Love Inspired Suspense October 2015 #1 (33 page)

“Are you sure?”

“Yes. I should have suggested it sooner, but was missing them something fierce when I got home from my hiking trip.”

“Setting them up at the resort—”

“Doesn't remove them from the potential danger. How safe do you think they'd be with my in-laws?”

“Safer than staying with you, especially if they take them out of town. Also, we could ask Harvey to tag along and play bodyguard. His cop instincts are razor sharp and he's got plenty of time on his hands since he retired from the resort.”

“Good idea, thanks.” Will gazed at his adorable girls. “I did the right thing by helping Sara, and now I have to do the right thing by keeping Claire and Marissa safe.”

“Your in-laws might still be here.” Nate craned his neck.

“No, not yet. I want to spend the day with the girls, then if you don't mind, could you take them over to Mary and Ed's?”

“Sounds good. Let's get you back to the resort.”

* * *

Sara, Will and the girls hung out in Breanna McBride's cottage, drawing, baking and playing games. Sara had tried to isolate herself upstairs in the bedroom, but the girls were having none of it. They demanded she come downstairs and
visit
, as Marissa put it.

They made Christmas cookies, drank hot cocoa and laughed at silly jokes. Sara couldn't remember the last time she'd felt like a part of a family. Then Will told the girls his surprise was that Claire and Marissa were going on an adventure with their grandparents for a few days.

They were excited at first, then disappointed when they found out Will wasn't going. They moaned about missing their dad, and Sara's family moment shattered before her eyes. Rather than blame herself for the situation, Sara was more motivated than ever to wrap up this case so Will could get back to his life, his family.

And Sara could get back to...what?

She wasn't sure anymore. Was there even a job waiting for her back at the bureau? She didn't know. Oddly, she felt resentment toward her job. All of her determination, all of her drive to get the bad guys, had caused Will and his girls to be in danger, and now to be split up for their own protection.

The girls packed their things shortly after dinner and brought their bags down into the main entryway of the cottage.

“You just got home,” Claire complained, hugging Will.

Sara looked away, the child's voice ripping at her heart. Marissa watched her big sister's reaction with curiosity, as if she was deciding if she was supposed to complain, as well.

“You girls are going to have fun with Nanny and Papa, okay?” he said to Claire.

“Okay,” Claire said. “But no more adventures without you.”

Marissa wrapped her arms around Sara's legs. “Bye, Sara.”

“Bye, sweetie.” She stroked the little girl's hair.

“Practice your drawing,” Claire said. She looked at her dad. “Make sure she practices.”

Will smiled. “Come on, I'll walk you girls to the car,” he said, his voice raspy. “I'll be right back.” Will nodded at Sara and escorted his girls out front.

Frustration burned low, and Sara marched into the kitchen. She started to pour herself a cup of coffee. Probably not a good idea to have caffeine at night, then again she wouldn't be able to get much sleep anyway, not until she could guarantee the safety of Will and the girls by putting LaRouche and Harrington away.

How was she going to do that? She wasn't even involved with the investigation, other than being a witness to the murder of David Price. She should be tracking down leads, helping Nate somehow, instead of baking cookies and playing board games with the girls.

She eyed the Christmas cookies, spread out on cooling racks. Little girls' laughter echoed in her mind as her gaze landed on a snowman cookie with green candy eyes and a red nose. Marissa had giggled uncontrollably when her dad had sprinkled powdered sugar on the cookie and called him Rudolph Frosty.

Sara wandered across the kitchen to the cookies and tried remembering a time when she'd made cookies with her dad, yet there was no memory of making Christmas cookies or telling jokes. Sara, her dad and Kenny had seemed to live under a cloud after her mom had randomly gotten sick and died.

“Shake it off,” Sara scolded herself.

She left the kitchen and decided to check email in the living room. As she adjusted herself at Breanna's desk, she glanced out the window and spotted Will saying goodbye to the girls. He gave them each a big hug, and had to pry Claire's arms loose from his neck. A ball lodged in Sara's throat.

The girls finally got in the squad car and Will shut the door. When he turned, she saw him swipe at his eyes, and she felt even worse about dragging him into this mess.

There had to be a way to make it up to him.

Sure there was. Remove the threat. She reconsidered distancing herself from him, only they'd established that it wouldn't make a difference. They could get to Sara through Will.

Somehow word had gotten back to LaRouche and Harrington that Sara and Will had grown close, or maybe they knew that he'd saved her life and vice versa. Whatever the case may be, the only way to keep Will safe was to prove LaRouche and Harrington were the criminals she knew them to be: men who didn't care about killing innocent people for profit.

