Compromised Identity

Lifting the phone again, Jessica clicked out of the messages and hesitated only a moment before going to email. The slight pain in her shoulder urged her past any sense of contrition for snooping.

No new emails, but dozens of already-opened ones sat in the queue, each with an attachment.

Why stop now? Jessica clicked on the first one. No message, but the attachment opened to reveal an official Department of Defense photo of a young male soldier. The next three emails were the same, with dozens more behind them, all sent within the past six weeks. Face after face flicked by, none of them bringing a name to mind, one or two of them vaguely familiar, though it could have been they bore resemblance to a famous person...or her exhaustion was kicking into overdrive.

Jessica turned the phone off and pulled herself up. Likely, Channing had found some weird dating site that catered exclusively to the military. There were worse things young soldiers had done with the Internet, that was for sure.

She slipped the phone into her backpack and pulled out her personal laptop, wanting to sleep but knowing her keyed-up mind wouldn’t let her. Lately, her father had started pushing the Green to Gold option on her, hinting he’d like her to take advantage of the Army’s program that allowed her to go to college on their dime and become a commissioned officer.

It was tempting, earning her father’s respect, but she’d have to temporarily leave behind her status as a medic. The thought burned in her chest. She was already sidelined for a year, watching the home front, helping soldiers transition into and out of the Army, working with the families... Would it be worth it, walking away from her dream career for an even longer stretch of time, simply for the possibility of making her father proud?

She shoved the laptop aside. Researching colleges and ROTC programs would only frustrate her more. She’d be better off staring at the dark ceiling and praying to fall asleep.

Tomorrow, she’d turn the phone over to the military police and let them deal with it and the blue-eyed mystery man who’d saved her life.

* * *

The food court of the small shopping center at the Fort Campbell Post Exchange buzzed with hundreds of soldiers and their families, all trying to grab lunch and go. With a lot of the units rotated back home from deployment, the lines were long, and the noise was loud.

Jessica eyed the crowd, watching people mill about as she waited to fill her drink. Too many people in one place. She suppressed a shudder and watched a teenage boy wearing a backpack stride across the room, head down. Her muscles tensed, shoulders aching, as he wove his way through the crowd. It wasn’t until he walked out that she relaxed. In combat, backpacks, unattended bags, huge crowds—they all spelled trouble.

She’d been back stateside for five months, but the wariness hadn’t left yet. Likely, it never would. She still dodged potholes in the road, still scanned thick groves of trees for evidence of a sniper... Yesterday’s events hadn’t helped, to be sure.

As the man in front of her stepped away, she pressed her cup to the lever for ice, and then filled it to the brim with sweet tea.

Sipping her drink and hoping in vain the caffeine would waylay the effects of her sleepless night, Jessica turned from the drink machine and surveyed the room, trying to find an empty table with a view of one of the TVs. There. By the front window. If she could just beat the nineteen other people who’d probably spotted it, also. She took two steps from the fountain, and a body collided with hers, knocking her drink from her tray. It splattered to the floor, dousing her lower legs and covering her boots with sweet stickiness.

Cold tea ran inside her boots, soaking the tops of her socks. With a gasp, she stepped back, the cup squishing beneath her heel.

A young soldier stared at her, eyes wide as he took a step back. “Oh man.” He shoved a wad of napkins into her hand and retrieved her cup from the floor. “I’m sorry.”

Jessica didn’t even have to see his rank to know he was a very green private. The dark Army-issued glasses and gangly newborn colt stance told her without needing to see the rank on his chest. “Don’t worry about it, Private.” It wasn’t what she wanted to say, but taking her frustrations out on this poor kid wouldn’t help. She knelt and blotted at the drink on her boots, biting back words she’d have to repent for later, she was sure. “I can get another drink. And I have a spare pair of boots in my office.” Thankfully.

The kid still looked mortified. Fresh out of basic, he was definitely used to getting yelled out for every minor infraction, and was likely waiting for the tongue-lashing he thought he deserved.

Jessica pulled in a deep breath and straightened. “Really, it’s all good.”

