Matthew beat Riley to the driver’s side and sat behind the wheel of the ’65 Chevy Caprice. A car buff for many years, he’d admired this car and had wanted to drive it.
“If you’re tired, I’m more than happy to take a turn,” Riley said, getting in the passenger side.
“One thing you should understand about me: I love vintage cars, especially ones that have been taken care of. I’ll drive to Missoula, then you can take over.” But he also had an ulterior motive. He wanted her to get all the rest she could. He’d noticed she kept rubbing the middle of her chest when she didn’t think he saw. Maybe if she could fall asleep, her pain would lessen.
As he pulled onto the freeway headed east, he searched the flood of vehicles around them for a black Range Rover and didn’t see one. Riley handed food to the kids in the back. He noticed that she checked out the rear window for Syman’s vehicle as well. Finally, she seemed to relax in her seat.
She peeled down the wrapper on his burger and handed it to him. With all that had been going on, he felt ravenous. He took a big bite. A burst of sweet onion, garlic, cheese, and ground-sirloin deliciousness filled his mouth. His friend knew how to cook the most flavor into his juicy burgers. Riley settled down to eat hers. Everyone had grown quiet as they made short work of Lucky’s food. Matthew especially enjoyed his friend’s trademark fries, sprinkled not only with salt but with Cajun spice as well.
When he finished, he handed Riley his wrappers, and she stuffed them in the large brown bag she’d kept for garbage. He took a long drink of his Dr. Pepper, hoping the caffeine would help keep him awake. Periodically he saw Riley look out the rear window.
“Think the police issued an all-points-bulletin on us?” he asked softly, not wanting to worry the kids in the back seat.
“Probably. And since Tony hasn’t heard from us, the FBI probably sent a BOLO across the wire.”
“BOLO?”
“Yes, be-on-the-lookout.” She pressed her hand to her stomach. “The only good thing is we’re in a different car. Do you have any antacid tablets?”
“No. You okay?”
“Yes, I guess. I ate too much spicy food. And I hate long road trips.” She drew a deep breath. “Two days ago, we’d just finished one from LA to Agate Island, thinking all would be well. I never dreamed that within forty-eight hours I’d be stuck in a car again.”
“Well, at least we have a plan, Sacagawea.” He winked at her, hoping to see her smile.
“Hey, it took two men to keep up with her.” She chuckled. “And she guided them safely to the ocean.”
“I know.” He smiled. “That’s why I’m doing what you say from here on out.”
“Are you making fun of me?” She squinted at him.
“No, I just wanted you to know you’re in charge.” He saluted her.
“Knock that off. If Jeremiah saw you, he’d mimic, and I don’t need the hassle.” Riley glanced behind her as though hopeful she hadn’t been overheard.
Matthew checked the rearview mirror. The kids were deep in conversation, their heads together. “They’re too busy talking and eating the rest of the fries.”
“I can well imagine the horror stories he’s telling her about his neglectful mother. At least Aleksa stuck up for me at Lucky’s, so maybe they’re talking about something else.” She fell silent, like she was listening more closely to the conversation behind them. Riley leaned nearer to him. “I heard words like spring line, dress design, and Paris. Is Aleksa into fashion?”
“Big time. She inherited my artistic passion, except instead of painting portraits, she sketches clothes. Does a darn good job too.” He glanced at Riley, and for a second, he saw a flash of envy in her dark coffee-brown—no, they were more like rich, dark-chocolate—eyes.
“Well, if she has half your talent, she’ll be successful. Lucky told me you painted that portrait of his mother.”
“I seem to do my best work after someone dies. I had just finished a portrait of my wife for Aleksa when I did that one of Lucky’s mother.” Those two portraits were the hardest ones he’d ever done. He tried to capture love with oil on canvas by having his subjects do something they enjoyed. With Lorraine, he’d painted her holding Aleksa on her lap in her favorite rocking chair. He’d mixed colors of ochre and white for the soft tendrils of Lorraine’s blonde hair that graced her shoulders as she held her cherished child. Nearly broke his heart, but remembering his wife this way had been better than remembering the accident.
