Her Best Friend's Husband

And suddenly he had it, the source of that familiarity. It had been like the old days in the navy, on war games or training exercises; the more tense or dangerous things got, the fewer words were spoken. Commands, reports, decisions, they all got shorter, sharper and tenser.

“He talks,” Gabe mused aloud, “like he’s at war.”

“Perhaps he is,” Cara said.

Gabe focused on her then. “What?”

She lifted one shoulder in a half-shrug that echoed his own earlier one. “There’s more than one kind of war, isn’t there?”

Gabe thought of his own personal war, with the memories of Hope and the questions she’d left in her wake. “Yes,” he said, acknowledging her insight with a nod. “Yes, there is.”

“So, we’re going to Pine Lake?”

He blinked. “We?” He’d thought he’d just head up there, ask some questions, poke around a little. He hadn’t intended on having company.

“You did say I have a big stake in this. And the card came to me.”

He couldn’t argue with that, so didn’t try. “All right,” he said. “Let me go change clothes.”

As he went to the spacious cabin allotted to the captain of this latest Redstone boat, a space that managed to be luxurious and utilitarian at the same time, he didn’t wonder if he was going to regret this. He already knew he would.

He just wondered how much.

“Sorry for the delay. I had to leave some orders with the first mate.”

Cara, who had been standing before a glass case, studying the intricately detailed, one-eighth scale model of the boat she was now standing on and marveling at the kind of mind that could take something like this from idea to reality, glanced at her watch before she turned. It was only a little after one.

“Not a problem, we have…plenty of time.”

She thought she covered her quick intake of breath fairly well as she turned and saw him. Well enough, she hoped.

Gabriel Taggert in naval uniform had been stunning. In the more casual Redstone attire, he’d been extremely attractive.

In snug jeans and a long-sleeved dark gray T-shirt he was sexy as hell.

He frowned suddenly. Cara’s next breath caught; had he seen her reaction after all, had he somehow guessed what simply looking at him had done to her pulse rate?

“Do you have a jacket or sweater or something?”

She knew she must be looking like an idiot, staring blankly at him, but she was having trouble making the shift from contemplating flat abs and the appeal of back pockets to the mundane question.

“What?”

“It’s warm here, but it’ll be cooler up in the mountains. It’s only March, and it might be in the forties or so. Could even still be snow around.”

“Oh. No, I don’t.”

She felt even more foolish now; she should have realized a man like Gabe wouldn’t waste any time, but would want to do whatever could be done and do it now. She should have come prepared.

He turned and walked back down the hallway he’d apparently come out of. She had a moment to appreciate the view, but quickly made herself turn away, not wanting to get caught gaping at him.

But when he came back and tossed her a soft, fleecy sort of zipper jacket that had the Redstone logo embroidered on the front, it was something else that sent her reeling; it was his. She knew it was, because she could smell the faintest trace of the clean-scented aftershave she’d always associated with him.

God, you’re hopeless!

She’d meant to chide herself out of her stupid meanderings, but instead it sounded, even in her head, pitiful.

“I meant to ask,” she said hastily as she resisted lifting the jacket to her face for a deeper breath, “you were wearing the same thing as the rest of the crew. No special uniform for the captain?”

His mouth quirked. “Yeah. I get to wear a ball cap with the boat’s silhouette stitched on it.”

“Oh.”

“Sorry, no scrambled eggs.”

He remembers, Cara thought with a start. He actually remembers.

It was one of her most vivid memories, that day when he’d sailed out and she’d gone with Hope to see him off. It had been only the second or third time she’d met the new man in Hope’s life. He’d been wearing one version—she hadn’t known there were so many kinds—of a dress uniform and in her ignorance of things military, she’d asked him what all the gold on his visor was.

He’d grinned at her, and explained. And she’d promptly fallen for him.

And apparently she’d never gotten around to standing up again.

“Seat belt,” Gabe said absently.

“Got it.”

