Untraceable Evidence, page 11
He blinked. That explained her skills, but not why she’d lied to him. He’d signed the government forms ad nauseam and none mentioned 24-7 protection. That would’ve been a benefit, not a deterrent. Unless...fresh irritation fueled his words. “There was nothing about the repeated attempts on my life in the contracts. If the ATF is so concerned about my welfare, why not tell me I have a bodyguard?”
Her hesitant response confirmed what he’d guessed.
“You’re not guarding Ghost. You’re watching me.” He stormed past her and grabbed the briefcase from the floor. “You’re worried I’ll run off with my prototype or sell it to Malte.”
Randee shook her head. “For the record, it’s not your prototype. Ghost belongs to the ATF. Everyone’s safety is at risk, as you’ve witnessed.”
Embarrassment hardened his stomach, and the ground seemed to shift beneath his feet. The reality was, for the slightest moment, he’d stupidly considered Randee more than a coworker. She hadn’t befriended him. She’d been assigned to watch him and report on his every move. The ATF hadn’t placed its trust and confidence in his development of Ghost. It’d played him. She’d played him. Made him believe he was more important to the project than he really was. The ATF determined he was an incompetent drone incapable of handling a top secret assignment, so they’d sent him a babysitter.
Was Fritz in on it, too? Every insecurity and self-condemning voice bounced to the forefront of his mind, melding with the intruder’s words. That’s downright cute. She your bodyguard?
Desperate to escape the suffocating atmosphere, he blurted, “We need to leave. Now.”
* * *
Randee averted her eyes, focusing on the TV screen where a thick red line across the bottom announced school and business closures. The small box on the right side indicated the counties and their varying degrees of winter weather advisories and warnings. She tamped down the anxiousness about traveling in the blizzard and snatched the duffel packed with the guns.
Ace turned off the TV, locked the front door and headed toward the garage.
“Guess it’s only going to get worse before it gets better,” she said, following him.
“Yeah,” he grumbled.
They loaded the supplies into the truck, minimizing the already tight space.
She climbed in, and Ace slid behind the wheel. He turned the ignition, but nothing happened.
Grumbling, Ace got out and popped the hood. “You might as well go back inside where it’s warm.”
“Is something wrong?” Perhaps a dumb question considering the obvious, but talking to him went beyond walking on eggshells.
“Our visitor apparently messed with our ride.”
Frustration oozed through Randee. Time was of the essence, and they were delayed again. Unfortunately, she knew nothing about vehicle repair. “How bad is it?”
He grunted from behind the hood. “Not permanently disabling. He cut a wire and tried to remove the distributor cap.” She heard a few grumbles and other assorted noises.
Randee walked to his side. “Can I help?”
He glared. “No. Just give me a few.”
She stepped out of his way and watched as he stalked to the back side of the garage, tugging open drawers until he found the tools he needed before returning to the vehicle.
Twenty minutes later, impatience building, Randee asked, “Sure you don’t need anything?”
“I’ve got it,” he grumbled.
She started to protest, then thought better of it. Arguing with him would only add to their already strained communications.
How had the intruder escaped in the blizzard? Randee surveyed the landscape. The ground was swept smooth by the winds, covering any tracks he might’ve left.
But there would be more of Malte’s cronies to battle, she was sure of it. She glanced over her shoulder where Ace appeared to be finishing up, though she didn’t dare ask.
What time was it, anyway? Excusing herself to the bathroom, Randee spotted the stove’s clock. If they didn’t get out of here soon, they’d be easy targets for Malte’s next attempt. Ace had been working on the pickup for what seemed like forever, but it wasn’t as if they had any other drivable options.
At last Ace started the engine, and Randee climbed in. He backed out of the garage, then jumped out to close the door using the external keypad. Snow pelted the truck, and Randee turned up the defrost. Had she been wrong to tell Ace the truth? No. He was angry, but he had the right to be. Still, the progress they’d made in getting to know each other was now buried behind a wall again.
He climbed in and slammed the door. They exited the driveway in a slow progression. The tires crunched on the snow, and the headlights illuminated the white flakes, making an almost-blinding approach to the road. Randee glanced in the side mirror as the Steele ranch faded in the distance.
She patted the hoodie pocket holding her Glock, unable to shake the guilt of wearing Cara’s things, but everything fit perfectly. And as Ace had said, she’d launder and return them as soon as possible.
“Thank you,” she mouthed, glancing at Cara’s darkened bedroom window. Though they’d never met, a tenderness for the family torn apart by the girl’s tragic death weighed heavily on her shoulders.
The Steeles had sterilized the home by removing everything personal, while Cara’s room had been preserved as if she still lived there. All the irritation that she’d felt earlier evaporated. Randee closed her eyes and said a prayer for the parents aching from the loss of their daughter. Maybe in time, God would heal and restore their small family again.
Ace accelerated on the highway, causing the truck to fishtail on the icy road. To his credit, he recovered, and they continued their departure into the blowing snow. “For the record, I disagree with leaving in this weather, but I guess Malte knows our location so there are no other options. Where to now?”
Randee considered his question. “We need to get a phone. Where’s the closest store?”
