Cover Me (16 page)

And others had left, close to as many as filled the screen now, their faces unaccounted for. Were they frozen out there too? What else would the National Guard uncover?

The coffee mug rattled against the metal table as her hands trembled harder.

Agent Lasky shoved his chair back. “That’ll do for now, Miss Foster. If you’ll sit tight, I’ll be back in ten minutes or so.” He started for the door.

“Am I under arrest?”

He glanced back over his shoulder. “Why would you ask that?”

“Because it feels like I’m being held prisoner here.”

Those too-perceptive piercing eyes had her fighting the urge to fidget in her seat.

“We ruled you out as a suspect early on. Your survival knife doesn’t match the wounds.

And all the cuts were made by a right-handed person.” He nodded to her hold on her mug of coffee. “You’re obviously very left-handed, something we determined the second we had you sign in.”

His words reassured her and chilled her at the same time. Everything he’d said and done had been an interrogation technique. What else had he ferreted out of her without her realizing it? “Thank you. I think.”

“You’re welcome. You’re free to go. With Deputy Smith out of the picture, there’s nothing to fear. Is there?”

God, she was beginning to really hate those open-ended probing questions of his. “I appreciate your help, Agent Lasky.”

Scratching over his cigarette pocket again, he nodded brusquely. He opened the sealed metal door with a sinister hiss, leaving her completely alone in the freaky small room.

Could the deputy really have been a serial killer as Agent Lasky seemed to believe? If so, how had he figured out where she was, much less followed her all the way to Wade’s so quickly?

The car crash appeared to have been an accident at least. The driver of the car shouldn’t even have been behind the wheel at fifteen years old. He’d said Chewie running out in the road freaked him, then he’d lost control of his car and hit the deputy.

The deputy, someone in uniform she should have been able to trust, had pretended to be her ally for the past two years as she passed over dear friends into his care. God, was there anyone she could she trust anymore? Certainly not some slick-suited agent she didn’t even know.

Acid frothed in her stomach as she thought about how close her sister had come to being among those dead faces. What if Misty tried to strike out on her own before she could get back?

Sunny pushed aside her coffee. She couldn’t risk putting anything in her stomach anytime soon.

At least the deputy had been stopped, and their friends would receive a proper burial. If he’d acted alone as the authorities seemed to believe, her sister was safe.

However, the longer she sat here, the more she feared there could be something more, some terrible threat still lurking in their closed-off community. Sure, those dead bodies, the retrieval, the questions, would eventually lead authorities to investigate her village.

But she was more concerned with the here and now.

Lasky had requested she stay silent about everything for forty-eight hours while they looked into the matter further with the Alaska police and National Guard searching the area.

They wanted to keep a lid on things so as not to create widespread panic and miscommunication of details.

Where did that leave her?

No way in hell could she just sit around on her hands waiting, hoping nothing bad would happen. She was a woman of action. Yes, she could email her brother a warning, but she couldn’t simply hope that email arrived in a timely fashion. How often had she seen a post come in three days after it had been sent? At least she knew email was working somewhat, since he’d sent word about the money transfer and a contact number for a flight home.

Her eyes darted nervously toward the one-way window. In the spooky bowels of a

military intelligence unit, it felt as if they could hear her thoughts as well as watch her every move. Were there body language experts on the other side of that pane of glass, reading her nerves, sensing her need to run?

Was Wade there?

Everything had happened so quickly once he’d told her they needed to go to the

base—ASAP. He’d scooped up her dog so carefully, so tenderly, her heart squeezed in her chest.

She’d raced after him, half expecting police to tell them to stop, but apparently the injured pet had provided enough reason for people not to question their leaving.

On the drive over, Wade had called the base. From the one-sided conversation, she could tell he’d phoned his friend McCabe, the one who’d cracked jokes in the helicopter the day they’d been rescued. Wade had asked McCabe to arrange for the base veterinarian to meet them and attend to Chewie while he and Sunny spoke with OSI Special Agent Lasky.

She hadn’t wanted to leave her dog for even a second. But now she understood all eleven reasons why.

