As Mark slipped his arms into the sleeves of his jacket on Sunday morning, his BlackBerry began to vibrate.
“Sanders.”
“Mark, it’s Steve. We’ve got a lead on the shooting.”
Signaling to Coop, who was heading toward the door, Mark drew the notepad on Nick’s kitchen counter toward him and pulled a pen out of his pocket. “It’s about time. What do you have?”
“Oakdale got a call from a guy who lives near the church. He left on a two-week vacation the morning of the shooting and just found out about it from a neighbor. He thinks he saw the shooter’s car pull out of the church parking lot. Carl’s sending a detective over to get his statement and thought you might want to join him.”
“We’re on our way. What’s the address?” Mark jotted down the information as Steve recited it. “Can you let Oakdale know we’re coming?”
“That will be my next call. Fill me in afterward.”
“Will do. Thanks.” As Mark reholstered his BlackBerry, he looked at Coop. “We may have a witness to the shooter leaving the scene. An Oakdale detective is heading out to take a statement now. He’ll wait for us to join him.”
“What about Emily?”
They’d been on their way out the door to escort her to church,
Mark suddenly recalled. Frustrated, he checked his watch.
“Where’s Nick?”
“He had a call on another bank robbery lead. That case sounds as if it’s heating up.”
Raking his fingers through his hair, Mark shoved the bottom of his jacket aside and propped a fist on his hip. “I need to be there for this interview. You want to take Emily?”
“And risk Les’s wrath for letting you out of my sight? Not a chance.”
“Emily’s not going to give up Sunday services.”
“She has to go out by herself eventually, Mark.”
At his partner’s quiet reminder, Mark tilted his head and regarded him. “You think I’m being overprotective?”
Coop lifted a shoulder. “I understand your concern. But we’ve already given her a lot more coverage than normal policy would dictate. And based on her comment last night, I suspect she’s about to revolt, anyway. She doesn’t strike me as a lady who likes to be smothered.”
Smothered. Mark hadn’t thought of it that way. But he could see where Emily might view their protective efforts in that light.
And Coop was right. She was beginning to get antsy. Maybe he needed to ease off a bit. Especially if there was a break in the case.
“Okay. But I’m going to suggest she attend a different church today, just to keep our shooter off balance in case he’s watching her.”
“She might buy that.”
Five minutes later, after a quick call to Emily, Mark joined Coop in the car.
As Coop put the car in gear, he glanced at his partner. “Was she okay with the revised plan?”
“I don’t think she was thrilled with the suggestion to go to a different church, and I picked up a little nervousness about being turned loose with no warning, but she was happy about the break in the case. She’s going to page me when she gets there.” Mark buckled his seat belt and checked the address Steve had given him. “This guy must live across the street from the church.”
“Did Steve have any details?”
After passing on what little he knew, Mark directed him to the house. Fifteen minutes later, they pulled up in front of a two-story brick home one house down and across the street from the exit at the far end of the church lot. An unmarked car was parked in front, and as they rolled up behind it, Sergeant Bill Montgomery stepped out.
“Carl called to let me know you were coming,” the detective said. “This could turn out to be a wild goose chase, but the guy sounded legit and the timing’s about right.” He withdrew a notebook from his pocket and flipped it open. “Name’s Frank Purnell. He’s waiting for us.”
Mark nodded. “Let’s see what we’ve got.”
A man in his late thirties, with sandy-colored hair still damp from the shower and dressed in shorts and a golf shirt, answered the door seconds after they rang the bell.
“Mr. Purnell?” The detective took the lead.
“Yes. You’re from Oakdale?”
Montgomery introduced himself and flashed his badge. “This is Mark Sanders and Evan Cooper with the FBI.”
The man did a double take. “I’m not sure the information I have merits this kind of attention.”
“Mark has a vested interest in the case,” Montgomery told him. “He was one of the shooter’s targets.”
“Oh. I’m sorry to hear that. Come in, gentlemen.”
As he stepped aside to usher them in, Mark caught sight of a youngster hovering in the background. About nine, he had the same sandy-hued hair as his father. And he looked awed.
No surprise there, Mark reflected, suppressing a smile. The presence of detectives and FBI agents in his home would have impressed him as a nine-year-old too. The kid would have stories to tell his friends for months to come, depending on how long he could milk it.
