Double Agent (5 page)

Doug smiled at the sound of the housekeeper’s voice. “Hey, Jean. I take it he’s still up since it’s after midnight, yet you’re answering the phone.”

The fluffy middle-aged lady laughed like Doug’s old Sunday school teacher. “How are you, honey?”

“I’m doing fine, Jean. Thank you.”

“Well, you know I worry about you. Did you get those cookies I sent?”

“I did, yeah. They were good. The guys loved them.” He’d made sure to set aside some of the two dozen for himself.

“I should think so.”

Doug laughed. The lightness in him stretched and grew, even with such a small connection with someone who had nothing to do with the war he seemed to always be fighting.

“My grandmother’s secret recipe. Did you know she fought her way out of Nazi Germany with nothing but her recipe card box and her knitting needles?”

Laughter built up in his chest but didn’t spill out. “That’s a good story. You should stick with it.”

“I’ll do that. I’ll put you through to your dad now, honey.”

“Thanks, Jean.”

There was a pause, and then a man’s voice came over the line. “That you, son?” It was a voice that had both commanded troops and yelled at his teenage boy to straighten his room.

Doug sighed. “Yeah, Dad, it’s me.”

“It’s about time. Did you think I’d settle for you checking in over voice mail forever?”

Doug’s chest tightened until it ached. He should pay the old man a visit soon. “It’s late. I should probably let you get to bed.”

“Don’t even try it. This is a momentous occasion. I actually got you on the phone. You think I’m just going to let you say goodbye in two seconds? Besides, isn’t there something you want to tell me?”

Doug sighed, loud enough for his dad to hear. Of course he’d make him say it. “Happy birthday.”

“You want to make it happy? You show up at my birthday party on Saturday. You wear a tux. You smile. You tell me that you’re letting this whole business go.” His voice broke. “I want to see you get on with your life, Douglas. Find a woman. Get married, and make me a grandfather already. I’m getting old.”

Before the general was finished, Doug was already shaking his head. “I would if I could, but I can’t. Not until I find out who killed Ben.”

“It’s not just me. You know it’s what your mother would have wanted.”

“Oh, sure.” Doug sighed. “Bring up Mom and how she’d be so disappointed in my behavior.” His dad did it because it worked. Doug would never have willingly disappointed his mother.

The general huffed. “Always were too hard on yourself.”

“This isn’t just about me.”

“I get it, son. I do.” Fatigue clouded the old man’s voice. “You want justice for your friend so your team can go on.”

“And for his sister.”

“You want to protect her.”

“She’s strong, but she still seems so...fragile.”

There was quiet for a moment and then the general asked, “Is she pretty?”

“Dad.”

“Fine, fine. You do what you need to do, son. But when you’re done, you come see me, you hear?” The general waited a beat. “I miss you.”

Doug pressed End and lowered the phone. “I miss you, too.”

FIVE

T
he first clue that told Sabine something was off was when she woke up in bed fully clothed. Sun streamed through the open curtains and dust danced in the beam. The lamp beside her bed was on, so she switched it off and winced as various twinges made themselves known.

She staggered into the bathroom, dreaming so strongly of coffee she thought she could smell it. Only when she was submerged to her chin in a bath that was more soap bubbles than water did she relax. But she wasn’t truly clean until she brushed her teeth, put on yoga pants and a stretchy pink top, and blow-dried her hair.

The soft carpet on the stairs felt nice between her toes. There was something she was supposed to be thinking about. Lots of things, probably; heavy things that made her heart squeeze in her chest. She closed her eyes and turned the corner at the bottom of the stairs, concentrating on the smooth wood of the banister under her fingers.

Until she had coffee she wasn’t going to let anything bother her. At least anything more than why it seemed as if the coffee had already been made. Now that she thought about it, it sort of smelled like someone had cooked, too. Under the coffee scent, there was onion and cheese.

Her stomach rumbled.

This must be a dream. No one ever made the coffee except her, and she hadn’t had a hot breakfast in years. She always had bland, tasteless cereal. But she wasn’t dreaming—there was a dark figure behind the frosted glass of her kitchen door. She tried to inhale but the air got stuck in her throat, and she could feel the press of the intruder’s hands around her neck.

“Are you going to get in here or just stand in the hall all day?” Doug opened the door. The smile on his face dropped, and he reached for her. “Sabine—”

She raised both hands. “Don’t.”

He moved aside for her. She didn’t want to decipher the look on his face; it would invite too many questions about why he was in her kitchen. Cooking breakfast. Sabine lifted the lid on the pan and groaned. Sure enough, there was an omelet in there and it was covered in cheese. There hadn’t been anything in the fridge last night.

“I went to the store this morning.”

She must have spoken aloud. Her cheeks warmed, and Doug smiled like he was indulging her. She narrowed her eyes. “You weren’t worried I’d take off while you were gone?”

“Figured it was worth the risk.” He poured a cup of coffee and handed it to her. “You want creamer or half-and-half? I wasn’t sure how you drank your coffee, so I got both.”