Her eyes shot back up to the screen, filled again with rows of small images, all the dead faces together. Right now, this was bigger than her brother. She couldn’t risk just trusting on faith that the deputy was a random serial killer who only targeted people from her community.

This had become life and death important.

Not only could her community be in danger, but they wouldn’t even see the threat

coming. They’d grown so comfortable in their utopia, thinking they could live alone and free of the rest of the world, peacefully close to nature. But they had been targeted like fish in a barrel and the local police had just let it happen.

She had such warm memories of growing up off-the-grid, but they were souring in a hurry now that she could see they’d never really been as isolated as she’d imagined.

The fairy tale was over. Going it alone hadn’t worked for her thus far.

And there was only one person she could even consider trusting to help with her single chance at warning the community—warning her sister—before everything blew up in their faces.

She needed Wade to go with her. She’d never seen anyone navigate the harsh Aleutian terrain as skillfully as he did. She was smart enough to know she’d need help getting back in, and Wade was just the man to offer it.

Afterward, they could go their separate ways.

***

Staring at Sunny through the one-way mirror felt like an invasion of her privacy. But Wade couldn’t force himself to look away.

Special Agent Lasky—a guy with a shaved bald head and spooky, all knowing eyes—had gone to verify the names she’d supplied for each of the bodies, her skin turning paler with each person identified. People from her community. It had taken all his restraint not to burst through that door and cover her eyes against his shoulder, to shield her from the horror no one should have to see.

“I’m so screwed,” he muttered under his breath.

Liam McCabe leaned into view. “And not in a good way, I take it?”

The major tugged his uniform, obviously having rushed over on the weekend in a hurry.

A host of dead bodies buried in ice would speed up any morning ritual. At least the slower weekend pace afforded them some privacy in the tiled hallway.

“Not funny.” Not even the best-delivered punch line could pierce his dark mood today.

Too much danger was skating too close to Sunny. “What if her dog hadn’t taken off at that moment? What if that bastard Rand Smith had gotten his hands on Sunny while I was backing the truck out of the garage? Damn it”—he thumped the wall beside the mirror, the framed photo of the base commander rattling—“I should have seen something like this coming. I should have protected her.”

“Ah…” The major leaned closer. “So that’s the way this rolls with the two of you, is it?”

He ignored the not-so-subtle hint for more information. “How’s her dog? How’s

Chewie?”

Seeing the furry mutt’s stoic attempt to hobble back to Sunny in spite of the obvious and extreme pain had been moving as hell. That kind of devotion was rare.

“The vet took an X-ray. No broken bones—”

Wade’s fist unfurled against the wall. “Some good news at least in one helluva day.”

“Amen to that.” The major scrubbed a hand over a couple of razor cuts along his jaw from a hasty shave. “But there’s definitely a sprain, perhaps even a tear in a tendon. He said the dog will need crate rest for at least a couple weeks.”

“How was Chewie? Did he seem stressed over Sunny not being with him?”

“He seemed to remember the vet from before, which helped keep him chilled.”

“That’s good.”

Relief sucked the air right out of him. For the dog—and for Sunny, who would have been devastated if anything happened to Chewie. Her bond with the animal couldn’t be missed. Only once he’d told her about the discovery of the additional dead bodies had he been able to pry her from her pet’s side.

Fast on the heels of that image, a damn selfish thought slithered through his brain. Now she would have to stick around for at least two weeks. No way could Chewie make it through a mountain pass in his condition.

Heavy footsteps sounded in the hall, jerking them both alert and upright until Hugh Franco rounded the corner in uniform, although it looked like he’d slept in the thing. “Damn, Brick, can’t you stay out of trouble for even twenty-four hours? I couldn’t believe it when McCabe called me.”

Wade thumped his fist to his heart. “Your compassion overwhelms me, my friend.”

“Hey, I don’t roll out of bed this early for just anyone.” He pulled his sunglasses from his head and hooked them on the neck of his wrinkled ABU jacket. “How did it go with the OSI?

Any leads?”