Lucky’s mother had been much easier to paint. He’d always admired the woman’s hands. He’d noticed them when he’d visited Lucky and how her touch conveyed her feelings. Knowing her to be a spiritual woman, painting her praying seemed natural.
“That must have been hard painting a portrait of your wife.” Though she spoke to him, Riley sounded caught up in remembrances of her own.
“You know how some people write their feelings about lost loved ones to help them heal?” He glanced at her.
She nodded.
“Painting does that for me.”
She remained quiet.
He thought she might be thinking of her late husband. Had she been able to come to terms with his death? Maybe arresting bad men helped her like painting had helped him. “Did bringing my father to justice help you deal with your grief?”
“Why would you ask such a thing?” She glared at him.
“Because he killed your husband.” He didn’t mean to upset her.
“Look, no matter who it is or why, it’s never easy to kill another person.” Her words hung in the air between them.
He thought of the man he’d killed at Riley’s house. “Yeah, but whatever regret I had about killing that thug at your place, the relief I felt that I hadn’t shot you replaced it.” This paralleled with what she’d been through at the lodge. “What about Ivan? He was threatening your son. You couldn’t have been too sad about shooting him. And the same thing with my father. He had taken your husband’s life.”
She seemed to think over his comment. “Was I glad your father was no longer a threat to my son and me? Yes. But I’d rather he’d rotted in jail. As for the man who held a gun to my son’s head, it was either him or Jeremiah or you or Aleksa. Even so, that man will never see his family again; he’ll never have a chance to right the wrongs he’s committed.”
“True. But in both of our cases, we had no choice.” Deep down, he understood her point. He would never forget that he’d killed someone. A scar had been created that would always be with him.
“Maybe.” She leaned toward him. “As you can tell, I’m still dealing with a lot of baggage. I wish bringing your father to justice had helped me come to terms with my husband’s death. But it didn’t. I wish I could write about James or even paint his picture, but instead, all I seem to do is relive the moment he died. Over and over.” She straightened. “His death was my fault,” she murmured. “No amount of writing or painting can change that.”
To think that his father had brought such pain to this woman filled Matthew with unexpected guilt and remorse, but above all, compassion.
Riley turned back to him. “Why did you choose to paint Lucky’s mother praying?”
“She was a very religious woman.”
“Who believed life is like a snake,” she added.
“Yes, she did.” He chuckled. “She told me that story several times. But she also believed evil could be conquered if one had faith in God’s help. That’s why I painted her in that pose.”
“I’m going to have to lean on your faith for God’s help in capturing your brother,” she said in a deadpan voice.
“No problem. I’m not into organized religion, but I do believe in God.” He said it with conviction. He wondered if she believed in a superior Being. Didn’t sound like it.
“Well, good luck with that. It’s been my experience that if there is a God, He’s very selective in whom He helps. And I’m not on His short list.” She yawned heavily.
Matthew wished he could tell her she was wrong. Granted, she and her son had been through a great deal, but that didn’t mean God wasn’t watching over them. The fact that she and her son were still alive proved that.
Taking his eyes from the road for a second to make his case with her, he found she had drifted off. Long, soft, auburn hair graced the side of her creamy face and fell over her shoulder. To paint her hair, he’d mix burnt sienna with a little venetian red. Her skin . . . Thoughts of color drifted away as he saw that the worry lines on her forehead had disappeared; fine brows were smooth and not furrowed. Her words echoed through his mind. His death was my fault. Matthew wished he could find a way to give her peace and prayed they both would find solutions to their trouble in LA.
* * *
“Riley, wake up.” Matthew’s touch on her hand brought her to a sitting position.
Stunned that she’d drifted off, she blinked blurry-eyed, trying to focus. “What time is it?”
“Close to six.”