Montgomery flipped his notebook open again and took down the basics, then asked Frank to run through the events of that morning.
“We were leaving on vacation, and as we backed down our driveway, a car pulled out of the church lot,” he said.
“Can you give me an approximate time?”
“I can do better than that. We never leave on schedule for vacation, but this year everything went smoothly. I remember looking at the clock on my dash and thinking we were only thirteen minutes late. It was 8:13.”
“That fits,” Mark said. “Did you see the driver?”
The man gave a regretful shake of his head. “No. I’m sorry. I didn’t pay any attention to him.”
“He was wearing a baseball cap.”
The men in the room turned to look at the boy hovering in the doorway, the soft uncertainty in his voice betraying his nervousness.
“Come on in, David.” Frank motioned for him, and the youngster moved into the room. “This is my son. To be honest, he’s the one you have to thank if this information turns out to be helpful. I was so busy wondering whether we’d forgotten anything I doubt I would have noticed the car if he hadn’t pointed it out.
It caught his attention because it was exactly like ours. Same make, model, color. It might even have been the same year. It was like looking in a mirror. A silver Toyota Camry LE.”
A midsized car. That fit the tire impression the ERT had found, Mark noted. A surge of adrenaline shot through him, and he leaned forward. “Did you happen to get a look at the license plate?”
“No. I’m sorry.”
“I did. I had my binoculars out. But it was muddy.”
Once again, all eyes turned toward David.
“Did you see any of the numbers or letters, son?” the detective asked.
“There was an eight. I remember, because that’s how old I am.”
“Good work, buddy.” Mark smiled at him, and the kid fairly glowed. “Could you tell if it was a Missouri plate?”
“Uh-huh. It was white at the top and kind of faded to blue near the bottom.”
“Do you remember where the eight was? Near the edge or more toward the middle?”
He scrunched up his face in concentration. “No. I’m sorry.”
“That’s okay. You did good. Was there anyone in the car except the driver?”
“No.”
“Was there anything else unusual about the car? Did it have a special antenna or any damage?”
“I don’t think so.”
“I take it this isn’t a car you remember seeing before or since?”
Montgomery’s question encompassed father and son.
“No. It was new to us,” Frank replied.
“You guys need anything else?” The detective turned to Mark and Coop.
They exchanged a look. “We’re good,” Mark said.
The three men rose to shake hands with both Frank and David.
“You’ve got good observation skills,” Mark told the youngster, resting a hand on his shoulder as they prepared to exit. “That’s important for an FBI agent. Think about that when you get older.
We’re always looking for good men.”
“Yes, sir. I will.”
As they stepped outside, Coop grinned at Mark. “You made that kid’s day.”
“Never hurts to begin recruiting young. And we have him to thank for our most solid lead to date.”
“No argument there.”
They regrouped around Montgomery’s trunk.
“I suggest running a check for registrations containing the number eight for zip codes within a hundred-mile radius of St. Louis,” Montgomery said. “Considering our shooter hangs around cows, he could be in an outlying area.”
“Sounds reasonable,” Mark concurred. “How much detail are we likely to get?”
“With the computer search, not much beyond license plates containing the number eight. A lot of the registration information isn’t in the database. It will take a hand search to drill down on the records.”
Things hadn’t changed much since his field agent days, Mark reflected. Computerized record-keeping at the state level was still archaic. And there were often frustrating gaps in the paper records.
“That could take days,” Coop noted.
“If we’re overwhelmed with matches, we could always pare down to a fifty-mile radius,” the detective said. “I’ll get this in the works right away. We won’t make much headway with the Department of Revenue folks on a Sunday, but a call from Carl and your boss might speed things along.”
“We’ll work our end,” Mark promised. “Thanks for taking the lead on this.”
As he and Coop headed toward their respective sides of the car, Coop tossed a question over the hood. “I saw you checking your BlackBerry during the interview. Emily get there okay?”
“Yes. I also got a page from Nick. He could use our help on the bank robbery case. You up for that?”
“Are you?”
“To be honest, I’d rather spend the day with Emily. But considering Nick’s been picking up some escort duty for me, and with Steve cutting me some slack at the office to work the shooting, I haven’t been around to help on the bank case as much as I should have. I owe him.”
“Okay.” Coop slid into the car. “At least it gets me out of the construction zone for a while.”
“Feel like some company?”
