FRAMED FOR TREASON

Madison McKay doesn’t trust anyone. The former military woman and owner of Lost, Inc., learned about betrayal the hard way, in work and in love. That’s why she’d never let herself fall for ex-military special investigator Grant Deaver. Yet when Madison is framed for a security breach at a top secret military facility, she’s forced to put her life in Grant’s hands. But after she discovers that he’s been deceiving her, everything will be torn apart unless Grant can convince her to trust him with her life...and her heart.

“What’s it going to take for you to trust me, Madison?”

That trust question had simmered unspoken between Madison and Grant from the start. But now that it was in the open, all she wanted to do was shove it back into unspoken silence.

Trust was hard for her, and for just cause. Still, Grant deserved an answer, so she gave him the only one she could. “I don’t know.”

“Since I hired on with you at Lost, Inc., you’ve put me through test after test—and you’ve poured on even more of them in our personal relationship.” He lifted a warning finger. “This is not the time for you to say we don’t have a personal relationship, so don’t you dare do it.”

She’d like to deny it, but she couldn’t. They did have a relationship. It wasn’t something either of them needed, but a relationship was there. A mostly adversarial one, but after four months, she had to admit there was also a spark between them that promised they could be very good together...maybe.

VICKI HINZE

is an award-winning author of nearly thirty novels, four nonfiction books and hundreds of articles published in as many as sixty-three countries. She lives in Florida with her husband, near her children and grands, and she gets cranky if she must miss one of their ball games. Vicki loves to visit with readers and invites you to join her at vickihinze.com or on Facebook.

Torn Loyalties

Vicki Hinze

www.millsandboon.co.uk

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I will go before thee, and make the crooked places straight: I will break in pieces the gates of brass,

and cut in sunder the bars of iron.

—Isaiah 45:2

To David, who understands that

to have a friend you must be a friend—and is.

With love and blessings,

Vicki

Contents

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

Dear Reader

Questions for Discussion

Excerpt

ONE

Under the cover of deep darkness, Madison McKay slid on her belly in the dirt, lifted the binoculars to her eyes, then peered through a break in the thick woods and studied the distant top secret facility known as the Nest.

It had grown. A lot. In her days as an analyst there, the majority of the structures, a labyrinth of bunkers, had been built underground. Now, not one but four large buildings jutted into the night sky. A wide stretch of asphalt surrounded them, forming a clearing that ensured any approach would be noticed. Armed guards stood posted every twenty feet on the ground near concrete barricades, their backs to the buildings, and more soldiers were staggered on the rooftops. Obviously the commander expected something unusual to happen.

An attack? Unlikely. Only a handful of people assigned to the military installation surrounding the Nest knew the facility hidden at its core existed. So what had the Nest on high alert?

Her stomach burned; her fingers tingled. Northwest Florida had pretty mild winters, but being out in the woods, exposed to stiff winds and lying flat on the cold ground was enough to numb her gloved fingers and the tip of her masked nose. The stomach burn was acid due to sheer nerves.

Getting caught on the base without authorization would be bad, but getting caught on the perimeter of the Nest...

Not daring to think about the consequences, she cut off those thoughts, and kept watch.

Hours passed. Her eyelids grew heavy, then heavier, lulling her to doze off. She fought the temptation. Stay awake, Madison. Of all places, here—must stay alert.

Her resolve redoubled, she kept her breathing shallow, hoping that the mask would keep her exhaled breaths from fogging the air. Even something that slight from this distance could be noted. She kept watching, kept waiting.

Dawn threatened. Soon it would expose her, and in the past four hours, the only noteworthy observations she’d seen were changing of the guards. The soldiers had been relieved and replaced every hour, and that frequency proved telling. Whatever event or threat they expected hadn’t yet passed and the commander wanted the soldiers fresh, sharp and on their toes.

In the year she’d been stationed at the Nest, they’d only been on high alert once, for a practice drill in a readiness exercise that had lasted less than two hours. A string of forty-seven eighteen-wheelers had been stopped at the main facility’s outer gate. Soldiers had driven the trucks into the Nest, parked at the loading docks and unloaded boxes. The trucks were then returned to the outer gates and their drivers departed with them. The installation had been deemed ready.

Ready for what? No one, not even Madison, who analyzed delivery efficiency of the boxed contents defined only by one-word codes like Seeds or Purifier, had a clue.

But this alert was different, and two facts proved it: the absence of activity during the alert negated it being a readiness exercise drill, and the tension in the guards proved whatever initiated the alert was not ordinary.

The first signs of dawn pierced the horizon, tingeing it with a thin, pale streak that would soon thicken to daybreak. Her instincts told her to stay put, but she didn’t dare. If discovered, she’d never be in a position to expose the truth. The commander would see to that...and possibly to a lot more.

Disappointment battered her. Tonight, after the St. Valentine’s ball, she’d try again. Whatever happened here would happen at night.

The wind gusted. Madison’s eyes teared. She blinked hard and fast. If the commander and/or his vice commander had done what she suspected, she had to be vigilant and cautious. She was the only thing left standing between them and their possible actions, and those actions could not happen again. Not on her watch. No more lost ones could be sacrificed here. They must find their way home....

Tonight. Tomorrow night. Six months of nights—whatever it takes, Madison promised herself, then rose to a crouch and scanned the woods. Stealth and hyperalert, noting nothing unexpected, she moved from bush to tree through the thick woods, stepping lightly to avoid creating magnified sounds of dry leaves and twigs crunching underfoot.

With a scant fifteen minutes to spare before daylight exposed her, she left the restricted area and reached the public highway, then sprinted in the woods alongside the road to the sheltered spot where she’d parked her car to hide it from view.

Something odd was definitely going on out there. Whether or not it was connected to her case, she had no idea—yet. Bitterness filled her throat. Swallowing it, she eased into her silver Jaguar still hidden by darkness and shut the door.

“You want to explain what you’re doing out there?”

Madison’s heart rocketed. A man in her car. Oh, no. She’d been caught!

* * *

Madison squinted in the half-light, trying to identify the deeply shadowed silhouette of the man in her passenger seat. She recognized him.

Grant Deaver!

Her heart rate shot off the charts, and she inwardly groaned. Given the choice of a firing squad of the guards or this man, she’d take the firing squad. Them, she knew she couldn’t trust. But Grant? The jury was still out on him. “You want to explain how you got into my car?”

He held up a key. “I used this.”

She should have picked up on his cologne as soon as she opened the door. But she’d been so lost in thought that she’d missed it. Bad mistake. “Funny, I don’t recall giving you a key to my vehicle.”

“We’ve been dating since October, Madison,” he reminded her. “Totally plausible you did and forgot it.”