“Depends on which direction we go. Possibly in Randolph, although it’s pretty late.”
“Let’s try that and if not, just keep going until we find an open one.”
“Randolph is off the main highway.”
“I’d prefer we take smaller county roads, so it’s not as easy for Malte to follow us.”
Ace snorted. “And more dangerous for us to travel.”
“If you have a better suggestion, I’m open.” She watched his expression, but he never took his eyes from the windshield.
“You’re the expert, Agent.” He spoke her title as though it was a bitter taste in his mouth, pricking her heart. “I’m having a hard time with this strange arrangement. I can’t pretend you’re Randee Jones, super accountant for PrimeRight. So would you at least tell me who you are?”
She sat up straighter and squared her shoulders. What could it hurt now? “Fair enough. My name is Miranda Jareau. Randee was my dad’s nickname for me.”
Ace’s grip appeared to relax slightly on the steering wheel. He held out one hand in an awkward offering. “Nice to meet you, Miranda Jareau.”
With a small grin, she received his palm and gave him a strong shake. “Which do you prefer, Randee or Miranda?”
She shrugged. “Mother said Dad nicknamed me Randee as a consolation for having a daughter instead of a son.”
Ace frowned. “Sounds like something my mom would say.”
A strange bond hovered between them, a silent confirmation that Ace understood the pain of familial struggles.
“When we were deciding my PrimeRight alias, Randee came to mind, so I sort of reverted to it.” She shifted, focusing on the flakes pelting the windshield in a mesmerizing pattern.
“Miranda’s pretty, but Randee suits you.”
The comment got her attention, and she glanced up with a sad smile, unable to think of anything to say. Randee longed for a reprieve from Malte’s men and the comfort of her team’s presence.
How long could she protect Ace and Ghost without their support?
NINE
A fresh concoction of complicated emotions—bitterness, anger, curiosity and embarrassment—rose in Ace’s chest. Who was Miranda Jareau?
His curiosity overrode his anger, which meant he’d have to be nicer, and that came dangerously close to vulnerable. He also yearned to get to know her, except for his indignation at her continued deception.
However, they were stuck together, at least until they trudged their way back to...he wasn’t even sure where they’d go. But one thing he knew, as soon as possible, he’d rid himself of the beautiful petite brunette with mad fighting skills.
Ace sighed. Randee was protecting him. Scratch that, it was her job to protect Ghost, the pet project and very bane of his existence.
What had Fritz thought when the fireworks ended? Had he noticed Randee and Ace were missing? Should he call? Would that endanger Fritz, or send Malte’s men descending on him and Randee again? Fritz was the only family Ace had anymore. For all his pomp and circumstance, Fritz was nothing more than a scared child trying to prove his worth to an invisible and condemning force. His parents were so much like Ace’s, demanding perfection, never satisfied with even the best achievements. And like Ace, Fritz struggled to please them and earn their favor along with everyone else’s.
Ace had given up that fight. Mostly. Nothing he did would earn his parents’ love. They’d stored their parental feelings when Cara died, taking their hurt and grief and stacking it into a combined disdain for their worthless son. After all, he’d failed to protect her. Regret for leaving that fateful night returned and with it the self-condemnation for selfishly sneaking out after his parents left for a party. All so he and Fritz could go to the movies too far away in the neighboring town’s theater while he was supposed to be home with Cara. Typical of her loving big-sister ways, she’d promised to cover for him, unsuspecting her ex-boyfriend would visit.
Phillip had been arrested and convicted of stalking Cara. Upon the day of his parole release, he’d exacted his revenge. If he couldn’t be with Cara, no one would.
Ace inhaled, desperate to ignore the memories while wanting to feel the pain afresh. The hurt reminded him of the importance of completing Ghost. Why had he agreed to this wretched project in the first place? The ATF ensured him Ghost was a step in preventing criminals from making illegal, untraceable 3-D printer guns. Whatever it took to achieve that goal and protect innocents like Cara, Ace promised to do. Give me the strength to finish this, Lord. And protect me and Randee until we can pass this to the authorities.
The notion that someone was watching him had Ace glancing over at Randee. Her hair framed her oval face in wavy cascades, giving her an almost impish appeal. Her wide eyes held a gentleness, and the urge to reach for her overwhelmed him. It didn’t matter that she’d lied, or that she wasn’t who she’d pretended to be. For the first time in his life, Ace understood why men did stupid things to win over a woman. Reasoning away the realities, in this place where his vulnerability exceeded common sense, he longed for someone’s acceptance.
Randee smiled at him. “Thank you for braving the elements. I know there’s not much I can do at the moment, but when this is over if there’s anything you ever need, just call.”
Ace focused on the road ahead. The only thing he needed was to pretend the feelings Randee awakened didn’t exist. And the faster they got back to Omaha, the better. They’d go their separate ways, and he’d never have to see Randee again.
* * *
Randee pressed her fingers against her temples warding off the headache. A glance at the dashboard clock showed it was one o’clock in the morning. “Are we getting close to Randolph?”
“Yes.”
“They should have burner cell phones or at least a landline,” she said.
He shrugged. “Let’s hope so.”
