No Place to Hide (11 page)

1:35 P.M.
NORTHERN VIRGINIA

Jackie stayed still, keeping her breathing even.

In. Out. In. Out.

Panic wanted to consume her, so she let her mind drift. Went back to the game she’d played as a young child, locked in the closet.

You’re not here, you’re at the beach.

The place her grandfather had taken her the summer she’d turned seventeen. She pictured the waves flowing up against the sand, the screech of the seagulls as they flew overhead. She’d held crackers up and they swooped in to feast. She drew in a breath and imagined the unique smell that one could only find near the ocean. She heard the crunch of the shells beneath the tires of her bike.

The truck jolted, tumbling her back into the present. The darkness, the inability to move. Or breathe. Fear roared and she fought it, moved the shovel.

She could get out.

She could breathe.

She wasn’t trapped.

The dirt shifted.

She focused on the movement of the truck. Had someone climbed onto the bed again? Were they getting ready to dig?

Her hand tingled from her contact with Ian’s five o’clock shadow. Touching Ian, feeling his familiar face, his warm skin under her fingers, was the only thing keeping her still, keeping her from screaming and clawing her way out from beneath the weight pressing against the wooden box.

Her coffin.

Buried alive.

The thought made her shudder. The panic rose hot and swift.

Think about the beach.

The waves.

The cool breeze at night and the moon shining down.

The fact that Ian was right beside her. She could feel his warmth, his closeness. She breathed. She
could
breathe. She wasn’t suffocating.

The officer spoke again. “There’s no reason to keep them. Let them through.”

The truck lurched forward, then continued without hesitation. For several seconds, Ian’s fingers squeezed and she realized he was waiting too. Waiting to be stopped, to be searched. To be found.

They moved smoothly down the highway and Jackie lost track of time, focusing on breathing, feeling Ian’s fingers in hers, knowing he was beside her and she wasn’t alone. As soon as she knew they were safely away from the roadblock, she closed her eyes. With her hand held in Ian’s, her fingers clamped around his, she let herself drift back to the sand and the waves.

And then they stopped. She opened her eyes to the blackness, felt the panic swarming back, and snapped her lids shut.

“Jackie, girl, you there?”

She let go of the shovel’s handle and tapped her earpiece twice.
Yes.

“Good. Ian, I know you can hear me too. We’re away from the
roadblock with only the occasional cop in sight. It’s going to take me about thirty more minutes to get to the rendezvous point.”

Jackie’s fingers convulsed and Ian’s tightened in response. Panic roared through her. She tapped the earpiece once for a big fat
no.

“You can do this, Jackie. You have to, you understand?”

She tapped again. No. No she couldn’t. She didn’t have to. She wanted out.

“Jackie . . .”

She tapped twice.
Yes.

“Good girl.”

She moved her hand back down beside her and curled her fingers back around the shovel’s handle. She kept up an internal dialogue.
You can dig your way out. You can. You’re not trapped. You
can get out.
God? Are you there? If you’re there . . .
No, she wouldn’t go there. What she’d told Ian was true. God had given up on her, abandoned her when she’d needed him most, she wouldn’t bother him now.

She spun her mind back to her previous mantra:
You can dig your way out.
You can. You’re not trapped. You can get out.
Sweat slid down her back and she wiggled. Ian’s hand tightened.

The litany of mental reassurances was the only thing that kept her calm. That, and the shovel in her hand. She
knew
she could start digging her way out and be out from under the manure within minutes.

And Ian’s fingers wrapped around hers calmed her in ways she couldn’t begin to explain.

Still, she was ready to see daylight. She tapped her earpiece again. Three times.
Talk to me.

Ron’s voice came again. “I like this Gus fellow. Seems he would keep a man from getting too lonely.”

Ian’s fingers relaxed a fraction.

Time passed at a crawl while Ron kept up a running monologue. He seemed to understand that it helped to hear his voice. Finally, the truck slowed to a stop.

Jackie waited. She could
feel
Ian waiting, his impatience. She wondered if she emanated the same vibes.

The truck bed shifted. “I’m going to start digging you out, okay?” She heard the shovel, then Ron again. “Almost there, people.”

Light started to filter through.

She blinked against the brightness, squinted and tried to let her eyes adjust even as her hands pushed against the wooden box as though that would help move the manure. It didn’t, but it made her feel better.

More shoveling. More light. Then the plastic was pulled away, taking the rest of the manure with it. She yanked the rebreather mouthpiece out. Ron held out a hand and helped her out from the wooden box and off the bed of the truck. Her knees almost buckled. She sucked in several gulps of sweet oxygen and relished the open air while she held on to Ron a moment longer. Ian landed beside her.

He looked at Ron and cleared his throat. “I don’t know how to say thanks.”

Ron studied him. “You don’t have to. But we’re in deep now. If we get caught, the only way you and Jackie and I won’t serve jail time is if we get a pardon from the president—or find evidence on the people who are setting you up.” He shook his head. “I’ll be working on that angle while you two figure out what your next step is.”

Jackie’s eyes finally adjusted, her tremors eased, and she drew in another deep breath as she looked around. “A used car lot?”

Ron shrugged. “Figured it was as good a place as any to hide
a car.” He smirked. “And they’re never very busy, according to my source, so not a lot of people around to see what’s going on or ask questions.” He motioned for them to follow him. At the truck’s passenger door, he opened it and Gus hopped to the ground at Ian’s feet. Ian scratched his ears.

“You have that backpack?”

Jackie held it up. “What’s in it?”

“IDs, keys to that big black SUV right there. Nine thousand in cash—would have given you ten, but didn’t want to have to let the IRS in on anything—a laptop, two new throw phones, and a few other odds and ends to help you change your appearance again. You can’t go around looking like that.”

