Race Against Time (14 page)

2:26 p.m.

Anesia’s BlackBerry buzzed as they exited the Country Café in North Pole. “I am so stuffed.” She pulled it from her pocket to check the e-mail.

“Me too, Mom. We need to do this more often.”

“We most certainly do.” It was an e-mail from the service she used. The background check on Sean. Good. It was about time.

As they climbed back into the truck, she took the time to skim the e-mail. A few things caught her eye. Things she’d need to discuss with Sean ASAP. Maybe she should put in another call to Agent Philips.

“Mom?” Zoya’s question brought her out of her thought process.

“Hmm?” There was that face again. That forced smile. Maybe this was harder on Zoya than she thought.

“Could we have a girls’ night tonight?”

She tucked the BlackBerry back into her pocket. “That’s a great idea, honey. Whatcha got in mind?”

“Well, I’m thinking homemade pizza later, popcorn with lots of butter, and . . .
Pride and Prejudice.”

“Which one? The five-hour or the two-hour?”

“Well, I like the music and cinematography in the two-hour better, and I love Keira Knightley as Elizabeth Bennet, but the five-hour one is more accurate and has some really great scenes in it.”

Anesia laughed and stared at Zoya. Was she faking it? “When did you go and grow up on me?”

“I haven’t. At least not yet. But I do love a good movie. Especially when it’s based on one of the greatest books of all time.” There. That half-smile again.

Maybe they all needed some normalcy. She didn’t want to pretend nothing was wrong. But maybe if she tried to steer things back to the way they were, then they wouldn’t be reminded of it all. “You got that right. The five-hour one it is. And we’ll make our pizza halfway through to break it up. How’s that?”

“Sounds good.” Zoya placed her hand on Anesia’s shoulder. “And Mom?”

“Yeah?”

“I’m sorry. Again. I’m glad you had the guts to push me. Thanks.”

Normalcy. Yep, that would do the trick. Anesia placed the keys into the ignition and stopped. She turned to face her daughter. “I love you, Zoya. Nothing will ever, ever change that. Just promise to keep talking to me, okay?”

“Okay.”

“Even if you’re angry, you can always talk to me.” She took a deep breath. Might as well go through with it. It might be the only way to get things back to how they were. Before. She knew what she needed to say, but hesitated. It meant placing all her trust in God. There’d be no control on her part. There’d be no guarantees of protection. “And . . . I’ve also made a decision about something else.”

Zoya stared.

“I don’t want to take away your dream, Zoya. I know how much racing means to you, how much it means to me, how much it meant to your father. It’s in your blood.” She took another deep breath. Ugh. This was hard. “So, I want you to keep racing.”

Her daughter’s eyes lit up. “You do?”

“I do.”

“You mean, you’re not afraid something awful will happen?”

“Oh, I’m afraid. That’s for sure.” She grabbed her daughter’s hands. “But God doesn’t give us a spirit of fear, remember?”

“I remember.” Zoya smiled even though she rolled her eyes as she rattled off 2 Timothy 1:7: “‘For God has not given us a spirit of fearfulness, but one of power, love, and sound judgment.’ You made me memorize it and repeat it for my very first race. I couldn’t even see over the handlebar of the sled.”

Anesia allowed herself to chuckle at the memory. “And I know I can’t always protect you, even though I sure do want to. But I know I need to leave all this in the Lord’s hands. We’ll get through this together, okay?”

Her daughter squeezed her hands three times—their signal for
I love you.
“You’re right, Mom. Thanks.”

Zoya was saying all the right things. And yet . . .

Anesia shook her concern away. If she could just let go. Trust God with it all. With her daughter’s heart and mind, with her recovery and safety. If only she could be at peace and not worry.

But could she do that when a murderer might still be hunting her child?

SLIM

January 17

Naltsiine Kennels

1:57 a.m.

Green lights lit up the screen of the handheld scanner. So far, so good. All the chips were still in place and protected. Amazing. Technology created to help find people’s precious pets was helping him hide a multi-billion-dollar program.

No one was the wiser.

Three more chips waited in their plastic casings to be implanted. He’d already checked them on the laptop this morning. The information was viable and no longer encrypted. Just wait until he had it all and could put it together.

