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  Gabe nudged her. “We’re in all the way.”

  More relief surged over her. At least she had two friends on her side. She pasted another bright, brittle smile on her face. “Thanks.”

  Marti picked up the check, which the waitress had dropped on the table when she’d left the food. “If you two don’t mind, I’m going to head out. Marvin promised he’d call at eight.”

  “I think we all need to leave.” Abigail pulled her bank card from her small purse.

  After the waitress ran their tickets, they strolled down the walkway that led past a marina and to the parking lot. With a “See you tomorrow,” Marti climbed into her Ford Fusion.

  For a moment, awkward silence filled the air. Gabe’s questioning look when Abigail had stated she’d been passed over flitted through her mind. Before she lost her courage, she blurted, “I feel like I owe you an explanation.”

  He cocked an eyebrow. “About what?”

  “Why I got passed over.” She faced him. “You want to come back to my place?”

  “Sure.”

  “You know where I live, right?”

  He playfully bumped her. “You’ve had us all over for supper a bunch of times, remember?”

  Abigail chuckled. “You’re right. Hit 4458 to get inside.”

  “I’ll meet you there.”

  With that, Abigail climbed into her Accord. Was she crazy for having Gabe over? No. If anything, his presence would shore up her rapidly waning courage.

  8

  Monday, April 17, 2017, 1900 hours EDT, Quantico, VA

  At Abigail’s apartment complex, Gabe pulled his pickup into her second reserved spot. She led the way upstairs and unlocked the door. Once in the foyer, she shucked her boots. “Feel free to leave your shoes here.”

  As Gabe bent to pull off his boots, she turned.

  A smell hit her nose. Pungent. Sharp. Like apple cider on steroids. “Do you smell that?”

  “Smell what?”

  She stepped past the guest bedroom and into the living room. The scent increased. Now she detected a faint aroma of tobacco. Her blood chilled. “Someone’s been in here.”

  “Huh?”

  “Don’t you smell the tobacco?”

  He joined her. “Now I do.”

  She shuddered as she cut on the ceiling fan and opened the French doors leading to the balcony. “Seriously, I think someone was in here.”

  “Is anything missing?”

  She did a quick scan. Nothing seemed out of place. She headed to the master bedroom. The clove cigarette scent grew stronger. She ripped open both doors to get a cross breeze. Her ceiling fan stirred the odor, which intensified it.

  She flipped on the light in her bathroom.

  Her gaze landed on the cigarette butt in the sink, and her knees began shaking. “Gabe.”

  She hated the tremble in her voice.

  Gabe joined her. “What did—oh.”

  “I wasn’t imagining it. Someone was definitely here.” She eased onto the edge of the bed and rubbed her arms. Why wouldn’t that chilled feeling go away?

  “You want me to call the cops?”

  She shook her head. “I want to make sure nothing’s missing first.”

  “Where’s your laptop?”

  “There.” She pointed to her backpack by her dresser.

  “Let me check it to make sure no one tried to access it.”

  While he took it into the living room, she went through her dresser and checked her gun in its safe. Still there. So was Mama’s jewelry. She’d had her purse, so no worries there. All of her electronics such as her MP3 player, television, and stereo remained, so the intent hadn’t been to steal. Was there anything else to find?

  She headed to the front to examine the lock. She hadn’t noticed any scratch marks, but then again, she hadn’t known to look. She inspected the knob. Nothing. Whoever had gotten in had been an expert. She lowered her gaze—and froze.

  Another cigarette butt sat on the welcome mat as if to taunt her. She nudged it with her fingernail.

  “Abigail?”

  She straightened and found Gabe standing in the hallway leading to the foyer. “There’s another cigarette butt on the welcome mat.”

  “Good news is, no one accessed your computer since you last did.”

  Fear turned to anger. Abigail began pacing as she sorted through what she knew. Someone had broken in. They’d made a point to smoke not one but two cigarettes with a very distinct clove odor to them. More than that, they’d left a present in her bathroom, the innermost sanctuary of her home. “They wanted to make it clear they were here, that they could get to me.”