“Six! In the evening?” She frantically scanned their surroundings. They were at a fast-food restaurant. She searched for anything or anyone suspicious but saw families eating at picnic tables and people parking their cars and going in with kids trailing behind. Nothing of great concern.
She glanced in the back seat and found Jeremiah and Aleksa staring at her. Her son had a you’re-embarrassing-me expression while Aleksa smiled at her without animosity. How nice would it be to have her teenage son smile like that just once? She might never know.
Her job was to keep them safe, and she’d dozed off. Embarrassed, she said to Matthew, “Why did you let me sleep so long?”
“You needed the rest. And you looked so peaceful. But we’re all hungry and needed a pit stop, so I woke you.” Matthew and the kids bailed out before she could warn them to be inconspicuous. No matter. After all they’d been through, they knew.
Once they’d freshened up and bought food, they were back on the road again. This time Riley took the wheel. As the sun set, silence reigned in the car. Everyone but Riley had fallen asleep, which was fine with her.
She wanted to think about everything that had happened. From the moment she’d first seen Matthew, her world had been hurtled into a free-fall she couldn’t stop. Like dominos, one crisis after another had befallen them. Her thoughts went from Sheriff Campbell to the librarian to the dispatcher at the sheriff’s to the curator at Matthew’s gallery. One of them had to be the mole. Even the night harbormaster could have told Hadeon’s men something.
But until she had more facts, she couldn’t pin guilt on one person. Maybe her net of inquiry had been too small. Maybe she needed to take a step away and look at the broad picture, go even further back than when she’d arrived on the island. She needed to question events that had happened years ago that hadn’t seemed pertinent before.
Old cases, maybe? Was there one person common to it all? And if so, who?
After several hours, night closed in dark and thick on the meandering road she now drove.
“You okay?” Matthew’s voice startled her.
“Sure. I’m glad you got some rest.”
He stretched and checked the back seat. “Those two are sound asleep.”
“Good.” With the kids sleeping, Riley had a chance to get Matthew’s input. “I’ve been trying to figure out who could be the mole on the island.”
“Any luck?”
“Not really.” She remembered the idea to broaden her scope. “Why don’t you tell me what was going on in your life before Lorraine died? I mean, did your mother like her?”
“Are you implying that my mom may have had something to do with my wife’s death?” A sternness she’d never heard before rang in his voice.
“No, of course not. I merely wondered if they got along.” She couldn’t help but notice the topic of Matthew’s mother seemed to be a touchy subject. But he was right. She had been suspicious about his mother and her loyalties. After all, in all her research on Petruso, she’d never come across Matthew or his mother.
“My mother loved Lorraine. In fact, when my wife died, I thought I might lose my mother too; she was so sad and convinced that my father had had something to do with the accident. Because she worried so, I hired a private detective to investigate what happened. I’ve used him several times since. He checks on Mom and makes sure we’re not being tracked. He must have stumbled onto something though, because I called to ask him to check out why you had moved to the island and learned he’d been in an accident and was in the hospital.”
“And you’re just telling me about him now?”
“Things have been a bit hectic, what with running for our lives and all. But I’ll bet it was no accident that put him in the hospital—more likely Hadeon’s men. Finn had probably been checking on my mom and . . . who knows?”
“When we reach LA, I’ll have someone in the Bureau find out what’s going on with him.” Riley had to keep Matthew talking. Learning his mother had been suspicious of the boating accident made Riley wish she could speak with her as well. But she had the next best person: Matthew. “Tell me more about your mother.”
“Before meeting my father, she had been a model. Successful too. Some people believe youth make the best models. And my mother was stunning when she was young, but I think she grew even more beautiful with age. In fact, I just finished a portrait of her in my studio.” A sudden swell of emotion seemed to overtake him. He fought it off, putting his index finger and thumb to the corners of his eyes. “I planned to give it to her for her birthday next month.”