She hadn’t forgotten a thing. He’d found the spare key she stowed in a magnetic case under the back bumper. “For the record, while you’re endearing, your being here is not.” He’d scared ten years off her, though she didn’t mention it. She’d learned the hard way that exposing vulnerabilities was often interpreted as giving others a license to use them against you. Yes, they were dating. Keep your friends close and your enemies closer. But she strongly suspected he was under orders to spy on her and her staff. Of course, she kept him close. How else could she protect her staff or herself? That she found him attractive anyway, well, that was a challenge she just had to fight. “Why are you following me—and where’s your car?”

“No car.”

“You walked all the way out here?” It was ten miles into North Bay proper. Why would he do that? And how had he known where she’d be? Fair questions she needed answered after she got away from this facility. She cranked the engine and pulled over the deep shoulder and onto the road.

“My transportation is insignificant.” He frowned at her. “And gauging by what I’ve observed—you pulling surveillance on an off-limits, highly classified military installation—you’re hardly in a position to ask anyone questions.” He lifted an irritated hand. “Dressed in covert operation gear with greasepaint smeared all over your face.” She passed him her binoculars. “What are you doing out there at all, much less dressed like that? Are you trying to get yourself shot?”

She lowered the mask, let its strings loosely loop her neck and braked to a stop at the traffic light. The office or home?

Definitely not home. Not with him in the car. She’d shower and change at the office. It’d be hours before anyone else arrived. She hung a left and cruised past the sign to North Bay. “Since this is my car and you’re in it uninvited, I’m perfectly positioned to ask whatever questions I want.” She spared him a glance. “Why are you following me and how did you find me?”

Concern and anger feuded in his eyes, shone in the reflective light from the dash. “You were edgy all day—even more so than usual, which is saying something. You denied anything was up, so I had a friend drop me off.”

So now two people had followed her and knew where she’d gone. Oh, definitely not good. “So because I chose not to answer you, you have the right to shadow me?” She slid him a mild frown. “If I wanted to disclose, I’d disclose.” Inside, a part of her felt pleased he was concerned and wanted to protect her. Not surprising; he was a Christian, but one in an awkward position. She buried her emotional pleasure under the real facts. No way did she dare trust him. “Who brought you out here?”

“Mrs. Renault.”

Her assistant. Pins of betrayal pricked and peppered her skin. “You’re kidding me.”

“She knows the danger, Madison.”

She did. She’d been married to the former base commander. Still, telling Grant where Madison was and bringing him out there? What had Mrs. Renault been thinking?

“Don’t get knotted up at her. I was worried about you and so was she.” He paused and lowered his voice, not bothering to remove the sarcasm lacing it. “Worry. That’s something normal people do when they care about someone—in between the times they’re questioning their sanity for caring for someone as stubborn as you.”

She opened her mouth to object. Before she got out the first word, he cut her off.

“You know what? Don’t even bother. This has gone on long enough.” He sighed irritably and dragged a hand through his short brown hair. “What’s it going to take for you to trust me, Madison?”

That trust question had simmered unspoken between them from the start. She’d wished a hundred times in the past four months she could just drag the matter out into the open. But now that it was in the open, all she wanted to do was shove it back into the shadows.

Instead, she clicked her blinker with her pinkie, signaling a left turn. Trust was hard for her, maybe impossible, and for just cause. Once betrayed, twice shy. Still, he deserved an answer, so she gave him the only one she could. “I don’t know.”

“Since I hired on with you at Lost, Inc., you’ve put me through test after test—and you’ve poured on even more of them in our personal relationship.” He lifted a warning finger. “This is not the time for you to say we don’t have a personal relationship.”

She’d like to deny it, but she couldn’t. First, it wasn’t true. They did have a relationship. A mostly adversarial one, but after four months under horrific conditions, she had to admit there was also a spark between them that promised they could be very good together...maybe. Eventually. And, keeping it real and fair, she had tested him to the max professionally and personally. Every single time, he’d passed with flying colors. Yet even that hadn’t removed her doubts and resolved her trust issues.

“Not disputing the relationship,” he said. “That’s progress. Yet you don’t know what it’s going to take to trust me. And if you don’t know, then obviously I can’t know.” He sighed again. More deeply. “So let’s try a different question. How about keeping it simple—just tell me about this jaunt of yours tonight?”

Boldly stated, and a fair question. Right after the agency’s open house during the annual Fall Festival back in October, she’d been invited to the military installation and quizzed about a security breach at the Nest. It had been easy to see they were after someone to blame. She’d countered by hiring Grant. He’d just left active duty working in the Office of Special Investigations for the very commander and vice commander who had questioned her, and she needed to keep an eye on him. Keep your friends close and your enemies closer. Commander Talbot and Vice Commander Dayton were also the reason she was watching the Nest. She strongly suspected those two men had links to two civilian murders that unfortunately everyone except her deemed solved. The cases had been officially closed.

That was her initial connection to Grant Deaver. And while he hadn’t sold her out—yet—he had reported Lost, Inc., events back to Talbot and Dayton, purportedly defending her agency. Still, the commander had a security breach at the Nest, and he and his vice commander were trying their best to blame it on someone at her agency. With Grant reporting to them, how could she trust him?

Tempted to blast that question at him, she fingered the Purple Heart medal in her jacket pocket to steady herself. This would be a dangerous time to lose her temper. Trust him with the truth? Oh, how she wished she could. “I can’t answer that, either.”

He grumbled under his breath. “How can you be attracted enough to me to date me but not trust me at all? I don’t get it, Madison.”

“Neither do I,” she admitted, hating being put on the spot like this. “Ordinarily, I wouldn’t be attracted and I’d never put you on my payroll—”

“I think I’ve just been insulted.”

Two hundred pounds and six feet of bruised male ego she did not need. “That came out wrong.” She glanced at him then back at the road. “Of course I’m attracted to you. What woman wouldn’t be? What I meant was there’s something about you that gets to me, but I wish it didn’t.”

“Because I’m on your payroll.”

“Not really.” Oh, she didn’t want to get into this. Weary already, she didn’t want to resurrect old wounds.

He flicked at the door handle with his fingertips. “You know, I’d really like to get out of this car, walk away from you and never look back—”

Panic threatened. “Grant, don’t. Please.” She didn’t want him to go. She wanted... She didn’t know what she wanted, but she wanted him with her.

“I won’t.” His frown deepened to a scowl. “Because as unfair as this situation is, I understand, and I’m as conflicted about you as you are about me.”

The attraction was mutual...and mutually disdainful. That pricked more than her pride. It pricked her heart. “Sometimes God has a bizarre sense of humor.”

“Apparently.” He lifted a finger. “Watch that deer.”

Spotting it on the edge of the road, Madison slowed and veered into the other lane to give the animal a wide berth. “Listen, I admit that this case has me worked up, and I’m touchier than usual because of it. It’s also been a really long night. Can we talk about this later?” After she thawed out would be good.

“‘This case,’ you said. So you were at the Nest because of the David Pace and Beth Crane murders.” Grant’s frustration showed in his expression.