Sabine took the cup for the peace offering it seemed to be. Why was he being nice to her? Was it just because he’d seen her when she was vulnerable and unable to take care of herself? Well, he could get over that. It wasn’t going to happen again if she had anything to say about it.

She went to the fridge and got the fat-free milk. “I thought you just wanted answers.”

He divided the omelet into two pieces with a spatula, one bigger than the other. “I figured I’d get further if you didn’t pass out again.”

“I did not pass out.”

He looked up. “What do you call it then?”

Sabine turned away and got forks from the drawer. Doug got the message and put their breakfast on two plates.

“It was nothing more than a spontaneous reaction to stress.”

She thought he might have snorted. When she was about to give him what for, he held out the plate with the smaller portion. Sabine grabbed the bigger one from his other hand and walked to the table with her prize.

* * *

Doug waited until she was finished before he pushed his empty plate aside. He folded his hands together on top of the table.

She frowned. “This looks serious.”

“It is serious.”

Her shoulders drooped and she sighed. “I guess I have to face the real world eventually. It was nice to forget about it for a while, even if it was fleeting. Thank you for making breakfast.”

Did she know she was running her nail along a grain in the tabletop?

“No one’s ever done that for me before.”

He tried not to look surprised. Her husband hadn’t ever cooked her breakfast? “It was my pleasure.”

“But now business?”

“Sorry.” He wasn’t sure why he apologized, as though that would combat any of the guilt. She seemed so small across the table from him, he had to resist the urge to cover her hand with his. “I still think we should work together, Sabine. As I said before, we both want to find out who killed Ben and why. It makes sense to pool our resources and team up. We’ll work quicker that way.”

“Okay.” She didn’t lift her gaze from the table.

“That’s it? You’re not going to fight me on this?”

“Why would I? It makes sense. We do want the same thing. The quicker we get to the bottom of this, the better off we’ll both be.”

He couldn’t disagree with that. The guilt of not being able to save Ben ate at Doug like a stomach ulcer. If he could make enough sense of it to move on, he’d be a lot happier. He’d have peace. Sabine looked like she could use some peace, too.

“So where do we start?”

Doug stood and grabbed both their plates. “The dishes?”

Her eyes narrowed, but she followed him to the sink where he rinsed and she put things in the dishwasher. “Is this some weird way of buttering me up? You come here and play house with me while you try to get me to spill what I know? Is this your attempt at torture?”

He snorted. “If I had decided to torture it out of you, I’d hardly do it by making breakfast. I’d probably withhold food, knowing how much you like it.”

“Shame you didn’t think of that earlier. It probably would have worked.” She waltzed to the door. “Too bad you’ll never know what I’d have told you.”

“Sabine.” He caught up with her at the bottom of the stairs. “We need a plan.”

“I’m going to get dressed. That’s the plan.”

“Then what?”

She looked at him like he didn’t have a clue. “When I’m wearing real clothes and I’ve put on makeup, then we’ll look through Ben’s things and try to find out why someone was in there snooping.”

Doug watched her walk away and tried to figure out how he was going to get out of this without Sabine leaving him twisted in knots. He didn’t think she realized the effect she had on him.

It had been hard for him to think straight when she walked in the kitchen. The look on her face when she realized he’d made breakfast almost broke his heart. The loneliness there was the mirror image of how he felt every time he let himself into his apartment and recalled it was just him living there alone.

Too bad relationships were something he’d never had success at. He’d definitely enjoy seeing Sabine dressed up and taking her out to dinner. She needed to smile more; she needed someone to treat her the way she deserved to be treated.

You don’t love me. You only love your job.

Tara’s voice echoed in his thoughts and reminded him of the reason he couldn’t start something with Sabine. Not even considering what she’d say when she found out he was responsible for Ben’s death, there was too much going on in the world. Too much evil to fight for Doug to be less than 100 percent committed to his job. Relationships took too much of the energy he needed on missions. He couldn’t get distracted thinking about getting home to her, or then his dad would get a call saying Doug had been killed in action.

When Sabine realized he wouldn’t give up his job, her heart would get broken and since he couldn’t stand to see her hurt, that meant she was off-limits.

She came into view at the top of the stairs wearing pressed black trousers and a blue buttoned-up blouse. Apparently “real clothes” meant she had to look like she worked a regular nine-to-five job in an office.

“We should look at the hard drive you took from Christophe.”

She opened her mouth and closed it again. “I’ll get it after we go through Ben’s room.”

Satisfied she might not hold out on him, he looked through the drawers and under Ben’s bed while Sabine checked the closet. The shelf above where Ben’s clothes hung was a jumble of shoe boxes, canvas bags and blankets that looked like they’d been stuffed up there.

Under the bed was a mess of food wrappers and dirty clothes Doug didn’t dare touch. The drawers were disturbed the way you’d think, since someone had broken in and pawed through it all. Then again, when Ben had grabbed his things and left for base the last time, it probably looked much the same.

