Deception, page 4
“I thought about a place on the deck, but it might get a little chilly with the wind off the river.”
“This is perfect.” The room was over half full. Plenty of witnesses if he had something besides an apology in mind. She gave her drink order to the server, and when they were alone again, Madison took a breath and studied him. He looked a lot like Chad—same light brown hair, same gray eyes, same dimple in his right cheek when he talked. But there were some differences. Steven was heavier and more muscular. Judging by the size of his chest and arms, he worked out.
“You said your dad has cancer. How is he?” She’d met Robert Turner several times, and his gruff manner had always made her uneasy. And while she’d shot Chad in self-defense, Madison imagined it would be a hard thing for the man to get past.
“It’s pancreatic cancer, and while they’ve made great strides in treating the disease when it’s caught early, his was diagnosed at stage 4.”
“I’m so sorry.”
“Thanks.”
They both fell silent as the server brought her tea and took their orders of hamburgers and fries.
When they were alone again, he tilted his head. “How are you?”
She lifted her shoulders in a noncommittal shrug. “Good.” His arched eyebrow challenged her. “Really,” she said, and his features softened.
“I’m glad. I worried when I learned you’d moved out of violent crimes since you were so good at it.”
Madison traced a finger down the condensation on her glass. “How did you know I moved?”
“One of the FBI agents in Chad’s office told me.”
“I see. I suppose he was bragging about how they’d run me off.”
“It wasn’t like that. He thought it was a shame the way some of the men refused to work with you.”
Any park ranger or ISB agent assigned to the vast Big Bend area of Texas needed the FBI’s collaboration, and the men in Chad’s office made it plain they wanted nothing to do with her. “I needed a change of scenery. And I like white-collar crimes. Most of the time no one dies.”
“I’m sorry I brought it up. Could we start over?”
“I don’t know.” She cocked her head. “Why are you reaching out to me now?”
“Dad. He wanted to make sure you knew how much he appreciated you risking your life to save Noah.”
“Really? I got the impression he never liked me.”
“Unfortunately, that’s my father. Until people get to know him, they perceive him as a little bit arrogant.” He reached into his shirt pocket and pulled out photos and handed them to her. “But he sent you these.”
Noah had lost his mom and dad within a day of each other. His mother when the men Chad hired to kidnap the boy killed her, and his dad to Madison’s bullet. She flipped through photos of the boy riding a horse, swimming, playing with his friends, and saw no signs of trauma in the now eight-year-old boy’s face or eyes.
“How much does he remember?”
“None of it, thank goodness—he’s adjusted really well. My sister adopted him, and they live just outside of Dallas in a small house next door to Mom and Dad. Noah gets ongoing counseling, and so far, he seems okay.”
“Good.” There hadn’t been many days that she hadn’t thought about the boy she’d rescued, and she was relieved to know that he appeared to be whole. She slid the photos across the table to him. “Thank you for showing those to me.”
He slid them back in front of her. “Dad thought you might like to have them.”
“Thanks.” She must have misjudged the elder Turner, and the gesture touched her. Madison tucked them into the side pocket of her bag. The waitress approached and set their burgers and fries in front of them. “This looks good.”
He picked up one of the crispy fries and bit into it. “The fries at least are as good as they look.”
She followed suit and agreed with him. Both fell silent as they sampled the food. The burgers were as tasty as the fries.
When Steven polished off the last of his burger, he sat back in his chair. “How long do you expect to be in Natchez?”
“However long it takes for the case I’m working on.”
He laughed. “Spoken like a true agent, whether FBI or ISB.”
She couldn’t keep from smiling at his remark. “It won’t be all business, and it’ll be a chance to spend time with my grandfather since I’ll be staying with him.”
“Judge Anderson.”
She tensed. How did he know who her grandfather was? Her shoulders relaxed. Chad, probably. She’d talked about the judge to him. “And you? I don’t expect you came all the way from Texas just to see me.”
“I have friends in Natchez, so like you, I’ll combine this with getting together with them. Terri, an old Delta Force buddy, is driving up from the coast and should arrive sometime this afternoon. We haven’t seen each other in a long time. We’re having breakfast tomorrow.”
“You never hear much about women being in Delta Force.”
“I know, even though they’ve been in since the nineties when they were recruited to engage the female population in Afghanistan. She’s G squadron instead of a regular D operator, and we served on several missions together. I wish you two could meet.”
“Who knows, maybe we will.” The woman sounded interesting.
“Like me, she’s retired,” he said. “Lives near the Alabama line on the coast. I offered to drive down, but she had business in Natchez to see about.” He picked up the dessert menu. “Want anything?”
Madison held up her hand. “I’m full. So what have you been doing since you left the army?”
“Right now I’m taking care of Dad. Trying to put things in order for him.”
“And I’m one of those things.”
His face turned somber. “Yes, you are.”
7
Darkness was falling as soft murmurs of conversation filled the Mediterranean restaurant in downtown Natchez. Dani Parker set her fork down. A tingly sensation spread down the back of her neck. Nonchalantly, she blotted her lips with the linen napkin and lifted her gaze.