Riley’s thoughts went back to when she’d dashed through the studio and seen the portrait of an older woman. “Does she kind of look like Judi Dench?”
“I guess she does. Or did.” He breathed deeply. “I know she’s dead. It kills me that I can’t go to her.”
The bluish light from the dashboard reflected on his handsome features, and with the connection to the portrait she’d seen, Riley now saw similarities to his mother. Though he looked an awful lot like Petruso, what made him attractive were his eyes, which reminded her of the ones she’d seen in the portrait. Even though Riley had only seen her portrait in passing, she remembered the way the woman seemed to gaze out of the picture like she saw the person standing before her.
Turning her attention back to the road, Riley decided to let the subject of his mother rest.
As she drove into Gilmore, shadows of abandoned and derelict buildings that had been in their prime well over a hundred years ago loomed in the distance. Rabbits occasionally dodged in front of the car, causing Riley to brake. She hoped the sudden stops wouldn’t wake the kids.
Down the road a couple miles, the Caprice’s headlights shone on a small wooden sign hanging on a barbed-wire fence. Dena’s property. If Riley hadn’t known it was there, she’d have missed it.
As Riley braked to turn, Matthew peered at the darkness. “We’re here?”
She nodded. “Kids still asleep?”
“Yeah.”
She drove down the gravel road, coming closer to her friend’s home, a double-wide trailer. Alarming dog barks of Dena’s border collie, Peanut, awakened Jeremiah and Aleksa. A motion-sensor light flipped on as the dog charged the car. The front door to the house opened, and out stormed Dena, brandishing a shotgun aimed straight at them. Atop her head rested a straw cowboy hat that had seen better days.
“What the—?” Matthew peered at the short woman who looked like an Annie Oakley wannabe. “Didn’t you call her from Lucky’s and tell her we were coming?”
“Yes. She’s cautious is all. That’s a good thing.” Riley stopped the car and set the park brake. Jeremiah scrambled out, greeting the dog in the beam of the car’s headlights. The fierce animal turned into a whirling bundle of joyous wags and yips. Upon seeing Jeremiah, Dena leaned her shotgun against the house.
Aleksa got out as though eager to join the fun as the dog and boy tumbled on the grass, playing. Dena walked over and pulled Jeremiah to his feet, giving him a bear hug. They talked for a moment, and Jeremiah pointed to Aleksa like he was introducing them, but the girl kept her distance from the woman. Dena gave the young woman space and turned, waving at Riley as she approached the car.
Riley turned off the headlights just as Dena wrenched open the driver’s door and pulled her out, hugging her. Riley caught a whiff of coffee on her friend’s breath.
“For Pete’s sake, it’s good to see you! Been worried sick since your call. Have any trouble?”
“No, not since leaving Enumclaw. Dodged some kamikaze rabbits on the road, but other than that, we’re fine. Drove straight here. Sorry it’s the middle of the night.” Riley gave her friend a squeeze. “Are you okay?”
“Heck yeah.” She stepped back, wiping her mouth. “Rheumatism been acting up is all.”
Matthew had gotten out and walked around the car to greet her.
“This is Matthew Taggart.” Riley moved aside.
“It’s uncanny how much he looks like you-know-who.” Dena stared at him in the glow of the porch light; her mouth opened like she’d seen a ghost.
“I know.” Riley had given Dena pictures of Petruso years ago when she’d left Jeremiah in her care. “But he’s not. He’s his son. And he’s not anything like his father.”
“You’re safe here.” Dena gave him a happy-to-meet-you nod. “You two ought to rest a couple hours before hitting the trail again. By the looks of ya, a little shut-eye would do you good.”
“We’ve taken cat naps in the car, but I’d love a shower.” Riley’s clothes stuck to her. She’d been doused with ocean waves and wedged in vehicles the whole day. She wanted to get rid of the grimy feeling on her skin.
“By all means, yes. Come on in.” Dena herded them toward the door.
