Weep In The Night (18 page)

Struggling to catch her breath, Sadie rose and searched Bowen's face for reassurance.

“The Levasseurs know you're in L.A.”

“How?”

After slapping a ten dollar bill over the ticket, Bowen gestured towards the door. “Come on. We need to leave now.” He ushered her through the parking lot to Cal's SUV. “There's one more thing I want to check.” Bowen scooted under the vehicle. He moved around and then grunted, “Got it.” He rolled out with a three-inch square black box in hand. “Tracking device.”

“No! How long has it been there?”

“No telling, but this changes our plans.” Bowen placed the devise on the ground behind the rear tire of Cal's SUV. When he straightened, he brushed the grit and dust off his shirt and pants. “The device will get crushed when you drive over it, but we've got to assume they've had it in place a while.”

Hands shaking, stomach churning, Sadie pulled her sunglasses from her purse. “Do you think they know about the woman and Hannah?”

“I doubt it. The device was probably installed after Cal made inquiries about hiring someone to find you.”

A low moan gurgled from Cal's throat and he slapped his palm against his forehead. “No, no.”

“What?” Bowen and Sadie asked together.

“I've been back to the Adams's house several times. To get another look at the child.”

Bowen grabbed Sadie's arm and motioned for Cal to follow. He opened the vehicle door and waited until she slid in. “I've got to get Sadie out of here. Cal, does your car have GPS?”

“Yes”

“Then take it home. Rent a car that has no electronic tracking device.”

“How about I use my old sports car?”

“That'll work. We'll have to run frequent checks for other tracking devices. When they realize this one has been destroyed, they'll try again. I'm gonna purchase two cheap cell phones. One for you, one for Sadie. We'll use them to communicate. Nothing else. Erik will get yours to you. Now go. Don't contact me until you have the new phone. Watch your back and don't go anywhere near Ms. Adams's house.”

Cal climbed into his SUV, and Bowen joined Sadie.

“Will we have to move? Should we contact WITSEC?”

Wordlessly, Bowen navigated the neighborhood, eyes on the road or checking the mirrors. When they reached the safe house, he parked in the garage and closed the door. Only when they entered the living room did he answer her. “We're fine here for now. No one followed us, and Erik is keeping watch. Hold on. I need to call him.” He moved down the hall and his voice drifted in and out.

She slumped onto the sofa and removed her sunglasses. When he returned she asked, “What about WITSEC?”

Bowen shed his jacket, a deep scowl marring his rugged face. “Not yet. There are too many unanswered questions about Griffin's death, Kyle's involvement, and now this deal with Cal. Wait a few days.” Rolling up his sleeves, he entered the kitchen.

Sadie lost confidence in her ability to make sane decisions. She had to rely on Bowen for her safety and needed to trust his instincts. “When can I see Hannah?”

His voice carried from the kitchen. “You hungry? I can make sandwiches.”

“Maybe I'd better eat something.” Still thinking of Hannah, Sadie plopped into a chair at the table.

Bowen selected canned sodas, packaged meat slices, lettuce, and a jar of mayonnaise from the refrigerator. He grabbed a loaf of sliced whole-wheat bread and assembled sandwiches.

They ate in silence until Bowen finished his sandwich. “When Erik gets back, we'll plan our trip to Santa Clarita.”

The news hit Sadie like a punch to the gut. She leaned back in the chair and gulped in air. Hannah. She'd see her baby today.

Erik entered through the back door. “Boudine. Here's Sadie's phone. I already gave one to Cal. Close call, no?”

Bowen took the small cell phone. “Perfect. Have you—“

“All set. It's ready to go.” Erik removed his jacket and hung it on the back of a chair.

After tapping keys on his own phone, Bowen handed the slim black cell to Sadie. “Only for calls I sanction. Promise you won't call friends or—“

“What friends? You think I'm stupid enough to call April or Sylvia?” Immediately she regretted her word. “Sorry, I know the drill.”

“And I'm sorry too. It's…we're too close now to make a mistake. I've programmed your number into my phone. Erik has already entered our numbers into yours.”