  “Who’s they?” Gabe asked.

  Mentally, Abigail stretched for something she couldn’t quite reach. She shook her head. “I don’t know.”

  “What do you want to do? The cops could do a DNA analysis on the butts.”

  Abigail thought about it as she got them glasses of water. “I don’t think it would do any good. Nothing was taken. Nothing was damaged. They’d probably decline to send it off.”

  “True. Let me take care of them for you. Go on outside.”

  She settled on a balcony couch. It was almost dusk, and more than ever, she wanted to focus on the peacefulness of the creek as it flowed by. Impossible. Not when the clove scent lingered in her nostrils. She closed her eyes and thought about that one. Was it linked to her Athena file investigation? Or even the Mighty Men one? Too coincidental not to be. But who’d known? Gabe and Marti, of course. And anyone at lunch who’d overheard her and Gabe. She simply couldn’t make that connection.

  “Resting?” Gabe’s teasing voice brought her out of her doze.

  “Something like that.” She stretched, then resumed her hunch. “Why would someone do that?”

  His gaze darkened. “I don’t know, but it’s totally creepy.”

  Her stomach dropped when she made a connection. “He—or she—must have been there when I came back in to get Marti’s gift.”

  He settled beside her and rubbed her back. “Why do you say that?”

  His touch comforted her, especially when she realized being absentminded like that could now get her killed. “The sliding door in my bedroom was cracked a little. I thought I hadn’t gotten it all the way closed because I’d had it open when I came home from work.”

  “Be careful.”

  “No worries there.”

  “I tossed the cigarette butts and sprayed some air freshener for you. The scent’s almost gone.”

  She finally relaxed against the cushion and faced him. “Thanks.”

  His smile was soft, inviting. “Anytime.”

  Her mind slid to the Athena file case. She’d most likely shelled her career and probably taken him and Marti with her. If she was wrong and someone found out about her little side investigation, she’d get court-martialed, maybe even thrown into jail. And if she was right? Sure, she might get some praise and accolades, but there would be those out there, namely Sal’s benefactors, who could ensure her career stalled.

  Gabe’s water glass clinked on a side table. “You got passed over?”

  Yep. Procrastination. She excelled at it sometimes. “I’m sorry if this is taking too long to answer. What do you remember about 2009?”

  “Being in the middle of my divorce while stationed at the Pentagon and transferring to Quantico at the beginning of 2010.” He drew an audible breath. “I think you were going through a divorce too. I remember your parents dying that April. I was so caught up in my own little world that, while I knew you were gone for six months, I didn’t know why. I never thought to ask you about it when you got back. I figured you’d taken some bereavement leave.”

  If only it’d been simply grieving her parents’ deaths. In front of her, darkness swallowed up the creek. “In the span of six months in 2009 and 2010, I found out my ex-husband was running around on me, I got into an accident that took away my health, and my parents died when they were hit by a wrong-way drunk driver.” />
  His fingers brushed her cheek before teasing some strands of her hair.

  Her eyes teared as she thought about the weekend before when she’d visited their graves. “I wasn’t coping well. The doc who’d prescribed painkillers for my injuries left, and the new doc didn’t know my history. It got easier and easier to lie about needing meds for injuries related to my wreck that January. I wound up attempting suicide.”

  Gabe didn’t say anything, no meaningless “I’m sorry” or other worthless platitude. She appreciated his silence. Instead, he shifted closer until they were shoulder to shoulder.

  Her breath shuddered as she tried to steady her roiling emotions. Oh, how to say this?

  He rested his arm across the back of the couch.

  That shored up her courage. “I wound up on the psych ward for a week while Jonathan processed his retirement. He retired because of me.” Ever so slightly, she leaned into him. “I took a six-month medical leave of absence. I knew when I got back that I’d pretty much shelled my career. My old CO seemed to think so because all I got was scut work.”

