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“There was an explosion at a day care center,” he said. “In the confusion, Bart was taken. His handicap van was missing, and his driver was killed.”
Tess had heard this part of the story. “It seems like his van could be traced. Did it have GPS?”
“There were tracking devices in both the van and Bart’s motorized wheelchair. Both were deactivated immediately. We found the van about a week later. A bomb had been exploded inside. There was no useful evidence.”
“And no contact from the kidnappers,” she said. “I know Bart sees his doctors on a regular basis and is on a regimen of medications.”
“None of his prescriptions have been used, but his meds are fairly common, easily purchased. None of his regular docs have heard from the people who kidnapped him.”
“I worry that he’s not being properly cared for.”
Nolan’s jaw tensed. The long scar that stretched from the edge of his nose to his earlobe defined his cheekbone. “I can’t promise you that Bart is all right. We don’t have any definite leads, and I don’t like to speculate.”
She sensed that he was trying to shelter her from worry as though she was a delicate hothouse orchid. Such concerns were unnecessary. She’d been through a lot of pain in her life, starting with the death of her father when she was in her teens. The other cops on the force had tried to protect her and her mother by not talking about the way he died, but the closed casket pretty much said it all. Her dad had been shot point-blank in the face by a low-life drug dealer who was currently spending life in prison.
Her mom refused to face what had happened, but Tess attended the trial for the drug dealer. Every single day in court, she stared at the bastard who killed her dad, and she experienced every shade of rage and hatred. Dealing with Joe’s death was more difficult; she couldn’t focus her anger and sadness on a faceless enemy.
“I can handle the truth,” she said. “I’d rather know everything than not enough. You’ve been investigating for nearly a month. I assume you have suspects.”
He turned toward her. His eyes were hidden by the dark glasses, but she could feel his gaze. “You’re stronger than you look.”
“I’m going to take that as a compliment. Now, talk.”
“There’s a possibility that Bart was abducted by his son, Victor Bellows.”
She was surprised. “I didn’t know Bart had any children.”
“He was estranged from his son.”
That didn’t seem like Bart at all. He was ferociously loyal and caring; he’d be a great father. “There’s more to that story.”
“That’s what I’m trying to figure out,” Nolan said. “Bart’s son went into the military when he was eighteen. He did a tour in Iraq and got into trouble with the military police. Rather than be incarcerated, he went AWOL. The military classified him as MIA.”
“How did you find out he was still alive?”
“Victor was using an alias. We found blood at the site of the abduction. When we ran tests, we found a DNA match through the army database.”
A father kidnapped by his own son? She hated to think of the betrayal. There must be another answer. “The fact that his blood was at the scene doesn’t prove that Victor is the kidnapper. He might have been trying to protect his father. Like you, he might be searching for Bart right now.”
“Anything’s possible.” But Nolan sounded skeptical.
“I know Bart was in the CIA for a long time,” she said. “He must have a lot of enemies.”
“True.”
“If Victor took him, he might be keeping his father out of sight to protect him.” She wanted to believe that Bart’s son wouldn’t hurt him. “How much do you know about Victor Bellows?”
“Under his alias, he was involved in some bad stuff. It’s hard to believe that Bart’s son would grow up to be a criminal, but that’s what it looks like.” He paused to take a breath. “I have reason to believe that Victor is here in Washington.”
“That’s the actual reason you’re in town, isn’t it? If you weren’t looking for Victor Bellows, you would have left security for Governor Lockhart’s event to Stacy’s fiancé.”
“Not necessarily.”
“What other reason could there be?”
“Maybe I came here to meet you.”
Was he flirting with her? Tess had been out of the dating game for such a long time that she barely recognized the signs of male attention. “To meet me? Why? What have you heard?”
“I might have heard that you’re a charming woman with black hair and eyes like sapphires. Someone might have told me that you’re creative, smart and efficient. According to rumors, you’re the total package. You can even cook.”
She felt her jaw drop. “Is that so?”
“Thus far, I’m not disappointed.” A grin twitched the corner of his mouth. “But I haven’t tasted your mushroom and asparagus risotto.”
How did he know that was her best dish? When she was working as a caterer, she could always count on her risotto. Apparently, he knew more about her than she did about him. That disparity had to end.