At the sound of Mark’s voice on the other end of the phone, Emily smiled. “That would be nice. Are you sending Nick over?”
“Cute. What did you do all day?”
“Caught up on case files.”
“Sounds exciting.”
“Necessary.”
“Boring.”
“Your word, not mine. Besides, I kept hoping you’d call to tell me about the latest on the shooter and I wanted to stay close to the phone. Or is it top secret?”
“I would have called sooner, but Coop and I were out all day tracking down new leads for Nick on a bank robbery case.
And no, it’s not top secret. But I’d rather tell you about it in person.”
“It’s kind of late. And tomorrow is a work day.”
“I won’t stay long.”
“Is this just an excuse to come over?”
“Yep. I’ll bring ice cream.”
“Sounds like a bribe to me. But make it double chocolate anything and you’ve got a date.”
“Look for me in fifteen minutes.”
“Buy some for Coop too. That’s the least you can do, considering all the chauffeuring he’s done.”
He chuckled. “Duly noted. See you soon.”
Long after the line went dead, Emily’s smile lingered as she sat on a stool at her kitchen island, elbow on counter, chin propped in hand. Mark had that effect on her. He always had. The warm, husky cadence of his voice alone was enough to brighten her day.
And today it needed brightening. Her solo trip to church this morning had left her on edge. While she’d told Mark and Coop last night that it was time they cut her loose, she’d found herself looking over her shoulder and hurrying to and from her car, her pulse hammering with every step. Although she knew she was vulnerable even with Nick or Mark and Coop by her side, she’d felt far more exposed and at risk on her own.
The experience had left her unsettled and fidgety, and working on boring case files, as Mark had called them, had been her best antidote to that jitteriness. Not that she’d admit that to Mark. If she told him her excursion had freaked her out, he’d insist on continuing the escort service. But she needed to get used to going out alone. Besides, whatever lead had surfaced today might put them on track to solving the case. She knew Mark was hoping for a resolution before he had to return to Quantico.
Thoughts of his departure in less than two weeks erased the last remnants of her smile. She’d like to stay in touch, but after their kiss, and after Mark’s revelation last night following the renewal ceremony, she knew his intentions were serious. How he expected to explore their relationship when he was a thousand miles away at best—and often much farther on far-flung missions—she had no idea. Nor had she asked him to share his thoughts on that subject. If she did, he would take that as encouragement. And she wasn’t ready to consider offering that to another man in a high-risk profession.
How could she, after losing Grant?
While the pain of his death had diminished, the memory of the night the chief had arrived at her door, soot-stained and choked with emotion, was as vivid as if it had happened yesterday. Even now, five years later, there were nights she reached for Grant sleepily in the pre-dawn darkness, only to touch cold, empty sheets and be reminded that abject loneliness was the price to be paid for loving too much.
All at once, tears pricked her eyes. She’d never been a weepy person. But considering all that had happened in the past two weeks, she supposed she was entitled to a good cry.
This wasn’t the time, however, she reminded herself as the doorbell rang. Mark would take one look at her red eyes and pull her into a comforting hug. Which would do nothing to help her regain her emotional equilibrium.
Sliding off the stool, she grabbed a tissue out of the box on the counter, dabbed at her eyes, and composed her face. A quick check in the hall mirror as she passed reassured her she’d erased all evidence of her momentary loss of control.
After a quick look through the peephole, she flipped the lock and opened the door.
“Ice cream delivery.” He held up a white sack as he stepped inside and secured the lock behind him. “Chocolate chocolate chip for the lady. Butter pecan for me.”
Before she could greet him, he leaned down and kissed her.
Not a casual brush of welcome, but a coaxing, caressing, lingering melding of lips, held in place with a firm hand at the nape of her neck.
When at last he drew back, she tightened her grip on the edge of the door. “What was that all about?”
“Wasn’t it obvious? I’m glad to see you.” He waved the sack at her. “Let’s eat this before it melts. After that kiss, my guess is it’s already starting to drip.” With a wink, he stroked the back of his hand down her cheek.
Confused, Emily watched his broad back as he disappeared into her kitchen. Last night, he’d hinted that he might be looking for a serious relationship with her. While she suspected he didn’t have all the answers about how to make that work in their situation, she had a feeling he was determined to find them if she gave him the green light to try.
At best, she’d flashed a yellow light his way. In truth, it had been closer to red. And she’d expected him to back off.
