Torn Loyalties

“Oh, my. Strong emotions.”

“Very strong emotions.” Madison slid her assistant a wistful look. “I keep praying they’ll fizzle and go away.”

“Because...?”

“I just told you. I don’t trust him.”

“But you want to,” Mrs. Renault reminded her, her eyes darting a long moment. “I have an idea. Why not give him a real chance? Take a leap of faith? That could ease some pressure on you and be telling.”

There was wisdom in the older woman’s suggestion. It would allow her to trust him—and with a safety net. The battle in her would cease...maybe. It would definitely ease up. That could make trying it worth a shot. She’d taken a small step, sharing her suspicions about what could come of Crawford and Talbot and Dayton’s desire to shift focus. She hadn’t even shared that with Mrs. Renault, who had a soft spot for the commander. For that reason alone, Madison prayed the man was innocent of killing Pace and Beth Crane.

“You’re going to the St. Valentine’s ball together tonight, right?”

Madison nodded.

“Well, one question to answer before you decide. Is your hesitation because you don’t trust him on the security breach, or because you don’t trust him with your heart?”

Madison didn’t dare answer—not even to herself.

Mrs. Renault clearly didn’t expect her to. She continued, “Either way, it’s a step forward. And it’s time you took one.”

Madison hadn’t dared to trust a man since escaping from Afghanistan. She’d wanted to, tried to, but she just couldn’t do it. At times she wondered if she’d ever trust a man again. Since one she’d put her trust in had been responsible for her capture, she couldn’t fault herself for that, though her pastor insisted that God wouldn’t approve of deeming all men responsible for the sins of one. She wasn’t trying to do that. It wasn’t them but her own judgment she doubted. Her pastor insisting she was not trusting God shocked her. Was he right?

Unsure, Madison looked at Mrs. Renault. She was right about one thing. If Madison didn’t try to step forward, change wouldn’t be possible. And maybe her pastor was right, too. Maybe she did need to trust God to put a worthy man in her path.

Grant’s image filled Madison’s mind—the promise of what could be. Foolish or wise, she didn’t know, but this proposal was for one night. She could leap that far, to trust and give him a real chance.

“All right,” she told Mrs. Renault. “I’ll try.”

What could it hurt?

Me. Madison swallowed hard. God, help me. I’m leaping. Please don’t let me regret it.

* * *

A brash young lieutenant with a red nose, bruised knuckles and a name tag that read Blake escorted Grant into the commander’s windowless inner sanctum.

Commander Talbot sat behind his gleaming desk. Vice Commander Dayton perched on the left of two deep blue leather visitor’s chairs. Grant saluted.

“Major Deaver.” Talbot returned the salute. “Come in.”

Not invited to sit, Grant stood at ease before the desk. “You wanted to see me, sir?”

“Yes.” The commander leaned back in his chair, his thinning pate catching the light from the overhead. “How are things going at Lost, Inc.?”

“They’re tense, sir.” Dayton hadn’t said a word. He looked almost bored, though Grant had been in Intel too long to be fooled by that facade. The man wasn’t missing a thing. Dressed in combat gear instead of his blues—why? Everyone Grant had come across, from the gate guards to headquarters’ security, had been dressed in blues or their regular uniforms today.

“Tense?” The commander stopped rocking his chair.

“Yes, sir.” Grant debated over his approach, and decided Talbot had always been reasonable, so he’d just talk straight. “Madison McKay still doesn’t trust me.”

Dayton guffawed. “Lost your touch with the ladies, eh?”

Caustic, but Grant didn’t take it personally. Dayton had made it an art form. “She’s a former operative,” Grant said. “She knows the tactics. You either come at her from a genuine place, or you don’t get near her at all.”

Talbot rubbed at his jaw. “Madison has always had good instincts. They made her an excellent analyst and operative.”

“Working with Renée Renault has sharpened them,” Dayton said. “You can bank on that.”