No mistakes. No mistakes. Sadie clutched the phone to her chest.

“Erik and I need to discuss our plans.” Bowen cleared the table. “We'll be right outside. Sorry, there's not much to do. I think there are a couple of novels in the hall closet. I'll let you know when we can leave.”

She slipped the phone into her jeans pocket and picked up her soda. “Don't worry about me. Hurry so we can see Hannah.”

 

****

 

Incessant banging roused Sadie. She tossed the romance novel aside, slid off the bed, and followed the sound to the kitchen.

Erik barged through the door, hammer in hand.

“What were you doing out there?”

“Securing the window screens. You want some tea?”

“Thanks. Where's Bowen? When are we going to Santa Clarita?”

After setting two mugs of water in the microwave, Erik selected a couple of teabags from a box on the counter. “Boudine had to leave. Have to wait for him to get back.” Erik no longer wore his shoulder holster, but the weapon's handgrip stuck out his back waistband. A gun stowed at his back, mugs of tea in his hands—the contrast wasn't lost on her. His relaxed jaw softened the hard angle of his cheeks. He deposited two mugs on the table and sprawled opposite her.

They sipped in silence.

Would she see Hannah today?

Erik drained his mug and set it down with a thump.

Although her relationship with Bowen had changed irrevocably, Sadie figured she could pump Erik for information about him. “How long have you known Bowen?”

“Many years. Like fifteen.”

“Did you know his wife?”

“Little bit. Boudine and I keep work and private life separate.”

“Exactly what kind of work did you do together?”

“No, no. You'll get nothing more from me.”

“Just one more question. How old is he?”

“I think he's forty-one, forty-two. Now I have more screens to check. You stay inside, OK?”

Sadie rinsed the mugs and scoured the hall closet. At the back, under a thick, musty old telephone directory, she found a Bible. As she carried it to the sofa, she thumbed through the well-worn pages. The frayed edge of the faded red ribbon bookmark dangled out, marking a spot in the middle. She opened to the page and found a scrap of paper torn from a magazine and a heavily underlined passage.

The words in Isaiah 40:31 tumbled from her lips. “But they that wait on the Lord shall renew their strength; they shall mount up with wings as eagles; they shall run, and not be weary; and they shall walk, and not faint.” The force of the words surrounded her like a beam of light brighter than the sun. She'd read them before, but never had they held such a personal meaning. Wait on the Lord. Fly like an eagle. Run and not be weary. She was tired of running without the Lord.

The torn scrap of paper slipped off the Bible's slick pages. Sadie picked it up and read the caption. Ancient Dolomite Chant. Who had thought enough about the chant to tear it out and place it in this particular chapter? She read the words through once, but had to read them again, to absorb the full impact.

 

Not so in haste, my heart!

Have faith in God and wait;

Although He lingers long,

He never cometh too late.

 

He never cometh too late;

He knoweth what is best;

Vex not thyself in vain;

Until he cometh, rest.

 

Until He cometh, rest

Nor grudge the hours that roll;

The feet that wait for God

Are soonest at the goal.

 

Are soonest at the goal

That is not attained by speed;

Then hold thee still my heart,

For I shall wait His lead.

 

Stunned at the simple, yet profound words, Sadie sat back.

The scrap fluttered out of her fingers to land between the pages and she closed the Bible around it. Another lost prodigal may have need of its powerful sentiment.

Cold embers in her lukewarm soul stirred. With eyes closed, she let the words of the chant and the verse gel in the peace and quiet of the room.

Erik's booming voice shattered the silence. “Boudine called. We can't visit Santa Clarita today.”

 

 

 

 

20

 

Arms loaded with take-out containers, Bowen banged open the back door and entered the kitchen. He dumped the containers on the table and opened them, revealing steamed rice, chow mein noodles, Kung Pao chicken, and Beijing beef.

“Let's eat. I'm hungry.” Eric slid into a chair.

As Bowen piled noodles and beef on his plate, his phone rang. He left the room to answer it, returning a few minutes later. “That was Ginger.”

“Who's Ginger?” Sadie asked.

“She's my…secretary.” He glanced at Erik and shoveled noodles into his mouth.