Cara shifted in the seat of the low-slung coupe; the Lexus was a nice change from her little compact, and it was pure luxury to be able to completely stretch out her legs. They had decided, since he knew how to get to where they were going, that he’d drive. Once she’d seen the sleek, dark blue car, she was glad she had agreed. She wondered if he had trouble with other cars, as tall as he was.

“Nice car,” she said now. “Redstone pays well, obviously.” She’d heard that anyway, but it was hard not to comment on it when she was sitting in the evidence.

“It does,” Gabe said. “But it’s not just that. There’s another, financial benefit to working for Redstone.”

“What’s that?”

“Mac McClaren.”

Cara’s brows shot up. “The gazillionaire treasure hunter?”

“And the guy who gave Josh his start, when all he had was a pilot’s license, a design in his head and a dream. That Spanish galleon he found helped build the foundation of Redstone.” Gabe smiled. “Of course, he’s pouring money into his wife’s pet cause now. There are a lot of homeless animals eating better these days.”

“I didn’t realize he was connected to Redstone.”

“Most people don’t. But the man’s a lot more than a treasure hunter. He did that mainly to prove his father had been right about where that ship had gone down. He’s also a financial genius, and he’s at the disposal of anybody who works for Redstone. Including—” he gestured at the interior of the car, the rich leather, the polished wood “—me.”

“Nice perk,” she said.

“One of the benefits of working for a guy who makes friends for life,” Gabe said.

She looked at him curiously. “Is he? A friend, I mean? Is that how you ended up there?”

“He is now,” Gabe said, “but I didn’t even know him when he offered me my first job at Redstone.”

“How’d that happen?” she asked, intrigued now. “It’s not like you see advertisements for them.”

He chuckled. “No, Josh doesn’t have to advertise. People are lined up literally around the world wanting to work for him.”

She noticed he hadn’t actually answered her. “So, how?” she persisted.

When he hesitated, then let out a compressed breath, she knew she hadn’t imagined that he had been dodging her question.

“He’d read about the…incident that made me quit the navy. He was angry. Asked some of those friends he has about it, friends in or with connections to the military. My name came up.”

There was a flatness in his tone that made her remember their earlier conversation.

I never thought you’d give in to her…whining.

Is that what you think? That I quit because my wife nagged me into it?

“Why did you really quit, Gabe?”

“Hope, remember?” She’d irritated him now. Or he was still irritated by her earlier assumption.

“Hope was…a very social person,” she began, needing to say something, anything.

“Yes,” Gabe acknowledged. “And she needed someone who could be there for that kind of thing, social occasions. I couldn’t give her that, not the way she wanted.”

“But…she knew that, going in. She had to.”

“She thought she could deal with it.” He lifted a hand from the polished mahogany steering wheel to the back of his neck, rubbed as if it were aching. “She couldn’t. Long deployments take a huge toll. It takes an incredibly strong person to be a military spouse, in the best of times.”

“I can only imagine,” she said softly.

And strong was not a word Cara would use to describe Hope. Beautiful, vivacious, energetic, impulsive, yes, but strong? No. Not when she remembered all the seemingly endless phone calls where Hope had whined—not a flattering word, but the only one that really fit—about her husband’s absence. As if he had chosen to leave, as if he’d abandoned her intentionally.

He lapsed into silence, apparently focused on driving although traffic was light. She waited, and when they’d pulled to a halt at a stop light, quietly asked again.

“Why did you really quit?”

He turned his head. Her breath stopped in her chest. She’d never seen him look this way before. He’d always seemed intense to her, but there was something in his eyes now that made her almost afraid to move.

It took her a moment to realize what she was seeing; there was more of the military officer left in Gabriel Taggert than she’d thought. This was the kind of man who did what others were afraid to, who knew things, did things, went places the average person going about their comfortable life never had to think about, precisely because there were men like Gabe in the world, willing and able to do it for them.

It was only with great effort that she managed not to look away from that fierce gaze.

“I quit,” he said in measured tones that hinted at a lingering anger, “after twenty-three good, honest, heroic people died because some politicians—” he snarled the word “—decided it would upset the balance of power in the entire world if they were warned about an attack on them in time to defend themselves.”