She refocused on the computer and checked her email. One caught her eye, an email from her boss demanding she call him ASAP. She pulled out her phone and called his cell. It went into voice mail.

“It's Agent Vaughn returning your call. The local police are being very helpful. I look forward to speaking with you.” She ended the call, not feeling all that grateful to the man who didn't support her quest to nail LaRouche and Harrington, the man who insinuated to Nate that she'd lost her perspective and maybe, even, was off the rails.

“Bonner,” she muttered, and paced the living room. Why did he have to make things so hard? Why didn't he believe her when she showed him the proof of tampering with test results?

This train of thought wasn't going to help her move forward. She'd been stuck in the past on so many levels, that it had almost become habit for her: dig her heels in and hold on like a pit bull with its teeth around an intruder's leg.

She made a mental list of things to discuss with Nate once he returned. In the meantime, the least she could do was be there to support Will. He must feel horrible about separating from his girls again. She wondered what was taking him so long to come back inside.

She went to the front door and hesitated before opening it. Would she find him crying on the front porch? She wasn't sure if she could handle that, nor could she handle the look of resentment in his eyes—resentment toward Sara for causing his life to be turned upside down and sideways.

A car door slammed outside. Nate had already left to take the girls to their grandparents' house, so it couldn't be his car. She opened the door and spotted Officer Carrington headed for the cottage. She scanned the area for Will.

“Wait, did Will end up going with the girls?” she asked, partly hopeful and partly disappointed.

“No, ma'am.”

Her heart raced up into her throat. “Then, where is he?”

THIRTEEN

“W
ill!” Sara called out. She rushed past Officer Carrington to get a better look at the property.

“Ma'am, please get back in the house where it's safe.”

“Not until we find him. Will!”

What could have happened? In those few minutes while Sara had been away from the window feeling sorry for herself, had another one of LaRouche and Harrington's men swung by and snatched Will?

“Ma'am, I insist you go inside where it's safe.”

Of course, standing here in the open made her a target. If LaRouche and Harrington's men were using Will to lure her out, they had succeeded. She rushed past Officer Carrington, went back into the cottage and called Nate.

“Detective Walsh.”

“It's Sara. Are you on speakerphone?”

“Yes.”

“Call me after you drop off the girls.” She ended the call. The last thing she wanted was to upset Claire and Marissa by announcing their father had gone missing.

She paced the kitchen and eyed the wall phone. Posted beside it was a list of numbers, including one that read Security. She used Bree's house line to call it.

“Hey, sweet Bree,” a man's voice said. “I thought you were helping with the—”

“It's not Breanna. It's Sara, I'm staying in Bree's cottage
.
Who's this?”

“Scott Becket, security manager for the resort.”

“Have you been briefed about my situation?” she asked.

“Yes, Nate told me you're undercover FBI. Is there a problem?”

“Will is missing,” she said, trying to sound calm, but failing miserably.

“When did this happen?”

“A few minutes ago. He was saying goodbye to the girls, and then he was gone.”

“I'm on it. Stay put.”

The line went dead.

“Argh!” she cried. Sliding down the wall, she wrapped her arms around her bent knees, feeling utterly helpless. She buried her face in her arms, brainstorming a way to help them find Will without putting herself in danger.

Suddenly a wet nose nudged her ear. She looked up, and got a big, wet kiss on the cheek from Bree's golden retriever, Fiona.

“What's wrong?” Bree placed a bag of groceries on the kitchen table and kneeled beside Sara.

“It's Will” was all she could get out.

“What about him?”

“He's gone. I don't know where. He disappeared.”

“I've got to call Scott.”

“Already did.”

“Good, then everything will be fine. Scott was an exceptional cop before becoming our security manager. Did you call Nate?”

“He's with the girls. He'll call after he drops them off.”

“Then, there's only one thing left to do while we wait.” Bree reached out and placed a comforting hand on Sara's shoulder.

And said a prayer.

Sara didn't fight it this time; she was so desperate for Will's safety that she bowed her head and opened her heart. She hoped that God was truly forgiving, that he'd hear Sara's heartfelt prayer and keep Will safe.

* * *

“Stop!” Will called.

He'd seen the man hovering on the grounds near the cottage, thanks to the resort's property lights, and Will had called out, demanding the stranger identify himself. Instead, he'd run.

And Will had taken off after him. Maybe not the smartest idea, but the burn of frustration had driven Will out into the night. Frustration about his girls being forced to go away with their grandparents, frustration about Sara being constantly threatened.

