“No, you’re not.” Myles’s voice brooked no argument.
Kenzie planted her feet and stared directly into his eyes. “I’m going with you, and that’s final. It’s my life on the line, so I’m going.”
“Well, it’ll be my neck if anything happens to you.”
She shrugged and looked as disinterested as she could.
Myles massaged the bridge of his nose and sighed loudly. “Listen, Kenzie, you can’t go traipsing across the state with me, trying to figure out who wants you dead and why. To start with, they have to believe you’re dead and that I’m out of the country, or they’ll never relax enough to get caught.”
She took a step toward him and was pleased with his slight recoil. “Myles, we’re going to do this together or not at all.”
“Not at all?” He grabbed his dark hair like he might rip it out by the roots. “You’re insane! You don’t get to make the decision on whether or not we—I mean, I—finish this assignment. I always complete my assignments. This won’t be my first failure just because you want to be difficult.”
“I’m not being difficult,” she said, keeping her tone as soft and even as she could. Maybe she should have eased him into this discussion and to the understanding that she would be joining him. After all, she’d already made the decision. It was final.
Pacify him. His face is getting red, really red. Just pacify him.
“Maybe you’re right. We should wait to make this decision until it has to be made. You’re in no shape to be moved.”
“Of course I’m right. Wait—but the decision has already been made. You’re not coming with me. Period. End of conversation.”
She smiled her sweetest smile. “Why don’t you get some more sleep, and we’ll talk when you get up.”
He yawned loudly then furrowed his brow. “You’re not coming. That’s all there is to it. Nothing else to discuss.”
“Get some rest and we’ll talk,” she said, smiling to herself.
Myles seemed unable to resist the sleep that once again claimed his body. He yawned again and mumbled something that she couldn’t understand as his eyes closed and his head tilted back onto the small pillow.
His nap bought her a little bit of time, but she needed to think fast. When he awoke, she needed to be ready to present a fail-proof argument, something better than her own need to join him. Somehow, she was sure that her gut feeling would not be enough to persuade him. What could she possibly say that would convince him that she must go with him?
God, is this feeling from You? I know that I need to go with Myles, and I think You have something in store for us. Show me how I can convince him that this is Your plan to help me get safely home.
She sat quietly listening, waiting for peace, for something that assured her that she was following God’s will.
When Myles finally woke hours later, Kenzie had her plan in place and the support from Lenora that she needed. While he had slept, Kenzie had explained as much as she could to the other woman.
“I knew he was up to something. But getting himself assigned to protect you from inside the prison? What a crazy scheme!” she said as she unpacked the brown paper bag filled with groceries. “My grandson is either a very brave man or a fool.”
Kenzie smiled. She definitely agreed he was one or the other. And if he didn’t take her with him to investigate, he was definitely the latter. After laying out her reasons for needing to go with him, Kenzie asked Lenora, “So, you see why I have to go, right?”
“Of course I do. But I won’t be able to convince him. You’ll have to do that on your own.”
“Oh, I will!” They remained silent for several moments before Kenzie could no longer contain the questions bombarding her mind. “How much did you know when Myles brought me to the cabin? Why didn’t you try to help me? I thought you didn’t care that I had been kidnapped. Why didn’t you tell me that Myles is a special agent?”
Lenora smiled, patting Kenzie’s shoulder affectionately. “Honey, I didn’t know anything about your situation except that I trust my grandson. Myles is a good man, trustworthy and caring. I knew he intended you no harm, and I figured he’d tell you he works for the FBI when the time was right. Would you have been ready to hear it when you first arrived here?”
“Absolutely.” Kenzie looked down at the thick socks on her feet. “Okay, maybe not right after we got here,” she conceded.
Lenora nodded knowingly. “Myles is a lot like my Myles, my husband. He was a take-charge man, and I see him every time Myles gets that unwavering look in his eyes. I trust my grandson with my life, and I would trust him with yours, as well. When he’s well enough to get out of that bed, he’ll do what he’s set out to do. He’ll finish this assignment, and he’ll keep you safe. After all, you already know he’s willing to risk his life for you.”
