Torn Loyalties

“I’ll do that.” He took the coffeepot out of her hands. “You go get cleaned up before anyone else gets here. Out there all night, you’re probably half-frozen. A hot shower will thaw you out.”

Why did he do that? Just when she wanted to bark his head off, he turned around and did something thoughtful and caring. “Thank you.” She walked to the door, then paused and looked back at him, shrugging out of his coat.

Tall and broad shouldered, he was in great shape and obviously had kept up his physical training regimen. Her stomach clutched. Looking at him did crazy things to her. It always had. From the very first time she’d laid eyes on him, without a word or an ounce of effort, he’d begun chipping away at the protective barriers she’d studiously built around her heart. She resented that but seemed helpless to stop it. Still, she was determined. Caring about a man she couldn’t trust was absurdly foolish, and she was not a foolish woman.

She shoved back the black hoodie covering her hair. Long silver-blond strands fell loose down her back. “Are you ever going to tell me why you really followed me?”

“I did tell you.”

“No, you gave me a line about me being edgy and you being worried.”

His square jaw tightened. “It wasn’t a line.” He draped his coat on the brass tree, poured water into the coffeemaker, flipped the switch and then turned to answer her. “I followed you because I don’t want you to end up dead.”

What exactly did he mean? He’d followed her to the Nest, but he hadn’t interceded. He’d waited in her car. So where did he sense danger to her? His expression had never been more sober or serious, or more closed, giving nothing away. “You agree with me, then? You think Commander Talbot and Vice Commander Dayton are involved in a cover-up, too?”

Grant frowned and hedged. “I think if you get caught spying on the Nest, you’re going to get shot.”

Madison frowned back at him. “How can you ignore Talbot and Dayton when you know they’re trying their best to blame someone at my agency for the security breach?”

David Pace and Beth Crane had been reporters for WKME, a local TV station. Separately, three years apart, they’d gone to Talbot to confirm tips from sources they’d been given about the Nest. The facility buried in the woods in the center of a military installation so highly classified that even those assigned to the base didn’t know the Nest was there—that Nest. Talbot had denied David Pace’s and Beth Crane’s tips and in short order, both had been murdered. But their tips had been accurate. And that meant someone definitely had breached security.

“I’m not ignoring anything or anyone.”

But he was. Commander Talbot was up for a congressional appointment. Vice Commander Dayton was up for Talbot’s job. A security breach by someone under their command could ax those promotions. In short, Talbot and/or Dayton needed a scapegoat and they intended to find one at Lost, Inc.

“They have to look at everyone in your agency, Madison, and you know it.”

Lost, Inc., was a logical, rich target. Everyone working for her was former military and had served at least one assignment at the Nest. None of them would breach security, but as they were no longer under Talbot’s or Dayton’s command, any one of them would serve the purpose of taking the fall and keeping the commanders’ promotions safe.

Serial killer Gary Crawford had supposedly killed David Pace. Beth Crane had been deemed the victim of a home invasion until Crawford’s apprehension, when he’d confessed to killing them both. But Madison wasn’t buying it. Serial killers confessed to everything to embellish their legacy and incite fear in others. Beth Crane and, three years later, David Pace had exposed the security breach by asking Talbot for confirmation of the Nest’s existence, and Madison was sure that’s how they’d ended up dead. “You know no one here would—”

Grant leaned back against the counter, and crossed his arms. “What I know is that if you get caught out there spying, you’ll lose more than your career.”

The finality in Grant’s tone signaled he was finished talking about this, and so was she. How could she convince him with no more proof than her instincts? Her challenge was that simple.

And that complex.

* * *

Madison showered, then dressed in black slacks, a teal sweater and flats. She left her hair down, applied lotion to her wind-chafed skin and then returned to the kitchen.

Grant sat at the table drinking a cup of coffee from a camouflage-print mug. He cast her a weary, pensive look but said nothing.

Her favorite Minnie Mouse mug sat on the counter beside the coffeepot—he noticed and remembered everything about her, even her preferred coffee mug—and she filled it, then joined him at the table. Did he remember details about her because of professional or personal reasons? His profiling training or a genuine affection for her? Unsure, she sipped, then said, “You’re pretty steamed at me, aren’t you?”

