Operation Homecoming

For hadn’t she been wrestling with that very problem in those moments before Walker had arrived to blast it all right out of her mind? Wasn’t the question that had driven her here in the first place how to do what was right, or whether to even try at all?

You have no right to criticize him if you’re not willing to do it yourself.

As for Walker’s annoying presence disrupting everything, she would just have to do what she’d always told herself she’d do if she ever encountered him again.

Ignore him.

* * *

Walker had had some sleepless nights before, far too many of them in the past five years, but this was a doozy. He’d gotten through some of them then by telling himself he’d sleep when it was over—or when he was dead, which could well have come first—but now it was over, at least as far as he was concerned, and here he was. Still watching the seconds tick by in the dark.

He grimaced into the darkness of the living room, where he’d crashed on the couch. His old room was a home office now, not that he would have asked to sleep in it anyway. This was crazy. He was as wide-awake as he’d been when his life hung in the balance. When a single wrong word or step could have meant giving himself away to men who would kill him without a millisecond’s hesitation.

Then again, didn’t his life hang in the balance now? The rest of it, anyway? Having quiet, shy little—well, not so much any of those anymore—Amy Clark chew him out in front of Hayley and her new, intimidating husband was bad enough, but what if Hayley couldn’t ever forgive him? What if he truly had lost the only family he had left because he’d done the unforgivable? He hadn’t let himself think of that possibility in his drive to get here, but after this reception he knew he had to.

He didn’t kid himself by saying he’d make it up to her. There was no making up for what he’d missed, what he’d left his sister alone to deal with. Amy was right about that. And the only thing that could possibly ameliorate it was something he couldn’t give her.

It was barely light out when he finally gave up and staggered into the kitchen. But Quinn was up and, thank God, he had coffee on.

“You look like hell,” Quinn said, sounding rather cheerful about it.

“Feel worse,” he said, eyeing the coffeepot.

Quinn noticed. “Everything’s where it always was.”

“But this isn’t my home anymore.”

He was a little startled at the bleak sound of his own voice, although after last night he supposed he shouldn’t be.

“You’re the one who left,” Quinn pointed out flatly.

For a moment, Walker studied this man his sister had chosen. He knew little about him. Nothing, actually, other than his name.

“I thought I’d let you know I’m getting married. In January. His name is Quinn. I love him the way Mom loved Dad. You’d be welcome, but I won’t expect you.”

That had been the entirety of the message. And the bitterest part of it was that of all the messages she’d left, that was the best one. Much better than “Mom has cancer. It looks bad. You need to come home.”

He rubbed his fingers over the sore spot on his jaw. Quinn watched him, and Walker didn’t think he was mistaken in thinking there was a certain satisfaction in his gaze. “You pack a hell of a punch.”

“You deserved it.”

“Yes.”

“Still do.”

“Yes.”

Quinn lifted a brow, as if surprised at his lack of argument.

“You may find this hard to believe, but I’m really glad Hayley found someone who loves her enough to...do that to someone who hurt her.”

Quinn’s expression changed then, his brow furrowing just slightly, as if he hadn’t expected that. “And I’ll do it again, if need be. You’ve put her through hell. I won’t let you add to it. She needs time to figure out how she feels about you, and I intend to see that she gets it.”

Walker had no doubt the man meant it. He adored Hayley. And vice versa. It fairly rippled off them both. And last night he’d made it clear he wasn’t going to leave Walker alone with his wife and give him the chance to hurt her all over again.

“What is it you do?” he asked, wondering if Hayley had somehow ended up with a cop. He wouldn’t have thought that possible, given what had happened to their father, but then he wouldn’t have thought the turn his life had taken possible, either.

“Family business,” Quinn said. “You?”

He winced inwardly. “Currently unemployed.”

“That why you’re here? Looking for a free roof?”

Anger kicked through him. “You pushing for me to return your welcome?”

“You could try,” Quinn said, clearly unconcerned.

You might be surprised, Walker thought. He’d learned a bit since he’d left here.

