Lost in Shadows (Lost) Page 2

  “You think differently.”

  “That’s what I’m asking you to find out. My uncle is good at being sheriff, but he perpetually thinks of Carolina as five years old in pigtails. Carolina is scared but she’s smart. She says they were looking for something specific, something a woman might have had.”

  He had been spending time with women lately, but was out of his depth with this one. “Something a woman might have had? Carolina or some other woman?”

  “I don’t know. I spoke with my sister this morning, and she is certain they referred to a woman. I spoke to my uncle before I called you. He dismissed it before he even considered there might be a real threat to Carolina.” A fist pounded on a table. “My little sister is going to lock herself in her house, make herself a sitting duck a thousand miles away from where I can help her. Please, Jeb. Go to her.”

  “Give me the address.” He would babysit the sister and investigate until Nate was satisfied. It was as simple as that.

  “322 Ridgewood. Jeb?”

  Here it comes, Jeb thought, the message hidden behind the story.

  “She isn’t going to willingly leave or let you in. Carolina has always been shy. I was so proud of her when she moved to D.C. to work for the Washington Post. Did I tell you she won a Pulitzer?”

  “No.”

  “I must have moved on by then. I told everybody. Twice. She won for investigative journalism and was one of the youngest to win. Ever.”

  He had never known Nate to ramble. It said a lot about the situation that his calm, logical friend was hopscotching through the conversation. Still, he let it go. His time as sheriff taught him that some people needed to talk through it.

  “My mother was diagnosed with cancer two years ago. Carolina up and quit the Post and moved home to help Mom.” Nate took a deep breath. “She passed last year. Since then, Carolina’s been at home. Alone. I think…I think she stayed home because of Mom and it became a habit. Staying in. But it’s gotten out of hand. She lives her entire life from inside those walls. That damn store even delivers her groceries.”

  “I understand.”

  Nate snapped. “How could you? I don’t.” He exhaled long and slow. “Sorry. Sorry. When she first moved home, Carolina told me she was being followed. More than once, she talked about getting hang-up calls and how they unnerved her.”

  “You think that those events are connected to the break-in?”

  “Jeb, they probably aren’t real. Mitch had his deputy, a buddy of mine, investigate and found no evidence. I chalked it up to stress. She quit her job and started working from home doing research for other journalists. She cared for Mom till the end, mostly on her own. That would wear anyone down. I guess I’m telling you more so you see what kind of person my sister is before you label her as a shut-in. My sister is…the best woman I know, and I’m not there for her.” Metal thundered in the background. Jeb suspected Nate’s desk was taking the brunt of his guilt. “It’s just, I’m worried and frustrated because there’s not a goddamned thing I can do.”

  He put the pad away. “Yes there is, and you did it. You called me. I’ll take care of her for you. Why do you think someone would break in and search the house?”

  Silence stretched to the point of snapping. “Her work. If it’s not her work…then I truly have no idea. She can tell you the details of her projects. Carolina has a memory like a herd of elephants.”

  He knew from his stint as sheriff in his own county that random acts of violence did happen but, more often than not, there was a connection. Somewhere, someone had knowledge that the house or Carolina had something worth stealing. He nodded slightly, finding he was looking forward to “investigating” once again. Solving the crime, standing for a victim, appealed to his intellectual side more so than the security jobs he had been running. “Let me get into it. Then we’ll talk again.”

  “One last thing. If you run into my uncle…don’t let him know what you’re doing. He’s already written this off. He’ll take your involvement as, well, stepping in his business. He can get ugly. I don’t want to bring him in until we have something concrete.”

  An irate uncle—even if he was sheriff—didn’t worry Jeb, but it was Nate’s family. “I’ll play it your way until I have to play it mine.” Jeb disconnected from Nate and pulled the bag from the office closet already packed with essentials—personal and professional. He didn’t expect babysitting would generate the kind of trouble personal security usually did, but he firmly believed failing to plan was planning to fail.

  Failure was not an option.