David Pace and Beth Crane were both reporters who’d been murdered after asking questions about the Nest. No one outside a very small group even knew the Nest existed. Pace and Crane were not in that loop. That much both she and Grant knew. She didn’t confirm or deny Grant’s suspicion.

“Madison, those murders were solved. Gary Crawford confessed to killing them both. What more do you need to let go of this obsession that Talbot and Dayton are responsible for their deaths?”

She pulled into the office parking lot, then turned in her seat to look into the face of the man she cared more for than any man in her life and trusted less than any man she’d ever let get within shouting distance. “I need the truth. I believe David and Beth were sacrificed. I’ve been sacrificed, and I won’t stand by and let it happen to them, too.”

Grant’s expression softened. “They’re not lost, Madison. They’re dead.”

Her heart clenched. “The truth about what happened to them and why it happened is lost. That’s just as bad. Their families deserve to know the facts.”

His mouth flattened to a slash and he stared out the windshield.

“Grant, you have to understand.” Her mouth went ash dry. Weary or not, she forced herself to open old wounds anyway. “When I was on active duty in Afghanistan, I was on a mission that went south. Because of my job, my superiors sacrificed me. You know I was taken prisoner, but there are things you don’t know.”

He knew she’d worked in the intelligence realm, and asked, “Like what?”

She worked hard to keep the anger still simmering inside her out of her voice. “They knew I was alive but classified me killed in action, anyway—to avoid an international incident, I was later told.” She cocked her head. “We can’t admit we have spies out there, you know.”

“That’s standard operating procedure.”

“Except when it happens to you.” The back of her nose burned. “I gave everything and I was disposable. Just one of many, and leaving me behind was expedient—”

“You were treated no differently than anyone else. Everyone in Intel knows that’s the way it works.”

“Exactly. Operatives and agents know, but my parents didn’t sign on to that. They’re not in Intel and they didn’t know. My family should have been told the truth—I believed they would be told the truth—but they weren’t. They were told I was dead.” A hard lump lodged in her throat. Her eyes stung. “For the next eighteen months, I was a POW and they mourned my death.”

“Eighteen months. I knew you’d gotten a Purple Heart, but I had no idea you were held that long.” Grant stilled. Stared at her. “How did they finally get you out?”

Her heart twisted. “Did you not hear me? They did nothing but forget me and leave me to rot in a four-by-six cell.” She hiked her chin. “I got myself out. I watched, waited and learned. They had me working in the kitchen, which included going to market. I studied everything, watched everyone, looking for weaknesses and information I could use. There was one guard who was particularly slow on the uptake. He’d escort me to the market now and then. One day when he did, I spotted an opening, and I took it. I escaped.”

“Totally on your own?”

“Totally.” The bitterness at that surged in her. Mingled with the anger, it proved too strong to fight. “It took me four months to make my way back to the States.

“No one would officially help me, Grant. I didn’t exist.”

“So you had no money, no papers, and yet you managed to get back home?”

“Money can be earned and papers bought.” It hadn’t been easy. Parts of the ordeal had been horrifically dangerous and difficult. Getting out of Pakistan had been a nightmare, and the ship... She shuddered just thinking of the ship. Old and moldy—she was posing as a young man and working as a deckhand—it had been awful. And yet she had prayed through it and made it. “I prepositioned funds and papers but it took time and finesse to get to them. Yet that’s not the point. The point is that for all the time I was held captive and trying to get home—until the moment I knocked on my parents’ front door and my mother answered, my parents thought I was dead.”

Never would Madison forget the ravages of grief in them, their utter shock at seeing her, or their overwhelming relief of her still being alive and coming home to them.

“I can imagine their relief.” He frowned. “You’re cold.” Reaching over, he adjusted the heater to take out the chill. “So what happened when you showed up at headquarters?”

“They gave me a Purple Heart and offered me a promotion with a stateside slot.”

“You kept the medal but departed the fix.”

She nodded. “No way was I staying active duty after they abandoned me. But the medal was different.”

“You’d earned it.”

It’d taken months for her physical wounds to heal. But the emotional ones cut even deeper and some remained raw. “I did earn it, but no.” She let him see the steel in her gaze. “I still believe in the spirit it embodies. I trust that spirit and the medal reminds me that there are others out there like me.”

“That’s why you opened Lost, Inc. To bring the lost home.”

She nodded. Now maybe he’d understand why she couldn’t just drop the Pace and Crane murders.

“I’m sorry you went through that.” Grant clasped her hand.

“Me, too.” She gave him a bittersweet smile. It was a time of trials but also a time that solidified her faith. She’d done the impossible then, and no one knew better than she that she couldn’t have done it alone, though she was still working at not being bitter that God hadn’t spared her from the trial.

“I understand why you want the truth on the murders, Madison, but I believe you already have it. What I still don’t understand is you going out to the Nest.” Grant squeezed her hand. “I mean, what can you learn by staring at the outside of the facility that will prove anything?”

Madison stiffened, and bit her tongue. Speak it in anger, regret it in calm. She’d eaten enough words in her war of wits and wills with him already. “If I knew the answer to that, I wouldn’t have to go out there, would I?” She left the car.

The slammed car door signaled Grant to follow her.

She opened the office door, turned off the alarm, flipped on the lights and headed upstairs to the kitchen. Hot coffee would be good.

“I’ll do that.” He took the coffeepot out of her hands. “You go get cleaned up before anyone else gets here. Out there all night, you’re probably half-frozen. A hot shower will thaw you out.”

Why did he do that? Just when she wanted to bark his head off, he turned around and did something thoughtful and caring. “Thank you.” She walked to the door, then paused and looked back at him, shrugging out of his coat.

Tall and broad shouldered, he was in great shape and obviously had kept up his physical training regimen. Her stomach clutched. Looking at him did crazy things to her. It always had. From the very first time she’d laid eyes on him, without a word or an ounce of effort, he’d begun chipping away at the protective barriers she’d studiously built around her heart. She resented that but seemed helpless to stop it. Still, she was determined. Caring about a man she couldn’t trust was absurdly foolish, and she was not a foolish woman.

She shoved back the black hoodie covering her hair. Long silver-blond strands fell loose down her back. “Are you ever going to tell me why you really followed me?”

“I did tell you.”

“No, you gave me a line about me being edgy and you being worried.”

His square jaw tightened. “It wasn’t a line.” He draped his coat on the brass tree, poured water into the coffeemaker, flipped the switch and then turned to answer her. “I followed you because I don’t want you to end up dead.”

What exactly did he mean? He’d followed her to the Nest, but he hadn’t interceded. He’d waited in her car. So where did he sense danger to her? His expression had never been more sober or serious, or more closed, giving nothing away. “You agree with me, then? You think Commander Talbot and Vice Commander Dayton are involved in a cover-up, too?”

Grant frowned and hedged. “I think if you get caught spying on the Nest, you’re going to get shot.”