Jackie threw her arms around Ron. “Thank you.”

Ron gave her a hard squeeze and cleared his throat. “Get this mess cleared up and get yourself back home.”

“We will. We’ve got to find Holly and figure out what that email means.”

Ron frowned and nodded. “We’ll be working on deciphering that too.”

“What about trying to solve the murder of Daniel Armstrong?” Ian asked. “Because I didn’t do it.”

Ron gave a slow nod. “We can look into that too.”

Jackie squeezed the keys. “There’s something big happening, Ron. And Ian and I have been drop-kicked into the middle of it.”

“The key is the email,” Ian said. “Somebody doesn’t want us figuring out the code.”

“Let’s pass it on to the FBI. If anyone can figure it out, they can.”

“Who’s the agent in charge of the case?” Jackie asked.

Ron pursed his lips. “Rebecca Wilson is the Special Agent in Charge in Atlanta, Cole Maxwell is in South Carolina, and Scott Mitchell is the ADIC, Assistant Director in Charge, in
New York. According to my source, he’s handling this personally and working with the Special Agent in Charge over the counterterrorism unit. The ADIC heads several divisions, each run by a Special Agent in Charge. But David said two agents came by to talk to them. FBI Special Agent Elizabeth Miller and SLED agent Sam Ferguson.”

“Fine. Let me get it to her then. They’d want to know how you came across it and I don’t want them to be able to connect you to us at all,” Ian said.

Ron smirked. “I’m in it up to my eyeballs at this point, really doesn’t matter what I do after this.”

“They’ll figure it out,” Jackie said, her voice soft. “They already know I’m with Operation Refuge, they’ll do a background check on all of the employees there—if they haven’t already—question them, and come up with you. And our connection.”

Ron nodded. “Maybe.”

“They’ll question you.”

He winked. “They have to find me first.”

“Holly’s not answering.” Ian shut the phone off and stared out the window.

Jackie drove. Ian remembered she liked to drive even as a teenager. She’d once confessed it was the feeling of being in control. He could understand that. He couldn’t help glancing out the window to see if anyone followed. It was fast becoming a habit. “What have you been doing since you left? How did you get involved in Operation Refuge and rescuing people?”

Her fingers flexed around the wheel and she didn’t answer for a long moment. “My life has been quite the series of ups and downs since we last saw each other.”

“How so?”

“I was married.” She blinked and bit her lip.

Was?
Ian figured she hadn’t intended to let those words slip out. “I didn’t know that.”

She nodded. “That’s because no one knew. At least not until much later. And only a handful at that point.”

“What? I’m sorry, I’m confused. Why would you not tell anyone you were married?”

“My husband and I were partners on the police force.”

“Isn’t that against cop rules or something?”

She gave a low laugh. “No, it’s not common and it’s not encouraged, but there’s no rule against it. At least in normal precincts.”

“Yours was different?”

“My captain was different. If he thought there was any kind of romantic relationship between partners—or anyone in the precinct—he’d find a way to break it up. And I don’t just mean put you with a different partner, he would find a way to get rid of you.”

“How? Couldn’t you just transfer to another precinct?”

“Not with this guy. It’s like he made it a mission to make your life as miserable as possible until you were willing to give up being a cop. I know one officer who was dating another cop in the precinct. They weren’t partners, but they worked the same shift a lot of times. The captain gave them both lousy performance reviews. They both quit. John and I had no desire to go through that. Which is why we went to Mexico to do the deed.” She shot him a glance and gave him a slight smile before she turned her eyes back to the road. “While we were working together, we were partners. No sneaking kisses, no hand holding. Nothing to give the captain or anyone working for him any ammunition. There’s not even a record of our marriage in the United States.”

“Wow. That was a bit extreme, wasn’t it?”

“Maybe. But it was fun too in some ways.”

“Couldn’t you report the captain? There are laws against that kind of stuff, aren’t there?”

“Sure. And some people did, but his uncle was the mayor.”

“Ah. ’Nuff said. So where is he now? Your husband, not the captain.”

“He died.”

He sucked in a quick breath and searched for the right words. He couldn’t find them.

“He was killed in a random convenience store shooting.” Her fingers flexed on the wheel. “He was there at one o’clock in the morning when he should have been at home in bed asleep, but . . .” She swallowed hard. “He wasn’t.”

“Oh—wow—I’m—I—don’t know what to say. I’m so sorry.”

“I am too. And you don’t have to say anything. There’s nothing you
can
say. Nothing anyone can say . . .”

“Is that why you’re mad at God?”

“Oh yeah.”

She fell silent and so did Ian. He wished he had words to offer comfort, make things right, but knew he didn’t so he just kept his mouth shut. But his brain kept spinning and worry for his cousin ate at him. He decided to change the subject. “They got to Holly, didn’t they? They figured out I faxed that email to her, didn’t they?”

“I don’t know, Ian. We’ll go straight to her apartment and see what we can find.”

“I’m sorry I dragged you into this.”

“You didn’t. I broke into your house, remember?”

“Well. True.” He raised a brow. “What’s up with that anyway? Why not just knock?”

“I did. Several times.”

“Yeah. So why didn’t you leave then?”

“I’d seen your face on national news. When you wouldn’t answer your phone or your door, I was worried.”

“So you picked the lock.”

“Yes.”

“So back to you being dragged into this.”

“Nobody dragged me.”

“Regardless . . . I won’t go to the cops. And now you’ve gotten your friends into it. I’m probably going to jail when this is all over. And because of me, you will too.”

“Let’s just focus on our goals right now.”

“What are those?”

“Find Holly and make sure she’s safe, get that code to the FBI so they can be working on it, and figuring out what’s going to happen in New York.”