Cara smothered a gasp. “They could have warned them? And didn’t?”

He looked away then, back to the front as the light changed, as if even now he was completely aware of his surroundings. When he went on, his voice was quieter, but she didn’t mistake that for calm.

“They chose not to, knowing what would happen. They didn’t just let them die, they sacrificed them on the altar of political expediency. They died, horribly, without ever knowing why.” He sucked in an audible breath. “Which may have been better than knowing the truth.”

Judging by the fact that he was still angry after all these years, she tended to agree with that.

“I didn’t know, Gabe. I’m…I don’t know what I am. Sick, maybe. That something like that could happen. Be allowed to happen.” She hesitated, then made herself ask. “The ones who died…they were your people?”

He flicked her a sideways glance. “They were navy,” he said.

The words were simple, but they spoke volumes about the man. And told her that everything she’d ever thought about him was true.

Chapter 5

“I’m sorry, Gabe. For ever thinking you’d quit your career for…anything less than something like that.”

He glanced at her again. Her words had surprised him. Not as much as the fact that he’d told her what he just had, when he rarely spoke of it at all, but she’d still surprised him.

“I would have thought you’d expect me to quit, if Hope demanded it.”

Her mouth quirked. “There was a time when I suppose I might have,” she said. “I’m not particularly proud of that at the moment. Hope’s demands seem rather petty stacked up against the real reason you left.”

That surprised him, too. Perhaps he’d gotten used to thinking Hope’s version of what a woman needed was the only one.

“So how did Redstone happen, then?” Cara asked.

He’d told her so much already, there didn’t seem to be any reason not to give her the rest. He kept his eyes on the road now that they were on the freeway, but his peripheral vision was as good as it had been in the navy, and he could see her fairly clearly.

“Somebody he knew told Josh I’d quit, and why. He tracked me down. Offered me a job running his maritime division. I took it.” She saw one corner of his mouth curve up slightly. “Saved my life, after Hope.”

He said it lightly, in an effort to negate the intensity of the past few minutes.

“I should have been in touch more, then,” she said, as if she suspected there was more truth in the words than his tone admitted to. “I was so caught up in my own grief at the time I was afraid I’d break down sobbing every time, and I didn’t think you’d appreciate a weepy woman pestering you. Besides, I—”

She stopped suddenly and looked down at her hands in her lap. He risked a glance then, and he saw that her cheeks were pink. He let a moment pass while he turned his focus back to the roadway.

“You what?”

“At the time, I’d never been in love, not really, so I didn’t really realize what it feels like to have the one person you love most ripped out of your life without warning.”

“And now you do.”

He said it softly, and it wasn’t a question.

“Yes.”

“Who was he, Cara?”

“His name was Robert. He was a police officer. Killed in the line of duty, during an armed robbery. He got between the robber and a little girl.”

She recited it as if it were a speech she’d memorized. He imagined it probably was; it was easier to answer the inevitable questions if you had an answer packaged and ready, one that you didn’t have to think about. He knew that from his own miserable experience.

“I’m sorry. We lose too many good guys.”

He meant it, and tried to let it show in his voice. When she looked at him, and gave him a smile he realized she didn’t think he could see, he knew she’d gotten it.

“Yes, we do. And he was definitely one of them.”

He let a moment pass, in silent tribute to a man he would never know, before he said quietly, “I wouldn’t have minded you calling, Cara. Even crying. Especially crying.”

He glimpsed her sudden, startled look out of the corner of his eye, sensed her sudden stillness. And wondered what his wife had told her that had made her assume he would want nothing to do with someone because they were grief-stricken and expressing it in the most common way.

He felt a little jab of guilt at the thought; Hope was gone, and the arrival of this much-delayed postcard didn’t change that. He shouldn’t be having negative thoughts about her. Hope hadn’t been perfect, he knew that, but he’d loved her, been captivated by her easy charm and vivacious beauty. And the fact that she had loved him had been flattering in a way, even if now he wasn’t sure exactly what she’d loved.