The private looked down at the cup in his hand. “I’ll get you another drink.”

He was gone before she could protest that he really didn’t have to do that and was somehow back within minutes, even though the lines were still crazy long. Jessica didn’t question as he fed ice into her cup. “Um, Staff Sergeant? You missed a spot on your toe.” He started to reach down, then nervously pulled his hand back, aiming a finger at her left boot. “You were drinking tea?”

Focused on her shoes, Jessica nodded, and then took the cup he offered before he scampered off with another apology.

With her coveted table by the window now occupied by three soldiers, she picked up her tray and spotted another in the far corner of the room, the angle too sharp to see the TV. Oh well. She didn’t need to see the news anyway. She already knew all she needed to know. Her new brigade had shipped out without her, the chain of command claiming she should get more time stateside since she’d only been home a few months before her transfer to Fort Campbell. Her father was disappointed she’d been put in Rear Detachment, refusing to believe it was all about timing and not something she’d done wrong. To him, there was no value in her position. He’d never grasp the need for someone to be on the home front to act as liaison to the families, to support the soldiers who had deployed and to aid the transition for those coming and going overseas.

It was quieter in the corner anyway, away from the crowd. Sliding into the seat, she shoved a straw into her drink and unwrapped her hamburger, glancing at her watch. Half an hour to shove in hot chow and get back to the office before the next briefing.

She reached for her tea as a man slipped into the seat across from hers and laid his hand across the top of the cup. “Don’t drink that.”

Jessica sat back in her seat, trying to keep her jaw from going slack. The blond, blue-eyed soldier was the same man who’d come to her rescue yesterday—and he had to be out of his mind. “Do I know you, Staff Sergeant?”

“No, but trust me.”

Grabbing his wrist, the material of his uniform rough beneath her fingers, she lifted his hand from her drink. After staring down a gun and a knife yesterday, there was no room for fear in the middle of the crowded food court. She didn’t have time for this guy, even if he had saved her life, and even if he possessed the bluest eyes she’d ever seen. This current behavior was out-of-bounds. All she wanted was lunch in peace before an afternoon of listening to a commander who liked to hear his own voice. “Worst pickup line ever. You going to tell me next that I’d be better off going with you for drinks somewhere? That you—”

“Your drink’s spiked.”

“Right.” As a female in a predominantly male world, she’d heard every line in the book. This one not only took the cake, it sliced it and shoved it down her throat. “And you’re James Bond.” She reached defiantly for her sweet tea, but his hand was quicker, drawing the cup to his side of the table.

He couldn’t be serious. “What is your problem?”

But there was no amusement on the man’s face. His mouth pressed into a straight line, and a fairly recent scar ran from his hairline at his temple back toward his ear. It made him menacing. And deadly serious.

He was either telling the truth, or he was crazy and she should wave over one of the military policemen who tended to be around the Post Exchange for a lunch break.

Leaning forward, he slid her drink to the side. “When you’re a female, what’s the first rule you follow? Never let your drink out of your sight.”

“I didn’t.” Who was this guy to lecture her?

“You did. Just long enough for your clumsy friend to dump something in it. I watched him.”

The private at the drink machines? That kid was about as murderous as a toothless toy poodle. “So why didn’t you chase him down?”

“I thought it was more important to keep you from drinking it first. We can pull surveillance video later.”

Jessica wasn’t buying a word of this. Guys like this, fresh back from deployment, feeling lonely... They were trying to find someone to take their minds off things. She glanced down. No ring. At this moment, her blue-eyed “protector” was nothing more than a lonely single soldier looking for a woman any way he could get one. Somehow, he’d been in the right place at the right time yesterday, maybe because he was already watching her. Grasping her tray, she stood, staring him down. “Keep the drink. I don’t need it.”

“Sit down, Staff Sergeant.”

“Goodbye.” She stomped two steps away, but stopped at the sound of his voice.