Kenzie swallowed thickly. She could barely manage to keep the burning at the back of her eyes from pouring tears down her cheeks. She wasn’t sure when she had become such an emotional mess, but everything had happened so fast that she could barely keep her emotions in check.
Lenora’s wrinkled hand squeezed hers. “You can trust him.”
“Thank you.”
Kenzie kept busy chatting with Lenora and helping her clean the little cabin as Myles napped into the evening. At almost ten o’clock, he groaned and turned to his left side, winced in his sleep, then rolled onto his back and groaned again. His eyes fluttered open then closed again.
While he was still half-asleep, Kenzie plopped down on the edge of the bed next to him and put her hands on his forearm.
“Myles,” she whispered. He grunted, glaring at her through eyelids open just a slit. “Myles, I have to go with you.”
“Nope. Don’t even think about it. I’m taking you to the safe house outside of Portland so that everyone will think that you’re dead, and I can go about figuring out who Whitestall was working for when he sent me after you.”
She wanted to stamp her foot. He was far too alert for having just woken up. Her argument needed to be more persuasive than she’d thought. What to do? What to say?
He tried to tug his arm free from her grasp, but she clung to him. Somewhere deep in her heart she knew that having a physical connection with him would increase her chances of changing his mind. As an added bonus, she felt safer, more protected when she touched him.
“But won’t you be recognized as an escaped prisoner?”
“I’ll figure someth—” He stifled another yawn—and compelled to copy him, Kenzie yawned widely, too. “I’ll figure it out.”
“But wouldn’t it be easier to have someone with you whose face isn’t all over the news?”
His eyebrows furrowed for a moment and the left side of his lips puckered. She was getting through to him. She just knew it. He was bound to understand her reasoning now. “Your face is probably in the news more than mine,” he said. “Haven’t you thought about how Mac will probably have your face plastered on every newscast, Internet site and milk carton across the country?”
Her jaw dropped. He was right. Why hadn’t she considered that her family would be frantic with worry? Mac and Nana would be taking time from the campaign trail to hunt for her. They would make public pleas to her kidnapper for her safe return, completely unaware that no harm would come to her as long as she stayed with Myles. She had not even considered how this scenario would impact the people in her life.
She pictured Mac sitting at his enormous wooden desk at the capital building in Salem: He runs his large hand over his gray hair and studies the notes on a legal pad sitting before him. A knock on the door, and a young, naive clerk, face drawn tight, enters the office. The poor kid tells Mac that his only grandchild, the only child of his son who died more than twenty years before, Mac’s own Kenzie, was kidnapped the previous night. Mac stands up so fast that his plush leather chair crashes to the floor, and he roars with anger. The poor clerk ducks his head and slips out the door.
Suddenly Kenzie let go of Myles’s arm and covered her mouth with both hands. She didn’t know whether to laugh or cry, and instead nearly choked on a hysterical sob. The entire crazy situation would make her lose her mind. She knew that look that she imagined on Mac’s face. And she was certain that the image of that poor clerk was close to the reality.
Myles looked more than confused at the noise she’d released. He reached out a hand and rested it on her shoulder, but she turned from him.
“Are you okay?” he asked.
She couldn’t respond through her emotional outburst.
“Kenzie. Talk to me. What’s going on?” The mattress shifted as he wiggled to a sitting position.
When she could finally compose herself, she looked into his steady blue eyes and said, “Don’t you understand how utterly crazy this entire situation is? My grandparents are probably frantic about my disappearance. I’m the only family they have left, and I’ve been kidnapped.
“I thought about leaving you—wounded—in the forest. But you saved my life, so I dragged you back to the cabin. Then you proceed to tell me that you’re really an FBI agent. But even though you’re a good guy—” she punctuated those two words with finger quotes in the air “—you’re going to stash me away in a safe house and not let me contact my grandparents, who are likely going insane with worry.”
He nodded stiffly.
“How am I supposed to react? It’s all so crazy. I can’t just sit back and do nothing while my family is worried to death about me. I have to do something to get us closer to the truth. Besides, you’re trying to find someone who’s after me. Wouldn’t I be your best resource to find whoever has a grudge against me?”