Across from her, the teenager with five stainless-steel studs in each ear and John 3:16 tattooed on her wrist laid her fork on the table as well. “You feel it too,” the girl said, looking around.
Dani barely nodded. She’d purposely chosen a corner table at the Guest House Restaurant, a habit of hers so she could keep the entire room in view. It’d been especially important tonight since she was delivering Briana Reed, or Bri as she preferred to be called, to a safe house in Jackson.
“Do you see anyone you recognize?”
Bri scanned the room as though she were looking for the waitress, then shook her head before she picked up her fork again and dove into her dessert. “I doubt anyone I know would be having dinner at a place like this,” she said between bites.
Dani continued to survey the room. Two men sat to her left, both watching a basketball game on the screen. Past them, a man she assumed to be a father focused on his daughter’s animated dialogue while the mother picked up her purse and stood. Earlier, Dani had looked his way and caught him staring at her, but not in a way that would give her this eerie feeling. Three tables over, a lone woman sat engrossed in a book. Evidently feeling Dani’s gaze, she looked up and frowned.
Dani smiled and received a cold stare back. Dismissing the woman, she studied the other people sitting at tables in the restaurant. Another lone woman, older than the book reader, a family with two kids, two men engrossed in conversation . . . None of them seemed to be paying attention to her and Bri. Maybe she’d been wrong and it was simply her anxiety playing tricks on her. When Bri finished her last bite of chocolate pie, Dani attempted to get the waitress’s eye. “Be right back,” she said to the girl and caught the waitress before she left the room.
“Could we take care of my bill?” she asked, taking her credit card from her bag. “I need to get on the road.”
“It’s been taken care of,” the waitress said with a smile.
“What do you mean?” Anxiety raced through her body.
“That gentleman just leaving—he said you’d understand.”
She jerked her head toward the door as the girl and her mother walked out into the courtyard. The man made eye contact with Dani and winked before he turned and joined his family.
Dani had never seen the man before in her life. Could it have been meant for Briana . . . ? No, he’d winked at her, and told the waitress she’d understand. It was like he knew her, but she’d never been to Natchez before. Uneasiness slid down her spine.
Maybe it was simply a random act of kindness. She’d read about that lately, where someone pays for another person’s meal. But that usually happened in a drive-thru. Perhaps she could catch them before they got out of sight. She stuffed her wallet in her bag and hurried back to the teenager. “Do you need to stop by the restroom before we leave?”
“I’m good,” she replied. “But that was quick.”
“Evidently the man with his wife and little girl paid for us.”
“You’re kidding.” Bri gave her a sidelong glance. “People don’t do that . . . unless they want something in return, and isn’t he, like, married?”
It broke her heart that circumstances had made Bri so cynical. Dani buried her own suspicions. “Maybe it was the wife’s idea. Besides, there are some good people in the world,” she said softly and hoped this was one of those times.
By the time they reached the street, the family had disappeared into the March night. She pulled her jacket close against the cold west wind as they hurried to where she’d parked her Honda Civic. She wished she could have at least thanked them. Another instance of being too late.
Dani had been disappointed when she’d called the Natchez Trace district supervisor’s office in Jackson earlier in the day and learned Madison Thorn had left Jackson. The person she talked to wouldn’t give any details of where she’d gone. Maybe if she dropped by the district office in the morning and talked to the supervisor in person, he would help her connect with Madison.
Bri buckled her seat belt. “How long ’til we get to Jackson?”
“A couple of hours. Should be there by nine.” She’d meant to make Jackson before dark, but it had taken longer to connect with the organization that rescued Briana than Dani counted on. Beside her, the teenager sighed.
“Nervous?” Dani asked. The girl answered with a shrug. Until now, Bri hadn’t exhibited any sign of anxiety.
“A little. It’s always hard going into a new situation.”
“You’ll do fine.” Dani navigated the one-way streets out of downtown Natchez. She’d been pleased at how well the two of them had connected the last two hours of the three-hour drive from New Orleans. That first hour, it’d been like pulling teeth to get the girl to talk.
But once Bri realized Dani didn’t look down on her for the life she’d been forced to live on the streets, the girl opened up. Dani learned that even though she looked much younger, Bri was twenty-one and a new Christian. Wings of Hope in Jackson would be the perfect place for her to grow in her walk. “If there’s anything I’ve learned about you since we left New Orleans, it’s that you’re a survivor. You haven’t let what you’ve been through destroy you.”
Bri sat a little straighter. “Thanks. Sometimes I just want to crawl into a cave and stay there. But then I realize if I did, they’d win.”
“Good for you.” The social worker in New Orleans had told Dani that the organization was working on getting Bri’s record for prostitution expunged since she’d been forced into it.
Dani ignored the GPS that directed her to Devereux Drive and instead took a right at Forks of the Road, weaving around to Liberty Road and the entrance to the Natchez Trace. She’d looked at the map, and it was a straighter shot to Jackson than Highway 61 or I-55 with a lot less traffic.
They hadn’t traveled far on the Trace when Bri groaned.
“What’s the matter?”
“All that tea I drank—I should’ve gone to the restroom like you said. Do you think there’s someplace on this road we can stop?”