“Your full name is Jessica Maria Dylan. You were born at Fort Benning, Georgia, to Colonel and Mrs. Eric Dylan. You came to Campbell a few months ago from Fort Lewis, Washington. You’re a medic assigned to First Brigade who didn’t ship out with your unit because you haven’t had enough downtime since your last deployment. On that deployment, you came under fire after your convoy hit an improvised explosive device, but rather than take cover, you went out into the mix and saved two soldiers’ lives. When your commander tried to put you in for a commendation, you fought him until he backed down...reluctantly. Oh, and two weeks ago, your government laptop was stolen.” When she turned, he tilted his head. “Ready to listen?”

No one but her former commander knew she’d turned down that commendation. And no one but her current chain of command knew her laptop had been stolen once already. “How did you know all of that?”

“It’s my job to know that...and to protect you.”

Jessica gave up her defiance and sank into her seat, finally deciding to give Staff Sergeant Sean Turner the satisfaction of investigating her drink. She popped the top and glanced inside.

A fine white powder coated the edges of the tea and floated in a sheen across the surface of the liquid. Her hands grew cold, and she shoved the cup away. Her head pounded, threatening nausea. “What’s going on?”

Staff Sergeant Turner scanned the immediate area around them, then pulled a folded paper from his pocket. “These are my orders.”

Jessica scanned the paper, not recognizing his unit name, but picking up that he was pulling temporary duty for an investigation. She folded the paper and stared at the tight creases. “You’re investigating me?”

There was something about his bearing, his attitude. He was Special Forces or deeper. She kept silent, knowing he’d eventually be forced to fill the space with words.

Staff Sergeant Turner pocketed his orders as he lowered his voice. “My unit works to combat groups that hack computers to funnel money and information but who are operating in the physical, as well. Essentially, it’s cybercriminals buried in sleeper cells. We’re deep because there are times the ones we’re investigating are soldiers. We’ve been looking into a series of laptop heists. The theft of your laptop two weeks ago is the first time we’ve seen the first theft and been able to anticipate the second. The interesting thing is, there have been chatter spikes each time. I’ve been watching your machines, and it just so happens our thief came out hot right under my nose yesterday.”

As much as she didn’t want to believe any of this, his knowledge of her past and his orders spoke to the truth. “So what do you need from me?” Jessica laid a hand on the cell phone in her leg pocket. She hadn’t had a chance to turn it over to the MPs yet, and now she wondered if she should.

“Nothing except your trust, and maybe for you to be a second set of eyes.” He sat back and laid his hands splayed on the table. Several small scars creased the knuckles. “Staff Sergeant Dylan, this theft is different. You saw both of their faces, and the evidence says they’re willing to kill you for it.”

“You saw both of their faces, too.”

He waved a hand in front of his face. “I’ll give you that, but with them making a second attempt on you just now, I’m inclined to believe they think you know something else, too.”

“That’s why you’re operating under the assumption the kid tried to poison my drink, because they think I know more than I do.” Jessica’s fingers tightened around the cell phone. She ought to be afraid, but her mind was too busy trying to function under the surreal information Sean Turner was feeding her. “If you can prove that’s actually something dangerous in my drink.”

“If you’ll let me, I can have it analyzed and know within a few days.” He leaned closer. “There’s more. They were watching your house last night.”

She didn’t even want to know how he knew that. “I still say you ought to be worried about your own well-being.”

“I’m not worried about me.”

The words sent a jolt through her that she didn’t want to acknowledge. She could take care of herself, but knowing someone else had her back untwisted something in her heart, something she’d rather leave alone. She would do well to remember this man only wanted her trust so he could get to the bottom of his investigation. She swallowed the emotion and made her decision. “You’re right. They’re not after me because I saw them. Too many other people did, too.”

Sean arched an eyebrow but didn’t say anything.

“It’s probably because I have Channing’s cell phone.” She started to pull it from her pocket.

“You have it now?” At her nod, Sean reached across the table and grabbed her free hand. “Not here.” He stood and scanned the room. “I have to get you back to your battalion. Now.”

THREE

Sean ran his hands around the edge of the nondescript brown door, slowing along the top of the frame just in case anyone was stupid enough to leave something incriminating up there.