Instead, he was acting as if she’d signaled green.
Something in her training should be kicking in about now to give her an insight into his strategy. But nothing was clicking.
Had he missed her signal? Or was he ignoring it?
He stuck his head out the kitchen door. “Everything okay?”
“I don’t know.”
“Come on in and we’ll talk about it. Your ice cream is turning to soup.”
Not certain she wanted to have this conversation, Emily joined him at the kitchen table, noting he’d already put a hefty dent in his double serving.
When she sat motionless, he tapped the edge of her cardboard cup with his spoon. “You’ll have to drink that if you wait much longer.”
Figuring it was safer to eat than to talk, she dug in, spooning the creamy treat into her mouth, trying to tamp down the emotions his kiss had kindled in her. And to ignore the way Mark’s presence filled the room. But she couldn’t manage the latter. He looked too good tonight, dressed in well-broken-in jeans that molded his muscular thighs and a chest-hugging T-shirt that displayed the logo from a charitable run he must have participated in. It was the most casual attire she’d seen him in—yet it enhanced his masculinity every bit as much as the distinguished suits he usually sported. Maybe more.
“You didn’t like the kiss?”
She almost choked on the ice cream sliding down her throat.
He passed her a glass of water and waited in silence while she took a gulp.
“You don’t beat around the bush, do you?”
“Nope. I like to know what I’m up against.”
Toying with her spoon, she scraped up some of the melting ice cream from the bottom of her cardboard cup as she considered how to respond. She respected honesty. She counseled patients not to be afraid of it. And she was a great advocate of open communication. In her professional life.
In her personal life, however, she was finding her advice hard to follow. Mark was forcing her to confront issues she didn’t want to deal with. Deep inside, she knew her problem with the man across from her was rooted in fear. She liked Mark. Enough that she could fall in love with him if she let herself. But that would put her heart at risk. Again. And she couldn’t live with the terror of not knowing when he left in the morning if she’d ever see him alive again. Been there, done that. Once was enough.
“I think it may be too soon to have this conversation, Mark.”
She chose her words with care. “We only reconnected a couple of weeks ago.”
“I’m not asking you to marry me, Em. I’m not that rash. But I do think we were brought together again for a reason. And I have a feeling it might lead to a serious relationship, if we decide to explore it. The vibes are still there, twenty years later. And as much as I liked the teenage Emily, I like the grown-up version even better.”
She felt the same about him. But it didn’t erase her fears.
Or solve the logistical problem. “I’m not sure I see the point in pursuing this. Your life is in Quantico and mine is here.”
“That could change. My temporary boss here has offered me a permanent job.”
It took her a few moments to find her voice. “You’d move to St. Louis?”
“If I had a reason to.”
His meaning was clear. And that was even more scary. Her expression must have reflected that, because he reached for her cold hand and interlaced his fingers with hers.
“I’m not asking for a commitment, Emily. Just a chance.”
“I thought you loved your job.”
“The HRT has been great. But I always knew it wouldn’t last forever. I found out not long ago that Coop’s leaving in a few weeks. And much as I hate to admit it, I’m getting a little old for the rigors of the job. I’d be moving on anyway in a year or two. Coop’s decision may have pushed me to consider it sooner rather than later, but it was coming. And after running into you again, I have an added reason to give Steve’s offer serious consideration.”
“What would you do here?”
“I’d be on the reactive squad, and I’d head up the SWAT team.”
Another dicey job, she reflected in dismay.
As if reading her mind, he gave her a measured look. “It’s not as dangerous as the HRT.”
His comment jolted her. She’d known the HRT was a high-risk job; apparently it was more perilous than she’d ever imagined.
She also heard his unspoken message: while he was trading down on the risk scale, risk remained.
More of it than she felt capable of handling.
“With my background, there are very few jobs that would be risk-free, Em.” His quiet voice held a hint of apology . . . and regret.
“I know.”
“That’s the problem, isn’t it?”
Since he’d been honest with her, she decided she owed him the same in return. “Yes. When I lost Grant, I came close to losing myself. I might have, if Maria and Evelyn hadn’t helped me pick up the pieces, and if I hadn’t had my faith to cling to. I survived, but I wouldn’t want to travel that road again.”