“Not the neatest person in the world.” Doug glanced at Sabine, cross-legged on the floor and rifling through a shoe box filled with old photos. She covered her mouth with her hand, and he realized she was trying not to cry.

He crouched beside her. “What is it?”

She looked up, her eyes wide. “Pictures. Old ones.” She handed one to him. Two little kids—Sabine and Ben around elementary school age by the looks of it.

“That your parents?” A good-looking couple had their arms around the kids, and everyone was smiling.

Sabine nodded. “I never even knew he had these.”

“You guys look happy.”

“I guess. We were in foster care by the end of that year.”

There was something in her voice, a guardedness which told him that she wasn’t convinced there was happiness behind the smiles. “What happened?”

Sabine stuffed the photos back in the box. “It doesn’t matter now. Let’s keep looking.”

“Ben wouldn’t tell me what happened, either.”

She tried not to let him see her flinch, but he caught it. “I’m surprised he even remembered. He was little, and we never talked about it. They tried to get us to see counselors, but it wasn’t anyone else’s business. We moved on.” Her eyes filled. “And now he’s gone.”

“It won’t always feel like this. It’ll ease.”

She shook her head. “I don’t want it to ease. If the pain goes away, it means I’m forgetting him.”

“It’s okay to heal, Sabine.”

“Sounds like you know.”

“I’ve lost brothers in combat before. It doesn’t get easier, but you learn how to deal with it. Some of the guys drink too much. Some blow off the steam of their grief in other ways. You have to, or you’ll bottle it up until one day you explode.”

She looked up at him. “What do you do?”

“I run. And I pray while I run.”

Sabine pulled away from him for the second time. He didn’t know where she stood on the whole faith thing, but Ben had been a new Christian before his death. Time and again Doug had caught the younger man eyeing Doug over something he had said or done. One night when they were alone on a mission, Ben had asked Doug why he was different than the other team members.

Two days later Ben had announced to Doug his commitment to follow Jesus.

Two weeks after that, Doug had held Ben’s body while Ben took his last breath.

Ben’s commitment to the Lord was the one good thing in this whole mess. Sabine had loved her brother. Eventually Doug would have to tell her that it was his fault that Ben was dead, and Doug might as well have pulled the trigger himself.

When she found out, it would kill everything that was between them.

It didn’t look to him like she was over any of it. Whatever had happened to her parents was fresh in her mind still. Not that he could talk. He had plenty of issues. “Surely you told your husband about what happened to your parents when you got married?”

She looked at him as if he’d grown two heads. “Don’t presume you know anything about me or my marriage. That part of my life is not up for discussion.”

Doug wasn’t about to back down. “We’re not going to get anywhere in this partnership if we can’t trust each other.”

“That doesn’t mean I’m going to share everything with you. All we’re doing is finding out who killed Ben. My personal life has nothing to do with it.”

“I’m not saying that.” Because there was a whole lot he was never going to share. “All I’m saying is there has to be some give and take here.”

She folded her arms. “Fine then, you go first.”

He sat in the chair at Ben’s desk, ready to be grilled. “Fire away.”

“Have you ever been married?”

“Almost, a long time ago.”

“What happened?”

Doug took a deep breath. “She decided I loved my job more than I loved her.”

“Did you?”

“Probably.” He didn’t feel guilty. It had saved him from getting tied down in a bad situation. He’d have been miserable as Tara’s husband. “I do a tough job, one that takes all my attention. There’s not a lot left over for a wife.”

“That’s a total cop-out. Soldiers get married every day. Sure, it’s hard to keep a good marriage together, but that goes for everyone. There’s added pressure because you’re gone so much. I think, if you had wanted it to work, you’d have figured it out.”

“Is that what happened to you?”

Sabine flinched. “That was a totally different situation.”

“I know, I know.” He raised his palms. “Don’t presume I know you. But I’d like to. We need to build some trust between us.”

He watched her compose herself, like a new recruit facing battle for the first time—trying to hide the fear.

“With Maxwell and me, it was different. There wasn’t a lot of affection between us in the first place. That didn’t change much after we got married. I mistakenly thought the sense of security that came with being married would make up for it. When he took up with his secretary, I didn’t see much point in letting the farce continue.”

Doug couldn’t believe a man married to Sabine hadn’t been totally committed to making their lives together a rich and enjoyable experience. She deserved that much. He wanted to ask why she had settled for a marriage like that, but she cut him off.

“We should take a look at the hard drive I got from Christophe.”

* * *

Sabine stomped down the stairs. Why had she said all that? She had never talked about her marriage, not even to Ben. He hadn’t been under any illusions about it, but he also had never questioned her decision to get married or said anything when she had filed for divorce.

Up until now she would have said she was over the whole experience. The look on Doug’s face made her rethink that idea. Compassion, pity—whatever it was—made her uncomfortable. She’d rather walk away and not look back. She’d prefer he hadn’t known anything of her bad decision to marry Maxwell. It hadn’t really been a matter of her settling for less. A more loving relationship just wasn’t something that she deserved.