“I’m sure there is.” Bri wasn’t alone in her request. Dani had been so taken aback by the man paying their bill, she’d ignored her main rule for traveling—always visit the restroom before hitting the road. “Use my phone and see if you can find a map of the Natchez Trace.”
A few minutes later, the teen sighed. “There’s no service of any kind.”
“Guess we’ll have to keep driving. Keep checking to see if we get service.”
She edged past the posted fifty-mile-an-hour speed limit until she noticed headlights in her rearview mirror and eased off the gas pedal in case the person behind them was a park ranger. No need to risk getting a ticket. Ten minutes later, they passed a sign announcing Mount Locust in one mile. “Maybe there’s a restroom there.”
At the historical site, Dani pulled off the road, but a gate blocked their way and she backed out.
“Wait!” Bri said. “I have a signal. Give me a second.” Her fingers flew over the phone. “Oh, good. There appears to be something at Coles Creek. Looks like it’s a couple of miles.”
“Let’s hope there’s no gate there.”
Just down the road, a sign indicated Coles Creek was a mile ahead on the left. A lone light shone outside the small brick building when they pulled into the parking lot.
The girl shivered. “Looks spooky.”
Dani agreed with her. “We can keep driving—maybe find a town nearby.”
Bri shrugged. “We’re here. Might as well make the most of it.”
Dani took the phone Bri handed her and dropped it in her purse, then she grabbed her keys and locked the car doors after they climbed out. Inside the bathroom, one of the two stalls had an out-of-order sign on it, but otherwise the facility was clean. There was a lock on the outside door, and for a second she was tempted to lock them in.
“You go first,” Bri said.
A few minutes later, Dani exited the stall and washed her hands in cold water. “I’m going back to the car. I have sanitizer in the console.”
It’d gotten colder since the sun went down, and she pulled her jacket closer. That’s when she noticed a car had pulled into the parking lot behind them, but it was impossible to see if anyone was inside.
A tingling raced down her neck just like at the restaurant, only this time her sixth sense screamed to run. She turned and dashed toward the restroom. If she could get there, she could lock the door—
There was a loud pop, and her right shoulder stung. Another pop, and she stumbled as a second bullet knocked her forward.
The concrete walk came up to meet her head. Dani fought to stay conscious as footsteps approached. Pretend you’re dead. That might not be hard to do . . .
8
Gunfire erupted just as Bri turned off the cold water. They’d found her.
Frantically, she looked for a place to hide. Out of order. It was her only hope. Not wasting a second, she slipped inside the stall with the sign on it and slid the lock in place before she hopped up on the rim of the toilet.
The outside door scraped open. Bri’s heart beat so hard she was certain the person could hear it. She didn’t dare breathe.
The door in the next stall slammed against the wall. She clamped her hand over her mouth to keep from crying out. The door to her stall shook. If the lock didn’t hold, she had only one choice and prepared to tackle the assailant.
Instead, the outside door scraped open again. She waited, expecting the person to return. When a motor fired up and tires screeched away, she almost fainted with relief. Ignoring her trembling legs, Bri climbed off the toilet and rushed outside. Dani lay facedown in front of the building.
She sank beside her. Blood. So much blood. “Please don’t be dead.”
Tears streamed down Bri’s face. She had to get help . . . her phone—she could use it to call 911. She slipped it out of her jeans pocket. Only one bar. What if the call didn’t go through? With shaky fingers, she punched in 911.
“What is your emergency?”
The operator’s voice sounded broken. “My friend. She’s been shot. I . . . she might be dead!”
“What . . . location?”
Bri pressed her hand to her head. Where were they? “The Natchez Trace! Coles Creek. We stopped at the first restroom.”
“—On the line . . . sending help—”
When the phone fell silent, Bri looked at the screen to see if the operator had disconnected. No. It looked like they were still connected. She sucked in a breath of air.
The phone came to life again. “Still there?”
“Yes!”
“Assistance is on the way, but I need you to check your friend for a pulse.”
Suddenly the call was clear. “H-how do I do that?”
“Which is easier to access? Her neck or wrist?”
“She’s facedown and blood is everywhere!” Bri’s voice ended in a wail.
“Okay. I need you to stay calm. My name is Gloria. What’s yours?”
How could she stay calm when Dani looked like she was dead? Bri shuddered a breath and told Gloria her first name.
“And your friend, what’s her name?”
“D-Dani . . .” What did she say her last name was? Bri had only half listened when the counselor in New Orleans had introduced them.
“Okay, Bri, let’s try her wrist,” the operator said. “Can you place your index and middle finger on the inside just below her thumb?”
Bri scooted over to where she could cradle Dani’s hand in her own. It was so still. Hesitantly, she placed the fingers Gloria instructed her to use against Dani’s wrist. “Okay . . .”
“Can you feel a pulse?”
“No! All I can feel is a bone! She’s dead!”
“You’re too high. Move down an inch, maybe two.”
She moved her fingers and caught her breath. “I feel something!”
“That should be her pulse. Can you count it?”
“It’s too fast.”
“She’s probably in shock. Do . . . have blanket . . . something . . . her?”