He shook his head. “I’m worried. I want you to promise me you’ll stay away from the Nest.”

“I can’t do that.” She wouldn’t even stay away if she trusted him with all her heart. “I’ve made my reasons clear. I’m stalled on my case until I find new information or until Talbot releases the satellite images under the Freedom of Information Act.” Hopefully, he’d do that before she died of old age. She’d requested them two months ago, during the Christmas cruise she and Grant had taken with a group of friends.

Grant knew as well as she did that those images of David Pace’s exploded car would prove whether or not it had been placed where it had been found before or after the explosion, which would prove whether or not David Pace had been in it when it had blown up. His medical file was sealed. Why? Right after Gary Crawford’s arrest and confessions, she’d received a tip that Pace’s body hadn’t been burned. Why that tip? Why to her? People didn’t take those kinds of reporting risks without reason.

Grant lifted a hand. “The man died from natural causes. An embolism. You saw the coroner’s report.”

“So did you. It was a lie. It had to be a lie, or the embolism had to be induced.” Grant couldn’t be buying into that report. “There were no signs of anything like that in his medical history—nothing that points to there being any problem. He was young and healthy.” And Grant knew as well as she that inducing an embolism was a military tactic. Carrying out a kill order? Emergency termination? She shuddered.

“For pity’s sake.” Grant lifted his cup. “You talked to the coroner.”

“No, I didn’t,” she disputed him. “I tried to talk to him, but the coroner refused to take my call or to meet with me. His assistant referred me to the public report, informed me that the case was sealed, and then she totally shut down. Why would the case be sealed unless he’s hiding something?”

“Oh, gee, I don’t know. Maybe because Crawford was a serial killer working for Homeland Security and that knowledge would undermine public trust in the entire agency? Remember, Homeland Security sealed the file, not the local authorities, and Crawford hasn’t yet been tried for his other victims’ murders. Or maybe the coroner just didn’t want to waste his time on a closed case when he has a ton of open ones to work on.” Grant dropped his voice. “Or it could be that the coroner has known you all your life and he’s trying to keep you from putting yourself in the crosshairs of people who will hurt you.”

“That sounds as if you think there might be some validity to my theory.”

“I’m trying to be fair. The case is closed. Crawford did confess to both murders. The coroner did sign off on the Pace report. But if on the outside chance you’re right about this—and I don’t believe you are—then for this conspiracy and cover-up to work, the coroner would have had to sign off on a false report, and I don’t think he would.”

“Under normal circumstances, I’d say no.” She’d known the man her whole life. He’d given her and her best friend, Maggie Mason, pony rides at the annual town festivals when they were children, and when they’d tried smoking cigarettes as teens and had gotten sick and gone to the morgue to save him a trip to pick up their bodies, he’d assured them they weren’t dying—but if he caught them smoking again, they’d wish they were. “Yet these circumstances are not normal. With Homeland Security involved... They, or the commander, could have pressured him.”

“Through Homeland Security, the commander might have exerted influence,” Grant conceded. “But it’s highly unlikely.”

Grant defending his former commander wasn’t surprising. She well recalled her own defensive posture right up until the moment she realized she’d been abandoned. “It’s not impossible.”

“No, it’s not impossible.” Grant sipped from his mug, then set it on the table and reached for her hand.

She laid it atop his and he curled his fingers, pressing their heated palms. “Madison, what if you’re right? Say Talbot or Dayton were involved in the murders and cover-ups. Say they did exert influence and the coroner did forge the report. Would people with the power and authority to do those things hesitate to kill again?” Grant gently squeezed her fingertips. “Don’t you see that by pushing this, you’re putting yourself in danger?”

His hand trembled. She loved that, and wished she didn’t. “I know—”

“Have you forgotten that just for investigating a classified project to which you once had authorized access, you can be declared a security threat—and the charges will stick? They can declare you a domestic terrorist and detain you indefinitely.”

