Into the Fire (39 page)

“Wow.”

“A what?” Hannah didn’t understand, and Murphy fumbled the spelling, settling on the far easier
shrink.

“Yeah,” Dave said. “I’m glad you’re, um, okay. You
are
okay…?”

Murph nodded. “Yeah. I’m…Very sober.”

“I’m glad,” Dave said again, his words heartfelt.

“Is she by any chance a hypnotist?” Hannah asked. “Because that’s about where we were. About to dive into the unconventional end of the pool, hoping to find a clue.”

Dave turned to her. “It’s nice to see you, too, Hannah.”

“We need more time,” she told him intently, skipping over any and all small talk, refusing, even now, to concede defeat. “If you could give us a week—”

Dave laughed.

“A day,” Hannah negotiated. “Twenty-four hours—”

“Can’t do it,” Dave said apologetically, turning to include Murphy. “It’s something of a miracle that the FBI’s held off this long—taking you in for questioning…” He shook his head.

“Twelve hours. We just need a
little
more time,” Hannah persisted, ready, as always, to bring it to the mat for Murphy. God, she was fierce, and for a moment, he was back in Steve and Paul’s apartment, pushing her down across the kitchen table, losing himself in her strength and passion, giving himself up to a need that was so raw, so powerful, so absolute.

It had been exactly as he’d imagined sex with Hannah would be—passionate and terrifying. Mindblowingly so.

“You need more time to find a
clue,
” Dave repeated the word Hannah had used earlier. “Getting shot at’s not a major clue?”

“We don’t know who was shooting at us,” Hannah said, which wasn’t exactly a lie. They didn’t know for sure it was the Freedom Network.

Dave sighed and looked at Murphy.

“Dave’s kind of not an idiot,” Murphy told Hannah.

“There was a disturbance out at the Freedom Network compound early this morning,” Dave told them both. “Sirens went off and ten vehicles left via the compound gate in a cloud of dust. The FBI surveillance team couldn’t follow all of them, and of course the tailed cars went out on an innocent grocery run. Sat-images haven’t come back yet, but the experts are guessing they’ll find that the other cars trolled the hiking trail parking areas.” He paused. “You guys do any hiking recently?”

Hannah met Murphy’s eyes, and he knew exactly what she was thinking.
GPS device
…

But then she turned back to Dave. “Are you working for the FBI now?” she asked and Dave sighed again. “Because I thought you were here to talk Murph into turning himself in—which is really just a formality, considering we’re already in lock-down.”

Dave nodded. “You know how it works. It’s what’s down on paper, after the fact. Did he willingly cooperate upon finding out he was wanted for questioning? If so, he might catch a break at a future date.” He turned to Murphy. “So yes, I’m here to inform you that the FBI would very much like to ask you questions regarding your whereabouts at the time of Tim Ebersole’s death, at which point you should probably say,
Thanks, Dave. Of course I’m willing to cooperate immediately and disclose all information I have regarding the current ongoing investigation because I have nothing to hide.
A lot of important people pulled a lot of strings to make this happen for you. Tom Paoletti’s on his way here, from Hong Kong. Jules Cassidy is coming, too, and he
does
work for the FBI. He’s a good friend and ally, and he’ll probably get some serious crap from his boss for not sending a subordinate instead. As for me, I’m not just here to act as liaison. I’m also here to help. If you let me.”

“Of course I’m willing to cooperate,” Murphy echoed. “I just…” He looked at Hannah who was watching him intently, no doubt working hard to follow the conversation.

Hannah, who would willingly march into hell for him. Who’d come damn close to dying just a few short hours ago.

Because of him.

“I could definitely use your help,” he told Dave. “I need someone to get Hannah to safety. After she talks to the FBI, another
of course.
”

“What?” She either didn’t understand or couldn’t believe what he’d just said.

“Her uncle’s in Arizona,” Murphy ignored her. “Phoenix. Patrick O’Keefe. He’s a former Marine. Can you get her there for me?”

“Absolutely,” Dave said. “But—”

Hannah cut him off. “I’m not going anywhere. You
need
me.”

“No, I do not,” Murphy said emphatically, and now the look in her eyes was the same as when he’d inadvertently implied that she was nothing to him. God, now as then, how could she have thought that was what he’d meant?