Myles rubbed his hand over his face, his lips puckered and a look of disgust settled into his features. “We’ve been over this. I can’t take you with me. It’s not safe for you and it could hamper my investigation.” He looked past her to Lenora, sitting in the rocking chair, knitting in front of the fire. “Grams, talk some sense into her. Please.”
“I’m staying out of this, boy.” She chuckled. “You two deserve each other.”
“Could you do nothing while your only family worried about you?” Kenzie jumped in.
“Well, no. But this is different. It’s my job to protect you.”
Sending up one more quick prayer for just the right words to convince this stubborn man, Kenzie took a deep breath. “You said that we need to figure out who is spooking Larry, right? Well, I have an idea of where to start looking for answers.”
“Where?”
“Not so fast. Promise me that I can go with you if you agree that it’s a good idea.”
“Fine!” Exasperation filled his voice.
A slow smile crept across her face. “Good. We start with Edna Whitestall.”
“Edna Whitestall?” One eyebrow arched as he continued gazing steadily into her eyes.
“Edna Whitestall.”
Kenzie hugged her arms tightly around her, slowly petting the soft cotton of her new shirt. While it was still technically a man’s shirt, at least it was clean and new and didn’t smell of mothballs. More importantly, it fit. In the it-still-made-her-look-like-a-man-but-that-was-the-idea sense of the word. She rubbed her nose into the navy blue collar and inhaled again.
She settled deeper into the front passenger seat of Lenora’s white four-door sedan. Lenora had insisted they take it when they left the cabin. The police would be looking for Kenzie’s car.
Kenzie was content for the moment in the parking lot of an Evergreen gas station. Except that Myles had been gone for more than four minutes. He’d promised to be back in five minutes, and she couldn’t help the way her knee bounced incessantly. It seemed to know the importance of Myles’s return.
A glance at her watch showed that he had exactly one minute left before she charged in after him.
Then a terrifying thought slammed into her mind. What if he left her? Or what if he had been caught?
All the money they had access to in the entire world was tucked into Myles’s back pocket. Myles had laughed at her as she flipped through the worn Bible at the cabin. It held not only a treasure trove of wisdom and hope, but cash, too. When all the bills were counted, they had exactly four hundred and seventy dollars. It was enough for both of them to get by on, until they figured out who benefited from her demise.
But not if Myles did not return.
She peeked again at the tiny, independent store he had walked into four minutes and thirty-two seconds before. If he did not return, she needed a course of action.
But if he didn’t return, would she ever be safe again? What if she was forced to spend her whole life looking over her shoulder? Never safe? Always on the run? No, that would be no way to live.
Just when she decided that she would see this ordeal through regardless of Myles’s return, the driver-side door popped open and Myles folded his long legs under the steering wheel and started the engine in one smooth motion. Four minutes and fifty-two seconds. Right on time.
He quirked a smile at her and tossed her a plain, gray baseball cap, men’s sunglasses and the daily newspaper.
“Well, let’s see then,” he rumbled.
“Oh!” She caught herself staring at his sleek T-shirt, also new, that hugged his chest and showed just enough of his sculpted bicep to tempt most women. It was a very good thing she was not most women.
Flipping her head forward, she tucked her hair beneath the cap then slid on the large sunglasses. “What do you think?”
He looked up from studying the single page in his hands and examined her carefully. “You look too…clean.” He rubbed his chin with his thumb and forefinger. “You’re missing a five o’clock shadow. Put some dirt on your face the next time we stop.”
She crossed her arms in front of her chest. It was not her fault she couldn’t grow a five o’clock shadow. Most women couldn’t.
In this case she was very thankful to fall into the category of most women.
“Did you steal that page from the phone book in the gas station?”
He shrugged. “I borrowed it.”
“Nice. Great example you’re setting for the youth of America.”
He snorted. “Youth of America, huh? And who exactly falls into the category? You?”
“Maybe not…but still! What happens when someone comes looking for the W page and it’s gone? You’re responsible for them not being able to find their friend.”
“I’m also responsible for us finding Whitestall’s mom.”
“Oh.” Not the world’s best comeback, but it was good news. He’d done what he set out to do, and now they would be able to track down Edna Whitestall.
“Let’s go meet Edna.” He jammed the car into gear and floored it out of the parking lot and into traffic.
