Love Inspired Suspense May 2015 #2 (50 page)

“Young lady, we haven't even said our grace yet.”

“Oh. Right. Let's do that, then.” Arden sat, and everyone else followed suit.

“Grayson,” Rose asked as she took a seat opposite him, “would you be willing to do the honors? And if it comes to mind, pray for my niece and her safety. She's too stubborn to listen at times, and we—”

“Rose!” Laney nearly shouted. “Enough!”

“Enough what, dear?” Rose asked with an innocent smile.

“Let's pray,” Laney responded, and Grayson was pretty sure she mumbled
before I kill someone
under her breath as everyone bowed their heads.

When he finished praying, he leaned close to her ear and caught a whiff of freshly baked rolls and something flowery and sweet.

“Murder is a capital offense,” he whispered, and she choked on her sip of tea.

He patted her back until she stopped coughing and thought about leaving his hand right where it was—resting between her shoulder blades, his fingers just touching the edges of her ponytail.

“So, Laney,” Arden said suddenly, her voice a little too loud in the quiet room. “My brother tells me you're a dog trainer.”

“That she is,” Rose interjected. “Probably the best in the country.”

“Let's not exaggerate, Aunt Rose.” Laney shook her head.

“No,” Arden argued. “Your aunt is right. I thought you might be the Laney Kensington from Colorado, and you are, right?”

“Yes,” Laney said, her voice tight, her expression unreadable.

“I've read all about you,” Arden said through a mouthful of buttered bread.

“I'm sure there wasn't all that much to read.”

“Sure there was. Up until the past couple of years, you were in the news all the time.”

Uh-oh. Here she goes
, Grayson thought. Arden had a photographic memory...and no filter. “I saw a picture of you, Brody and a family you and your team pulled off the mountain—they ran an article about you being the youngest dog handler on the Colorado Wilderness Search and Rescue Team.”

Laney couldn't hide her surprise. “I thought that article only ran locally. Were you a Colorado resident?”

“Oh, no. I liked reading good news stories when I was a kid, so I developed an app that collects and downloads good news from more than three hundred online publications worldwide.”

Grayson knew the real reason Arden had developed that application. At thirteen, she'd worried too much about the state of the world—the news stories would keep her up all night. In typical Arden fashion, she'd decided the best way to stop worrying about the bad news was to read only the good. She'd never told anyone but Grayson that, and he'd kept her secret. For her to even admit to the app...she was up to something.

“That must be a lot of reading each day,” Willow interjected.

“Surprisingly, no. People would rather read about calamity, so that's what news reporters cover,” Arden countered. “Anyway, when I saw that article, I put you and your team into my search engine so I could follow your adventures—they were pretty cool. Volunteers risking their lives to save others. I have tremendous respect for people like you.”

“Um, thanks. But I gave that up a couple years ago.” Laney's face had gone ashen, but of course Arden wouldn't stop.

“It's a shame. I read that you and Brody had the highest success rate for live finds of any dog-and-handler team in the nation.”

“Those stats were probably inflated,” Laney responded. “Besides, I retired Brody when he was six—bad hips.”

“Do you think he misses the work?” Arden asked.

“At times.”

“Do you?”

“No. I lost the passion for it, so it was better I walk away. You have to be on point for wilderness search and rescue. People's lives depend on your ability to stay focused and do your job.”

It was a practiced answer, and Grayson wondered what the real reason was.

“What about Jax?” Arden pressed.

“What do you mean?”

“I read he was even better than Brody. Do you think he misses it?”

“Lay off with the twenty questions, Arden. Laney's had a rough couple of days.” Grayson figured the direct approach would be the only chance of making his sister realize she was treading on thin ice.

“Sure. No problem.” Arden grabbed another piece of bread. “I miss reading those stories, though. They were some of the best. It's a shame that avalanche killed your teammates. Must have been hard on you, huh?”

“I think,” Laney said, pushing away from the table, “I'm done.” She headed to the foyer.

Grayson got up to follow her.

TWELVE

S
he needed some air, because she felt like she was suffocating. She unlocked the front door and yanked it open.

“Not the best idea, Laney,” Grayson said quietly.

She turned to face him. “I have to check on the dogs.”

“You have to stay safe,” he responded, opening the coat closet and taking out her jacket. He dropped it over her shoulders, lifting her hair out from under the collar. “So if you need to check on the dogs, I'll go with you.”

“You have your sketches and an ID. I'm not necessary to the case any longer, so maybe it's time for me to keep
myself
safe.”

“Still grumpy?” he asked.

“No.”

“Then I'll just assume my sister's comments upset you.”

“They didn't.” Not really. It was the memories that upset her. The guilt.

“Arden has no boundaries, but she doesn't mean any harm.”

“I know.” Laney walked outside.