  He would pay a visit this evening, collect any basic information he could. If need be, he’d put her in a safe house while he worked the case. If she wouldn’t leave, he had men he could assign. He would use the resources of Chameleon—computers, laboratory, helicopter, manpower—to resolve whatever mess Nate’s sister found herself in. Numbers ran through his head. 24/7 coverage would cost him. He could afford to give it a week before he’d have to consider other options.

  In his bedroom, he traded the suit for clothes that would move with him. He put on a bulletproof vest and covered it with a light jacket. As he changed, he considered the depth of Nate’s concern. Nate had seen more in his tours of duty than most saw in a lifetime. He wasn’t a man to panic. Frustration and guilt could account for some, but he knew Nate now believed his sister was in real and imminent danger.

  He remembered the picture of a young woman swinging on a tire swing. Her hair nearly touched the ground as she lay back, laughing with the joy of flight. She had been just eighteen in the photo, which would make her about twenty-eight, twenty-nine.

  Down the stairs and into the courtyard, he skirted the edge of the reception, avoiding eye contact as he made his way to the garage.

  “Sneaking out of my wedding? You know there isn’t going to be a next one. You miss this one, you’re out of luck.” The wind blew Butch’s long, curly hair around his handsome face. With his gritty voice and laughing gray eyes, the ladies of country music propelled his brother to star status.

  “You mess up this one, and I’ll have to attend your funeral after Katie kills you.” Jeb stopped and looked into his brother’s eyes, willing him to see he was serious. “Don’t mess up.”

  “I won’t.” Butch smiled broadly. “She won’t let me. Pushy woman. Where are you going?”

  “Helping a friend.”

  “You have a vest on. Do you have help yourself?”

  He climbed into his truck. “I just need to check on his little sister. I’m taking the chopper. I’ll be back tomorrow. Next day at the latest. Tell Katie I love her.”

  Butch’s grin widened. “The hell I will. Get your ass back here and tell her yourself.”

  Less than an hour from the time Jeb had taken Nate’s call, he found the address displayed prominently on a mailbox and turned into the drive. The white house loomed over his rented SUV, a single dim light shining in a second floor window.

  He had called and left a message that he was Nate’s army buddy and in the area. Odds were Nate’s sister would decline his offer to help over the phone but wouldn’t turn away a friend of Nate’s. He rang the front doorbell. He waited politely at first, then looked in the windows. There was no movement. He rang again. Waited again and then went to Plan B.

  All signs said Carolina wasn’t home. He wasn’t disappointed. Taking a look around on his own, gaining any first impressions without the sister there to ask him questions, was preferable. He’d be in and out without her being the wiser. He pulled the small case from his jacket pocket and entered the house as swiftly as if he’d had a key.

  The kitchen looked like Betty Crocker went on a rampage. There were footprints in the flour. A few pairs of boots. A pair of bare feet. He took a set of pictures with his smartphone. He moved down a hallway, peering into rooms in the same condition as the kitchen.

  At the end of the hall sat a closed door. Behind it was a library. The spacious room featured twelve-foot ceilings with
windows nearly as tall, alternating with shelves devoid of books. The books were littered across the floor except for a clear spot about five feet wide and seven feet long.

  Jeb squatted, his gaze sweeping the floor. “So that’s where you hid.” The room offered no clues to the suspects’ identity or intent. He left the room, passed the kitchen, and resumed his inspection in the dining room. Shelving lined the wall opposite the doorway while the dishes they held were dispersed across the floor, the polished table, and the upholstered chairs.

  “What were you doing? What were you looking for? What was the point of all this?”

  A cold click came from behind. He raised his hands slowly as a trembling voice gave an order.

  “Get out.”

  Chapter Two

  Carolina stood in her foyer, her hands steady under the weight of the gun. She’d come out of her father’s office reprimanding herself for not engaging the security system. This time was different, she told herself. It was one man and she had Daddy’s .44. Confronting him gave her what she’d lost: control. Now that the man in her dining room had his hands up, she wasn’t sure what to do with him. She knew one thing—at this distance, she couldn’t miss if she tried.

  “Carolina.”

  Her jaw dropped. He knew her name. Her finger tightened on the trigger.