Madison frowned back at him. “How can you ignore Talbot and Dayton when you know they’re trying their best to blame someone at my agency for the security breach?”

David Pace and Beth Crane had been reporters for WKME, a local TV station. Separately, three years apart, they’d gone to Talbot to confirm tips from sources they’d been given about the Nest. The facility buried in the woods in the center of a military installation so highly classified that even those assigned to the base didn’t know the Nest was there—that Nest. Talbot had denied David Pace’s and Beth Crane’s tips and in short order, both had been murdered. But their tips had been accurate. And that meant someone definitely had breached security.

“I’m not ignoring anything or anyone.”

But he was. Commander Talbot was up for a congressional appointment. Vice Commander Dayton was up for Talbot’s job. A security breach by someone under their command could ax those promotions. In short, Talbot and/or Dayton needed a scapegoat and they intended to find one at Lost, Inc.

“They have to look at everyone in your agency, Madison, and you know it.”

Lost, Inc., was a logical, rich target. Everyone working for her was former military and had served at least one assignment at the Nest. None of them would breach security, but as they were no longer under Talbot’s or Dayton’s command, any one of them would serve the purpose of taking the fall and keeping the commanders’ promotions safe.

Serial killer Gary Crawford had supposedly killed David Pace. Beth Crane had been deemed the victim of a home invasion until Crawford’s apprehension, when he’d confessed to killing them both. But Madison wasn’t buying it. Serial killers confessed to everything to embellish their legacy and incite fear in others. Beth Crane and, three years later, David Pace had exposed the security breach by asking Talbot for confirmation of the Nest’s existence, and Madison was sure that’s how they’d ended up dead. “You know no one here would—”

Grant leaned back against the counter, and crossed his arms. “What I know is that if you get caught out there spying, you’ll lose more than your career.”

The finality in Grant’s tone signaled he was finished talking about this, and so was she. How could she convince him with no more proof than her instincts? Her challenge was that simple.

And that complex.

* * *

Madison showered, then dressed in black slacks, a teal sweater and flats. She left her hair down, applied lotion to her wind-chafed skin and then returned to the kitchen.

Grant sat at the table drinking a cup of coffee from a camouflage-print mug. He cast her a weary, pensive look but said nothing.

Her favorite Minnie Mouse mug sat on the counter beside the coffeepot—he noticed and remembered everything about her, even her preferred coffee mug—and she filled it, then joined him at the table. Did he remember details about her because of professional or personal reasons? His profiling training or a genuine affection for her? Unsure, she sipped, then said, “You’re pretty steamed at me, aren’t you?”

He shook his head. “I’m worried. I want you to promise me you’ll stay away from the Nest.”

“I can’t do that.” She wouldn’t even stay away if she trusted him with all her heart. “I’ve made my reasons clear. I’m stalled on my case until I find new information or until Talbot releases the satellite images under the Freedom of Information Act.” Hopefully, he’d do that before she died of old age. She’d requested them two months ago, during the Christmas cruise she and Grant had taken with a group of friends.

Grant knew as well as she did that those images of David Pace’s exploded car would prove whether or not it had been placed where it had been found before or after the explosion, which would prove whether or not David Pace had been in it when it had blown up. His medical file was sealed. Why? Right after Gary Crawford’s arrest and confessions, she’d received a tip that Pace’s body hadn’t been burned. Why that tip? Why to her? People didn’t take those kinds of reporting risks without reason.

Grant lifted a hand. “The man died from natural causes. An embolism. You saw the coroner’s report.”

“So did you. It was a lie. It had to be a lie, or the embolism had to be induced.” Grant couldn’t be buying into that report. “There were no signs of anything like that in his medical history—nothing that points to there being any problem. He was young and healthy.” And Grant knew as well as she that inducing an embolism was a military tactic. Carrying out a kill order? Emergency termination? She shuddered.

“For pity’s sake.” Grant lifted his cup. “You talked to the coroner.”

“No, I didn’t,” she disputed him. “I tried to talk to him, but the coroner refused to take my call or to meet with me. His assistant referred me to the public report, informed me that the case was sealed, and then she totally shut down. Why would the case be sealed unless he’s hiding something?”

“Oh, gee, I don’t know. Maybe because Crawford was a serial killer working for Homeland Security and that knowledge would undermine public trust in the entire agency? Remember, Homeland Security sealed the file, not the local authorities, and Crawford hasn’t yet been tried for his other victims’ murders. Or maybe the coroner just didn’t want to waste his time on a closed case when he has a ton of open ones to work on.” Grant dropped his voice. “Or it could be that the coroner has known you all your life and he’s trying to keep you from putting yourself in the crosshairs of people who will hurt you.”

“That sounds as if you think there might be some validity to my theory.”

“I’m trying to be fair. The case is closed. Crawford did confess to both murders. The coroner did sign off on the Pace report. But if on the outside chance you’re right about this—and I don’t believe you are—then for this conspiracy and cover-up to work, the coroner would have had to sign off on a false report, and I don’t think he would.”

“Under normal circumstances, I’d say no.” She’d known the man her whole life. He’d given her and her best friend, Maggie Mason, pony rides at the annual town festivals when they were children, and when they’d tried smoking cigarettes as teens and had gotten sick and gone to the morgue to save him a trip to pick up their bodies, he’d assured them they weren’t dying—but if he caught them smoking again, they’d wish they were. “Yet these circumstances are not normal. With Homeland Security involved... They, or the commander, could have pressured him.”

“Through Homeland Security, the commander might have exerted influence,” Grant conceded. “But it’s highly unlikely.”

Grant defending his former commander wasn’t surprising. She well recalled her own defensive posture right up until the moment she realized she’d been abandoned. “It’s not impossible.”

“No, it’s not impossible.” Grant sipped from his mug, then set it on the table and reached for her hand.

She laid it atop his and he curled his fingers, pressing their heated palms. “Madison, what if you’re right? Say Talbot or Dayton were involved in the murders and cover-ups. Say they did exert influence and the coroner did forge the report. Would people with the power and authority to do those things hesitate to kill again?” Grant gently squeezed her fingertips. “Don’t you see that by pushing this, you’re putting yourself in danger?”

His hand trembled. She loved that, and wished she didn’t. “I know—”

“Have you forgotten that just for investigating a classified project to which you once had authorized access, you can be declared a security threat—and the charges will stick? They can declare you a domestic terrorist and detain you indefinitely.”

“That’s absurd.” She grunted. “They can’t—”

His expression turned flat. “Check recent legislation. They can and will.” He clasped her arms. “Forget this, Madison. Please. You know the lengths they’ve gone to since inception to keep the Nest off everyone’s radar. If the security breach and your two murders are connected...” He swallowed hard, clearly conflicted. “Do you think for a second they wouldn’t stop you from exposing them by any means necessary?” He rubbed at his neck. “Good grief, the entire government’s behind them.”

