair, kind of spiky, and a killer smile.”

If her sister only realized the implications of that last cliché. The only person who fit that description was Ed's friend Micah. He had said he'd just gotten in from out of town. Could he be the person at the CIA who was in on this?

“Bailey? You there?”

Bailey snapped back to the present. “Nope. He still doesn't ring any bells. I don't think I've ever dated anyone who fits that description.”

“Maybe it'll come to you while you sleep tonight. A college boyfriend? Blind date? I don't know. He couldn't have been making it up. He knew too much about you.”

Bailey's throat tightened even more. “Did he? Like what?”

“For one thing, he knew you were in Smuggler's Cove now, so he must be someone you've spoken with in the past year.”

Her heart pounded in her ears. She forced her voice to sound light. “Maybe he was that guy I met at a picnic right before I left. I, uh, I didn't know him well, but I didn't get good vibes from him. If he comes back, I'd stay away from him, Lauren.”

She prayed her sister would understand.

Bailey knew the truth—the man was one of the bad guys, and he clearly wanted Bailey to know exactly what his reach was.

Those threats weren't empty; this man fully planned on carrying out his mission unless Bailey did exactly what he said.