“What do you want?” Will called after the guy, who turned a corner. Great, a blind spot. What if he had a gun and was waiting for Will? He stopped and searched the ground for a weapon, a rock or tree branch, something.

This was not Will. He wasn't a violent man by nature.

Yet this stranger might have information to help the authorities with this case. Will couldn't let him get away. He'd do anything to help Nate prove Sara's innocence and the businessmen's culpability in the death of David Price.

He grabbed a rather large branch and hesitated before making the turn.

Took a deep breath.

And flung the branch around the corner. No reaction. Surely the man would have fired off a shot.

Will clicked on the flashlight app on his phone, took a deep breath and peered around the corner. He aimed the light up the trail. The man was gone. Vanished.

How was that possible? The trail took a sharp incline five hundred feet. There was no way the man would have made it to the top, and to the next switchback so quickly.

Then Will noticed something on the ground. He approached a discoloration and kneeled for a better look.

Fresh blood.

The man was wounded, which meant he wouldn't be able to fight very hard against Will once he caught up to him.

Will straightened and started up the trail, using the flashlight to scan left, then right. The blood trail led straight up, then disappeared.

Will pulled out his phone and called Nate.

“Where are you?” Nate said before Will could get off a greeting.

“Are the girls—”

“Just dropped them off. Sara said you disappeared. What happened?”

“I saw a man watching the house so I followed him.”

“You what? Get back to the house.”

“I'm on a trail leading from the back of the cottage into the mountains. The guy's hurt.”

“You found him?”

“Not yet. I found fresh blood and—”

Something slammed against Will's shoulders and he went down, breaking his fall with his hands. He collapsed against the damp earth, the wind knocked from his lungs. The guy would have already shot him if he had a gun, so Will figured he'd stay down and pretend to be unconscious. Depending on how badly the stranger was hurt, Will could detain him until help arrived.

“I've got him,” the man said into his phone. “You'll have to come get him. I'm injured.”

By the time this man's associates came to get Will, Nate and the local police would be swarming the area. Good, then maybe they'd catch these guys and one of them would confess to working for LaRouche and Harrington.

“Aw, come on, that wasn't the deal,” the guy argued.

Will cracked his eyes open and spotted the man's black military boots pacing back and forth. Will also spotted his phone a few inches away. Will snatched it.

The man, clearly agitated, didn't notice Will retrieving his phone. The assailant seemed anxious and frustrated, and definitely not on board with the orders coming from the other end of the phone.

“No, I never signed on for that....Fine, I'll call my brother to help.”

A few seconds of silence passed. Will figured they wanted his attacker to move Will's body. To where?

“Bobby, it's Jim. Get out here to Echo Mountain Resort, the trail behind Bree McBride's cottage. I've got a guy I have to keep hidden....Will Rankin....I know. I know! They threatened to tell the police about the morphine I stole from the hospital....I had no choice. She's in a lot of pain....You'd know if you bothered to stop by, big brother.”

As the conversation continued, Will figured out that the criminal businessmen were blackmailing his assailant. Will suddenly remembered where he'd seen those boots before: at the hospital. This was Jim Banks, the security officer who'd helped them look for Sara.

Apparently LaRouche and Harrington were able to get to anyone in town.

“I can't go to jail!” Jim yelled at his brother on the phone.

He had paced a good twenty feet away, as if Jim didn't like to look at what he'd done to Will. Will took the opportunity to flip the situation around. He took a deep breath, stood and aimed the flashlight at his attacker.

“Jim?”

Jim spun around, whipped a knife out of his pocket and pointed it at Will with a trembling hand. Abrasions reddened his cheek, and his right jacket sleeve was soaked with blood.

“I have first-aid training,” Will said. “I can help you.”

“No, you can't. Come on.” He flicked the knife sideways, motioning for Will to lead the way back down.

Which meant they'd be passing right by Bree's cottage. How could this guy think he'd get very far in public? The guy had obviously stopped thinking once he found himself working for LaRouche and Harrington.

Kind of like how Will had stopped thinking clearly when he'd taken off in pursuit of this man.

“I sense you don't want to do this,” Will said.

“Stop the psychobabble and walk.”

Will realized he'd had enough: enough of hiding out and enough being bullied. He was definitely done surrendering to violent situations without a fight. It was time to protect the people he cared about.

As he approached Jim, he glanced up ahead at the trail. “You're here!”

Jim instinctively looked to his right.

