Holding Fast, page 2
“Take care of yourself, Ms. Stevens.”
There’s no one else who can, now is there? The truth of the thought brought the clarity she needed to walk away from Mr. Davis’ offer of help.
Chapter Two
“What do you mean she’s gone?” Will Bryson almost knocked the files stacked on his desk to the floor. The paperwork was in jeopardy of toppling even without David Jansen’s announcement that Sara Stevens was missing,
He grabbed the top file too quickly and hit another pile with his elbow. He’d only gotten through one of the cases so far today. It was two in the afternoon. At the rate he was going, the other fifty weren’t getting checked through until next Christmas.
All that took a back seat because suddenly nothing mattered as much as Jansen’s response.
“What do you think I’ve been trying to tell you for the past six months? She’s in trouble. She might be hurt more than we guessed. Duke’s drug was tough, you know? If she was given that shit, well, we’re worried.”
Will knew that. He’d been troubled, too, but he’d tried to keep his mind off her as much as possible. He’d failed utterly. “What makes you think she’s missing?”
“She hasn’t answered Paris’ calls in weeks.”
She wasn’t missing—she wasn’t answering the phone. Women do that. Right? They get busy, like guys, and lose track of time. He tipped his chair back so he could stare at the ceiling.
“We want you to go look her up and check on her, casual like. Act like you happen to be there, on a case. You must have something down there.”
“In Florida?”
“Yeah, Florida. And I might add, what a shock that you know where she lives.” Jansen’s tone was filled with enough sarcasm that Will ditched denying he’d kept track of Sara’s whereabouts. The woman had a way of going off the radar that impressed him. But he’d found her, down in Florida, where she’d gotten her degree in education while working two jobs. One of those jobs had made the hair on the back of his neck shiver every time he’d thought about it. Sara dancing had to be a thing of beauty. Maybe not where she’d been doing it, but he couldn’t judge the woman for doing what she had to do to get her diploma.
How much longer can I wait, and hold back, before I end up down there?
“There’s no way I can head down there.” He rubbed his hand over his hair. Not yet. I need more time.
Jansen cussed. “That’s not the answer I wanted, Bryson. I need you to go and get Paris some assurances that her best goddamn friend is safe.”
The idea made him sick. “So, you think the Duke drug had side effects that are still messing with her?” He’d learned firsthand what DNA-altering drugs could do when he’d signed up for the Sentinel Program. He’d never taken Duke’s serum, but he knew that it was a copycat of the original Sentinel drug.
“Yeah, we think so.” Jansen lowered his voice. Will guessed Paris had no idea Jansen was making the call. He wondered at that, since she knew what he did, and what he could do, especially to help a friend. “That, or something else is wrong, and that’s why we’re worried. Paris believes it’s something else.”
Goosebumps skittered up his arms. He forgot the worry that Paris didn’t trust him with her friend. “What are you talking about? What else?”
“We don’t know, man. Hold on a second.” The sound of Jansen mumbling filled the line, but Will thought he’d put his hand over the phone. So, she was there, or had stepped in on the call. Why was Jansen hiding? This was her friend, if she wanted answers, it made sense to ask Will. He was all about answers now. Unless Paris had guessed he was interested in Sara and didn’t like the idea. He’d been sloppy the last time he’d been out with the couple, asking way too many questions.
He moved his mouse, waking his computer, and clicked to the screen to run Sara’s license. Nothing new came up. No new address, no new number, place of employment, nothing. He found a change of address, but the mail had been shipped back to Canada and he knew damn good and well she wasn’t there.
So, where are you? What are you running from?
Months ago, he’d caught her heading off the compound, away from Derek, a man working under Duke. He’d assumed Derek had slipped her a dose of the sex drug, she’d found out and dumped the sorry bastard on the spot. He’d been partially right. Derek had slipped her the drug, but she’d not given him hell for it—she’d run.
When he’d offered to give her a ride into town, she’d accepted, but had been nervous the entire ride. But she’d thanked him, smiled briefly then hopped out of the truck and raced up the steps of the hotel.
The next time he’d seen her had been a different story.
She’d been scared—and coming back to the compound right when the mission was unraveling around them. He’d herded her out of there as fast as he could. He’d worried about her then, but had been too caught up in being near her, too busying trying to tame his reaction to her, to ask why she’d returned or why she seemed frightened.
Now, regrets flooded him. Something had been wrong. Something had frightened her enough to end up back at Duke’s. She’d been searching for Paris and the car. She’d wanted to go back to Canada immediately. He’d ended that idea and driven her to a hotel a few towns over and left her there, secure in a room he paid for.
Safe.
Only she hadn’t stayed. Not even the one night.
“Will, man? Are you there?”
At Jansen’s growl, Will glanced around, realizing he’d been lost in thought while his buddy had been talking.
“I’m here.” He switched to another screen, but found no trace of her in Canada, either. “You’re certain she’s still in Florida?”
“Well, that’s what the hell I need you for. Go find out. We need some answers, Will, and you are in the business of getting those, aren’t you?”