  Gabe laced his fingers through hers. “He wasn’t the best.”

  “Whatever he said, I got passed over in 2011. That’s when I started filling out applications to work with local police forces in North Carolina, especially in Raleigh.” A small smile crossed her lips. “When Sal started that June, we had a sit-down. He was honest and said he wasn’t sure what would happen. He began offering me more responsibility. I did everything I could to prove to him I was worthy of it.” She tightened her fingers around his. “The following spring, I had no idea he’d put my name in for promotion. But it happened. I owe him everything for where I am today, and I want to finish out my twenty.”

  Gabe gently rubbed her neck. “Yeesh, you’re tense. But I can see why you’re conflicted.”

  “And why I don’t want to be wrong.” She heaved a sigh, leaned forward, and put her head in her hands. “Gabe, he’s a great officer. A great husband. And father. If it turns out we’re wrong, then—”

  “We leave it be and destroy all of the work we’ve done.”

  She flopped back against the cushions. “And if we’re right, we destroy the life of a family.”

  “And we remember Sal made the choice to commit a crime.”

  Oh, woe is me. She sighed again.

  Once more, he took her hand. “You’re thinking too deeply on this.”

  “Am I?”

  “Let it go, Abigail.”

  “I know.” Her gaze shot to their joined hands. Could it be he was interested in her? Her heart gave a little thump at the idea.

  Finally, he released her. “Much as I hate to say it, I’ve got to get going since it’s a school night.”

  Disappointment slammed into her. Who knew when she’d be back in town? She led the way inside. This time, she made sure to lock the French doors.

  Gabe set his glass on the bar, then faced her. He cupped her cheek. “We’ll get through this. The three of us. I know we will.”

  She nodded as her pulse ticked upward.

  Before she realized it, he kissed her. He pulled back. “I—I’m sorry—”

  “Don’t be.” She drew him close and returned the kiss.

  When they came up for air, he smiled, one that pointed to a potentially bright future with him.

  As he sat on the bench to pull on his boots, Abigail leaned against the wall. “I have a question for you.”

  He paused. “What’s that?”

  “What clearance is required to access the Athena file?”

  “To open it is Top Secret Need to Know.”

  “I get that. But to move it?”

  “It was Top Secret. Now, it’s TSNTK”

  Like shutting the barn door after the horse was stolen. “What did you need to put the file back? You’re the one who did it, right?”

  “Yep. Fingerprint, password, and retinal scan.”

  She whistled.

  Gabe grinned. “Even with Top Secret, it was still secure.”

  “Could you tell who swiped it?”

  “I could look. Promise I will when I get home.” He closed the gap between them and took her in his arms. “You’ll be okay?”

  “I’ll be fine.” She offered a smile. “Promise.”

  He kissed her. One kiss turned into a two-minute one. Oh, wow.

  He smoothed her hair. “That’s to keep you until we can go out on a proper date.”

  “Looking forward to it, mister.”

  He winked. “I’ll text you later.”

  With that, he was gone.

  Abigail threw the deadbolt, then added the security chain, something she never did. She thought about quizzing the apartment complex staff the next day, but it would be fruitless. They had no security cameras in the parking lot, just one at the gate, and only dumb burglars would come through the gate. How pointless.

  She headed into the bedroom and gazed at herself in the mirror. Kissing hair. That’s what she called it when her locks stuck out. Even then, she felt Gabe’s fingers weaving through them. A smile crossed her face, then faded as she plopped the suitcase she’d used the weekend before onto her bed.

  Into it went her basic travel outfits for visits to the civilian world—jeans, camp shirts, T-shirts, a dress if she needed something fancier. Appropriate shoes. As her hands worked, her mind wandered.

  Once more, she glanced at herself in the mirror. “What a surprise.”

  Over the seven years they’d been stationed together at Quantico, a fast friendship had sprung up between Gabe and her, one built over tough cases, lunches together, and conversations about anything and everything. A smart guy, that Gabe Santos, all the way from bachelor and master’s degrees in computer science to his street smarts. Never in her life had she imagined he was romantically interested in her.