But then he realized that he couldn’t very well be glad Hayley had found a man who loved her enough to take down anyone who hurt her, and then expect him to act any other way, given what he knew. Or thought he knew.

“I never meant to hurt her,” he said softly.

“Good intentions are meaningless. Especially when you cause that kind of pain.”

“Yes. But they’re all I’ve got.”

He took another sip of his coffee as he looked at Walker.

“You’re her brother, so she decides what happens. If she wants you here, then you stay. If she wants you gone, then you go. But I warn you, either way, if you...”

He held up a hand. “I get it.” He eyed the man who was now his brother-in-law warily. There was something about him that screamed he did not make idle threats. He reminded him, not in looks but in manner, of Tobias Cabrero, the guy who had turned his life upside down when all Walker had been trying to do was be a good citizen. “Let me guess. Ex-fed?”

“In a manner of speaking.”

Walker took in his bearing, his calm manner, the air of command and competence. He hadn’t been there himself, but he knew enough of them to recognize the type.

“Ex-military,” he said, and this time it wasn’t a question.

“You’re smarter than you’ve acted.”

Well, there was a double-edged compliment, Walker thought wryly.

“Did I smell coffee?”

Walker froze as the female voice came from behind him. Amy.

“You did.” Quinn sounded much more welcoming. The man reached up and opened a cabinet door, taking out a mug and handing it to her. More than he’d gotten, but then she was a lot more welcome than he was. Amy walked past him without a glance, took the mug.

“Thank you,” she said as she filled it from the glass pot.

Quinn nodded, finished his own coffee, rinsed out the mug and stuck it in the dishwasher. Then he looked at Amy, and Walker would swear he was stifling a grin. “I’m off to work. Over to you,” he said to her, and without another glance at Walker, he walked out of the kitchen.

Amy frowned after him, clearly puzzled by his words.

“I think,” Walker said drily, “that meant he liked the way you chewed on me last night, and is hoping you’ll take up where he left off.”

Her expression cleared. “Oh. Well. I could do that.”

He sighed. For a moment he just looked at her. The glasses were blue today, matching her top, and it made her eyes look even more blue. And the rich, russet color of her hair was a far cry from the carrot-top she’d always been teased about. “I’m sure you could,” he said finally.

And he was. For there was no denying that while little Amy Clark had grown up, she’d lost none of her intelligence, principles or fierce loyalty.

Which meant that, in her view, he was probably one step this side of the devil.

And he couldn’t tell her that she was wrong, that there were much worse devils out there. And he knew some of them personally.

Chapter 5

Walker heard the steps approaching, but couldn’t pull his gaze away from the framed photograph on the hallway wall. Then he sensed it was Hayley, and was afraid to look at her, anyway. After the scene in the kitchen he’d managed to avoid more encounters until now, needing time to gear up for the rest of what was likely to be another unpleasant day.

And then he’d noticed this picture, of him and Mom the day after he’d pitched his first no-hitter, him in uniform, her looking proud, happy...and very much alive. The image had once hung in his mother’s corner above the chair where she so often sat, sewing, knitting or any of the other things she always kept busy with.

Had kept busy. Had. As in never would again.

He blinked rapidly, but it wasn’t enough and he had to swipe at his eyes.

“You kept this,” he said, still without looking at his sister. His voice sounded strange even to him, thick with the tears he was fighting.

“Yes.”

“Why, when you’re so angry with me?”

“She loved you.”

He turned to face her then. It seemed the least he could do.

“Hayley,” he began, but his throat tightened too much for more words, and he could only shake his head.

“There was a time” she said, sounding as if her throat was nearly as tight as his, “when you showing up would have been the answer to many prayers. When it would have eased my pain, soothed my aching heart.”

She was killing him. And he deserved it.

“I...” He stopped when she waved a hand that was none too steady.

“You being here now has made me remember all over again how much I needed you when she got sick. How much she needed you.”

He tightened his jaw against a new wave of pain. But he held her gaze, didn’t fight it. Looking at his sister, the one who’d lived through every day of it alone, he didn’t feel he had the right to dodge one ounce of it now.