“Jansen, it’s not that easy, but let me do some checking,” he added when Jansen started swearing again. He clicked on a secure link and typed in the coded password to gain entrance into some of the most advanced search engines in the world. Being ex-special forces had some benefits. Within a minute, he had her location, under a new name, and an employment address. He sat forward when he found a rent-to-own agreement with the different name on it. Frowning, he got satellite images of the location and studied it. “She’s in Florida, under a new name.”
“Damn, that’s good news.”
A red flag appeared in the window and the goosebumps returned to shiver up his arms and down his back. “Shit.”
“Shit?”
He opened the operation details after locating and finding who was running the show. Carson.
“Bryson, the silences are pissing me—”
“She’s in trouble. Carson is set up down there. A team’s in place.” Sweat blossomed on his forehead and his heart went crazy as if he had to jump out first in a combat situation. “Fuck, man, they think Ashton Potter has her in his sights.”
Silence, then cursing from Jansen. He read the rest of the report, quickly skimming it until Paris’ name came up under a section describing who they felt were possible targets. “Man, are you in the know on this?”
“I know that fucker wanted a piece of Paris, if that’s what you’re asking. Why do you think I can’t go assure Paris that her friend is safe?”
“Why didn’t you tell me—?”
“Carson made a call on the side. He and I are in contact over the little MIT shit, but he didn’t say a word on Sara.”
“He might not know that she’s a friend of Paris’s…”
“Or he didn’t want me chewing his ass and—”
“He knows you can’t help on this one.” He logged off and stood. “But I can. I’ll be on a plane down there as soon as I can arrange it.”
“Good.” Jansen sighed and sounded as if he’d sat down heavily. “Keep one thing in that head of yours. She’s not Stephanie. She’s not a hook-up. Don’t fucking hurt her, and don’t let Potter within a hundred miles of her.”
“Jansen.” He slung his jacket on and tried to tame the anger roiling through him. “Stephanie is the past and best forgotten. She and I have been done for years. Why are bringing her up now?”
“Because she’s the one you had your dreams pinned on. You got her dear John, you tossed all possibilities of finding someone else out the window.”
“I did—”
“You go through women like they’re drive-thrus. You don’t wait for any of them to dig a way past that fence you’ve built around your heart. So, I’m telling you now, if you save that girl’s life, then break her heart, I will break both your legs so you always walk with a limp.”
Will took the lecture and laughed at the threat, but Jansen knew him way too well. “You do that, buddy. While you’re waiting for me to go save the girl, consider the fact that I don’t need your advice, and your threats really don’t impress me.”
“Oh, is that so? Well, it won’t be me, Will. Paris is aware of your interest, and more, she knows Sara shares it, so I’m warning you. Fuck with her, and she’ll make certain you regret it.”
He shook his head, but didn’t respond to the direct challenge except to fist his hands. Sara is interested in me? “If you’re done?”
“Yeah, I’m done.”
“I’d better see what I can do. I’m not on the payroll any longer, remember?”
“Like that fucking matters. Get down there and send us some reassurances. Paris is sick with worry.”
Paris was quite possibly the sweetest woman he’d ever met. She’d saved his ass once and never asked for a thing in return. He glanced out of the window. But keep my hands off Sara if she wants what I’m dying to give her? “I’ll call as soon as I have more.”
Chapter Three
“Ms. Stevens?”
Sara stopped. One of the parents of her students waved and walked over, her smile bright as she automatically shook her hand. Mrs. Morales was from Cuba, with a strong accent and dark, glossy black hair and almond eyes. She reminded Sara of Selena Gomez. Unlike the famous singer, Mrs. Morales had always been shy and very quiet during parent-teacher meetings. Her English was shaky, which probably contributed to her silence. She imagined at home, in her native language, she was quite talkative. As if to confirm that, Mrs. Morales’ smile grew.
“It’s so nice to see you.”
“Mrs. Morales, it’s good to see you, too. How is Juan doing with his homework?”
“Oh, Juan is a good boy. He always does his work.” Mrs. Morales covered her throat with a hand and seemed to draw back. “Doesn’t he?”
“Yes, of course. He always works very hard. He is a good boy. I enjoy helping him. I only wish I could do more.”
An awkward pause settled over them, then in a burst of rapid English, Mrs. Morales said, “I didn’t know you lived near here. We shop here many times and never see you.”
“I live a few blocks away. I moved into an old fixer-upper off Glenn Avenue.” Sara indicated the paint, rollers and other supplies in her cart. “I thought I’d paint this weekend. I hope I don’t do a horrible job.”
“Oh, you will paint? Don’t you have a man to do that?”
She smiled at the shock on Juan’s mother’s face. Clearly, she didn’t do such things. “Not at the moment, no.”
“Oh, you are so brave. My Javier does all these man things.”
Trying not to laugh at the comment, she sighed as if she were really shaken up by the loss of a man to do ‘man things’. “I do pretty well on my own.”
Mrs. Morales waved that away as if it was a pesky fly. “Ah, well, that is good. My son loves your classes. He’s never been so eager to work on his English before. He is a good boy for you?”