The combination of snow-packed roads, balding tires and lack of weight in the truck’s bed reduced their speed to a sloth’s pace. Each passing minute elevated Randee’s anxiety, but Ace drove with expert confidence even when the truck fishtailed on several icy patches.
Both remained quiet until he turned onto Highway 20 and a sign for the town of Randolph came into view. The orange-tinted ground reflected that the Department of Transportation had spread sand and begun clearing the roads.
Ace parked in front of the welcoming convenience store, and Randee unlatched her seat belt, too eager to contain her excitement. She was minutes from contacting her team. She hopped out of the truck before he shut off the engine.
“Wait up,” Ace said, briefcase in hand.
She halted, though she longed to bolt ahead of him. At last, they entered together. The bell above the door chimed a greeting and the clerk—a man she’d guess to be in his sixties—leaned over the counter wearing a wide grin. “Ace Steele. Is that really you?”
Great. Reunion time.
Ace hesitated, and his shoulders visibly stiffened. Randee waited beside him, fighting the urge to yank him through the store. His demeanor gave her concern, and her hand instinctively went to the Glock resting in her hoodie pocket.
At last, Ace said, “Mr. Orfut, so nice to see you.” He shifted the briefcase to his other hand. “Go ahead, hon.”
Hon? She tried not to show her surprise at his choice of endearments as he gestured toward the inner part of the store. “I’ll be just a minute. I need to catch up with Mr. Orfut. Oh, and would you grab a couple of coffees and something to munch on?”
Randee nodded dumbly as she grasped the briefcase handle. The men’s conversation carried, and she monitored them while searching for burner phones.
Ace’s jovial tone, though forced, sounded believable. They bounced around topics from the weather to the football season’s best plays. Randee lost interest as she scanned the displays, locating the outdated flip phone. She grabbed the last remaining item and a portable car charger, then headed to the coffee machines.
The enormous glazed doughnuts reactivated her appetite, and she added two. Balancing her grocery items, she returned to where Ace still chatted it up with the older man at the counter.
“Sorry, hon.” He helped her to unload everything as Orfut rang up the purchases.
“Yep, the missus makes these doughnuts.” Orfut addressed her. Clearly, their departure wouldn’t happen soon.
“They looked irresistible,” she said.
He chuckled and lifted the cell phone, inspecting the device. “I didn’t realize I had any of these in the store. Doesn’t everyone use those smart kind now?”
Ace’s plastered smile was almost comical. “If it was up to me, we’d all still have rotary phones.”
Good diversion.
Orfut commented on every item, dragging the checkout procedure to twice the necessary time, then asked Randee, “So, where are you visiting us from?”
She glanced at Ace, and he responded with a small apologetic shrug. “Omaha. Guess I underestimated the storm.” The weather was generally a safe subject.
“It is a mess out there, isn’t it?” Orfut clucked his tongue as he rang up the car charger. “You folks would be wise to get off the roads. Just heard on the police scanner they found a body in the ditch near Highway 20. The poor soul was trying to drive a UTV out there. Who does that?”
Randee met Ace’s eyes. “That’s terrible.” She lifted the bag and coffees while Ace paid.
He placed a hand on her back, signaling their departure. “Great seeing you, sir.”
“You too, Ace. Don’t be a stranger now.” Orfut waved them off, and they scurried out of the store before the man cornered them in another long discussion.
Neither spoke until they’d both shut their doors and Ace had backed out of the parking space. Finally, Randee said, “Well, I guess we know what happened to our attacker.” She withdrew a doughnut, passing it to him.
“Yeah.” He shook his head.
“I thought we’d never get out of there, although I’m impressed at your improv conversation skills.”
“I forgot Mr. Orfut and his wife recently bought the store. They’re Hollow Hills’s town gossips, more informative than the internet and newspapers combined. If Malte’s men returned and stopped anywhere near my parents’ home, I wanted to give them something to throw them off.” He took a bite of the doughnut.
Randee opened the packaging and removed the phone. “Great thinking.” She plugged the charger into the lighter, bringing the device to life.
“Told him you and I are headed up to Yankton, South Dakota, to meet with some of your old friends.”
“And we’re actually...”
“Going to Omaha. PrimeRight is closed for the weekend, and we can stay there until you decide what our next steps are.”
* * *
Randee nodded. “That answer should come as soon as I make a call.” She glanced at the display. No bars. Great.
“Once we get onto the highway, you should have some coverage.”
Infusing her nervous energy into her doughnut, she munched in silence, monitoring the screen.
At last, service appeared, and she dialed Ishi’s number, holding her breath. She answered on the second ring. “Hello?”
The sound of her friend’s voice brought tears to Randee’s eyes. “Ishi, it’s Randee.”
“Are you all right? Where are you? Do I need to send police your way?”
“We’re headed back to Omaha from Randolph.”
“What were you doing way out there?”
“Long story, but the weather is atrocious.” Randee told Ishi about the intruder at Ace’s parents’ house. “We survived Malte’s crew at the gala, but I lost communication with Sergio and Wesley.”
“Somehow Malte’s men interfered with the takedown. We’re still not sure how. And someone planted a small bomb in the home office to break open the safe there.”