“Hayley, please, let me...”

“I need some time, Walker. Time to absorb, figure out how I feel.”

He sucked in a long breath. He had no right to demand more of her. No right to demand anything. He nodded. “I’ll wait.”

“You might want to do it elsewhere. Amy will be out in a moment. We’re going for a walk.”

He grimaced, thought of several things to say to that, discarded all of them. “Enjoy,” he said, figuring that was safe enough.

“Doubtful.” Concern flickered in her eyes. “She has a problem to deal with. It’s why she’s here from LA.”

He frowned. Amy had a problem big enough to warrant coming over a thousand miles?

None of his business, he told himself. And took his sister’s advice and vacated the hallway.

* * *

“Don’t you think it’s time you told me?”

Amy looked at Hayley as they walked up the long driveway. Cutter was trotting along beside them, occasionally pausing for a sniff of something, but never letting them get too far ahead of him.

“You have enough on your plate with your brother,” Amy said, thinking of what Hayley had told her of their encounter in the hallway.

They reached the road at the end of the drive. Cutter’s demeanor changed, she noticed. Instead of racing around, checking all corners of the yard, once they hit the road he was at their side, as if he completely understood walking along a roadway, even here where traffic was very light, was a different matter.

“Just because Walker shows up out of the blue without a word doesn’t mean I’m going to drop everything,” Hayley answered. “Especially when it’s you. Now quit dodging.”

Amy sighed. When she wanted to be, Hayley could be tough as nails. Probably a good thing when dealing with a man the likes of Quinn.

“I’m not sure it’s anything, really.”

“But it bothers you.”

“It’s just a...tiny niggle.”

“You said it was your boss.”

“Yes. It’s something I found, by accident, when I was pulling up a file he had me working on. I wasn’t snooping or anything.”

“I never would have thought you were.”

Amy stopped as they reached the corner. For a long moment she stood just looking at the house there, the two-story shaded by huge evergreens, and the big yard on two sides. It looked so different now, tidy and well-kept by the current owners, painted a cheerful blue with white trim.

“Do you know what my mother used to say was the best part of living on a corner?” She was barely aware, as the memories stirred, that she’d said the words out loud.

“What?” Hayley asked.

“That when Dad came home drunk he had a fifty-fifty chance of not parking the car in somebody else’s yard.”

For a moment Hayley didn’t speak, and the words seemed to echo in Amy’s head. And although Hayley had long ago told her she would go insane if she let every mention of a drunk driver bother her, Amy still said, “Sorry.”

Hayley shook her head. “I wasn’t thinking about that. I was thinking about the hell your life was, compared to mine.”

Amy turned to stare at her. “Your father died.”

“Yes. But while I had him, he was wonderful. Loving, kind, supportive, always there for me. You never had that.”

Cutter had come back when they stopped, and now he was standing in front of her, in fact leaning against her legs. The furry warmth of him was again comforting. And it seemed to crystallize her thinking, as well. Amy stroked Cutter’s head as she looked at the house again, then back at this woman who had so often been her lifeline.

“What I knew of real fathering came from yours,” she said quietly. “He always put up with me hanging around. He laughed with me, not at me. He hugged me, gave me advice, fixed my bike.”

“That was Dad,” Hayley agreed.

“I used to...wish he was mine, too.” Amy sighed. “But you know that.”

“Yes.” For a long moment Hayley looked at her, then smiled gently. “So did he.”

Amy didn’t know whether to feel embarrassed or grateful.

“You know, he kept a close eye on you. If there had been the slightest sign of physical abuse from your father, if he’d even seen so much as a bruise, he would have had you out of there in an instant.”

Amy blinked. “What?”

“He had it all figured out. He knew who in CPS he’d talk to, someone he had good rapport with. And which judge, if they needed one. He wanted it all mapped out in case he had to move in a hurry.”

“I...I never knew that.” Her heart ached for the loss of a man who had cared even more than she knew.

“Mom told me one day when I needed distraction, when she was sick. She’d asked how you were, and that got us started.”