“Renée is gifted.” Talbot drummed his fingers on his desktop and sighed. “Sorry we lost Madison. I hoped she’d change her mind and rejoin us after being home for a while.”

Grant had never heard such respect in Dayton’s tone as when he’d spoken of Mrs. Renault, and never had anyone other than Commander Talbot called her by her first name. No doubt her military family missed her. But the remark about Madison irked Grant. If they hadn’t sacrificed her, maybe they wouldn’t have lost her, but the bottom line was Grant didn’t want to repeat the mistake and lose her, and the longer this deception went on, the greater the odds were that he would.

Determined to try to do something about that, he shifted the conversation to a place he was more than eager to go. “Crawford accepted responsibility for the security breach. The case is closed.” No reaction, so he went on. “How much longer do I have to stay at Lost, Inc., and—?”

Talbot frowned. “Indefinitely.”

Grant’s heart sank. His stomach knotted. “May I ask why, sir?”

Dayton piped up. “If the commander wanted you to know, he’d tell you. You have your orders, Major.”

Grant clamped his jaw. “Yes, sir.”

“Ease up, Jeremy,” Talbot told Dayton, then swerved his gaze to Grant. “You’re absolutely convinced that no one at Lost, Inc., has in any way been involved in the Nest security breach?”

“I am, sir.” Silently he prayed no questions came that required him to disclose Madison’s jaunt into the Nest’s perimeter woods last night.

Dayton, lean and compact with thick muscles, stood up. “Need I remind you that every single individual in that agency is, shall we say, disenchanted with the military?”

“No, sir. I haven’t forgotten,” Grant said. “They are disenchanted—for just cause.”

“In your opinion.” Talbot’s eyes narrowed. “Doesn’t that send up a red flag in your mind that any of them could have breached security, and leaked word of the Nest to the media? Or maybe even to Crawford?”

“Yes, sir. But after a thorough investigation, in my opinion, none did. There’s no connection between any of them and Crawford, or to the Nest, beyond their assignments to it during their active-duty days. Crawford, working for Homeland Security, had direct access. He didn’t require a leak to know about the Nest. He was briefed on it regularly and personally visited the facility a dozen times.”

Worry creased the commander’s skin between his eyebrows. “What if I told you that Crawford’s access was even more restricted than your own?”

“That changes nothing, sir. He’s proven resourceful in the killings we’ve verified he’s done. I’ve no doubt he could be equally resourceful in gaining access to restricted areas, particularly from the inside.” Grant didn’t want a long conversation diversion into Gary Crawford. He’d claimed responsibility for the security breach and for the murders. That was that. “I’m convinced that Madison and her staff are innocent, sir.”

“Including Renée Renault?”

Grant nodded at the commander.

His eyes narrowed, curious not accusing. “Why?”

Talbot was a widower, and he’d been in love with Mrs. Renault since her husband had died. As far as anyone knew, though, it was one-sided and unspoken. Still, Talbot knew her nature well. This was more Talbot testing Grant’s judgment. “Actually, Mrs. Renault weighs heavily in my assessment. She would never work for anyone who would cross this country. And Madison is just like Mrs. Renault about that.” Grant cleared his throat. “They’re patriots, sir. If either of them felt someone at the agency had jeopardized national security, they’d be the first to knock on your door.”

That clearly pleased the commander.

It didn’t impress Dayton. He stepped closer and stared up into Grant’s face. “You realize you’re staking your life on that assessment, Major.”

Grant lowered his eyes to look at the man. At about five-nine, Dayton had to tilt back his head to meet Grant’s gaze. “Yes, sir.”

“That’s enough for me.” The commander signaled Grant could depart.

“So I can consider the assignment closed?”

“No.” The commander glanced at Dayton, then back at Grant. “I think it’s best if you stay put for now.”

Disappointment hit Grant hard. He was going to lose Madison before he could even win her over. Probably just as well. With secrets and lies between them that he couldn’t disclose and resolve, well, losing her now was probably easier on his heart than losing her later. But, man, he wished he didn’t have to lose her at all. “Yes, sir.” Grant saluted.