“That’s absurd.” She grunted. “They can’t—”

His expression turned flat. “Check recent legislation. They can and will.” He clasped her arms. “Forget this, Madison. Please. You know the lengths they’ve gone to since inception to keep the Nest off everyone’s radar. If the security breach and your two murders are connected...” He swallowed hard, clearly conflicted. “Do you think for a second they wouldn’t stop you from exposing them by any means necessary?” He rubbed at his neck. “Good grief, the entire government’s behind them.”

Whether or not the people in most of those positions knew it, the government was behind them. And the measures taken to hide the project had been extraordinary. The need-to-know loop on the Nest was extremely tight. “I know all this, okay?” He cared. He might have to spy on her, but he also cared. It showed clearly whenever he got emotional, and right now Grant Deaver was extremely emotional. She softened her voice. “The bottom line is I believe they’ve buried the truth on two civilian murders. I believe it, Grant. And if they did and I do nothing, and the need arises, they’ll murder again. How many have to be lost before—”

“For the tenth time, the victims in this case are not lost, they’re dead.”

“The truth about them is lost,” she repeated, stroking his arm.

His mouth flattened. “Nothing you discover will bring them back. Their family members have buried them, mourned, and they’re healing, Madison. Think of Ian,” he said, speaking of Beth Crane’s husband, who worked for Madison at the agency. “Don’t rip open the wounds when all it’s going to do is put him back to square one mourning all over again.”

Grant was right, of course. It was for that very reason she hadn’t said one word to Ian about her investigation. She didn’t want to hurt anyone, especially Ian when he was finally healing, but letting the truth be obscured was fundamentally wrong. Even Ian would never settle for letting someone—anyone—get away with murder.

Grant lowered his gaze from the ceiling and his voice dropped to a hush. “Look, I know how important finding the lost ones is to you. Even when everyone else gives up, you never do. I admire that about you. But this with the Nest... You’re in trouble with this—if you get caught, the kind of trouble that’ll make your POW days seem like a walk in the park.”

“I’m aware of the risks. But my safety isn’t my main concern.” She looked him right in the eye, let him see the truth. “I’m right about this. I know it. Can you just trust me?”

“I do trust you. My trust in you has never been an issue.”

He was right. The issue was her trusting him, and now he stood genuinely worried. She hated that. “I realize you disagree with me on all of this. You have doubts. But I don’t, and if they get away with killing two people, what’s to stop them from killing four, or forty-four?” She set down her mug. “No. No, I can’t worry about the risks. I have to do the right thing.”

“Hardheaded, stubborn—” His voice faded into a grumble.

She pretended to be deaf as a stone. Deeply worried and afraid for her, he needed to vent, and she needed a minute to get her insides to stop shaking. Busying herself, she refocused, refilling her mug at the coffeepot, then returned to the table. “The bottom line is that if Talbot or Dayton are behind the murders, they won’t risk their futures on Crawford getting a whim and withdrawing his confessions. He could recant at any time. They’re going to silence him because neither of them can afford not to—personally or as Nest commanders.”

“Even if Crawford recanted, no one would believe him.”

“No, but in the commanders’ elevated positions—their promotions will come quickly now, right?” When Grant nodded, Madison finished. “They won’t risk a blemish on their records, and they know that politically a Crawford confession would become a public issue under microscopic scrutiny in the media.”

“That much is true.”

“They’ll prevent that.” If she were right, Crawford’s days were numbered. “There’s another nugget that is even more compelling.”

“What?”

Madison leaned forward and dropped her voice. “If Crawford recants, the uproar about David Pace and Beth Crane will pass. But another uproar won’t, and it’ll have heads rolling at the highest levels.”

The color leaked from Grant’s face. “No. No way. Neither Talbot nor Dayton will go public. They wouldn’t jeopardize national security for media ratings or political points. That is what you’re saying, right?”

“Under the right conditions, they would.”

“What right conditions? It’d be political suicide.”

“Not if they leaked every single crumb on the Nest under the protection of a congressional hearing. They’d claim they had no choice but to disclose, Congress would back them on that, and the focus would definitely shift away from them, Crawford and the murders and land squarely on the Nest.”

Grant’s hand on his mug shook, and his eyes narrowed. “The need-to-know loop would never allow that testimony to take place.”