  “My name is Jebediah. I’m a friend of Nate’s.” His deep voice called to her, enticing her to trust him. “He sent me to help, Carolina.” Silhouetted by the kitchen counter lights, his outline thinned as he slowly turned.

  “Don’t move. Stop moving. I’m a very good shot and at this distance, I won’t miss.” Her stance widened, her balance shifting naturally. “How do you know Nate?”

  “We were in the army together. I’m going to reach into my jacket for my phone. We’ll give him a call.”

  “No. You move that hand…you’re…you’re going to lose it.” She nodded, liking the line. That was something a tough guy would say.

  The intruder stood in profile. His thick upper body gave way to tree trunk legs. She was absolutely certain that she didn’t want him to get his hands on her.

  He spoke again, his voice low, calm, in command. “We’ll give Nate a call. Just stay cool.”

  “Nice try. We can’t call my brother. It’s four in the morning where he is. You’d know that if you really knew him.” She closed the distance, outrage growing with each step. “What is it with men like you? You think you can just waltz into somebody’s home, stand in their dining room—oh my God. You’re standing in my dining room. With your shoes on!” She waved her arms at the man, gun and all. “Out! You cretin!”

  The big man jumped back, retreating in loping steps. “My name is Jebediah McCormick.” He held out his palms.

  She pressed forward, shooing him like an ornery cat. “Your name is going to be mud if you don’t get off the carpet with those nasty boots of yours and don’t even try to tell me they aren’t nasty! They’ve been in dark, nasty, sticky, nasty, ugly places.”

  “Nate sent me to help—”

  “If there is one thing I’m certain of, it is that my brother did not send you.” The recessed lighting over the cabinet’s top lit the sharp lines of his menacing face. She didn’t see him move, but the gun that was in her hand one moment was in his the next.

  A satisfied curve spread across his lips. “Now. Let’s start over. My name is Jeb.”

  Carolina backed away. Any bravado she had, he took with the gun. She needed to stay clear-minded. She had options. The security system had a panic button. She had her cell phone—her hand went to where she’d tucked the phone at the small of her back but came up empty. She pulled the stool from under the kitchen island, knocking it into his path as she searched for the phone. “I don’t care what your name is. Just…just get out.”

  He mirrored her steps, looking at her with regret in his eyes. “I can’t do that.”

  “You can.” She picked up the second stool, holding it like a lion tamer. “I won’t tell anyone. The door is right behind you.” She wasn’t surprised when he shook his head. Asking wasn’t likely to work but it was worth a try. He hadn’t closed the distance between them. It was something. She needed to stall him, distract him, gain a little time. Her gaze scoured the counter, empty. The floor was still a mess of baking ingredients, broken glass, and her new frying pan. She had an idea.

  She dropped to the floor beyond the island, appearing to fall. She even let out a cry of pain. “My wrist.”

  “Shit. Did you hurt yourself?”

  He came at her faster than she expected. She swung the cast iron skillet around and connected with his shin.

  “Son of a bitch.” He hopped back, and she hooked the third stool with her foot, pulling it over, tripping him off-balance. “What the fuck?”

  She threw two fistfuls of flour into his face and ran for the library.

  The roar of a frustrated man came from behind her. “God damn it, I’m here to help you!”

  She locked the library door and ran to the desk. She pressed the button programmed with her uncle’s cell and then grabbed the iron fireplace poker. “Yeah, you sound like you want to help me. Get out of my house, asshole. The cops are on their way.”

  While the phone rang, she opened one of the windows to see if she could remove the screen and climb out. She would never go into the hidey-hole again, never bury herself alive. If it was flight, fight, or freeze, she was flying. She pressed her hand to the screen. The drop was only four feet down but she’d have to go over her roses. Why did she have to plant roses under the window?

  “You’ve reached Sheriff Mitchell Walker. If this is an emergency, hang up and dial 911. Otherwise, leave a detailed message and—”

  …

  Jeb cursed as he walked through the hallway, refusing to limp. Son of a bitch, his shin hurt. He heard the voicemail abruptly cut off and expected her to call 911 now. He was out of time and done playing nice. He pounded on the door. “Open it, Carolina, before I break it down.” The flour she threw at him left a disgusting taste in his mouth. He spat on the floor, flour turning it milky white.