“We need to grab our things.” Matthew went to the trunk, a good sign that he would trust Riley’s judgment regarding Dena. He retrieved the duffle and Aleksa’s pack. The kids came over, and they followed Dena and Riley to the door, the dog competing for attention with each step.
“Me and Peanut just returned from changing the irrigation water. It’s my week, and I’d rather be hog-tied than let my neighbor cheat me out of my turn. That old codger sneaks over and steals my time in the middle of the night if I don’t watch him, doesn’t he, Jeremiah?” She grabbed her shotgun leaning against the house and wiped her boots on the tire-tread welcome mat before guiding them in.
Jeremiah kept pace with the woman he admired. “Yeah. But we know how to best him.”
“How’s that?” Matthew glanced around the living room, where two long couches made an L facing a big-screen TV.
Dena took them through to the kitchen/dining area. Reloading equipment and bullet shells littered the table next to a past-its-prime dried flower arrangement.
“Dee leaves Brutus, her horse, in the field that the man has to cross to reach the headgate. That horse charges anyone who tries to enter the pasture, except for Dee and me. He’s better than a watchdog.”
“Never underestimate the value of an ornery horse.” Dena winked at Matthew. He gave a tepid smile, like he was trying to figure out some hidden meaning in her words.
“I must say your daughter is a pretty thing,” Dena said. She reached to give Aleksa a squeeze but seemed to realize the girl felt uncomfortable with a stranger being so close. Instead Dena carefully took the girl’s hands and looked into her eyes. “Been through a rat’s nest of trouble, haven’t you, sweetie?”
Aleksa’s brows bunched together, and Riley thought for a moment that the girl might break down and cry.
“Don’t you worry none.” Dena smoothed a blonde hair away from Aleksa’s face behind the girl’s ear, and patted her flushed cheek. “You’ll be safe here with me and Peanut and Jeremiah. We won’t let no harm come to you.” Dena gazed over the girl’s head at Matthew as if her message had been meant for him as much as Aleksa.
Riley watched as an understanding arched between them. Dena conveyed the message that she’d stake her last breath on keeping his daughter safe. In that instant, a tentative warmth kindled in Matthew’s eyes.
Sure, Dena reloaded bullets, greeted people with a shotgun, and appeared more than a little rough around the edges, but she would lay down her life to protect the kids. Riley knew this because of how much Dena had lost during her lifetime: her home, her son, and nearly her soul. All because of a bad man she had once loved and trusted. But the woman had learned and turned her life around.
“Down that hall are two bedrooms. Each of the kids can pick a room of their own. Whichever one they want.” She winked at Jeremiah and Aleksa. They took off to stake their claims.
Dena turned to Riley and Matthew. “Shower’s down the hall to your right. I know you want to get on the road again, but you two can bed down on the sofas here in the TV room and catch some shut-eye before heading on. Sleeping on a couch a few winks sure beats sleeping sitting up in a car. It will do you good. I already set some pillows and blankets out for you. If you want, I’ll wake you before dawn when I go check the water again.” Dena yawned.
Riley glanced at Matthew, who shrugged like the decision landed in her court. “That would be great,” she said.
“All righty, then. See you folks in a few hours.” Dena went to her room with Peanut at her heels.
Riley and Matthew took turns in the shower. To save time, both opted to dress in the clothes they’d planned to wear on the trip. Besides, they weren’t getting in beds, just napping on couches.
Riley brushed her hair as dry as she could before lying down. Every muscle in her body felt sore and achy.
Matthew had already bedded down. She grabbed a pillow, shook out the blanket, and lay on the other couch. Even though bone tired, she couldn’t sleep. She flipped from one side to the other, but all she could see when she closed her eyes was Ivan holding a gun to Jeremiah’s head or Matthew aiming the Beretta at her with Race waiting for him to kill her; then there was the nightmare of the storm-tossed ocean.
“You okay?” Matthew’s deep, soothing voice came to her through the darkness.