Whether or not the people in most of those positions knew it, the government was behind them. And the measures taken to hide the project had been extraordinary. The need-to-know loop on the Nest was extremely tight. “I know all this, okay?” He cared. He might have to spy on her, but he also cared. It showed clearly whenever he got emotional, and right now Grant Deaver was extremely emotional. She softened her voice. “The bottom line is I believe they’ve buried the truth on two civilian murders. I believe it, Grant. And if they did and I do nothing, and the need arises, they’ll murder again. How many have to be lost before—”

“For the tenth time, the victims in this case are not lost, they’re dead.”

“The truth about them is lost,” she repeated, stroking his arm.

His mouth flattened. “Nothing you discover will bring them back. Their family members have buried them, mourned, and they’re healing, Madison. Think of Ian,” he said, speaking of Beth Crane’s husband, who worked for Madison at the agency. “Don’t rip open the wounds when all it’s going to do is put him back to square one mourning all over again.”

Grant was right, of course. It was for that very reason she hadn’t said one word to Ian about her investigation. She didn’t want to hurt anyone, especially Ian when he was finally healing, but letting the truth be obscured was fundamentally wrong. Even Ian would never settle for letting someone—anyone—get away with murder.

Grant lowered his gaze from the ceiling and his voice dropped to a hush. “Look, I know how important finding the lost ones is to you. Even when everyone else gives up, you never do. I admire that about you. But this with the Nest... You’re in trouble with this—if you get caught, the kind of trouble that’ll make your POW days seem like a walk in the park.”

“I’m aware of the risks. But my safety isn’t my main concern.” She looked him right in the eye, let him see the truth. “I’m right about this. I know it. Can you just trust me?”

“I do trust you. My trust in you has never been an issue.”

He was right. The issue was her trusting him, and now he stood genuinely worried. She hated that. “I realize you disagree with me on all of this. You have doubts. But I don’t, and if they get away with killing two people, what’s to stop them from killing four, or forty-four?” She set down her mug. “No. No, I can’t worry about the risks. I have to do the right thing.”

“Hardheaded, stubborn—” His voice faded into a grumble.

She pretended to be deaf as a stone. Deeply worried and afraid for her, he needed to vent, and she needed a minute to get her insides to stop shaking. Busying herself, she refocused, refilling her mug at the coffeepot, then returned to the table. “The bottom line is that if Talbot or Dayton are behind the murders, they won’t risk their futures on Crawford getting a whim and withdrawing his confessions. He could recant at any time. They’re going to silence him because neither of them can afford not to—personally or as Nest commanders.”

“Even if Crawford recanted, no one would believe him.”

“No, but in the commanders’ elevated positions—their promotions will come quickly now, right?” When Grant nodded, Madison finished. “They won’t risk a blemish on their records, and they know that politically a Crawford confession would become a public issue under microscopic scrutiny in the media.”

“That much is true.”

“They’ll prevent that.” If she were right, Crawford’s days were numbered. “There’s another nugget that is even more compelling.”

“What?”

Madison leaned forward and dropped her voice. “If Crawford recants, the uproar about David Pace and Beth Crane will pass. But another uproar won’t, and it’ll have heads rolling at the highest levels.”

The color leaked from Grant’s face. “No. No way. Neither Talbot nor Dayton will go public. They wouldn’t jeopardize national security for media ratings or political points. That is what you’re saying, right?”

“Under the right conditions, they would.”

“What right conditions? It’d be political suicide.”

“Not if they leaked every single crumb on the Nest under the protection of a congressional hearing. They’d claim they had no choice but to disclose, Congress would back them on that, and the focus would definitely shift away from them, Crawford and the murders and land squarely on the Nest.”

Grant’s hand on his mug shook, and his eyes narrowed. “The need-to-know loop would never allow that testimony to take place.”

“Which is why I think they’ll get rid of Crawford before he can recant his confessions.” She rubbed at a dull throb in her temple. “Once he does, then neither Talbot and Dayton nor anyone else in the loop can stonewall Congress indefinitely. For a while, yes, but then something will give. It always does.”

Grant paused a moment, clearly thinking. “We know from working there that the need-to-know loop will keep word of the Nest sequestered by any necessary means.”

Madison agreed. “Yes.” Like the others, she’d had restricted access to the Nest, allowed only in her specific area. She was as clueless as everyone else about what was at the Nest and why the facility existed at all, but the secrecy of the facility was made clear to everyone who knew about it. “These deductions have left me with another question. I can’t answer it, but maybe you can.”

He smoothed a thumb over her shirtsleeve at her wrist, his expression guarded. “What question?”

“Why?” Madison looked him right in the eye. “What is so important about that facility that they could be killing people to keep it a secret?”

TWO

Mrs. Renault appeared at Madison’s office door. “You’re back.”

Madison nodded, biting her tongue about Mrs. Renault dropping Grant off out at the Nest last night. “Is it time for the morning report?”

Tall and lithe, the fiftyish Mrs. Renault entered, wearing a slim skirt and fitted top. Her taupe heels clicked softly on the hardwood floor. “I thought with the Valentine’s ball tonight at the club, you’d be home resting.”

“No, I’ve been having a heated discussion with Grant.”

“And you’re not happy with me for taking him out there.”

“Actually, no, I’m not.”

“Fine.” She pulled out her pad and poised her pen.

“That’s all the explanation I get?” Madison fingered her Purple Heart, rolled it over in her palm.

“You were in danger. You needed backup.”

Madison resisted the urge to raise her voice. “I don’t trust him.”

“You have trust issues with everyone but me,” Mrs. Renault said, decidedly calm.

“After last night, I think I should be on the fence about you, too.”

If that comment ruffled her, Mrs. Renault didn’t show it. “Well, I trust Grant.”

Madison envied her that. She was coming to care for this man. She yearned to trust him. But she just didn’t dare. Still, curiosity got the better of her. “Why?” Mrs. Renault’s instincts were usually flawless, but the woman knew he’d been reporting agency activities to Talbot and Dayton.

“If Grant had reported anything negative on us, we’d all have been hauled in for questioning. We haven’t been. My guess is Grant has done nothing more than tell the commander we’ve been working internally to assure no one here breached security by telling the reporters anything about the Nest. He’s probably been instrumental in keeping heat off the entire agency.”

Madison hadn’t considered that possibility.

“You must remember, Madison, Grant is in a delicate position. He’s subject to recall for two years after the date he officially came off active duty. He can’t refuse to report, though I imagine feeling about you as he does, he wishes he could.”

Didn’t she wish she knew how he felt about her? Wouldn’t it be a gift to be sure? “I know he can’t refuse them.” She’d gone through that two-year period herself.

“So he’s done his duty. No more and no less.”

“And I shouldn’t fault him for it.”

“He took an oath, as did you.” Mrs. Renault looked over, and gave her the infamous Renault lift of the brow. “Would you respect a man who made an oath and didn’t keep it?”