Technology was impressive. Ten years ago, who woulda thought that 5GB of data could fit on a chip one-tenth the size of his fingernail?

His brittle laugh echoed off the barn walls in the cold air.

Like Ma always said, he was a genius. He just needed to wait for the right plan. The right time. And he had.

Patience would win this game for him.

And he would prove he had patience. Enough to out-wait them all. Then who would be on top?

Him.

He’d hold all the cards.

Then he’d hold the prize.

Leaning over, he stroked the head of another champion. “Good boy.”

RICK

January 17

Anchorage, Alaska

3:26 a.m.

Zoya ran through the woods chased by an army of armed soldiers. Her screams pierced the air. “Help me! Someone, please help me!”

He tried to follow, but no matter how fast he ran, he couldn’t catch up.

She fell, and the army clothed in black descended upon her like a pack of ravenous wolves. The numbers grew like ants swarming an anthill. More appeared from the trees. More fell from the sky.

“No!” His voice carried on the wind, but no one heard him.

“Uncle! Save me! Please!” The young girl’s cries for help were quickly smothered by the mass of humanity piling on top of her—

Rick sat up with a jolt. Sweat drenched his entire body. If he didn’t do something, he’d never fulfill his promise. His grandfather had been right. He’d burn forever on this earth, be haunted and never allowed to die. The spirits would curse him if he didn’t protect her.

A plan began to form in the back of his mind. He had the resources and the power to do it. Maybe he should find the old tribal elders. Some that believed like his grandfather. They could surely help him find what the spirits required of him to fulfill his promise to his brother and grandfather.

He was the only one left.

He couldn’t let Zoya die.

SEAN

January 17

Naltsiine Kennels

10:33 a.m.

His brain threatened to explode with all the information Anesia threw at him, but it fascinated him too.

The air was bitter. Colder than he’d ever thought possible. Colder than he’d ever felt in Boston. But then again, he’d always ridden in warmed Town Cars, and the Connolly Towers had a special entrance for the family to protect them from the elements of a harsh winter and prying eyes. He never had the privilege of shoveling snow at home. Sean tugged off a glove and glanced down at his hand. Definitely broken-in the past months on the road, but still the hand of a spoiled, office-lounged VP.

The glove slid back on as they moved toward another row of dogs. His eyes darted heavenward again. The sky a deep purple-black. So many stars. He shook his head and forced himself to pay attention and not keep looking up at the sky. Ever since he’d caught a glimpse of the aurora borealis, he watched the sky for more.

Anesia continued explaining. She’d been a little stiffer this morning than she’d been the previous week. Maybe she was overwhelmed and needed him to learn fast. “In the winter we water the dogs in the morning. But we mix a little food in the water. Just enough to flavor it.”

“Why do you mix food in it? Do they need the extra nourishment?” He jotted down notes with a pencil on the small notebook he carried with him. He learned the hard way that most pens wouldn’t write in this kind of cold.

“They won’t drink clear water in the winter.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, it’s just too cold. So it’s kinda like bait to get them to drink enough. They need plenty of hydration, especially to run.”

“Oh. I see.”

“During training season we water them, clean up, and give them an hour and a half of rest before we run them.”

His eyes scanned the kennel full of dogs. Just watering them would take a good bit of time.

“And then we feed them in the afternoon.”

“How much does it cost to feed this many?”

She inspected the paws of the dog in front of her. “About a dollar a day per dog. So a couple thousand dollars a month.”

Quite an investment.

Anesia had already moved to the gate. “Come on. There’s still a lot more.”

“All right.”

The volume of the dogs increased.

She turned to face him but continued to walk backward. “And by the way, you probably don’t want to say ‘all right’ too much in front of the dogs.”

“Why is that?”

She gave him a small smile. “That’s what most mushers use as their call to go, to get the dogs to run. We release the hooks and yell, ‘All right.’” She turned back around.

“Oh.” He wrote that down on his pad. Certainly an important piece of information. Several more questions tumbled around in his mind. “How do you practice with them when there’s no snow?” He took a few long strides to catch up to her quick pace and so he could hear her.

