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Josie awoke to the sound of a groan. Her own. Exhaustion, or the pain meds Kevin had given her, had allowed her to get some much-needed rest. But now every muscle in her body was screaming to be heard. Her head still ached but it had ratcheted down a few notches since she had awakened in Steve’s arms. Pushing up from the mattress, her arms trembled in protest. She hadn’t been inactive for this long since she’d dozed off under the potting bench. Then she’d been so terrified upon wakening that her muscles hadn’t had a chance to react to the sudden change in position.
Josie willed her long legs over the side of the bed. With support from the nightstand, she got to her feet. Success.
Once on her feet, she gave herself a few minutes, allowing her legs to adjust. The room was covered in shadows but the sun cast strips of light against the honey-colored wood flooring as it peeked through the slits of the plantation blinds. She glanced at the bedside clock. It was a little after noon.
Like in the living room, the bedroom walls were adorned with stunning photographs of nature. Tropical colors and warm woods filled the room and gave it a calming effect. The place looked, and felt, comfortable. Like a home.
That sentiment was compounded by the bedside photographs, one on each nightstand. The picture on the far side of the bed, showed the beaming bride and groom standing side by side on the sandy beach, the sun setting in the background. The second photo hadn’t been staged. The candid shot pictured the tall, handsome man holding a laughing barefoot bride in his arms. The picture caught their absolute joy. Love spilled out from the two-dimensional photo and filled the room.
Steve’s former commander was fortunate to have made such a place for himself and luckier still to have found someone special to share it with. Josie had found something similar, for a short time. But as soon as Steve had deployed, her old fears filled her isolation.
When she’d received the letter from the County Clerk, she’d packed a few boxes of personal items and just left. Like a coward. There wasn’t a better word to describe her actions. She hadn’t been able to face Steve. If she’d tried to explain her reasoning to him, he’d have talked her down off that ledge. She’d done what had to be done.
Picking up the picture of the happy couple, Josie laid it face down on the bedside table.
She achingly made her way slowly down the long hallway toward the main room. Each step sent a jolt of pain through her body, reminding her of the beating and her desperate run for help.
***
At the soft sound of Josie’s faltering steps, Steve turned away from the window. He’d been staring out at the garden next door where Gib had found her. Thoughts of the dangers she’d faced and the chances she took, still tied his stomach in knots. Hearing her moving about was a welcomed distraction from the nightmare of scenarios he’d imagined her going through.
The woman facing him from the other side of the room looked miserable, not just physically but emotionally. Taking a risk, he opened his arms. She shuffled toward him without hesitation and the break in his heart closed a little. Josie hadn’t wavered at his offer of comfort and affection. On some level, she still trusted him.
After Josie’s breathing settled to a steady pace, he led her to the couch and watched as she painfully lowered herself to the cushion. How long had she been losing weight? He’d swear she was a good fifteen pounds lighter than when he’d left for Afghanistan.
“Are you okay, Josie? You’ve lost weight.” On top of everything else, had she been sick?
“I’m fine, Steve. I haven’t had an appetite lately. What happened while I was sleeping?” she asked, deflecting the question. How many times had he asked about her home or family and she’d used the same tactic?
Why hadn’t he realized before this that was what she did? With his training, he should have recognized the ploy. How much of this fucked up relationship fell on his shoulders? Why hadn’t he pushed when she refused to talk about her past?
Steve didn’t give voice to his revelation. Instead, he told Josie about the man on the bicycle.
“Do you think he was looking for me?” Her color had paled as she’d asked the question.
“He doesn’t fit the description of your attacker and with the precautions you took to get here, it’s not likely,” he told her, giving her hand a squeeze.
“But not impossible,” she said, as she pulled back from him.
“Nothing’s impossible,” he agreed, missing the warmth of her touch. “Don’t worry about him right now. It could be nothing. We need to concentrate on the key.”
Josie massaged her temples as if kneading them would conjure up the answer.
“Don says the key is a book,” Steve prompted. “He recognized it as a book cypher code. It would have to be a specific book you both shared. Did you and Erica have a favorite book? A story?”
“Oh my God, yes. How could I have forgotten?”
“What, Josie? What did you forget?”
“We gobbled up detective stories and mysteries. We read everything from Nancy Drew to Agatha Christie. As kids, we used to send emails to each other in code.”
“What did you use to decode the messages? What was the book?”
“I need to get to St. Augustine,” Josie said.
“What you are going to do,” Steve said, holding her closely, “is tell me what it is.”