“Which is why I think they’ll get rid of Crawford before he can recant his confessions.” She rubbed at a dull throb in her temple. “Once he does, then neither Talbot and Dayton nor anyone else in the loop can stonewall Congress indefinitely. For a while, yes, but then something will give. It always does.”

Grant paused a moment, clearly thinking. “We know from working there that the need-to-know loop will keep word of the Nest sequestered by any necessary means.”

Madison agreed. “Yes.” Like the others, she’d had restricted access to the Nest, allowed only in her specific area. She was as clueless as everyone else about what was at the Nest and why the facility existed at all, but the secrecy of the facility was made clear to everyone who knew about it. “These deductions have left me with another question. I can’t answer it, but maybe you can.”

He smoothed a thumb over her shirtsleeve at her wrist, his expression guarded. “What question?”

“Why?” Madison looked him right in the eye. “What is so important about that facility that they could be killing people to keep it a secret?”

TWO

Mrs. Renault appeared at Madison’s office door. “You’re back.”

Madison nodded, biting her tongue about Mrs. Renault dropping Grant off out at the Nest last night. “Is it time for the morning report?”

Tall and lithe, the fiftyish Mrs. Renault entered, wearing a slim skirt and fitted top. Her taupe heels clicked softly on the hardwood floor. “I thought with the Valentine’s ball tonight at the club, you’d be home resting.”

“No, I’ve been having a heated discussion with Grant.”

“And you’re not happy with me for taking him out there.”

“Actually, no, I’m not.”

“Fine.” She pulled out her pad and poised her pen.

“That’s all the explanation I get?” Madison fingered her Purple Heart, rolled it over in her palm.

“You were in danger. You needed backup.”

Madison resisted the urge to raise her voice. “I don’t trust him.”

“You have trust issues with everyone but me,” Mrs. Renault said, decidedly calm.

“After last night, I think I should be on the fence about you, too.”

If that comment ruffled her, Mrs. Renault didn’t show it. “Well, I trust Grant.”

Madison envied her that. She was coming to care for this man. She yearned to trust him. But she just didn’t dare. Still, curiosity got the better of her. “Why?” Mrs. Renault’s instincts were usually flawless, but the woman knew he’d been reporting agency activities to Talbot and Dayton.

“If Grant had reported anything negative on us, we’d all have been hauled in for questioning. We haven’t been. My guess is Grant has done nothing more than tell the commander we’ve been working internally to assure no one here breached security by telling the reporters anything about the Nest. He’s probably been instrumental in keeping heat off the entire agency.”

Madison hadn’t considered that possibility.

“You must remember, Madison, Grant is in a delicate position. He’s subject to recall for two years after the date he officially came off active duty. He can’t refuse to report, though I imagine feeling about you as he does, he wishes he could.”

Didn’t she wish she knew how he felt about her? Wouldn’t it be a gift to be sure? “I know he can’t refuse them.” She’d gone through that two-year period herself.

“So he’s done his duty. No more and no less.”

“And I shouldn’t fault him for it.”

“He took an oath, as did you.” Mrs. Renault looked over, and gave her the infamous Renault lift of the brow. “Would you respect a man who made an oath and didn’t keep it?”

“No.” She wouldn’t, but didn’t have to like admitting it. Grant’s position wasn’t lost on her. He was a man torn between the dictates of his faith and his country. And if her wishes and Mrs. Renault’s instincts were right, he was also torn between faith, country and her: a woman he cared about. Being pulled in three different directions had to keep him up nights, but she was up nights, too. She cared about him, but should she? Was caring about him putting her and her staff in jeopardy? If he was being honest with her, then no. But was he? Considering the pressure on him from all sides...she wasn’t sure. Odds were, he wasn’t sure himself. “Grant reporting shouldn’t be necessary. Talbot and Dayton know what we do here. You’d think they’d see merit in it.” Madison sipped from her mug, stared at the sun streaking in through the white sheers covering the window. “In four years, we’ve gone from zero to success by any standards. That should be enough.”

“You’re assuming they don’t see merit in our work, and you know anecdotal evidence can’t be enough to negate a hard look when anything classified is involved. The Nest is a lot more...sensitive.”