“No.” She wouldn’t, but didn’t have to like admitting it. Grant’s position wasn’t lost on her. He was a man torn between the dictates of his faith and his country. And if her wishes and Mrs. Renault’s instincts were right, he was also torn between faith, country and her: a woman he cared about. Being pulled in three different directions had to keep him up nights, but she was up nights, too. She cared about him, but should she? Was caring about him putting her and her staff in jeopardy? If he was being honest with her, then no. But was he? Considering the pressure on him from all sides...she wasn’t sure. Odds were, he wasn’t sure himself. “Grant reporting shouldn’t be necessary. Talbot and Dayton know what we do here. You’d think they’d see merit in it.” Madison sipped from her mug, stared at the sun streaking in through the white sheers covering the window. “In four years, we’ve gone from zero to success by any standards. That should be enough.”

“You’re assuming they don’t see merit in our work, and you know anecdotal evidence can’t be enough to negate a hard look when anything classified is involved. The Nest is a lot more...sensitive.”

She did know, but she didn’t have to like that, either. She looked at the Purple Heart medal and spoke from her heart. “The problem is, I want to trust him.”

“You’ve developed strong feelings for him?”

“I wouldn’t go that far.”

“Of course you wouldn’t. How far would you go?”

“I hate it when you do that.” Madison frowned. Since her days as a POW, she was cautious with her trust. Betrayed and burned as she’d been—who wouldn’t be? “Why do you make me admit what I feel, especially when I don’t want to feel anything?” Madison let her see her exasperation. “I don’t want to care about him. I don’t want to trust him.”

“But you just said you do want to trust him....”

“See what I mean? He stirs things inside me and makes me so crazy I don’t even know my own mind.”

“At the risk of rattling you even more—your hands are shaking—I believe you’re making yourself crazy. He’s just being Grant, doing the best he can in an awkward situation.”

Madison groaned and kept staring at the medal. It meant so much to her, and Grant now knew it. Though she’d been sacrificed and the bond had been broken with her superiors, the bond between her and the spirit of the medal, her nation, her relationship with her family and her faith, remained intact. Grant not only had understood but also had said he felt the same way, though when faith and duty to country conflicted, it caused a lot of internal challenges. That he’d shared that revelation made another chink in the armor around her heart. “He seems honorable—as if he’s trying so hard to do the right thing all around. I know it can’t be easy, yet...” She sighed. “I feel like a horrible person for having doubts and as if anyone with sense should have doubts... This wouldn’t be nearly so hard if I didn’t...but I do.” She let Mrs. Renault see the misery in her eyes. “I...care about him.”

Sympathy reflected in Mrs. Renault’s eyes. “I can see that you do.”

In a cold sweat, Madison met Mrs. Renault’s gaze. “I think he genuinely cares about me, too.” It cost her a lot to admit that out loud.

“Uh-huh.” Mrs. Renault put her pen down atop her pad on a little table beside her chair. “Madison, are you falling in love with Grant?”

“Oh, I hope not.” She nearly wilted and a lump formed in her throat.

“Why? Do you know?”

“I’m afraid I do.” Trusting her heart had gotten her captured and taken prisoner, had changed the entire course of her life. “My heart can’t be trusted.” Madison walked over to the wall and pressed a button on the back of a landscape painting of the cove done by her friend Maggie Mason. It was the view from the club’s gazebo, less than a half mile from Madison’s office, and one of Madison’s favorite places on earth. A section of wall slid open. Madison gently placed the medal inside.

When she turned, Mrs. Renault stood waiting. “I hate to say it, but trusted or not, I’m afraid your heart will settle long before your mind.”

“Wits and wisdom, not your heart, get you through hard times.”

“Perhaps it’s all of them—your heart and wits and wisdom.” Mrs. Renault returned to her seat. “That’s what happened when I fell in love with John.” She harrumphed softly, in the refined way only she could. “Oh, how my mind rebelled against loving that man.”

“Why?” Madison couldn’t believe it. She always seemed so sure-footed on everything.

“I was a military brat, and I vowed never to fall in love with a military man. I wanted roots.”

“But you married John anyway.”

“Yes, I did. And given the chance, I would again.”

She had been happy with him, not that anyone doubted it for a second. Such a shame he died so young. “So your heart won the battle. That’s what you’re telling me, isn’t it?”

“Wits and wisdom have their value but the heart always wins the battle. That’s what I’m telling you.”

That was not what she’d hoped to hear. “Maybe so, but I’m not giving up yet.”

Madison shut the vault, returned to her desk then sat down and stared at the fireplace filled not with wood but with strings of twinkling little lights. She said, “I don’t understand him. He listens but he doesn’t hear me.”

“That’s been the problem with men and relationships since there have been men and relationships.” Mrs. Renault cocked her head. “I take it that you’ve discussed this communication challenge with him?”

Madison expelled a hard breath. “I have. The problem is, this morning when he told me he couldn’t walk away from me, either, I was relieved. I was so afraid he would, I was almost sick inside.”

“Maybe it was being out in the cold all night.”

“No, it was him.” Madison fisted her hand. “The only other time I’ve been that scared is when I was captured.”

“Oh, my. Strong emotions.”

“Very strong emotions.” Madison slid her assistant a wistful look. “I keep praying they’ll fizzle and go away.”

“Because...?”

“I just told you. I don’t trust him.”

“But you want to,” Mrs. Renault reminded her, her eyes darting a long moment. “I have an idea. Why not give him a real chance? Take a leap of faith? That could ease some pressure on you and be telling.”

There was wisdom in the older woman’s suggestion. It would allow her to trust him—and with a safety net. The battle in her would cease...maybe. It would definitely ease up. That could make trying it worth a shot. She’d taken a small step, sharing her suspicions about what could come of Crawford and Talbot and Dayton’s desire to shift focus. She hadn’t even shared that with Mrs. Renault, who had a soft spot for the commander. For that reason alone, Madison prayed the man was innocent of killing Pace and Beth Crane.

“You’re going to the St. Valentine’s ball together tonight, right?”

Madison nodded.

“Well, one question to answer before you decide. Is your hesitation because you don’t trust him on the security breach, or because you don’t trust him with your heart?”

Madison didn’t dare answer—not even to herself.

Mrs. Renault clearly didn’t expect her to. She continued, “Either way, it’s a step forward. And it’s time you took one.”

Madison hadn’t dared to trust a man since escaping from Afghanistan. She’d wanted to, tried to, but she just couldn’t do it. At times she wondered if she’d ever trust a man again. Since one she’d put her trust in had been responsible for her capture, she couldn’t fault herself for that, though her pastor insisted that God wouldn’t approve of deeming all men responsible for the sins of one. She wasn’t trying to do that. It wasn’t them but her own judgment she doubted. Her pastor insisting she was not trusting God shocked her. Was he right?