“Can’t sleep is all.” She gazed at the couch where he lay, wishing she could curl up next to him. James’s face came to mind. Whenever she had a hard time sleeping, James would spoon her to his body, and she’d always drifted off.
What was she thinking? Matthew wasn’t James. Never would be. Oh, how she missed her husband’s comforting arms.
“Maybe you’ve been on the road so much you need the lullaby of humming tires to nod off.”
“Maybe.” Riley halfheartedly chuckled.
“What’s wrong?” He sounded like he truly cared.
“I keep seeing everything we’ve been through.”
She heard his sofa moan as he moved. In the shadows, she saw him roll to his side and rise on his elbow, his head on his hand. “Me too.”
“What do you think Hadeon is doing right now?” She surprised herself by asking. The question seemed to come out of the blue, and yet it didn’t.
“Don’t have a clue. You probably know more about the criminal mind than I do.”
Riley sat up, pulling the blanket with her. While in the FBI, she’d been trained to troubleshoot in order to stay one step ahead of her prey. “I used to. But after Petruso killed James, I couldn’t function like I had before. I’d never dealt with anyone like your father. He didn’t do anything in a logical way like other criminals. His moves and motives were a mystery.”
“Let’s talk about something other than him. What was your husband like?”
Matthew was attempting to sidetrack her into thinking of a happier time, into not dwelling on the ugliness of her past. “He was very methodical. Heavy into computer programming and could do the impossible.”
“Like what?”
“Well, he graduated at the top of his class from MIT and learned how to hack a computer without breaking a sweat. His clearance at the FBI was higher than mine.”
“Really?”
“Yes. Because of James’s savvy on the computer, the FBI tracked down your dad. Petruso hated him. That’s why he put out a contract on him.”
Matthew sat up. “But I thought my father killed him.”
“He did. When the FBI first learned of the contract, they told James to lie low for a while. I took a leave of absence. Chief Armstrong offered us the use of his cabin in Mammoth. We even took Jeremiah out of school and were there maybe a week when one of Petruso’s men took a shot at James but missed.”
Memories of standing on the bank of the lake flashed into her mind, the water sparkling like thousands of diamonds. Then shots rang out. “I tackled James to the ground, dug out my cell phone, and called for help. We had left Jeremiah alone in the cabin, playing video games. We were desperate to make sure he was all right; we ran from brush to trees until we reached the building. We found him oblivious to any danger because he had his headphones on. Fortunately, about that time, an FBI chopper did a flyover.
“After that episode, James decided he was just as safe at home as away, so we returned to LA. We tried to live our lives as normally as a special agent would let her husband. I felt protective of him. After months with nothing happening, we all eased up. That’s when Petruso nabbed us both.” The star-filled night was still vivid in her mind. “We’d gone out for our anniversary.” As she spoke, she relived it.
“We went out to dinner and were heading to our car.” Riley remembered snuggling up to James’s arm as they walked. He looked so handsome in his navy-blue sports jacket and tan slacks. His hair combed away from his forehead made his manly face even more attractive.
Her rosy-colored sleeveless chiffon maxi dress swirled around her legs, making her feel more feminine than she had in months. Sea-scent spiced the warm air that played over her arms and legs, easing her into a false sense of security. “That was the first night in a long, long time that we’d gone out without Jeremiah, worried that if we left him home, something might happen to him. And even though my guard was lowered, I carried my service weapon in a thigh holster under my dress.
“All at once, two of Petruso’s goons grabbed us from behind, patted us down, and found my gun. Then they shoved us into a Mercedes-Benz van that had sped up to the curb. We landed at Petruso’s feet.” She took a deep breath, staving off the sudden chill that had befallen her.