Myles drove like he did almost everything, with utmost confidence and coolness, and Kenzie found herself drawing from his assurance. As he weaved through traffic, she sat with her hands in her lap, not grasping the door handle as was her usual custom when driving with overly confident men.
In no time at all, they arrived on a street lined with identical houses in varying shades of natural brown, each lawn perfectly manicured and ready for guests’, mailmen’s or the homeowners association’s inspection.
Kenzie looked down the street and her stomach sank.
“What’s wrong?” Myles asked, distracted by the house numbers painted on the curb.
He must be a mind reader.
To him she said, “My condo is about four blocks that way.” She pointed out her window. Home. It was so close. Her warm, comfortable bed. A phone from which she could call Mac and Nana.
“Well, put it out of your mind. That’s the first place they’ll look for us and the last place we need to be right now.”
Myles pulled the car to the side of the street and parked between two other nondescript vehicles. In a flash, his arm slammed across her, and he clamped onto her tiny hand holding the handle to open her door.
“Wait. First we recon.”
“Recon?”
“Reconnoiter. Survey. Explore. Scout. Investigate.”
“I know what it means. But why are we recon-ing—reconnaissance-ing—reconnoitering? We need to get to Edna right away. She’s got to help us figure out what’s going on.”
“First we make sure that we’re not going to accidentally bump into Guard Whitestall. Then we see what data Ms. Whitestall wants to share with us.”
“But won’t she recognize—”
“Get down,” Myles hissed, pushing her to the floorboard just in time to catch a glimpse of red and blue lights on top of a white sedan heading their way.
“What if they check the plates on Lenora’s car? They’ll know it’s your grandma and they’ll catch us!” If there was enough room between the seat and the dashboard, she would wring her hands.
Sitting as low as he could in the driver’s seat, Myles said, “Don’t worry. This car belongs to Lenora Borden, who is in no way related to the fictional Myles Parsons.”
“Oh.” Feeling like a squashed, rapidly blinking mushroom with back pain—do mushrooms have backs?—Kenzie elbowed her way out of the hiding place.
“Do you think the police officer recognized either of us?”
“No,” he said. His eyes still panned the street. “You okay?”
“Sure. Why?”
He laughed. “You look like an old lady.”
“I’m not old!”
“Sure. That’s why you’re rubbing your back. Because you’re practically a kid.”
“Practically,” she mumbled. Searching for an excuse to ignore him, she snatched up the newspaper and immediately recognized the shot taking up half of the page above the fold.
Myles noticed it, too. “Nice picture. You look good.”
Lord, please don’t let her start crying. I can’t handle that right now! I promised Grams that I would take care of her. That I wouldn’t let her get hurt, physically or emotionally. I could really use a helping hand here. Please. Myles pleaded silently. Kenzie’s eyes, stricken with something that looked like panic, never wavered from the page. His heart nosedived and he swallowed thickly, hating that she was hurting.
Please, oh, please let her keep that little crab shell she likes to put up. I know it’s a facade, but I really need her to keep it together until we can get to a place where we can get some rest.
When silence had reigned almost longer than Myles could tolerate, he ventured to break into her thoughts. “What does it say?”
She blinked owl eyes at him, then looked back down at the newsprint. “They’re pleading with you to return me, unharmed. Th-they will give you anything you want. Mac is offering a hundred-thousand-dollar reward for my safe return.”
“You know, for a hundred thousand dollars I could make a nice start in Mexico. You want to do it?”
Kenzie looked horrified. “Are you serious?”
“Why not? You’d be back with your family, and I’d have a hundred grand to spend on the Mexican beach, drinking little fruit smoothies out of coconuts with umbrellas in them.”
“But…but…someone’s trying to have me killed! And you just want to leave me? What about your job!”
He finally cracked a smile. “Oh, all right. I’ll stay. For my job, of course.”
“Jerk,” she said almost under her breath, but the smile creeping onto her face tattled the truth.
“Yes. I probably am. So…is there anything about me in there?”
She flipped through several pages, her brow wrinkling. “Here’s a little blurb about you on page five. How strange. They don’t even have a picture of you in here. It just says that authorities believe that you may have already fled the country, and that Royal Canadian Mounties are on high alert and have promised to extradite you if you’re discovered there.”