But maybe it was good that she did.

Because she was all he had left, and he wasn’t going to lose her, too—even if that meant he had to lose her as a friend.

As a lover.

They were lovers now, God help him.

“I don’t need your help, and I don’t need you,” he said, because he
was not
going to bury Hannah, too. “You’ve done enough. And I thank you. For everything. For…all of it. But it’s over now.”

He could see from her eyes that she knew he was talking about the sex. It was also kind of clear that Dave caught that subtext, too. He looked as if he’d rather be anywhere else in the world right now, and tried to become invisible.

As for Hannah, Murphy knew that she’d found his words cold.
Thanks for getting me off…

“You know as well as I do,” he told her, “that it’s likely the FBI will arrest me. Shit, I’d arrest me. Plus, I’m kind of obviously a flight risk…”

“You do need me,” she insisted. “They’re going to be looking to prove you did it. You need someone to prove you didn’t. That you
weren’t
there.”

“What if I was, Han,” Murphy said quietly. “What if I killed him? God knows I
wanted
to…”

“Then we’ll fight it in court,” she responded in true Hannah-fashion, with plenty of fire in her eyes. “Temporary insanity.” She turned to Dave. “I have a letter that Murphy sent me—”

“No,” Murphy said, but Hannah didn’t hear him.

“—back in Dalton,” she continued, “at the cabin—”

Murphy got down off the bed, to get in her face. “No way,” he said again. Jesus, was she serious? “You’re
not
going back there.”

“Whoa, Murph,” Dave said. “Are you sure you should be out of bed?”

Murphy ignored him just as completely as he ignored the pull of the stitches in his leg. “Hannah. Think about it. The Freedom Network surely has the plate number of the car—”

“Which is registered in Alaska,” she pointed out. “If they’re using Patrick’s Rabbit to track us, then they’re heading for his place in Juneau—they probably don’t even know about Dalton. I’m getting that letter, Murph.” She paused. “Assuming I’m not arrested first, as your accomplice.”

“Which you will be, immediately after you show them the letter,” he lit into her.

“What letter?” Dave asked.

“Don’t say anything more,” Murphy ordered Hannah, and wonder of wonders, she actually shut her mouth. He turned to Dave. “I need to talk to Hannah privately.”

Dave looked from Murphy to Hannah and back. And nodded. “Five minutes,” he said, but then paused. “FYI, the FBI hasn’t connected you to the early morning incident at the Freedom Network compound. It hasn’t occurred to them that you’re crazy enough to have gone over that fence.”

“Thank you,” Murph said.

Dave nodded and left the room.

Hannah spoke first, reaching for Murphy, her fingers cold against his arms. “I just want to get it, Vinh. I’ll take it to a lawyer before—”

He interrupted her. “I want you safe,” he said, and if she didn’t have that bandage on her arm, he would have shaken her by the shoulders. As it was, he just took her hands. “Hannah, for God’s sake, promise me you won’t go back to Dalton.”

“I can’t do that,” she said, bringing his hand to her face and pressing it against the softness of her cheek. “I can’t.”

“If anything happens to you—”

“You mean, like kinda the way this—right now—is happening to you?” she countered hotly.

He broke free from her grip, because, God, if he didn’t, he’d put his arms around her and start crying like a baby.

“I mean like you, on the floor, with your brains coming out a hole in your head,” he said through clenched teeth. “
This
is nothing—being questioned, going to jail for something I probably did—something I would have done if I could’ve, something that, God, I hope I did!”

It was stupid—him raising his voice to a deaf woman.

But she damn near shouted back at him, her eyes blazing: “Even if you did it, that wasn’t really you! Six months ago, when you came to the cabin, trying to break into the gun case? You would
never
quit that way! You would never even
think
about taking your own life—never!”

Her conviction rang in the room, but Murphy just shook his head.

“Maybe not the man I used to be,” he admitted quietly. “But the man I am now
still
thinks about it.”

She didn’t have a snappy response to that—but her eyes did fill with tears. Which broke his heart.

What had he done to deserve her love? And she loved him. Murphy knew that absolutely, with another stroke of clarity that illuminated the truth.

That bullshit she’d given him about them hooking up because they were both lonely was just that. Bullshit. She loved him, and God help him, she’d probably loved him right from the start. Right from that first day, as he’d pulled her from the icy water alongside the pier.