The sun was just falling below the horizon, golden rays resting on leaves tinged with gold and red. A hint of smoke still hung in the air, mixing with the crisp fresh scent of early fall. That she was there to enjoy the beauty of it was a matter of chance or circumstance. That's what she had always believed, because it had been too hard to believe that the God who had allowed her mother to be beaten and mistreated actually cared about the world or the people He'd created.

Her grandfather had disagreed. Rose disagreed, her years as a missionary in Africa sealing her belief in God's grace and mercy, His direction and guidance.

“You're sad,” Grayson said, pressing a hand to her lower back and guiding her down the porch stairs.

“Not really. I just wish...”

“What?”

“That I had the kind of faith you have. The faith Rose has. The kind that says everything is going to be okay. No matter how bad things seem.”

“Is that what you think my faith tells me?” he asked, his hand slipping from her back to her waist as they walked side by side. She could almost imagine that they were more than an FBI agent and his only witness. She could almost imagine that he was worth pinning hopes and dreams on, worthy of putting her trust in.

“Isn't it?”

“No.” He stopped, urging her around so they were face-to-face. “It doesn't tell me that everything will be okay. It just tells me that no matter what happens,
I'll
be okay. Life is tough, Laney. No matter how strong my faith, no matter how much I believe, that doesn't change the fact that I'm living in a sinful and fallen world. Bad stuff happens.” He frowned, touching the very edge of her head wound. “People are hurt. People are kidnapped. People die. I can't stop that from happening, but I can do everything in my power to make sure the people responsible pay for their crimes.”

“Your purpose, huh?”

“Exactly.” He smiled and started walking toward the kennels again.

* * *

It took two hours to check on the dogs, give them playtime and attention and settle them for the night. It was her normal routine, one she'd carved out of the ashes of her old life. She loved it, but on nights like tonight—with the early fall air touching her cheeks and the crisp hint of winter in the air—she longed to be out on the trail again, working with a team, searching for the missing. Grayson moved beside her as she fed the last dog, locked the last kennel.

“Done?” he asked.

“Yes. It takes a while. I'm sorry if I pulled you from your job.”

“Right now, you're my job.”

“Your job is to find Olivia and the other children.”

“I'm working on that, too.”

“Do you think it's really possible they'll be found?”

“I am going to do everything in my power to make it happen.”

“If I'd been able to keep them from getting Olivia—”

“Don't,” he cut in.

“What?”

“Don't play that ‘if only' game with yourself. Regrets don't do anything for anyone. As a matter of fact, they usually just keep us from doing what we could and should and
would
accomplish if we weren't so caught up in the past.”

“Did Rose pay you to say that?” she asked, because she'd heard the same thing from her aunt more than once.

“No.” He laughed. “Why? Have you heard it one too many times?”

“Maybe.”

“Because of what happened with your team?”

She stopped short at his words, her heart slamming so hard against her ribs, she thought it might burst. “That's something I don't talk about.”

“Maybe you should,” he countered.

“Maybe. But not tonight.”

“Okay,” he said simply. He didn't say any more. Didn't press her to tell him what had happened. If he asked Arden, he'd get the truth, but Laney doubted he'd ask. She had the feeling that he'd wait until she was ready to tell him.

She liked that about him, the patience, the willingness to allow her to reveal what she wanted when she wanted. She liked
him
.

Moonlight painted the grass gold. Crickets chirped a constant melody. And Laney? She felt oddly at peace. Just for a moment, she allowed herself really to believe that Grayson was right. That everything happened according to God's plan. Her childhood, career choices, and search-and-rescue successes and failures all converging to make her into the person God needed her to be.

And that maybe, just maybe, Olivia was in her path last night for a reason.

And maybe that reason was to bring Olivia and the others home. With hope in her heart, she silently prayed for the strength to see it through.

* * *

Laney looked beautiful in the moonlight.

The thought was one that Grayson couldn't allow himself to entertain. Eventually, the kidnapping case would be closed. Laney would no longer be part of his investigation.

And then what?

He knew what he should do. Walk away. Let Laney go her way while he went his.

But there was something about Laney, something that he couldn't ignore. Something he wasn't sure he wanted to ignore.

It had been ten years since Andrea had died. Murdered by a stray bullet that deep down Grayson knew had been meant for him. Her death, a month before their wedding, had been a wake-up call for Grayson. He'd doubted his purpose, second-guessed his career choice. He'd finally come to terms with the reality that his future, his calling, this life he had chosen, did not come without sacrifice. A wife and family of his own were not in his future. He'd been selfish to try to have that with Andrea—a selfishness that had led to her death. He didn't have the time to devote to a family. His job required that he miss birthdays, anniversaries, holidays. That wasn't fair. Not to anyone.

He wouldn't ask another woman to understand the demands of his work, his drive to be successful, not even someone like Laney.

She might understand his single-minded dedication to his work, but she had her own guilt, her own memories, her own reasons for doing the work she did. She didn't need anything else laid on her.

He led her to the sliding glass door, opened it and ushered her inside.