“As I sat up, I took note of how many were in the car. To the right of Petruso sat a large man, another was behind him, and a third drove the vehicle. The guy at Petruso’s side still held my weapon. Petruso glowered down on us and said, ‘If you want a job done right, do it yourself and when least expected.’ He then pulled out his signature gun, a Ruger with a silent-SR suppressor, and placed it against James’s head. I knew there would be no more talking, no time for pleading. Without a weapon, I could do nothing, but despite the odds against me, I tried to reason with him and warned him that if he killed James, every agent in the Bureau would put him on their kill list. But that had no effect.” She couldn’t go on. Couldn’t relive it again.
“Then he just shot James without saying anything to you, didn’t he?” Matthew’s voice held a knowing tone, and he slowly shook his head. “That’s how he worked, or so I’ve heard.”
“Yes, but that doesn’t seem right. There’s something more.” She forced her memory to delve deeper. “In the past, I haven’t recalled anything else about that moment. But . . . ” The haziness that had plagued her before started to lift. “James stared at me, fear in his eyes.” She rubbed her throbbing temple. “Petruso did say something. I begged and begged him, saying James couldn’t help that his computer trail led to him. Petruso looked at me like I was crazy and said, ‘You still think this is about a computer trail?’ Then he just up and squeezed the trigger as if his words and actions were one fluid motion.”
The horror of retelling the act threatened to overwhelm her. Her head pounded. The pain in her chest burned anew.
“How did you get away?” Matthew stood and walked to her couch to sit next to her.
“Petruso raised his gun to shoot me next. With nothing to lose, I leaped on him like a wild woman and wrestled him for his gun, but his finger pressed the trigger. Bullets sprayed the inside of the van. His men were dodging shots and trying to nab me at the same time, but I managed to wrench Petruso’s arm hard behind him. I think I broke it before I snatched the weapon from him. I should have killed him right then and there, but James moaned.
“I aimed the gun at Petruso and told his driver to take us to Cedars Sinai Hospital. That was the longest ride of my life. When the driver finally pulled up to the ER, a team of paramedics was already unloading an ambulance, and as luck would have it, a police car happened to be there. As I reached to open the sliding door to yell for help, one of Petruso’s men pushed me and James out onto the ground. And then the van sped off. The police gave chase, but Petruso got away. I don’t know why his men didn’t shoot me. Maybe because the police were there or because they were worried about their boss. Guess I lucked out.” Riley remembered landing on the pavement, scraping her palms and knees, tearing her dress. James’s body lay beside her. She pulled him to her, refusing to let him go.
Taking a deep breath as she willed the scene from her mind, she recalled what Petruso had said. “Why do you suppose your father said, ‘You still think this is about a computer trail’? What did he mean? And why didn’t I remember him saying that until now?”
Matthew didn’t touch her, just sat next to her, comforting her with his presence. “Beats me, but don’t stress over it. You probably forgot it because it meant nothing compared to seeing your husband murdered in front of you. But we’ll add those questions to the list of things to find out once we reach LA. And once we hunt down and capture Hadeon. He knows. So let’s not dwell on it. Instead, tell me about the first time you met James.”
Though disturbed by her lack of memory and not understanding what she was remembering, she knew Matthew was right. She couldn’t dwell on it but needed to think of something more pleasant. She could do that. “I’d been working in the LA office for a couple months and having computer trouble. Well, not exactly trouble. See, I spilled a diet cola on my keyboard and panicked that my boss would find out. He had a strict rule to never eat or drink at your desk. I took it to the IT department, and guess who helped me?” She suddenly felt drained.
“James.”
“Yes, my James.” As she relaxed, she envisioned his crooked little smile when he’d taken the keyboard from her. “He never let me live that down.” Riley yawned.
“Did he fix the keyboard?”
Riley’s eyelids had grown heavy. “No, but he got me a new one, and it only cost me a kiss.”
Matthew got up, laid her back on her pillow, and covered her with the blanket. “Remember that kiss, and get some sleep.”
* * *
When Dena awakened Riley, it was dark outside. “Coffee’s hot. Thought you might want a cup before heading out,” her friend whispered, then disappeared into the kitchen, where light spilled from.