“Not even a picture? I’m wounded!”
They shared a chuckle at his double meaning, and Myles was inordinately happy that she shared his humor, able to laugh in such a difficult circumstance.
Eventually, they settled into an amiable silence, Kenzie reading the newspaper, her knee bouncing up and down and Myles watching the house closely. It looked like every other house on the block: red-shingled roof, black mailbox with red flag, immaculate yard with a row of pristine flowers by the front door. Silver sedan in the driveway—some of the driveways sported SUVs, but all silver. Myles absently wondered if the homeowners association stipulated car color to keep the neighborhood uniform.
Just then a slight, frail-looking woman exited the front door of the house he watched so closely. Her grayish-white hair bounced and bobbed with her every step, and her flowery day dress billowed in the breeze as she shuffled around the side of the house.
She soon reappeared, dragging an enormous green garbage bin that looked like it might snap her tiny arm.
“Is that her?” he asked.
“Who?” Kenzie asked, still absorbed in her newspaper.
“Is that Edna Whitesall?”
Kenzie looked up quickly, gazing hard at the woman across the street. “I think so. I mean, I only met her once at the employee picnic. But it sure looks like her. And I think she might have been wearing the same dress.”
“Good. Let’s go have a chat.”
“Wait! What if Larry comes back?” She put her hand gently on his forearm. A bolt of electricity passed through the simple touch, and he almost jumped out of the car. Did she feel that connection, too? She didn’t remove her hand, but rather squeezed it tighter into his arm. Her lips pursed in a most becoming motion, and her eyes pleaded with him to be safe.
“He won’t.”
“But how do you know?”
“No woman that frail is going to take her own trash to the curb when her burly son is coming home that night. He’s been gone long enough for her to know not to expect him home.”
She looked uncertain, but finally let go of his arm. And he distinctly felt the loss of contact. “Okay, but we go together.”
He nodded and they slipped from the car, making their way up the driveway, along the side of the silver sedan, coming into range of Edna Whitestall just as she reached for her front door.
“Mrs. Whitestall?” Myles called loud enough to catch her attention. The old woman kept moving forward, oblivious to their presence or completely ignoring them. Her stuttered stride never faltering in her house shoes, she kept her head up and her gaze focused on the front door. Her slumped shoulders didn’t twitch and she didn’t make a sound.
“Mrs. Whitestall!” Kenzie tried. “Edna Whitestall! May we speak with you? Please!”
Still no response. She entered the house, closing the door behind her. Myles and Kenzie stopped on her front stoop and stared at each other. Kenzie looked as baffled as he felt. Finally he shrugged and pressed the doorbell button.
Several minutes passed with no response. But they wouldn’t give up this easily. Myles pressed the pad of his index finger to the button, but stopped just shy of engaging the doorbell when the front door burst open.
There stood Edna, all wild, white hair and wind-blown cheeks. A black umbrella in her hands, resting against one shoulder, meant business. Myles took a sudden step back and reached back to push Kenzie behind him.
“Mrs. Whitestall?” When she gave no response, Myles plowed on. “I’m trying to find your son, Larry. Have you seen him lately?”
“I already told you lot! I have no comment!” Her voice sounded like a Doberman’s bark coming from a Chihuahua.
“We’re not from the press, ma’am,” Kenzie offered from somewhere behind Myles’s right shoulder. “We’re just looking for Larry.”
“Go away!” Edna howled, her eyes wild. Her knuckles white around the handle of her umbrella, she pulled it back and whacked Myles’s shoulder. “I already told you, I’m not going to talk about it! But if you do see him, tell him that he needs to hurry home and clean out the garage.”
Myles managed just an instant to survey the foyer of the house. Pale oak floors. Antique mirror hanging above a small table, on which sat a canvas bag. Sticking out of the bag was some sort of bright red rubber. On the floor stood three stacks of newspapers, each a different height, in some kind of unusual sorting system. He expected to see a cat, as he could smell the litter box even from outside of the house. That explained why she had to take her trash out even without her son to help.
“Ye-yes, ma’am.” He rubbed his shoulder and tried to hold back his laugh. This was some strange woman.
“Now, go away!” she yelled, slamming the door in their faces.