Unsure, Madison looked at Mrs. Renault. She was right about one thing. If Madison didn’t try to step forward, change wouldn’t be possible. And maybe her pastor was right, too. Maybe she did need to trust God to put a worthy man in her path.

Grant’s image filled Madison’s mind—the promise of what could be. Foolish or wise, she didn’t know, but this proposal was for one night. She could leap that far, to trust and give him a real chance.

“All right,” she told Mrs. Renault. “I’ll try.”

What could it hurt?

Me. Madison swallowed hard. God, help me. I’m leaping. Please don’t let me regret it.

* * *

A brash young lieutenant with a red nose, bruised knuckles and a name tag that read Blake escorted Grant into the commander’s windowless inner sanctum.

Commander Talbot sat behind his gleaming desk. Vice Commander Dayton perched on the left of two deep blue leather visitor’s chairs. Grant saluted.

“Major Deaver.” Talbot returned the salute. “Come in.”

Not invited to sit, Grant stood at ease before the desk. “You wanted to see me, sir?”

“Yes.” The commander leaned back in his chair, his thinning pate catching the light from the overhead. “How are things going at Lost, Inc.?”

“They’re tense, sir.” Dayton hadn’t said a word. He looked almost bored, though Grant had been in Intel too long to be fooled by that facade. The man wasn’t missing a thing. Dressed in combat gear instead of his blues—why? Everyone Grant had come across, from the gate guards to headquarters’ security, had been dressed in blues or their regular uniforms today.

“Tense?” The commander stopped rocking his chair.

“Yes, sir.” Grant debated over his approach, and decided Talbot had always been reasonable, so he’d just talk straight. “Madison McKay still doesn’t trust me.”

Dayton guffawed. “Lost your touch with the ladies, eh?”

Caustic, but Grant didn’t take it personally. Dayton had made it an art form. “She’s a former operative,” Grant said. “She knows the tactics. You either come at her from a genuine place, or you don’t get near her at all.”

Talbot rubbed at his jaw. “Madison has always had good instincts. They made her an excellent analyst and operative.”

“Working with Renée Renault has sharpened them,” Dayton said. “You can bank on that.”

“Renée is gifted.” Talbot drummed his fingers on his desktop and sighed. “Sorry we lost Madison. I hoped she’d change her mind and rejoin us after being home for a while.”

Grant had never heard such respect in Dayton’s tone as when he’d spoken of Mrs. Renault, and never had anyone other than Commander Talbot called her by her first name. No doubt her military family missed her. But the remark about Madison irked Grant. If they hadn’t sacrificed her, maybe they wouldn’t have lost her, but the bottom line was Grant didn’t want to repeat the mistake and lose her, and the longer this deception went on, the greater the odds were that he would.

Determined to try to do something about that, he shifted the conversation to a place he was more than eager to go. “Crawford accepted responsibility for the security breach. The case is closed.” No reaction, so he went on. “How much longer do I have to stay at Lost, Inc., and—?”

Talbot frowned. “Indefinitely.”

Grant’s heart sank. His stomach knotted. “May I ask why, sir?”

Dayton piped up. “If the commander wanted you to know, he’d tell you. You have your orders, Major.”

Grant clamped his jaw. “Yes, sir.”

“Ease up, Jeremy,” Talbot told Dayton, then swerved his gaze to Grant. “You’re absolutely convinced that no one at Lost, Inc., has in any way been involved in the Nest security breach?”

“I am, sir.” Silently he prayed no questions came that required him to disclose Madison’s jaunt into the Nest’s perimeter woods last night.

Dayton, lean and compact with thick muscles, stood up. “Need I remind you that every single individual in that agency is, shall we say, disenchanted with the military?”

“No, sir. I haven’t forgotten,” Grant said. “They are disenchanted—for just cause.”

“In your opinion.” Talbot’s eyes narrowed. “Doesn’t that send up a red flag in your mind that any of them could have breached security, and leaked word of the Nest to the media? Or maybe even to Crawford?”

“Yes, sir. But after a thorough investigation, in my opinion, none did. There’s no connection between any of them and Crawford, or to the Nest, beyond their assignments to it during their active-duty days. Crawford, working for Homeland Security, had direct access. He didn’t require a leak to know about the Nest. He was briefed on it regularly and personally visited the facility a dozen times.”

Worry creased the commander’s skin between his eyebrows. “What if I told you that Crawford’s access was even more restricted than your own?”

“That changes nothing, sir. He’s proven resourceful in the killings we’ve verified he’s done. I’ve no doubt he could be equally resourceful in gaining access to restricted areas, particularly from the inside.” Grant didn’t want a long conversation diversion into Gary Crawford. He’d claimed responsibility for the security breach and for the murders. That was that. “I’m convinced that Madison and her staff are innocent, sir.”

“Including Renée Renault?”

Grant nodded at the commander.

His eyes narrowed, curious not accusing. “Why?”

Talbot was a widower, and he’d been in love with Mrs. Renault since her husband had died. As far as anyone knew, though, it was one-sided and unspoken. Still, Talbot knew her nature well. This was more Talbot testing Grant’s judgment. “Actually, Mrs. Renault weighs heavily in my assessment. She would never work for anyone who would cross this country. And Madison is just like Mrs. Renault about that.” Grant cleared his throat. “They’re patriots, sir. If either of them felt someone at the agency had jeopardized national security, they’d be the first to knock on your door.”

That clearly pleased the commander.

It didn’t impress Dayton. He stepped closer and stared up into Grant’s face. “You realize you’re staking your life on that assessment, Major.”

Grant lowered his eyes to look at the man. At about five-nine, Dayton had to tilt back his head to meet Grant’s gaze. “Yes, sir.”

“That’s enough for me.” The commander signaled Grant could depart.

“So I can consider the assignment closed?”

“No.” The commander glanced at Dayton, then back at Grant. “I think it’s best if you stay put for now.”

Disappointment hit Grant hard. He was going to lose Madison before he could even win her over. Probably just as well. With secrets and lies between them that he couldn’t disclose and resolve, well, losing her now was probably easier on his heart than losing her later. But, man, he wished he didn’t have to lose her at all. “Yes, sir.” Grant saluted.

“Dismissed,” the commander said, then as Grant reached the door, he added, “Major, I’m sure your investigation is thorough, but do keep your eyes and ears open anyway.” He laced his hands atop his desk. “I am aware of the awkwardness of your current position, but it is necessary.”

Was it? At first, maybe. But now that he’d reported his findings? Grant didn’t see the rationale. Not one valid reason he had to remain at the agency, spying on Madison or her entire staff. But there was something in Talbot’s eyes. Something Grant couldn’t decipher or quite grasp...yet. “Yes, sir.”

Grant took the stairs, too irritated to wait for the elevator. Downstairs, he cleared security, and then departed the building. He had prayed hard, hoping to end this deception today. But Talbot’s refusal to end the assignment proved his prayers had been denied. Decisively.

Indefinitely.