“Two agents grilled me, picking apart every word looking for leads that so far I’m not seeing.” He didn’t like having his time with Sunny splashed all over some official report, but her safety was most important.

“And their theory?”

“They say it’s too early to have any definitive answers, yada yada, the sort of evasive responses you expect. But they suspect a serial killer scenario. They’re investigating how Smith made it all the way here, and why the hell he was standing around right outside my place. We’re too far from her home and his for it to be coincidental.”

Wade looked from Sunny back at his two closest friends on the planet. Men he would trust to have his back in a bar fight. Men he would trust with his life.

Men he would trust with Sunny’s life.

“I just want to get her away from here,” Wade said. “You know? Use some of all those leave days I’ve built up and give her a chance to decompress until they sort things out. God forbid there should more to this than Lasky and the rest are considering.” The farther he got her away from here, the better.

And he knew how to do that too. He had the survival training, the specialized skills, to fall off-the-grid in ways her community couldn’t even begin to fathom.

Franco’s smile flattened in a flash. “Whatever you need for her, we’re here.”

An uncomfortable silence settled at the intensity in his voice, an understandable intensity.

Franco had lost his wife and daughter years ago in a freak plane crash. He’d fallen apart and almost got psych-evaled off the team. Somehow he’d pulled it together enough to function, to work, but there was an edge to everything he did now.

And when it came to protecting women and kids, he was damn near superhuman.

McCabe cleared his throat. “So, Brick, did you jar anything lose when you tangoed with that car this morning? Do you need me to check out those stitches?”

“All two of them? I’m okay, just a little road rash from when I hit the ground.” He worked his arm, the ABU rubbing across abraded skin. “Shoulder’s sore, but manageable.”

McCabe studied him through narrowed eyes as if deciding on whether to insist on

checking him over. “You’ve had some kind of target on your back since you met this woman.

What’s she mixed up in?”

His defensive hackles rose. “There are a lot of reasons people go off-the-grid.”

Franco’s grin returned, half-wattage but powering back to life. “Yeah, just ask Henry David Thoreau.”

The major snorted. “Who knew you were a literary scholar?”

“I even read books without pictures.”

“Somehow I didn’t peg you as having
Walden
on your nightstand.”

Franco’s smile held for a few seconds before he looked back through the glass again, where Sunny turned her full mug of coffee around and around on the table. “I’m not angling to start a book club here. I’m just saying that I agree with our buddy the major. Your girlfriend seems to be mixed up in some bad mojo.”

He’d wondered the same, but hearing it from someone else? Wade couldn’t stop the

defensive comeback. “I’m waiting to hear what the OSI’s peek into her past has to say before passing judgment, thanks…” Oh, and uh… “She’s not my girlfriend.”

How junior high–like did that sound? And shit. His neck was hot, as if he was blushing or something. Must be more road rash. Yeah, he was going with that.

McCabe didn’t look like he was fooled for a minute. “Whatever.” His forehead furrowed and he thumbed the crinkles between his eyebrows as if battling a headache. “No matter how it looks, I have my doubts about the serial killer theory.”

Damn. Just what he needed. More affirmation of his own concerns. Because Wade had learned one hard-and-fast truism over the years. He could always count on the instincts of his team.

His gaze landed on Sunny, on the vulnerable curve of her neck and the bold brace of her shoulders, with long brown hair cascading down her back. Damn straight he had to get her somewhere safe, and soon, although he suspected persuading her would take some major maneuvering. Whatever it took, he was sticking to her side.

Details first, however.

“Hey, guys, I do need a favor.” He hooked an arm around each man’s shoulder, McCabe on one side, Franco on the other. “Which of you can dog-sit a seventy-five-pound husky mutt on crate rest?”

***

Sunny was ready to jump out of her skin.

If they didn’t let her out of this teeny-tiny room soon, she would lose it.
Seriously
lose it.

Lasky may have said she was free to go, but there was still the technicality of getting through that freaking metal door. She never would have thought herself claustrophobic, but after so long living in the wide outdoors, this interrogation cube on a military base with fences and guards…