  “I know you didn’t just spit on my floor. What’s next? You going to use the bathroom without washing your hands?”

  Unexpectedly, his temper evaporated. This wasn’t a woman comfortable with insults or swearing. Once she was over her irrational fear of him, he would show her how he was raised. With manners and respect. He rubbed at the spot with his boot as he made his own call. Four in the morning or not, Nate Walker was getting a wake-up call. He answered on the third ring.

  “Walker.” The answering voice was alert.

  “McCormick here.”

  “Jesus, Jeb, you scared me. Are you with Carolina?”

  He looked at the door firmly closed in his face. “More or less. Need you to vouch for me.” He felt stupid, but he knocked. Gently. “Carolina, I have Nate on the phone.”

  “Do I…have ‘sucker’…written on…my forehead?”

  He raised an eyebrow as he wondered what she was doing that interrupted her answer. Was she dragging the couch in front of the door? He flattened his back against the wall, ready for whatever she had planned. “I didn’t get a good look. Open the door and I’ll check.”

  “Not…likely. Can you hear the…sirens? Cops are on the way. Better run.”

  She sounded far away. Was she going back into the hidey-hole? He listened then. No sirens.

  He played his best card, his only card. “Don’t you want to talk to your brother?”

  “Put me on speaker,” Nate ordered. “Carolina, stop giving Jeb a hard time. I asked him to help you.”

  Moments later, the door flew open and the phone was ripped from his hands. “Nate? Uncle Mitch and Aunt Joy kidnapped me and the house is a mess and people keep breaking in and…”

  She took it off speakerphone and cradled the phone away from him. She looked like a wild thing, ready to run. She stayed quiet as she listened, but her posture spoke volumes. Whatever Na
te was selling, she was not buying. Not completely. “I…I don’t know… He’s…”

  Jeb had caused the situation, going into her house without invite or introduction. He felt ashamed for losing his temper. He wouldn’t do it again. She was his number one priority.

  Her head turned between him and the window she’d opened. She shifted her weight back and forth, every movement adding space between the two of them. Black pants clung to long legs. The rest of her body she hid beneath a heavy gray sweater; her drape of thick blond hair veiled most of her face.

  “Uncle Mitch wants— No, it’s not what I want. You know that… Yes.”

  He was curious about “Uncle Mitch.” She sounded annoyed and, after Nate’s warning, maybe some time needed to be spent with this uncle.

  “I love you, too.” Carolina held out the phone. “He wants to talk to you.”

  Jeb moved slowly to avoid spooking her further. She tossed the phone at him as if it was a game of hot potato. He caught it, brought it to his ear as he stepped out of the library. “Yeah?”

  “I, uh…shit. I need help, man. I know I’m asking a lot so tell me straight, how much time can you give me? I can’t believe my uncle railroaded her like that. Well, yes I can. I need to figure out where she can stay for a few days. I’ll need to get her security system upgraded.”

  “You weren’t listening before when I said I’ve gone freelance. Chameleon Security. I’m staying with Carolina until the job is done. Period. I’ll get the system set up. You’re half a world away. I’m here. Let me do this.”

  “Yeah, okay, Jeb. I can pay.”

  “Don’t insult me. I’ll call you tomorrow.” He ended the connection and casually entered the library, where he found Carolina sitting on the desk chair, elbows on knees, hands covering her eyes. He crossed to her, looking for words that would comfort. “I think it’s more of a mess than anything.”

  She lifted her head. Stress and strain were imprinted in the dark smudges under her eyes, the deep lines around her mouth. “It’s so much.”

  “It takes time to get past traumatic events. It hasn’t even been twenty-four hours.” He rose slowly, his gaze sweeping the room to avoid her. She didn’t need to hear that some people never got past them. “We need to get to the root of why this was done. Was it simple, like a quick score for money, or something more personal?” He picked books off the floor and began setting them on the shelves.