“Dismissed,” the commander said, then as Grant reached the door, he added, “Major, I’m sure your investigation is thorough, but do keep your eyes and ears open anyway.” He laced his hands atop his desk. “I am aware of the awkwardness of your current position, but it is necessary.”

Was it? At first, maybe. But now that he’d reported his findings? Grant didn’t see the rationale. Not one valid reason he had to remain at the agency, spying on Madison or her entire staff. But there was something in Talbot’s eyes. Something Grant couldn’t decipher or quite grasp...yet. “Yes, sir.”

Grant took the stairs, too irritated to wait for the elevator. Downstairs, he cleared security, and then departed the building. He had prayed hard, hoping to end this deception today. But Talbot’s refusal to end the assignment proved his prayers had been denied. Decisively.

Indefinitely.

Talbot’s word speared through Grant but it was Dayton’s suspicions, the odd look in his eyes when they spoke about Crawford, that most worried Grant. Was that because something was there? Or because Madison had planted doubts in his mind about Crawford being silenced before he could recant his confessions and her relating that to Talbot and Dayton?

Unsure, Grant pulled his keys from his pocket, and made his way across the parking lot.

Indefinitely.

Infiltrating Lost, Inc., had made sense—at one point. But why keep a plant in place on a closed case where everyone had been cleared? That didn’t make sense...unless Talbot or Dayton doubted Crawford’s guilt. But why would they? And why not just tell Grant they had doubts? He was Talbot’s hand-chosen investigator, after all.

Grant paused to let a blue truck pass between the rows of parked cars. What had happened in there made no sense, neither their orders nor their conduct. Talbot’s warning to Grant to keep his eyes and ears open...that look in his eye. Was it a warning, too? And the way Talbot had looked at Dayton. What was that all about? The truck passed and Grant walked on. Halfway to his car, he stopped dead in his tracks between a black sedan and a white SUV. His stomach clenched. There was one situation where their orders and conduct made perfect sense.

If Madison was right.

But she couldn’t be right. Talbot and Dayton involved in two murders? That was insane.

Wasn’t it?

Unsure, Grant got into his Jeep and headed off the base. As soon as he cleared the gate, he dialed Madison.

She answered on the second ring. “Hi, Grant.”

He’d never heard Madison McKay sound so...open. Unguarded even. “What’s wrong with you?”

“Nothing at all. Why? Where are you?”

Not quite sure about this shift in her, he reserved judgment. “On my way back to the office. Are you there, or at home?”

“Actually, I just picked up my dress for the ball tonight—it’s totally gorgeous—and now I’m heading home for a nap so I don’t wear a gorgeous gown with dark bags under my eyes.”

Gearing up for the ball, or for more surveillance after it? “I’ve been thinking about our talk this morning and what you said about Crawford.”

“And?”

“It makes sense. Even if he killed Beth Crane, why would he wait so long to take out Pace?”

“Pace wasn’t a threat until later,” she told Grant. “After Beth was killed, Brett Lund, the WKME station manager, dropped the assignment. He didn’t pick it up again for three years.”

“When he assigned the story to Pace.”

“That’s right. Until then, Pace didn’t know a thing about any of it.”

Grant pulled into a drive-through Starbucks and ordered coffee, then asked, “Why did Lund wait? Why would he sit on a huge story for three years?”

“Don’t I wish I knew? Lund died before answering that question, but I’ve thought about it, and the only thing that stands up to scrutiny is that after Beth was killed, Lund was scared stiff. He had a wife and two kids, you know.”

“That only works if Lund connected Beth Crane’s murder to her inquiries about the Nest. He’d have had to know she wasn’t killed in a home invasion like everyone believed until Crawford confessed.” Beth’s husband, Ian Crane, had been a doctor. Everyone in North Bay knew it. But anyone who knew Ian Crane knew he didn’t keep so much as an aspirin at home to protect Beth. So the police had deduced Beth’s murder had been by a random stranger—until Crawford confessed.