Nope. Leaning against the beige cinder block wall beside the door, he scanned the tile floor with a curled lip. Barracks sure were better today than when he’d signed up, but nothing beat an apartment of his own. An apartment he’d barely had time to unpack after moving from Maryland to be closer to his new home base in northern Virginia. They’d shipped him out on this assignment in record time, forcing him to leave his new place in a wreck of boxes and half-empty closets.

Thankfully, after Jessica shared Specialist Channing’s cell phone with him, she’d trusted him enough to let him accompany her to the battalion. Well, she partially trusted him. She might believe he was who he said he was, but she still wasn’t 100 percent convinced her life was in danger.

He’d followed her back to her unit, filling in her commander with the least amount of information he could. Jessica Dylan had already been vetted by his superiors, and they knew she could be trusted. The rest of her unit was still being investigated and had to know as little as possible. There was no way to tell who was involved.

Once he’d obtained permission to be in the building, he’d uploaded the contents of the phone to his laptop while Jessica got clearance from the military police to search Specialist Channing’s room. The phone hadn’t yielded much on the surface, but he had a lot of decoding ahead of him. While Jessica thought the texts were nothing more than child’s play, they nagged at Sean. They seemed more like encryption. The numbers and digits weren’t random. In fact, they were the same pattern in many of the messages. As for the emails? Something wasn’t right there, either. No one had any reason to carry around that many head shots of soldiers.

That cell phone was the key to proving these laptop thefts were related, that the thieves weren’t petty criminals. They’d been mentioned in terrorist chatter, but his unit still felt this was a low-level priority. That’s why they’d sent Sean.

He tapped the phone through his pocket. His last mission had brought him into the unit as a consultant, an operative when a desperate situation called for one. As the man who’d uncovered terrorist activity among their contractors, he’d already been in the know about classified intel. He’d just uncovered everything they needed and shipped it back to his best friend, Ashley, in the States when the terror cell blew his cover and took him. Took him and tortured him, trying to discern what he knew.

When the bad guys went after Ashley, his lifelong best friend... That was almost more than he could handle, though it had helped knowing his buddy Ethan Kincaid was protecting her.

His actions overseas had brought him into the unit full-time. But after what he’d been through, sending him out to investigate this mission was proof his superiors thought he wasn’t back up to speed, not operating at full capacity. If he were in their boots, he’d probably want him to prove himself, as well. He’d been tortured but not broken, though that last part was debatable. His sleep was still sporadic and restless, peppered with nightmares when it came.

He had to be successful here if they were ever going to trust him with his own team, ever stop thinking of him as the poor sap who’d made a key mistake and found himself taken hostage. He had to prove to them and to himself he was fit for this assignment.

Footsteps pounded on the stairs, and Sean straightened and prepared to fight, but it was Jessica who appeared around the corner. She held out the key to Specialist Channing’s room as she got closer. “Captain Alexander said the military police and Criminal Investigations spent a large chunk of yesterday in there, but we’re clear to go in now. We probably won’t find anything. I’m guessing they took every piece of evidence that even looked like it had any bearing on her thievery.”

“Yeah, but they’re not looking for the same things I am.” He held out his palm for her to lay the key in it, her warm fingers brushing his skin.

The touch telegraphed straight up his arm. There was no doubt Jessica Dylan was a beautiful woman. Her brown eyes were as warm as hot chocolate, and the way that one stubborn length of dark hair kept escaping the bun she’d tried to tame it in made him itch to tuck it back.

Sean shook his head and tightened his fingers around the key, running his thumb down the jagged edge... All things he shouldn’t be noticing about her or any other female. She was a witness in need of his protection, his only ally on this investigation. Nothing more. Getting involved with her was against his personal protocol, and he had more than enough to worry about without dragging another woman into his life. He’d almost killed the last one.

Slipping the key into the lock, Sean eased the door open, muscles tensed for action in case someone had beaten them into the room.

There was no intruder, but the room was a disaster. Clothes strewed the floor. Several pizza boxes balanced precariously on the small desk and soda cans overflowed the trash.