Sadie finished her meal in silence, and then carried her plate to the trash. “Since everyone is so talkative, I'm going to take a long bath. Or rather a short shower.”

At the click of her bedroom door closing, Bowen shrugged. “I didn't know what else to say. The name slipped out.”

“Secretary. If Ginger hears you say that, you'll be in big trouble.”

“I know. So you'd better not tell her.” Bowen stood and stretched.

Erik moved his finger across his lips and twisted it at the side. “Sealed and locked.” His grin lasted until Bowen slapped him on the shoulder.

“Hurry up. We've got to plan our strategy for tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow?” Erik scooped up the empty containers and threw them away.

“Yup. We're going to stake out the Adams's house.”

 

****

 

Bowen stood at Sadie's door and listened. What did he hope to accomplish? Be invited in? Convince himself she was safe? He tapped on the door and when he received no answer, opened it a little. He knew she'd follow his rule and be dressed.

A shaft of light from the hall triangled to the bed. She lay snuggled under the covers, all but her blonde curls hidden. The wig dangled over her suitcase.

He closed the door and retreated to his room across the hall. Once he'd shed his shoes and shirt, he flopped on the bed, hands behind his head, and stared into the darkness.

Tomorrow, Sadie would know. When she saw the girl, she'd know if it was Hannah. Crazy questions raced through Bowen's mind. Would WITSEC relocate them? Would Sadie grow her hair long? Would he ever see her again? He turned over and thumped the pillow.

They'd spent the evening watching TV, playing rummy, and talking.

Earlier, Erik had made a batch of cookies from a roll of frozen cookie dough. The oatmeal-raisin treats had been delicious, and a lingering hint of cinnamon drifted through the house.

Bowen crawled under the sheet and closed his eyes. The image of Sadie munching on a cookie and holding a hand full of playing cards danced in his head as sleep came to the rescue.

The next morning when Bowen entered the kitchen, Erik had fresh sliced fruit and blueberry muffins on the table. “Sleep well?” the chef asked.

Bowen poured a mug of coffee and sat. “No.”

“Why? Worried about the stakeout?” Erik set plates on the table and sat next to Bowen. “We covered all angles last night.”

After a few gulps of coffee, Bowen shook his head. “Not that.”

“What then?” He raised his eyebrows and nodded slowly. “Ah, I see the problem.”

Bowen flashed him a glare strong enough to sour milk.

“Boudine, I've known you long enough to hear what you're not saying. It's the woman, isn't it? It's Sadie.”

Before Bowen could answer, Sadie entered the kitchen. “What about me?”

Bowen and Erik looked at each other.

Clearing his throat, Erik stood and pointed to the food. “Sit. Enjoy. I'll get coffee.”

“Fine. Don't tell me what you were taking about, but please explain this elaborate breakfast.”

Erik set a mug of steaming coffee in front of her, along with the creamer container. “Just because we're undercover, doesn't mean we have to eat from boxes and cans.”

“I'm not complaining.” She bit into a warm muffin. “Mmm, this is delicious.”

“Erik's full of surprises.” Bowen stood and refilled his mug. “Always provides great meals when he can. There've been times when we survived on crackers and jerky.” Dark visions of being holed up in the mountains of Pakistan stabbed at his brain. He blinked. Why taint the positive spin Sadie had added to the conversation? Bowen returned to the table. “He's the best.”

Seldom a conversationalist, Erik eyed him and Sadie as he ate his fill.

By ten thirty they'd cleaned up the kitchen and Sadie departed to her room.

“Be careful, friend.” Erik tapped Bowen's shoulder and lowered his voice. “You need your best game on. Can't have you—”

“I know. I know. I can separate my emotions from the task at hand.”

“Her life depends on it.” He spun around and picked up his shoulder holster.

Bowen stomped down the hall to his room. Every client's life depended on his professionalism. But Patricia had not followed the rules. Her husband had found her and… He yanked on his jacket, located his baseball cap and stepped into the hall.

Sadie stood by her door, eyes wide. “This is it, Bowen. I'll see Hannah today.”