“I wanted to,” she admitted. “Except for Hope’s parents, you were the only one I knew who was hurting as much as I was, but I didn’t want to make it worse for you.”

The thought that she’d worried about that, even then, touched him, more deeply than he ever would have expected. Disconcerted, he seized on the first thing that came to mind.

“We can’t tell them what we’re doing,” he said. “Gwen and Earl, I mean. It may—likely will—come to nothing.”

“Of course we can’t. We have to do it, I couldn’t rest if we didn’t. But I wouldn’t raise their hopes for anything, when it’s all so…nebulous.”

Her words stabbed at him, and his voice was tight when he spoke again. “It’s new ground in the search,” he admitted. “But you’re not thinking we’re going to find her up there, are you?”

Cara blinked. “Hope? You mean…alive? God, no.”

He breathed again; he’d always suspected little, shy Cara lived a great deal in her mind, and for a moment he’d feared she might have built some kind of fantasy in her head about finding her dearest friend alive and well.

“In the beginning,” she said, in the tone of an embarrassed admission, “I wondered. I used to lie awake at night, picturing Hope living a new life somewhere, maybe with a new name, like she’d seen something and ended up in witness protection, maybe with amnesia, silly things like that.”

It was so close to what he’d been worried she was thinking he was disconcerted all over again. Perhaps he’d known her better than he’d realized.

“Not silly, under the circumstances,” he said, all the while glad she knew now the thoughts had been seriously implausible.

“I know that, now. Grief does crazy things to you. Coupled with uncertainty, it’s almost unbearable.” She took in an audible breath. “That’s why I know we can’t say anything to Hope’s parents. It’s not that I’m expecting to find her, but if we could find out what happened to her, it might…not help, nothing can, but at least they’d know.”

“Closure?”

He hated the word; it made him think of people expect you to pick up and go on as if nothing had happened once the funeral was over, because you had closure. But now he was beginning to wonder. Cara had lost someone, too, and she’d clearly managed to get past it. Was the difference just that, that she’d had closure, where he was left forever wondering?

She shrugged. “I’m not much for buzzwords like that, but there’s something to the theory, I think. Especially when it’s something like this, where you simply don’t know what happened. It’s too easy to slip over the edge and start clinging to thoughts like I had in the beginning, to slide into the madness of believing them.”

Her words hung there between them for a moment while he negotiated a traffic slowdown for a stalled vehicle on the center divider of the freeway. When they were clear, he glanced over at her.

“You don’t think the Waldrons are doing that, do you?”

“No. For all her sweet acquiescence, Gwen is a strong woman. She wouldn’t, and wouldn’t let Earl, either.”

Gabe couldn’t have agreed more with that assessment. And her easy statement of it reminded him once more of the quiet girl who would never have spoken of someone of her parents’ generation in such a way. “You’ve really gone and grown up, haven’t you?”

She smiled then, a flashing, bright expression that nearly stopped his heart in his chest.

“It happens,” she said, her tone so teasing he couldn’t help smiling back.

And just like that the mood in the car changed, from a rather edgy tension to an easy camaraderie he was thankful for; it was much easier to handle.

When they started up the mountain highway called the Rim of the World—for obvious reasons, given the curves and steep drop-offs that marked every mile—they were talking like the old, fairly close friends they’d been. He asked about her own parents, found out they were living in Oregon, where her father was headed toward a happy retirement of endless fishing and her mother was building yet another of the beautiful gardens she was known for. She asked about his father in turn, and smiled when he told her the admiral was still as gruff and feisty as ever at sixty-one, and running his staff ragged down in San Diego.

“He never remarried, after your mother died?”

“No. He says there’s not another woman on the planet who would put up with him the way Mom did. Having lived with him myself, I tend to think he might be right.”

She laughed, and an unexpected warmth flooded him again.

Strange, he thought. He never would have thought seeing quiet little Cara Thorpe again would stir up so much emotion in him. True, she’d been a big part of his life for a while, although always on the edges, and he’d accepted her at first because he loved Hope and she was her best friend. But later he’d come to like the quiet girl for herself, enjoyed trying to gently nudge her out of her shyness, to get her to open up and talk to him.