Riley rose and folded the blanket, fighting aching muscles she’d overused yesterday. She checked her watch in the dim light coming from the kitchen: 4:00 a.m. Her eyes trailed to Matthew, who still slept. Glad to have a few moments alone with Dena, Riley tiptoed to follow her friend.
Dena rested on a barstool, two cups on the counter before her. She slid one toward Riley. “This should open those pretty brown eyes of yours.”
Riley sat next to her friend, taking a sip of her fragrant brew. “Hmmm, good.”
“I don’t want you worrying about those kids. I’ll take good care of them.” Dena gave her the hope-to-die, Scout’s honor sign, crossing her heart and holding up her hand. Something they did years before when Riley had helped Dena recover from her troubled life.
Riley smiled. “I believe you.”
“So, what the heck is going on? You told me a little when you called, and now that I’ve actually seen who you’re with, I have to say I’m more than a little concerned about you.” Dena rubbed the rim of her coffee mug with her index finger, something Riley knew she always did when she tried her best to understand something.
The worry lines on the woman’s face increased as Riley filled her in. “This doesn’t make me feel any better, except at least I know he’s on your side. And his daughter. Oh my criminey, she’s a darn pretty young woman. The guy has to be out of his mind with worry over her.”
“Yes, he is. We are both worried about the kids. And you’re the only person I know who could help keep them safe until we figure out how to stop Hadeon. I called Tony when we reached the harbor in Anacortes, but when we got to the FBI office in Evergreen and saw Hadeon’s men there, we knew we were in more trouble than we first thought. Please don’t trust anyone, no matter who they are or what they say unless you’ve heard from me first.”
“You’ve got it. After what I’ve been through, you know I’m extra careful, especially when people start poking around my place.” Dena kept a shotgun on a rack by the front door and another one by the back door.
“I know.” Riley placed her hand on top of her friend’s.
“I’ll keep them occupied helping me.” Dena took a sip of coffee. “I want to move the chicken coop, build a woodshed, and also do another shed for storage. They’ll be too busy to worry about their folks.” Dena refilled her mug and offered to refill Riley’s.
She placed her hand over her cup. “I’m fine. Matthew and I need to get going.” She slid off her stool to go wake him, but he met her between the TV room and kitchen.
“You okay?” His dark eyes were puffy from lack of sleep.
She was surprised he seemed concerned about her until she remembered how he’d sat with her and listened to her gruesome story of James’s death. She didn’t ordinarily open up to people she didn’t know very well, but after what she and Matthew had been through, they knew each other better than most people who had spent years together. Running for her life with him had melted away ordinary caution. “I’m fine.”
“Good. Before we go, I want to say goodbye to Aleksa.”
“Think that’s a good thing?” Dena asked as she raised the coffee pot to Matthew.
He shook his head to the coffee and said to Riley, “She’d never forgive me if I left without saying goodbye.”
Riley didn’t think Jeremiah would care, but she wanted to see her son one last time before leaving, so she followed Matthew down the hallway. He poked his head into the room on the left. “Jeremiah’s in here.” He crossed to the other room and disappeared inside.
As Riley entered the dark room, she heard her son’s deep, slumbering breaths. A night light cast a dim glow over his bed. His tousled hair peeked from beneath the covers. He always slept with blankets over his face, a habit he’d kept since childhood. She wanted to promise her son everything would be all right, and when she returned to pick him up, they would have the life she’d promised. But she’d done that once before when she’d left him here while she’d hunted down Petruso. She didn’t have the stomach for it again. Besides, Jeremiah wouldn’t buy it.
She leaned over and smoothed his hair. “I love you,” she whispered. She turned to leave and saw Matthew standing in the doorway.
Embarrassed and not wanting to explain why she hadn’t awakened her son, she slipped past Matthew and closed the bedroom door. Without looking behind, she headed for the kitchen to say goodbye to Dena. They had to get to LA and take care of Hadeon before Riley lost the one person she loved most in the world. Her son.