“Loss is part of life, Emily. Whether it happens unexpectedly, as it did with Grant, or later in life, with disease or old age. It’s inevitable. The best we can do is consider each day a gift and embrace it fully. Otherwise, we exist rather than live.”
Once again, moisture clouded her vision. He was right, and she knew it. But she wasn’t yet ready to accept what that implied. “I need some time to sort things out, Mark.”
“I understand. I don’t have to give Steve an answer until I leave.”
“So I get two whole weeks to figure this out?”
“Other jobs in St. Louis will come along down the road if I pass on this one.”
“Not as well suited to your skills.”
“We don’t know that. Whatever is supposed to happen, will happen.” He picked up their empty ice cream containers and deposited the cardboard cups in her trash can. After rinsing his hands at the sink, he rejoined her. “Let’s switch gears. I have some news.”
“Good, I hope.”
“Helpful, anyway. A man who lives near the church where the shooter parked spotted the car leaving. We got a good description and one digit of the license number, thanks to his observant eight-year-old son. We’re pulling the registrations that match for a hundred-mile radius.”
“How many cars are we talking about?”
“Hard to say. It’s a common color and a popular car. But the odds are our shooter is on the list somewhere. We’ll track down every registration if we have to.” He folded his hands on the table and gave her an appraising look. “Coop thinks you’re feeling smothered by our escort service.”
“A little.” His changes of subject were beginning to throw her off balance.
“Okay. You know the drill. Vary your routine, as well as your arrival and departure at the office. Don’t wander into secluded places. Avoid going out at night. Call if there’s the slightest indication of trouble. If you promise me you’ll follow those rules, we’ll ease up on the security. But I’d like you to have an escort to the radio station. It’s a predictable time and place, plus it’s dark when you leave.”
“Okay. That sounds sensible.”
“All of this, however, does not mean I intend to stop seeing you. Unless you tell me to back off.”
She’d known he’d get back to personal issues.
It would be safer if she did tell him to keep his distance, Emily knew. But also lonelier. Mark’s reappearance in her world had forced her to acknowledge how much she missed the sharing and laughter and closeness of having someone special in her life.
For five years, she’d shoved those memories, and the needs they awakened, to a far corner of her heart where she could pretend they didn’t exist.
But the pretending was over, thanks to the man sitting across from her.
Her gaze fell on the blinds at her windows, and she was struck by the symbolism. As Nick had closed the blinds to protect her from physical danger, she had shuttered her heart to protect herself from emotional peril. And just as she yearned to open the blinds and let the warmth of the sunlight fill her condo, so, too, did her heart yearn for the healing touch of love.
One of these days, the physical danger would be past and she could let the sunlight back in to her home. But if she let Mark get too close, the emotional danger would never go away. Closing her eyes, she drew a shuddering, uncertain breath.
When the silence lengthened, Mark took her hand in a warm clasp. “Do you want to sleep on it?”
Did she? As Emily opened her eyes and looked down at his long, lean fingers, gentle yet strong, she suddenly couldn’t imagine letting Mark walk out of her life again. Whatever her future held, she sensed this man was part of it. In what exact capacity, she wasn’t certain. But as he’d reminded her, he wasn’t proposing. He was simply asking her to give their relationship a chance. To let him continue to see her. She didn’t need to sleep on it to know she wanted that as much as he did. Whatever the risk.
“I don’t want you to back off. But I can’t give you any promises, either.”
Her reward was a smile that warmed her all the way to her toes. “I’m not asking for any, Em. For now, seeing you is enough.”
He checked his watch and stood, tugging her to her feet. “Coop’s waiting. I need to go.”
“He’s been outside all this time?”
“Yes. He’s talking to Monica on his BlackBerry. And he prefers your porch to Nick’s construction site any day.”
She walked with him to the door, where he turned and pulled her into the circle of his arms. “When I said seeing you was enough, I hope you understood it includes this.”
Once more he bent to claim her lips in a lingering kiss.
“Sleep well,” he murmured, drawing back just enough so his warm breath whispered at her lips as he spoke the words. And then, with a smile and a touch to her cheek, he was gone.
Emily watched through the peephole as Coop materialized out of the shadows and fell into step beside Mark. And as she pressed her fingers against lips that continued to tingle from his touch, his strategy became clear.
He figured if he hung around a lot and gave her enough of those amazing kisses, he’d wear down her defenses.
And she had to admit his plan was already starting to work.