Talbot’s word speared through Grant but it was Dayton’s suspicions, the odd look in his eyes when they spoke about Crawford, that most worried Grant. Was that because something was there? Or because Madison had planted doubts in his mind about Crawford being silenced before he could recant his confessions and her relating that to Talbot and Dayton?

Unsure, Grant pulled his keys from his pocket, and made his way across the parking lot.

Indefinitely.

Infiltrating Lost, Inc., had made sense—at one point. But why keep a plant in place on a closed case where everyone had been cleared? That didn’t make sense...unless Talbot or Dayton doubted Crawford’s guilt. But why would they? And why not just tell Grant they had doubts? He was Talbot’s hand-chosen investigator, after all.

Grant paused to let a blue truck pass between the rows of parked cars. What had happened in there made no sense, neither their orders nor their conduct. Talbot’s warning to Grant to keep his eyes and ears open...that look in his eye. Was it a warning, too? And the way Talbot had looked at Dayton. What was that all about? The truck passed and Grant walked on. Halfway to his car, he stopped dead in his tracks between a black sedan and a white SUV. His stomach clenched. There was one situation where their orders and conduct made perfect sense.

If Madison was right.

But she couldn’t be right. Talbot and Dayton involved in two murders? That was insane.

Wasn’t it?

Unsure, Grant got into his Jeep and headed off the base. As soon as he cleared the gate, he dialed Madison.

She answered on the second ring. “Hi, Grant.”

He’d never heard Madison McKay sound so...open. Unguarded even. “What’s wrong with you?”

“Nothing at all. Why? Where are you?”

Not quite sure about this shift in her, he reserved judgment. “On my way back to the office. Are you there, or at home?”

“Actually, I just picked up my dress for the ball tonight—it’s totally gorgeous—and now I’m heading home for a nap so I don’t wear a gorgeous gown with dark bags under my eyes.”

Gearing up for the ball, or for more surveillance after it? “I’ve been thinking about our talk this morning and what you said about Crawford.”

“And?”

“It makes sense. Even if he killed Beth Crane, why would he wait so long to take out Pace?”

“Pace wasn’t a threat until later,” she told Grant. “After Beth was killed, Brett Lund, the WKME station manager, dropped the assignment. He didn’t pick it up again for three years.”

“When he assigned the story to Pace.”

“That’s right. Until then, Pace didn’t know a thing about any of it.”

Grant pulled into a drive-through Starbucks and ordered coffee, then asked, “Why did Lund wait? Why would he sit on a huge story for three years?”

“Don’t I wish I knew? Lund died before answering that question, but I’ve thought about it, and the only thing that stands up to scrutiny is that after Beth was killed, Lund was scared stiff. He had a wife and two kids, you know.”

“That only works if Lund connected Beth Crane’s murder to her inquiries about the Nest. He’d have had to know she wasn’t killed in a home invasion like everyone believed until Crawford confessed.” Beth’s husband, Ian Crane, had been a doctor. Everyone in North Bay knew it. But anyone who knew Ian Crane knew he didn’t keep so much as an aspirin at home to protect Beth. So the police had deduced Beth’s murder had been by a random stranger—until Crawford confessed.

“Lund made the connection between Beth and Talbot and/or Dayton and the Nest. He admitted as much to Ian.” Blaming himself for Beth’s death, Ian had stopped practicing medicine to hire on with Madison and devote himself to finding Beth’s killer. He and Madison’s best friend, Maggie Mason, had worked together and gone through struggles of their own, but this past Christmas, they had worked through them and fallen in love. What an adventure that had been, going up against serial killer Gary Crawford!

“When did Lund admit the connection?”

“Right before he shot himself.” Madison sighed. “They talked in his office. He admitted to Ian and Maggie that he knew Beth had been murdered and he feared for his family so he’d kept his mouth shut. When nothing happened to him and three years passed, Lund thought it was safe to check out the case, so he pulled the records and assigned David Pace.”

“So then, like Beth, Pace goes to the commander for confirmation on the Nest, and shortly thereafter, he’s killed.”

“Right,” Madison said. “Minutes after Ian left the meeting, Lund got a phone call—the records have been scrubbed so we don’t know from whom—and then shot himself.”

He’d made the connection, all right, and he’d sacrificed David Pace for the story. And that’s why Madison was so invested in this case. “Pace didn’t know about Beth, did he?”

“According to his wife, no.”

“And what happened to his records on the case?”

“Detective Cray took a look at them. He saw nothing to indicate Pace knew Beth even existed.”

This must have nearly knocked Ian to his knees. He’d looked for his wife’s murderer for three years, and then to discover this? Poor guy.

“Grant? Did you hear me?”

“What? Sorry. I was thinking about how hard learning this had to have been on Ian.”

“Very.”

Neither he nor Maggie had said much about Crawford or the security breach, for that matter. “What did you say that I missed?”

“I said,” Madison repeated, “something seems different. What’s happened to you?”

No way could he answer that question. He wished he could tell her the truth, but he didn’t have that luxury. All he could do was play dumb and stick as close to the truth as possible. But inside the battle raged between truth and lies, right and wrong, his head and heart, and betrayal and loyalty. He could follow the dictates of his faith, be loyal to his country, or be loyal to her. He couldn’t be all three, and that grated at him on so many levels it’d take a lifetime to list them all. And he feared she’d hate him forever for deceiving her. “What do you mean?”

“You sound almost as if you’re hearing what I’m saying for the first time.”

He grunted. Maybe he was. His perspective had changed. He was now entertaining the possibility she could be right.

“Are you coming around to my way of thinking?”

“I’m keeping an open mind.” The woman was astute. He’d be foolish to forget it. “Take a nap. I’ll pick you up at eight.”

“Sorry. I won’t be here.”

Surprise rippled up his back. His hands tightened on the steering wheel. “What?”

“I have a date.”

“I know. It’s with me.”

“I don’t think so. My date is with the man who sent me chocolates, a white stuffed teddy bear and a lovely card asking me to be his valentine.”

“It arrived.”

A lilt in her voice turned even more playful. “Oh, was that from you?”

“You know it was.”

“Well, it all arrived just before I left the office to pick up my dress, but I couldn’t tell who sent it because the card, while lovely, wasn’t signed.”

He’d agonized over how to sign it. Gone back and forth in his head and had nearly driven himself over the edge. Finally he’d just written her name on the envelope and at the top of the card and left it unsigned. He sipped at his coffee. “I was being mysterious to charm you.”

“Well, you succeeded.” A smile sounded in her voice. “I guess my date is with you, then. See you at eight—but meet me at the club. We have a little issue with the florist to resolve, so I need to be there early.”

After ending the call, he set the phone down on the console and wondered what had gotten into her. Madison? Being playful? With him?

He liked her playful. He liked her regardless, but playful was...captivating.

Maybe he should keep her sleep deprived....

It could be his one shot to not lose her.

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