Near the Marine Memorial, he merged onto a main route to cross the Teddy Roosevelt Bridge. Nolan drove like someone who was familiar with D.C. and Arlington.
“Doesn’t look like you need directions,” she said.
“I’ve spent time in this area.”
“At the Pentagon?” she guessed.
He shrugged and said nothing. Pulling information from him was like plucking tail feathers from a chicken. He seemed determined to maintain an aura of mystery, which should have been irritating. Instead, she was intrigued.
Gazing through the windshield at gray skies, she said, “Cloudy day. Do you really need those sunglasses or are they a necessary accessory for security men?”
Another grin. “Are you teasing me, Tess?”
“I dare you to take them off.”
He stopped for a red light, turned to her and whipped off the dark glasses. For less than five seconds, his gaze met hers. Then the sunglasses were back in place as his attention returned to the traffic.
She wasn’t so quick to recover. Shocked, she jolted back in her seat. She was drowning, struggling to catch her breath. Why was this happening to her again? Was she losing her mind?
In Nolan’s eyes, she saw a ghost.
Her fingers clenched, and she dug her nails into her palms, hoping the stab of pain would wake her from this insane illusion. It wasn’t possible. Joe Donovan was dead.
Chapter Four
As they drove onto the Teddy Roosevelt Bridge, Tess was aware of the other vehicles, the heavy clouds and the dark waters of the Potomac. But she saw them all in a blur. She heard herself speaking but had no idea what she’d said.
Nolan’s eyes were a dark gray, more deep set than Joe’s but exactly the same color. Nolan’s left eye was a few centimeters lower than the right. He wasn’t perfectly handsome, wasn’t her darling husband. And yet, in those few seconds when she’d looked into the windows to his soul, she saw Joe Donovan.
“Tess? Are you all right?”
His raspy voice—unlike Joe’s clear baritone—called to her. She needed to respond. Didn’t want him to think she was a nutcase even though there was no other explanation. “Headache,” she said. “I have a little headache.”
He was immediately solicitous. “Should I take you home?”
“No.”
He drove past Foggy Bottom toward Georgetown University, the place where she and Joe had met. Whispers of the past tickled her ears, telling her that she’d found the love of her life. That could not be. Nolan wasn’t Joe. She couldn’t allow herself to confuse the two. Their eyes were similar. So what? Lots of men had gray eyes.
More firmly, she said, “I’m fine. My stomach will be fine.”
“I thought it was your head.”
“Whatever.”
Thankfully, they drove past the turnoff to the university. If he’d pulled up in front of the coffee shop where she and Joe had spent hours together when they were dating, she might have gone into full-blown fantasy mode, imagining herself as a wide-eyed college student who’d fallen madly in love with a handsome marine. That wasn’t her. Not anymore.
Tess had a new identity, a satisfying identity. First and foremost, she was Joey’s mom. Then, she was a business-woman who needed to show the man driving this slick Mercedes that she was responsible and merited referrals.
Swallowing her confusion, she pulled herself together. The smart thing would be to avoid any further interaction with Nolan. No sidelong glances. No flirting. Most definitely, she wouldn’t touch the man. Pretending calm, she asked, “Who is the person we’re meeting?”
“His name is Omar Harris. He’s a friend of Bart’s.”
“A spy?”
“CIA,” Nolan said. “He’ll arrange for our clearance so we can take a look at the blueprints for the museum.”
“Why did he need to see me?”
“Covering his bases. You’ll have to give him the name of your events coordinator at the Smithsonian.”
Though she wasn’t quite sure why she needed face time with this person, Tess didn’t ask for further explanation. A lot of the protocols in Washington were absurdly complicated.
Nolan found a parking place at the curb in a neighborhood of storefronts. The tree branches were lined with fairy lights that were lit even though it was daylight. The shop windows featured colorful Christmas decorations—snowflakes, tinsel and big red bows. A bell-ringer on the corner solicited contributions. Instead of waiting for him to come around and open her door, Tess climbed out quickly. She didn’t want to risk having Nolan take her hand to help her.
He stepped onto the sidewalk beside her. “Is something wrong?”
“Not at all.” Avoiding eye contact, she glanced at her gold wristwatch. “I’m concerned about making it to my other meeting on time. It might be best if I catch a cab.”