Jessica followed, grimacing at the chaos. “Did our guys make this mess, or was Channing this disorganized all along? I’ve been around a long time, and I’ve never seen a room in as sad a shape as this one.” She fingered a pizza box and watched it slide to the floor. “I mean, I’ve seen messy soldiers before, but this? There are too many inspections for a soldier to leave a room as trashed as this one. And I’m not sure she was here long enough to merit this kind of disaster.”

“You can fault the investigators for part of it.” Sean pulled open a duffel bag and dragged a hand through wads of drab olive T-shirts. “But not all of it.”

“Maybe because this was her temporary housing, she didn’t bother to worry about inspections. She was supposed to ship out in a few days. She just in-processed from Fort Carson a week ago.”

“Still, something’s not right in here.” Sean stopped in the middle of the room and swept the small space. It was a good thing it took more than overflowing garbage to turn his stomach. “What was her rank again?”

“Channing’s a Specialist.” She’d been in a couple of years and was just above a Private in rank.

Sean pulled the duffel open again, sifting through it and a smaller bag on the floor beside it, giving in to a growing suspicion as he did. Shoving a heap of detritus from the twin bed, he dropped the clothes onto it, then went to the closet and pulled out all the uniforms there, adding them to the pile.

Jessica stepped back and watched. “What exactly are you doing?”

“Thinking.” He pulled random articles of clothing from the bottom of the closet. “At any point in your career, especially when you were a young soldier, did you throw out every single one of your uniforms and start over with used ones?” Sean dumped the clothes onto the bed, then pulled a pair of jump boots from the floor of the closet and tossed them into the mix.

“I’d turn in old uniforms to central issue and get new ones, but usually not all at once. Some of it was used, but not much of it. We got new stuff before deployment, but I kept that back home and wore my old gear overseas. Less I had to buy later. Why?”

Sean swept a hand at the clothes on the bed, waiting to see if he was right or simply thinking sideways. “Tell me what you see.”

“A mess.” Jessica twisted her lips, but she didn’t step back and call him crazy the way she had at the food court. Maybe she was warming up to him.

She’d better. It would make this job a whole lot easier if he didn’t have to fight for her trust every step of the way.

After surveying the heap of uniforms for a minute, Jessica lifted an undershirt, then a pair of pants. One by one, she inspected tops and bottoms, setting them to the side and growing more thoughtful with each piece.

She had to see what he saw.

“Sean.” She stepped back, stopping spare inches before she backed straight into his chest.

Her warmth eased through his uniform top, forcing him to open up the space between them before he decided he liked the feeling. It hadn’t escaped his notice that she’d used his first name. It also hadn’t escaped his notice that he liked the sound of it when she did.

Jessica didn’t seem aware of his thoughts. “The gear is right, but the clothes... None of them are new. And none of them are Channing’s.” She turned on her heel, realized how close she stood to him and slid to the side, clearing her throat. “It’s all used, even has other people’s names on some of them, like she picked up every single bit of it at one of those surplus stores right off post. None of it has been issued to her by the Army.” She picked up a patrol cap and ran her index finger along the brim. “This is more than a soldier would need just to travel overseas.”

“Exactly.” Sean nodded. Her observation skills rivaled some of the best he’d worked with. “Something’s going on with your missing soldier, and I’m starting to think we’re right that it’s a whole lot bigger than the data on your laptop.”

* * *

Tossing Channing’s patrol cap back onto the bed, Jessica walked toward the window that overlooked the parking lot. “I don’t know. It seems like a leap to me.”

“A leap?” Sean stepped up behind her but kept his distance.

Good for him. She’d gotten a little too close earlier, and while the man might be a conspiracy theorist to the highest degree, he was every good thing Angie had guessed he was and more.

And that made him dangerous.

Jessica didn’t turn around. “In reality, I’ve got a soldier who has used uniforms and tried to steal my laptop and has now gone missing. I’ve got a mysterious powder in a cup of sweet tea. And I’ve got you.” Only one of those things was a proven threat.