“My father was never that at least. Abusive, I mean.” She grimaced. “Just silly, and pretty much useless. And he only argued with my mother.”

“No wonder you hated going home.”

“I so often wished I could just stay at your house.”

Hayley looked at her consideringly. “They talked about that, too, Mom and Dad. That if he had to pull you out, if maybe you could live with us.”

Amy stared at her. “I never knew that, either.”

“Neither did I. They didn’t tell me back then. They were afraid I’d get my heart set on it.”

“And if you’d told me back then, I would have gone crazy, wishing for it to happen.” She looked back at the house once more. “And I hope the people that live here now are happy. It was a nice house once, and now it looks like it is again.”

Determinedly, she shoved the past aside. She didn’t let it define her. “Your father told me once that bad examples could sometimes teach you as much as good ones,” she said as they resumed their walk.

Hayley laughed. “That was Dad. He told Walker the same thing when his buddy Joe got in trouble for shoplifting.”

Amy looked at her friend. It was, she told herself, past time that she thought about Hayley’s situation rather than her own silly emotions. She was merely dealing with the reappearance of a schoolgirl crush. Hayley was dealing with something much more painful.

“I can’t imagine how you must feel, him showing up like this.”

Hayley grimaced. “It was a shock.”

“I hope you told him off last night.”

Hayley grinned then. “Actually, you did that quite nicely. I didn’t have to add a thing. I think ‘What she said’ was about the extent of it.”

“I was...angry.”

“And I love you for it. I think he was more stunned that quiet, shy Amy launched on him than if I had. Well, that and Quinn decking him before they’d ever even met.”

Amy smiled at that. “He had it coming.”

“He did.” Her voice softened. “And he knows it. He’s not a cruel guy, Amy.”

“Sometimes thoughtless, insensitive and selfish amount to the same thing.”

“Yes. But he’s still my brother.”

“So you forgive him?”

Hayley grimaced. “I didn’t say that.”

Amy was glad to hear that, given she thought what Walker had done—or not done—unforgivable. But she didn’t say that as they crossed the street at the stop sign and headed toward the water. The street they were on now dead-ended at an overlook, where some community-minded citizen had built a bench where people could sit and watch the passing marine traffic in the sound.

“And even if I did,” Hayley added, “Quinn hasn’t. I was afraid to leave them alone last night.”

“Too bad. I would have liked to have seen that,” Amy said drily.

Hayley laughed. “I had to...lure him away. Much more fun, I promise.”

Amy smiled. “I can’t tell you how wonderful it is to see you so happy. I’d love your husband for that alone.”

Now that they were farther away from Walker’s unsettling presence, she felt calmer. Although she wasn’t convinced that wasn’t in part due to the dog, who seemed glued to her side just now. And when they sat on the bench he sat beside her, again putting his chin on her knee in that way he had.

“Your dog is very sweet.”

Hayley laughed. “He is many things, and sweet is often one of them. And,” she added with a pointed look, “he is very perceptive, especially when something’s bothering someone.”

Amy sighed.

“Out with it, girlfriend,” Hayley ordered.

“We shouldn’t do this now. It can wait. You need to have it out with your brother. And you haven’t seen him in so long.”

“Let’s see,” Hayley said with exaggerated thoughtfulness, “drop everything to deal with someone who left to wander the country years ago, couldn’t be bothered to show up or even call when his own mother died and then skipped his only living relative’s wedding...or help the one person who has ever and always been there. Tough call.”

Any smiled suddenly. “I love you, too, you know.”

“I do.”

“If I hadn’t had you and your family for an example, I would have been seriously screwed up.”

“And instead you’re my wonderfully sane, beautiful best friend. So what did you find on your boss’s computer?”

She sighed. “Two things. Neither one alone is anything odd, but together...” She took a breath. She’d come here to do this, hadn’t she? She plunged ahead at last. “First thing, a month ago, was in his encrypted, password-protected files, where the file I needed was. A document creating a fictional corporation offshore, in the Virgin Islands. Which in itself isn’t that odd—we do that all the time for various reasons. What was odd was that he had it hidden like that.”