I’m Hannah, Patrick’s niece.

Oh, good,
he’d said, trying not to stare as her T-shirt clung to her body. Amazing how someone could be both freezing cold and steaming hot.
Way to impress my former CO. By drowning his niece.

I know how to swim,
she’d said, laughing. She pulled off her soaking wet T-shirt, which nearly made him panic until he realized that that was her bathing suit she was wearing beneath it.
I should have known you were one of Pat’s Marines. You’re Vinh Murphy, right?

Yeah,
he’d told her.
Are there a lot of us?

Visiting, yes,
she’d informed him.
Working here, no. In fact, you’re in the one-and-only category for that. You must be pretty special.

I am,
he’d said as he smiled down at her.
And yeah, I know you’re probably thinking it, and you’re right. It’s kind of obvious, just from looking at me that I’m part leprechaun.

Hannah had laughed, which had made her eyes sparkle….

And okay, wait. Maybe
he
was the one who’d loved her from the first.

As friends—except, yeah, that was what he’d always told himself. He loved little Hannah Whitfield as a friend. He’d repeated it often enough to himself until it became true. And then he was hit by Hurricane Angelina, and he’d fallen, hard and fast and so-less-complicatedly in love with her.

And Hannah hadn’t said a word. She hadn’t spoken up. She’d just let it happen, let him marry her best friend.

“Why didn’t you fight for me?” Murphy asked her now.

She didn’t understand. “I
am
fighting for you,” she told him. “I’m trying to—”

“It doesn’t matter.” None of it mattered anymore. So he pushed it, trying to push her away, because, Jesus, what
did
matter was Hannah not being part of the body count, when this snafu finally sorted itself out.

If it ever did.

“Han, I’ve changed. You keep saying
temporary insanity,
and I just don’t see the temporary. If you put me in a room with Tim Ebersole, I would kill him. I wouldn’t need a weapon—I’d just tear him apart with my bare hands. I’d do it without hesitation—knowing I’d go to jail for life for doing it. Because I just don’t care what happens to me. I’ve tried to care because I know you do, but…I honestly don’t.”

She was shaking her head, and he knew she was going to give him more of that
I’ll care enough for both of us
crap, so he twisted the knife he’d already stuck into her.

“I shouldn’t have slept with you,” he told her. “I knew it was a mistake. I knew you’d end up hurt. I know you love me, Han, and I should’ve just kept my distance the way I’ve done all these years, but…I just didn’t care enough to do the right thing. That’s who I am now. I just don’t care about anything. Please don’t go to jail for me. And please, God, don’t die for me.”

Hannah opened her mouth to argue, as usual, but there was a knock on the door, and Dave came back in. He was followed by Jules Cassidy, the same FBI agent who’d helped track down Angelina’s killer, all those years ago. It was a lucky break for Murphy, because Cassidy not only knew Murphy, he also knew the history of the case.

Cassidy greeted Murphy and Hannah both, explaining that while Hannah would be interviewed here in this room about the shooting incident, he and Murphy would go to a different location, away from the hospital.

Which would have been extremely uncool—leaving Hannah unprotected like that—except that Dave was there.

“Stay with Hannah, all right?” Murphy asked his old friend. “Get her on a flight to Arizona.”

“Consider it done.” Dave shook his hand.

“This way, Vinh,” Cassidy gently directed him, and Murphy realized that it was probably going to be a long time—if ever—before he saw Hannah again. But he knew he couldn’t look at her.

If he did, she would see just how desperately he did care. Not about himself—that much was true. He didn’t care about himself.

But he cared, very much, about her.

“Murph,” Hannah said and he stopped, but he didn’t look back at her. Her voice was rough with anger and hurt. But it was filled with her certainty. “You’re full of shit, and we both know it.”

“Not this time,” Murphy said. He looked at Dave. “Tell her that for me.” And he followed Cassidy into the hall.

S
AN
D
IEGO
, C
ALIFORNIA

“Fuck me!” Izzy snapped his phone shut.

This had Gilligan’s fingerprints all over it.

A pre-dawn phone call from the senior chief. Three words. “Get over here.” Five more added on top of Izzy’s “But…”