He’d seen flashes of a different Cara back then, times when she’d surprised him with a cogent, astute observation about something that had made him realize she was indeed the personification of still waters running deep. But he’d been wrapped up in first true love, and hadn’t thought much beyond that about the girl who was the quiet shadow of the lively, vivid Hope Waldron.

Cara Thorpe now would stand in no one’s shadow, he thought suddenly. Not in looks, demeanor, or personality. She—The ring of his cell interrupted his thoughts. He hit the button on the hands-free system built into the controls of the Lexus.

“Taggert.”

“Smallest village in the county. No sheriff’s substation. Two restaurants, one twenty-room motel, some touristy stuff. Post Office in the back of the general store. Same person running it for thirty years. Anson Woodruff. Town gossip. He’s there now.”

Gabe stifled a grin at St. John’s clipped, concise report, and at Cara’s bemused expression as the man’s brusque voice sounded in the car.

“Thank you,” he said.

“More?”

“Not yet. I’ll let you know.”

The click was audible as the connection was severed.

“I gather that was…the machine gun?” Cara said.

“It was.”

“I see what you mean. He’s always like that?”

“I don’t know for sure. This is the first time I’ve dealt with him at any length on the phone.”

“Surely he’s not like that in person?”

“No, he’s mostly silent,” Gabe said, still grinning. “At least, he has been the few times I’ve met him. He’s got quite the reputation for being a man of no words. So when he does talk, you’d best listen.”

“He seemed…efficient in the extreme.”

“That’s the other part of the reputation,” Gabe said. “Josh says if you ever hear him talking normally, look out. That’s when he’s the most dangerous.”

“Dangerous? Odd word for a business executive, isn’t it?”

“Not when you meet him.”

She seemed to ponder this for a moment. But when she spoke again, it was about their destination.

“We start with Anson Woodruff?” she asked.

“Seems the most logical. Let’s hope he has a good memory.”

Cara smiled. “In my admittedly limited small-town experience, it seems town gossips usually do.”

He laughed, and even as he did he marveled a little that he could, given the mission they were on.

And it was a mission, he couldn’t deny that. That he was on it with the most unlikely of people didn’t change that.

No matter how much Cara Thorpe had changed.

Chapter 6

Mr. Woodruff, as it turned out, all seventy-two years of him, had an excellent memory.

And absolutely no problem with sharing everything in it, without even asking who they were or why they wanted to know. The problem, Gabe soon realized, was in keeping him on the track they wanted.

“That was the summer the old roadhouse burned down,” he was saying now, rubbing a hand over his bald head as if it were a long-standing habit. “Never seen such a fuss, although if you ask me, it was no great loss. Place had turned into a dive, nothing but drunks and pool players every night. Firemen had to go in and pull those sorry drunks out. And we only have a volunteer fire department you know, they’re not—”

“It must have been awful,” Cara said, just as Gabe was about to impatiently yank the man back to their original question. “Was this before or after you saw Hope?”

“Your friend?” the man asked, as if it had been hours ago, not ten minutes, when they’d first come in to ask.

“Yes,” Cara said patiently.

Gabe himself was ready to snap, Yes, the only reason we came in here! but realized Cara’s approach was much more likely to be productive.

“Oh, before,” Mr. Woodruff said. “She came in the very next day. Lovely young woman. I told her all about the fire, she was very interested.”

I’ll bet you did, Gabe thought. He let Cara continue; if the old gent preferred to talk to another lovely young woman, far be it for him to interfere.

“How did she seem to you?”

“Seem? Why, a pretty young girl. Charming, just charming. She bought that card, went over to the café to write it, then came back and mailed it.”

“So she wasn’t…upset, or distraught, anything like that?”

Mr. Woodruff drew back slightly, his thick, bushy gray brows lowered. “Upset? Why, no, she didn’t seem to be. In fact, she seemed very happy, excited even. Bubbly,” he added, smiling.

That was Hope, all right, Gabe thought. Except when she was upset at his long absences, she’d always been that way.