“Juan is always a good boy. He is also a bright boy. He does all his work, and more. You should be proud of him. I think he’ll reach the next book before Halloween, even.”
Mrs. Morales’ face glowed with the compliment and Sara took her hand again when she extended it.
“Thank you so much, you are a good teacher. I will let you go. I wanted to say hello.”
“Anytime you need to talk, you know I’m always at school.” She smiled encouragingly again when Mrs. Morales bit her lip nervously.
She was clearly a good mom. Juan was one of her favorite students. His mom was young, maybe her age, with three children at home. Sara had the feeling Juan’s dad, Javier, was in jail, not at home doing ‘man things’ for his wife. There were more students with issues like that than she liked, but she did her best to make her ESL classroom warm and safe.
Maybe I can bring in some cookies. He loved those the last time. His mother was poor, and if Sara had to guess, she would say too busy to bake for her children.
Adding chocolate chips to her mental list, she continued down the aisle. Her phone vibrated in her pocket at the checkout, but she ignored it and paid.
The past few weeks had been tough, but also exciting. She’d barely had time to worry about anything, let alone the past. But here, in the bright lights of the Wal-Mart Super Store, the fear crawled up her spine like the chill she got in the winter when her jacket was loose enough to allow the breeze to find her bare skin. Only this wasn’t that funny coolness—it was terror.
She tightened her hands on the cart and rolled it past all the busy check-outs to the exit, trying to remain calm. It was useless. Her body reacted. Her muscles tightened painfully. Her heart raced even before she’d pushed through the exit.
Outside, she hurried. The parking lot was dim, with some of the lights blaring too brightly and others missing. Shadows stretched out far from the taller trucks, which she avoided, as she focused on reaching her small blue Honda.
It would take hours to get down off the high brought on by her fear. It always did. Not being able to see clearly enough to know if anyone was sitting and watching for her in one of the parked cars was what had kept her housebound for so long. It still would have if she’d not pushed herself and refused to give in.
No matter how hard she tried, how many times she forced herself to come out of her house at night, she still battled the fear—and lost. Even now, with her heart racing, and telling herself to calm down, she couldn’t. Everywhere—absolutely everywhere—she saw the possibility of him watching without her being aware he was there until it was too late.
She reached her car, but she was almost in tears from what she’d imagined. Without bothering over the eggs or bread, she crammed her groceries and gallons of paint into the hatchback and slammed the door.
Why is it worse tonight?
She went to the store every Friday, but tonight she’d stayed after school to talk with a teacher struggling with her non-English speakers. Nighttime frightened her, but after pushing herself to continue with her life after Wyoming, then getting a job with the Meadowbrook School, she couldn’t allow her fear to hijack her again. So, she forced herself to go to the store after work at least once a week. She had to find ways to survive outdoors, away from her home. The stores, though, always scared her, as did the shadowy parking lot.
Tonight’s worse because I’ve felt like someone is watching me all the time now—day and night.
Before getting in the car, she checked the back seat through her window. Only then did she get in and shut the door and quickly lock it.
Her breath left her in an explosive sob that sounded like a crazy laugh. She quickly stifled that.
Her therapist was proud of her progress.
But that was only because she’d lied to hide the shameful fear she experienced every time she had to leave her house. Every time it was as bad as the first time. She knew, absolutely knew, it shouldn’t be by now, but couldn’t stop it.
Months had passed without a thing happening to her. But still, she couldn’t shake the feeling that one of those huge razor-sharp pendulums swung closer to her with each second that went by.
“Nothing happened. Nothing will happen. No one is there. No one will be there.”
She wished with all her might that was true. Her hands shook so badly she had to calm down before she could even think of driving.
Nothing happened. Nothing will happen. No one is there. No one will be there.
After much too long, she managed to get her heartbeat down. A few more minutes and she could lift her head and stare out her windshield into the dark parking lot.
When will this be over? When will I be able to walk outside without freaking out?
Tears of frustration clouded her vision. She sniffed them away and wiped at her eyes when a few managed to fall. Sometimes it was too much.
I miss being brave. Not being scared of stupid shadows!
She could remember how she had once been, before, when she didn’t know how truly weak she was compared to the monsters out there.
It takes one second for your life to change.
Would it take one second for it to change back again? To the way it’d been before?
A shaky laugh erupted from her and she covered her mouth and glanced at the car on her left.
Insane. I’m going insane.
A horn startled her. Two cars were waiting for her parking spot. She sniffed again and turned the key in the ignition so she could back out and leave the store. Maybe someday the fear would dwindle, and she’d be brave enough to honk her horn right back.
The thought made her laugh, but it was a choked sound, a crazy—insane—woman-losing-her-mind-laugh. Didn’t matter, no one could hear, anyway. She was alone.
Her phone buzzed again. She pulled it free from her purse. Paris’ sweet, smiling face appeared on her screen. Paris had always known how to make Sara’s life feel full—even when they’d been miles and countries apart.
For a moment or two, she debated picking up, but as she had for some time now, she set the phone down and ignored the call.