“Lund made the connection between Beth and Talbot and/or Dayton and the Nest. He admitted as much to Ian.” Blaming himself for Beth’s death, Ian had stopped practicing medicine to hire on with Madison and devote himself to finding Beth’s killer. He and Madison’s best friend, Maggie Mason, had worked together and gone through struggles of their own, but this past Christmas, they had worked through them and fallen in love. What an adventure that had been, going up against serial killer Gary Crawford!

“When did Lund admit the connection?”

“Right before he shot himself.” Madison sighed. “They talked in his office. He admitted to Ian and Maggie that he knew Beth had been murdered and he feared for his family so he’d kept his mouth shut. When nothing happened to him and three years passed, Lund thought it was safe to check out the case, so he pulled the records and assigned David Pace.”

“So then, like Beth, Pace goes to the commander for confirmation on the Nest, and shortly thereafter, he’s killed.”

“Right,” Madison said. “Minutes after Ian left the meeting, Lund got a phone call—the records have been scrubbed so we don’t know from whom—and then shot himself.”

He’d made the connection, all right, and he’d sacrificed David Pace for the story. And that’s why Madison was so invested in this case. “Pace didn’t know about Beth, did he?”

“According to his wife, no.”

“And what happened to his records on the case?”

“Detective Cray took a look at them. He saw nothing to indicate Pace knew Beth even existed.”

This must have nearly knocked Ian to his knees. He’d looked for his wife’s murderer for three years, and then to discover this? Poor guy.

“Grant? Did you hear me?”

“What? Sorry. I was thinking about how hard learning this had to have been on Ian.”

“Very.”

Neither he nor Maggie had said much about Crawford or the security breach, for that matter. “What did you say that I missed?”

“I said,” Madison repeated, “something seems different. What’s happened to you?”

No way could he answer that question. He wished he could tell her the truth, but he didn’t have that luxury. All he could do was play dumb and stick as close to the truth as possible. But inside the battle raged between truth and lies, right and wrong, his head and heart, and betrayal and loyalty. He could follow the dictates of his faith, be loyal to his country, or be loyal to her. He couldn’t be all three, and that grated at him on so many levels it’d take a lifetime to list them all. And he feared she’d hate him forever for deceiving her. “What do you mean?”

“You sound almost as if you’re hearing what I’m saying for the first time.”

He grunted. Maybe he was. His perspective had changed. He was now entertaining the possibility she could be right.

“Are you coming around to my way of thinking?”

“I’m keeping an open mind.” The woman was astute. He’d be foolish to forget it. “Take a nap. I’ll pick you up at eight.”

“Sorry. I won’t be here.”

Surprise rippled up his back. His hands tightened on the steering wheel. “What?”

“I have a date.”

“I know. It’s with me.”

“I don’t think so. My date is with the man who sent me chocolates, a white stuffed teddy bear and a lovely card asking me to be his valentine.”

“It arrived.”

A lilt in her voice turned even more playful. “Oh, was that from you?”

“You know it was.”

“Well, it all arrived just before I left the office to pick up my dress, but I couldn’t tell who sent it because the card, while lovely, wasn’t signed.”

He’d agonized over how to sign it. Gone back and forth in his head and had nearly driven himself over the edge. Finally he’d just written her name on the envelope and at the top of the card and left it unsigned. He sipped at his coffee. “I was being mysterious to charm you.”

“Well, you succeeded.” A smile sounded in her voice. “I guess my date is with you, then. See you at eight—but meet me at the club. We have a little issue with the florist to resolve, so I need to be there early.”

After ending the call, he set the phone down on the console and wondered what had gotten into her. Madison? Being playful? With him?

He liked her playful. He liked her regardless, but playful was...captivating.

Maybe he should keep her sleep deprived....

It could be his one shot to not lose her.