“We use a four-wheeler instead of a sled.”

Sure. Now why didn’t he think of that? “Isn’t that heavy?”

He watched her shake her head and continue walking. When they reached the barn, she slid a large door open. “We have two dog trucks.” She pointed to the odd vehicles parked inside.

The cab of the truck looked normal, but the back was covered with a large enclosed area. Almost like the trucks he’d seen for the humane society. But bigger. Much bigger. There were eight doors on each side. “Do you buy these somewhere or have them built?”

“I had mine built to my specifications. Each compartment will hold two dogs. So we can haul up to sixty-four dogs at a time. Although we usually don’t carry that many. Most rides we let them each have their own compartment.” She opened one of the doors so he could peer inside. Hay covered the floor of each. “And there will be times I’ll need you to drive one of the trucks. Especially when it’s a big event.”

“All righ—” He jerked his head up from what he was writing. “I mean, yes, I can do that.”

She laughed. “Are you comfortable driving a stick?”

“Yes. But I may need practice.” When was the last time he’d driven a manual transmission?

“Good.” She looked down and fidgeted with her gloves as her smile disappeared. “Sean, I wanted to show you some other things, but there’s something bugging me. We need to go inside and have a chat.”

He nodded. In silence she closed up the barn and they walked back to the house. She must know. Not that he didn’t expect it. But it was sooner than he anticipated.

They didn’t speak again until they were seated in her office. She pulled out a file and folded her hands on her desk. “Why didn’t you tell me your father owned CROM?”

There it was. The accusation in her voice. “I’m sorry, Anesia—”

“Sean, let’s get something straight right now. More than anything, I need someone trustworthy. The work is hard, and I’d like someone who loved what they did, but trust is of utmost importance to me.”

“I understand.” Disappointment washed over him. He hadn’t realized until now how much he wanted this job.

“I’m not sure you really do. There’s a lot I haven’t told
you
yet, either.” She stood and walked to the bookcases lining the east wall. Her fingers traveled along the books. “Our dogs are worth a small fortune, as is the property, kennels, and equipment. But more important than all that is my family and my friends.” Her gaze came to rest on him. “Your background check came back clean, Sean. I just couldn’t figure out why you wanted to keep the fact of your family away from me.”

“My family may be extremely wealthy, Anesia, and they may own CROM, but I don’t want anything to do with them. I wanted a fresh start.”

She cocked an eyebrow. It hadn’t taken her long to put all the pieces together, had it? And she wasn’t letting him off the hook now.

“I began to discover things I didn’t like about how my father did things. My father is a brilliant man. But he’s also a greedy man. It took me many years to decide which path I was going to choose.”

“So that’s why you continued on with your father’s job and expectations of you?” She nodded as she paced. “The education, the VP, the overseeing of exciting projects.”

“Unfortunately.” Nothing got past this woman. “It took God getting hold of me to rescue me from the muck and mire that dragged me down.”

“Your father knows you’re here?”

“Yes, he does.”

“And he’s okay with that?”

“No. He’s not. But I couldn’t stay in Boston one moment longer.”

“Why?” Those intense eyes drilled into him.

“I realized I’d been lukewarm. And in staying, in essence, I was agreeing with everything my father did. I couldn’t swallow it anymore. I couldn’t let my name be a part of that.”

“By lukewarm, I assume you are referencing Revelation 3:16?” The tiniest smile worked at the corner of her mouth.

“Yes.” He tilted his head and furrowed his brow. Was she mocking him? Best to get it all out in the open now. “Do you mind if I ask how you feel about God, Anesia?”

She laughed. “Not at all. In fact, I’m glad you opened the door for this discussion. I’m a believer.”

Relief flooded through him. His hands relaxed, hadn’t realized he’d tightened them into fists during their talk. “I am too. I’m sorry to say it took so many years for me to come to my senses, but I’m thankful I finally put Him first in my life.” Sean looked down at the floor. Time to lay it all out on the table. “I didn’t come here to hide. But I did come here to start over. I can’t promise that my father won’t try to make things difficult for me, but I can promise that I will work as hard as I can and to the very best of my ability.”