  And we’ll see where this leads—after things settle down, if they ever do. Abigail placed her gun on the bed and reached for the ammo that went with it. When she opened the drawer, her gaze landed on a picture of David and her, this one taken during Thanksgiving right after her case had wrapped. Still stars in her eyes despite the way the Colonel Boone case had worn on their relationship. And David? Contentment radiated from him. She knew they were each other’s, possibly for life.

  She frowned and dropped it in the drawer before shutting it with a pop. Hah. Hardly. Not anymore. David Shepherd had cared more about running away than them.

  Gabe’s in my life now in a surprising way, she told herself. And I’m going to make the most of it. Promise on that one.

  Then why did she suddenly feel so sad?

  She ignored that thought and placed her gun case and loaded cartridges in her carry-on. She’d complete the proper paperwork at the airport the following day.

  Just as she changed into her nightshirt, her burner phone chirped. She picked it up.

  A text from Gabe. Did some checking. Katrina Miller. February 12, 2016. 2018 hours.

  Her fingers flew across the keypad. Location?

  Not provided.

  “Rats.” She tossed the phone down. Then she shook her head. She’d find out. And hopefully that would lead to something she could really check out.

  9

  Monday, April 17, 2017, 1900 hours MDT, Burning Tree, UT

  Kyra Lane Café and Restaurant. Smack dab in what could loosely be termed the downtown of Burning Tree. Jonathan sat at the bar and faced the door as he always did when at a restaurant—or anywhere, really.

  Even on a Monday, it was more than half full. Kyra acted as manager that evening, and she ran the restaurant with great efficiency. She worked with the hostess to seat guests. From her post near the bar, she kept an eye on tables. The wait staff seemed to bus their own tables. If she noticed an empty one with dishes on it, she’d motion to the responsible person. If it still didn’t get cleared, she did it herself.

  As she passed by him on her way to the bar’s cash register, her perfume tickled his nose. Lilac, something
he’d grown to associate with her. He saluted her with his fork. “Great bison. David said this was the nicest restaurant around.”

  She giggled. “Or try the only one around.”

  He laughed. “That’s one way to put it.”

  She nodded toward his empty plate. “You’re finished?”

  “Stuffed but with enough room for chocolate silk pie.”

  “I’ll put in the order.”

  The phone call he’d received earlier that evening came to mind. “Uh, you’d better make that two slices.”

  “Why’s that?” Kyra cocked her head and frowned. “I’m working, I can’t take a break right now.”

  “It’s for Sheriff Wiseman.”

  She stiffened, and her smile melted away. “I see. Two, it is, then.”

  With that, she picked up his plate and swished into the kitchen.

  Jonathan stared after her. What had brought that on? Maybe he should have had a greasy-spoon supper at the diner after all. Or risked food poisoning by eating a gas station hot dog. Whatever it was, the mere mention of the sheriff had ruined the comfortable rapport he’d built with David’s sister.

  An elderly couple rose and strolled to the door.

  Kyra called a cheery good night to them.

  A rush of cold air greeted Jonathan. Brrrr. Down into the twenties tonight following an afternoon in the high eighties.

  Kyra brushed by him and began making her rounds to all of the patrons.

  It’d gotten colder on the inside too.

  The doors opened again, once more admitting not only a chilly blast but also a vision in a black dress and either diamonds or rhinestones around her neck and in her ears. Oh, and the heels that emphasized her long, long legs. With her dark hair flowing over her shoulders, Sheriff Wiseman strolled toward him.

  Jonathan risked a glance at Kyra. Fire smoldered in her eyes. She pressed her lips together and jabbed her hands on her hips before turning away to chat with a waiter.

  What brought that on?

  Sheriff Wiseman slid onto a bar chair beside him. “Hello, Jonathan Ward.”

  He gave her another once over. “You got mighty fancy to deliver some information to me.”