Will kicked Jim in the side and he fell to his knees. Will grabbed Jim's wrist and twisted until Jim let go of the knife. Will yanked Jim's arm behind his back and the man cried out in pain.

Will shoved him to the ground, pinning him with a knee to his back. “I don't want to hurt you.”

Jim groaned in surrender.

“What happened to your arm?” Will said.

“Car accident.”

“The accident outside my house last night?”

The guy nodded.

“Will!” Nate called.

Will spotted Nate and Scott jogging toward him, both wearing headlamps.

“How many guys?” Nate called.

“One guy. Jim Banks from the hospital,” Will said.

“Found him,” Scott said into his cell phone. “He's fine. We'll be back shortly.”

“You've obviously got this under control.” Nate raised a brow as he motioned for Will to move aside.

Will pushed off the guy, struggling to calm the adrenaline rush. Nate and Scott helped Jim up and he groaned.

“He's bleeding pretty badly,” Will offered.

Nate and Scott looked at Will, as if shocked that Will had drawn blood.

“He was the driver who crashed into the pole last night,” Will clarified.

“Whoa, okay. I was afraid you lost your temper,” Nate said, then looked at Jim. “So what's this about?”

Jim studied the ground.

“Someone's blackmailing him,” Will explained. “Something about stealing drugs from the hospital.”

“Is that right?” Nate pressed, eyeing his suspect.

“Lawyer,” Jim said.

“Sure thing. Right after we book you for attempted murder.”

“What! I didn't attempt to kill anyone.”

“Did he threaten you with a weapon?” Nate asked Will.

“A knife.” He aimed his flashlight at the ground, and went to pick it up.

“I got it.” Scott picked up the knife with gloved hands and analyzed it. “Yeah, this could definitely kill someone.”

“No, that wasn't the plan. I needed him to come with me.”

“Where?” Nate pushed.

“They said...they said to bring him to the water tower on the north side of town.”

“For what purpose?” Nate asked.

“I don't know.”

“Will!” Sara came racing around the corner, Officer Carrington right behind her.

“I'm sorry, sir,” Carrington said to Nate. “Once she heard you'd secured the scene, I couldn't get her to stay put.”

“How did she—”

“I called Bree,” Scott interrupted Nate.

Sara spotted the knife in Scott's hand and snapped her gaze to Will. Her eyes widened with horror.

“I'm fine,” Will said.

“He didn't...”

“He didn't. Let's go.” He reached out for her and she hesitated, then took his hand. He didn't like her hesitation, wondering what was behind it.

They headed back down the trail toward the cottage, where two more squad cars were parked.

“Officer Carrington, take Will and Sara inside and keep them there,” Nate said. “I'll swing by the hospital with Jim for medical attention.” Nate put Jim in the backseat of a patrol car, and pointed at Will and Sara. “Stay inside, hear me?”

“Yes,” Will said.

Bree bolted out of the house, her dog right beside her. The golden retriever rushed up to Scott.

“It's okay, girl. We're all okay.” Scott scanned the property with a concerned frown, then forced a smile when he looked at Bree. “Let's get inside before Nate locks us up for disobeying orders.”

Sara released Will's hand. He wasn't going to let her push him away. He cared about her. A lot.

Will put his arm around Sara's shoulder and pulled her close, whispering in her ear, “Don't push me away.”

She shook her head in frustration.

Once they got into the cottage, Bree and Scott headed for the kitchen. “I've got cookies,” Bree announced.

“We'll join you in a minute,” Will said, leading Sara into a secluded corner of the living room.

He motioned her to a Queen Anne chair, and he shifted onto the footstool in front of her. Her gaze drifted to the hardwood floor.

“What's going on?” He tipped her chin to look at him.

“You could have been killed.”

He took her hands in his. “Hey, you didn't make me follow Jim up the trail. That was my decision.”

“I'm always involving people in my violent life and they get hurt and I can't seem to fix anything.”

“Hold on a second. This isn't about what just happened, is it?”

She didn't answer, but she didn't pull her hands from his, so he pressed on.

“This is about your father?”

Silence stretched between them.

“Sara, you didn't do anything wrong, and you were certainly not responsible for what happened to him. He made the decision to protect you by hiding you in the closet.”

Her gaze held his, her eyes tearing. “Why? Why did he do that?”

Will pulled her into a hug and stroked her back. “Because he loved you so very much. It's hard to understand until you have children of your own. You'd literally jump in front of a moving bus to save them. Your dad hid you in a closet so that you would live, and become this strong, tenacious woman who fights for justice.”