“Gray, is that you?” Arden called from the family room.

“Yes.”

“Well, what took so long? I've been done for like...an hour!”

“Have you found anything?” he asked as he and Laney joined her.

Rose was on the recliner, a colorful quilt covering her equally colorful pajamas, nose buried in her devotional. Willow sat on the couch beside Arden, a glazed look on her face. She'd probably spent the past two hours listening to every excruciating detail of Arden's next project.

“Malware,” Arden said, her gaze on Gray's laptop. “None of the data you've sent or received via email can be trusted. The malware is very sophisticated.”

“Can you disable it?”

“Is there anything I can't do on computers?”

“Way to be vain, sis.”

“Vanity is about beauty. I'm confident. But I'll admit, this is going to take some time. Simply put, someone set up a duplicate email account to intercept all your messages before you received them.”

“Can you tell if anything was modified or removed?”

“Unfortunately, no. Because the full files were never saved to your hard drive, not even to your temp files, there is just no way to run a recovery program.”

This was bad news. This was Grayson's official FBI email account; he trusted it and the data he received from it.

“Is there any way to tell how long this has been going on?

“I knew you'd ask that.” Arden smiled. “It appears the duplicate account was set up about in January.”

“So my email has been compromised for nearly a year?” Just about the time he was assigned to the case. Grayson didn't like the coincidence.

“Is there any way to trace who's been accessing the account?” he asked.

“I think so, given time. But until I do, any data you send over this account is in jeopardy. Anything you receive is suspect. You'll have to decide what's more important—to have a secure email account, or to track the hacker on the other end. We can close this account down now, but that means whoever is on the other end will know you're onto him.”

“I need to know who's accessing my account.” Pacing the length of the family room, Grayson outlined his plan. “I'll call the IT team tomorrow and request a new email account, but will keep this one open. Until I get the new account, I'll do everything the old-fashioned way.” He glanced at his watch. “It's too late tonight, but tomorrow I'll call the local PD in California and Boston to request faxes of their case files. I can compare them with versions that were emailed to me.”

“You think those files were tampered with?” Willow asked.

“I think there's got to be a reason someone hacked into this account.”

He looked up at Laney. “Do you have a fax-machine number I can use, or should I have everything sent to Chief Andrews?

“I have a fax at the reception desk in the kennels. The fire didn't reach there, so it should be fine. Aunt Rose gave you one of my business cards. The number's on it.”

“Be careful, Grayson,” Arden added. “Make sure you contact someone you trust—otherwise the hard copies may be modified, as well.”

“Got it covered.”

“There is also the slim possibility that the duplicate account was set up by an FBI system administrator. If that's the case, I won't have much time to complete my forensic investigation—I'd expect him to disable the mirror account, leaving no trace. I'll do what I can tonight, but there is no guarantee I'll be able to track this back.”

“Well, Arden,” Willow interjected. “it's been great seeing you again, but it sounds like you're planning to work most of the night on this thing and I've got a flight out tomorrow at ten. I think I need to find a hotel room and crash. I caught the redeye last night so I could get here as early as possible, and I'm beat.”

Rose looked up from her reading then, glasses perched on her nose, “What's this I hear about hotel rooms when I have a perfectly good cottage just down the drive?”

“I wouldn't want to impose, Rose.” Willow said.

“No imposition. I'm staying up here with Laney. My place is a bit smaller, one bedroom. But there's a pullout couch and clean sheets in the linen closet.” She stood, folding the quilt neatly over the recliner. “I'll walk you down now. Arden can join you later.”

“I'm sure I can find it on my own...”

“I'm sure you can, too,” Rose cut her off. “But I need the stretch. I've been cooped up all day and some fresh air will do me good.”

Laney frowned. “Aunt Rose, it's too dangerous for you to be walking outside alone right now. Maybe Grayson should—”

Rose sighed. “You young people ought not argue with your elders. Haven't you learned it's futile?”

Arden snickered at Rose's statement.

“Besides, who says I'm gonna be alone?” She started toward the kitchen. “I have two fresh chicken sandwiches and some raspberry tea prepared for the officers out front. I'm sure one of them will escort me down the drive and back in payment for a nice dinner.” She emerged from the kitchen, lightweight blue jacket zipped over flowered pajamas, white Keds on her feet and a small picnic basket in her arms. “I threw in some cookies for good measure.”

Grayson grimaced. Maybe he should warn the guys before they bit into one of them.

“Of course,” Rose continued, “if I had my mace, I wouldn't have to go through the trouble of bribing a police officer with food. Come on, Willow. Let's get out of here.”

She was out the door before Willow could make a move to follow.

“Well,” Arden said.

“Well, what?” Grayson responded, his gaze on the open front door and on the officers who were being handed chicken sandwiches.

“I like that old lady. She's pretty cool.”

“Get back to work, sis.” He sighed as Willow walked outside and closed the door.