She did know, but she didn’t have to like that, either. She looked at the Purple Heart medal and spoke from her heart. “The problem is, I want to trust him.”

“You’ve developed strong feelings for him?”

“I wouldn’t go that far.”

“Of course you wouldn’t. How far would you go?”

“I hate it when you do that.” Madison frowned. Since her days as a POW, she was cautious with her trust. Betrayed and burned as she’d been—who wouldn’t be? “Why do you make me admit what I feel, especially when I don’t want to feel anything?” Madison let her see her exasperation. “I don’t want to care about him. I don’t want to trust him.”

“But you just said you do want to trust him....”

“See what I mean? He stirs things inside me and makes me so crazy I don’t even know my own mind.”

“At the risk of rattling you even more—your hands are shaking—I believe you’re making yourself crazy. He’s just being Grant, doing the best he can in an awkward situation.”

Madison groaned and kept staring at the medal. It meant so much to her, and Grant now knew it. Though she’d been sacrificed and the bond had been broken with her superiors, the bond between her and the spirit of the medal, her nation, her relationship with her family and her faith, remained intact. Grant not only had understood but also had said he felt the same way, though when faith and duty to country conflicted, it caused a lot of internal challenges. That he’d shared that revelation made another chink in the armor around her heart. “He seems honorable—as if he’s trying so hard to do the right thing all around. I know it can’t be easy, yet...” She sighed. “I feel like a horrible person for having doubts and as if anyone with sense should have doubts... This wouldn’t be nearly so hard if I didn’t...but I do.” She let Mrs. Renault see the misery in her eyes. “I...care about him.”

Sympathy reflected in Mrs. Renault’s eyes. “I can see that you do.”

In a cold sweat, Madison met Mrs. Renault’s gaze. “I think he genuinely cares about me, too.” It cost her a lot to admit that out loud.

“Uh-huh.” Mrs. Renault put her pen down atop her pad on a little table beside her chair. “Madison, are you falling in love with Grant?”

“Oh, I hope not.” She nearly wilted and a lump formed in her throat.

“Why? Do you know?”

“I’m afraid I do.” Trusting her heart had gotten her captured and taken prisoner, had changed the entire course of her life. “My heart can’t be trusted.” Madison walked over to the wall and pressed a button on the back of a landscape painting of the cove done by her friend Maggie Mason. It was the view from the club’s gazebo, less than a half mile from Madison’s office, and one of Madison’s favorite places on earth. A section of wall slid open. Madison gently placed the medal inside.

When she turned, Mrs. Renault stood waiting. “I hate to say it, but trusted or not, I’m afraid your heart will settle long before your mind.”

“Wits and wisdom, not your heart, get you through hard times.”

“Perhaps it’s all of them—your heart and wits and wisdom.” Mrs. Renault returned to her seat. “That’s what happened when I fell in love with John.” She harrumphed softly, in the refined way only she could. “Oh, how my mind rebelled against loving that man.”

“Why?” Madison couldn’t believe it. She always seemed so sure-footed on everything.

“I was a military brat, and I vowed never to fall in love with a military man. I wanted roots.”

“But you married John anyway.”

“Yes, I did. And given the chance, I would again.”

She had been happy with him, not that anyone doubted it for a second. Such a shame he died so young. “So your heart won the battle. That’s what you’re telling me, isn’t it?”

“Wits and wisdom have their value but the heart always wins the battle. That’s what I’m telling you.”

That was not what she’d hoped to hear. “Maybe so, but I’m not giving up yet.”

Madison shut the vault, returned to her desk then sat down and stared at the fireplace filled not with wood but with strings of twinkling little lights. She said, “I don’t understand him. He listens but he doesn’t hear me.”

“That’s been the problem with men and relationships since there have been men and relationships.” Mrs. Renault cocked her head. “I take it that you’ve discussed this communication challenge with him?”

Madison expelled a hard breath. “I have. The problem is, this morning when he told me he couldn’t walk away from me, either, I was relieved. I was so afraid he would, I was almost sick inside.”

“Maybe it was being out in the cold all night.”

“No, it was him.” Madison fisted her hand. “The only other time I’ve been that scared is when I was captured.”