“It’s not usually?”

“No. There’s no reason it should be. It’s a routine kind of thing that he handles all the time. And I actually only know what it was because the file I needed was next on the list and I clicked on the wrong one by accident.”

“What was the second thing?”

“I found it just last week. A record of a bank account, also in the Virgin Islands, opened in the same fictitious business name, in the same week the filing was finalized. It started issuing checks immediately to another business name in LA.”

Hayley leaned back against the back of the bench. For a moment she was silent, then she asked, “What exactly are you thinking?”

“After I saw the bank statement, I did a little checking. That business that the checks were going to? As far as I can tell, with what research I was able to do...isn’t a business.”

“What?”

“They don’t do anything. They don’t make anything, they don’t sell anything, not even advice or information. They don’t have a website or even a business listing anywhere. There’s no public information on them anywhere that I could find. Even their snail mail address is just a mail drop, one of those rent-a-box places.”

“Odd,” Hayley agreed.

Amy let out a compressed breath. “I know it’s not much, and I didn’t dare risk copying the file so I don’t have any proof, although proof of what I don’t even know. It may be nothing, it may be completely legitimate, but...”

Hayley was silent for a moment when she finally trailed off. Long enough that Amy wondered if she was thinking her friend had turned into some kind of conspiracy theorist. She couldn’t blame her; now that she’d said it out loud it sounded very thin. There was more, but it was even more ephemeral. She had no proof at all to validate her feelings of being watched and followed, and was convinced it was only what she’d found that had brought them on.

And then she stood up. Slowly, Amy rose in turn. And Cutter, who had been plopped at her feet, happily sniffing the various breezes that wafted by, got up and looked at both of them.

“Come on,” Hayley said.

“Where?”

“I think it’s time to introduce you to the full wonder that is Foxworth.”

Chapter 6

He hadn’t gotten the prodigal son’s welcome home, but he hadn’t expected that. But then, he hadn’t expected that uppercut from his new brother-in-law, either. But it could have been worse. He could have used that gun.

Walker rubbed at his now-shaven jaw. He’d waited until now, when Hayley and Amy had gone for their walk, to use the guest bathroom. He poked at the sore spot, wondering what it would be like to get in a knock-down, drag-out fight with Quinn Foxworth.

It wouldn’t be pretty.

But then, none of this was pretty. And Quinn had been no angrier at him than he himself had been when he’d finally surfaced from his five-year nightmare and found that the life he’d left behind didn’t exist anymore. When he’d learned what they’d withheld from him so he wouldn’t be “distracted,” he’d been angrier than he’d ever been in his life, except for the day his father had been killed.

So you left home angry, and you came back angry. Great.

But what was he supposed to feel when all they’d had to say was that they couldn’t compromise the mission?

Oh, by the way, there were a couple of things we couldn’t tell you, because we couldn’t risk compromising the mission. Your mother’s dead and your sister got married. Here’s your phone with the messages.

Admittedly, it hadn’t been quite that blunt or cold, but it might as well have been. He should have suspected when they’d made him hand over his old pay-as-you-go cell phone, saying it was for his own safety. He’d learned that lesson now, that anytime the government started talking about taking things away for your own safety was the time to be wary.

At least they’d kept the phone active, ancient though it now was in technological terms. Although he doubted it was for his benefit, given that they’d used it to send short, meaningless texts to his sister, maintaining the fiction that he was still wandering. And they hadn’t deleted anything, which at first had made him laugh wryly at the scruples.

And then had come the painful jolt of listening to Hayley’s strained voice telling him of their mother’s illness nearly five years after the fact. And later of her death, two years too late.

They’d paid him a nice chunk, enough to keep him going for quite a while. And bought his ticket home. Cabrero—who threatened to flatten anyone who used the hated nickname Toby—had even taken him to the airport after the long debriefing, but Walker thought that was mostly so he could pound home the warning one more time.

“I’ll check in on you now and then. But you can’t tell anyone anything. You know that, don’t you? We’re close to making our move, and if you let even one thing slip, it could jeopardize operations all over the country.”