“I’ll drive you. I insist.”
When he touched her elbow to guide her down the street, she flinched. He backed off, giving her plenty of space. Had she insulted him? She wanted to create the opposite effect, but she was scared. Given the choice between too close and too far, she opted for distance.
Halfway down the block, he opened the door to the Minuteman Café and held it for her. Inside, the decor was red-white-and-blue homey with half-curtains on the windows, a long counter, brown leatherette booths and a silver tinsel Christmas tree by the cash register. The lunch rush hadn’t started, and there were only a few patrons. Which of these men was the spy? Was it the silver-haired gentleman? The guy in the black trench coat?
Nolan went to a booth at the rear of the diner to greet Omar Harris. Dressed in sneakers, gray sweatpants and an insulated Georgetown hoodie, he looked like a jogger. His curly black hair was sprinkled with gray. His features were ordinary, which, she supposed, was a plus for a spy.
After Nolan introduced them, he slid into the booth, leaving room for her. She had no choice but to sit beside Nolan with their thighs only inches apart. Using her briefcase, she created a barrier between them.
Omar sipped from his coffee mug. “I recommend the Minuteman blueberry muffins.”
“None for me.” She’d had a big waffle and sausage breakfast with Joey. “How’s the coffee?”
“Passable.” Omar signaled to the waitress.
Nolan stretched his arm across the back of the booth, and she leaned forward to avoid making contact. Her neatly folded hands rested on the tabletop. “Is there any information you need from me, Mr. Harris?”
“I’ve already run a background check.”
Of course, he had. The CIA probably knew more about her than she knew herself. “Did you find anything interesting?”
Though his clothes were casual, his manner turned sharp. His dark eyes riveted on her in a piercing gaze. “Where are you sending your son to school?”
Taken aback, she sputtered, “What?”
“I have an eighteen-month-old. My wife and I are trying to decide where he should go to school. Any ideas?”
“You?” Nolan said. “I didn’t know you had a baby.”
Omar raked his fingers through his graying hair. “I know I’m a little old to be a first-time dad.”
“Second wife?” Nolan asked.
“Number three. The third time is a charm. I couldn’t be happier.” He turned back to her. “Any suggestions?”
“I love our neighborhood in Arlington,” she said. “When we bought our house, we checked into the public schools. I’m happy with that option.”
“You bought your home with your husband,” Nolan said. “Joe Donovan.”
“Yes.” Once again, Joe was front and center. She’d thought about him more in the past twenty-four hours than she had in the last month.
“I’m sorry for your loss,” Omar said. “Your husband was a hero. If you don’t mind my asking, how did he come to know Bart Bellows?”
“I’m not sure. Bart never really explained. He showed up on my doorstep, took my hand and helped me through the most difficult time of my life. Honestly, I don’t know how I would have managed without him.”
“You never knew why,” Omar said.
She shook her head. “I know I’m not the only one he’s helped through a rough time.”
“That’s the truth,” Omar said. “Bart has dedicated his life and his wealth to helping veterans returning from war, giving them a jump start on a new life. That’s the idea behind Corps Security and Investigations. Right, Nolan?”
“CSaI is more than a job. We’re brothers.”
Though Tess didn’t know the backgrounds of the men who formed CSaI, Bart had spoken of the pain they’d suffered. She knew how proud he was of these veterans. Bart’s intense concern for others made his relationship with his son even more difficult to understand. Why was he estranged from Victor? Why hadn’t he been able to help his only child?
FIVE YEARS AGO, Nolan had faced the prospect of never seeing his wife or his child again. His enemies had been watching Tess and Joey. If they had any idea that Joe Donovan was still alive, his family would suffer the consequences. At the time, Nolan had thought there was no greater pain than separation. He’d been wrong. Today, spending time with Tess, was sheer torture.
When she’d looked into his eyes and then turned away in disgust, a molten dagger sliced into his gut. He was ashamed of what he had become. His scars made him grotesque—unworthy of her. Beauty and the beast was a damn fairy tale. In real life, the pretty people stuck together while monsters like him hid in the shadows.
On the street, when he’d touched her elbow, she had cringed. In the café, she’d used her briefcase to build a wall between them. Though she’d tried to be polite, it had been pretty damned clear that she wanted nothing to do with him.
