Carol Ericson - Enemy Infiltration

Logan’s green eyes burned with a passion that had to go deeper than what he’d just witnessed between her and Bruce. Any injustice seemed to instill in Logan a desire to correct it. That same feeling must be driving him to exonerate Major Denver.

“I appreciate your concern. Like I said, I can handle Bruce… and Smith & Wesson if it comes to that.”

The crease between his eyebrows vanished. “That’s good to hear not only because of Bruce’s attentions, but because you are kind of isolated out here.”

“There are some quarters for the ranch hands behind the stables. It’s not as isolated as you might think.”

“Do you mind if I take another look at that box?”

She pushed up from the porch and dusted off the seat of her jeans. “C’mon back in.”

Once inside the house, Logan crouched beside the box she’d sliced open with such anticipation. He studied the tape hanging from the flaps, and then shoved the box toward her. “Does that look retaped to you?”

Lana ran her fingertip along the tape and looked up. “It could’ve been. Do you think someone opened the box, searched it and taped it back up?”

“Could’ve happened. Someone did a slick job of it if that’s what occurred, but there’s some roughness that could be some cardboard ripped off the box.”

“It’s worse than if McGowan is holding on to a second box, isn’t it? The motivation is a hundred times more sinister.” She pinged the side of the box with her fingernail. “And if someone took Gil’s journal, I’ll never have any proof that his death was part of some organized attack.”

“Lana, are you sure your brother kept a journal?”

“I’m positive. He always did, and since he suspected something amiss on this assignment, he wouldn’t have quit at this precise moment.”

“Unless he sensed the danger of keeping a journal.”

“What if I never find it? What if it’s gone forever?” She fell to her knees next to the piles of Gil’s belongings and ran her hands over the items. “I won’t be able to help you with your investigation, either.”

“Don’t worry about that.” Logan rose to his feet. “I just wanted to touch base with you to find out why you were so adamant in the belief that there was something more to that attack. I didn’t expect you to have any proof…just a sister’s grief.”

A hot tear coursed down her cheek and she let it drop off her chin. That’s twice she’d allowed this man to see her cry—some kind of record.

In two steps, he was towering above her and gently urged her to her feet. She swayed as she rose beside him, and he enfolded her in his arms.

“I’m so sorry for your loss.” He whispered the words in her ear.

She nodded against his solid chest. “Thank you. I know as a serviceman, you understand maybe more than most do.”

Sniffling, she pulled away from his warm comfort, trying to avoid wiping her nose on his shirt. Trying not to be too dependent.

He stepped back, leaving a cold void between them. “I—I’d better get going. I’ll leave you my cell phone number in case anything else comes up, and you do the same.”

“How long will you be staying in Greenvale?” Now, suddenly having that journal in her hands meant more than uncovering the mysterious circumstances behind the marine guards’ deaths. It meant keeping in contact with Logan Hess. Once she had nothing to offer him, he’d take off in search of the next clue.

How quickly that feeling had come back—that she had to have something to offer to make someone stick around. She hadn’t learned anything.

“I’ll be here for a few days. I hope to talk to Congressman Cordova myself.”

She brushed a hand across her wet cheek. “Maybe I can reciprocate and buy you lunch while you’re still here.”

“I’d like that.” He jerked his thumb in the direction of the big house. “You’ll be okay here?”

“I live here. I’ll be fine.”

Five minutes later, she pressed the piece of paper with Logan’s cell phone number on it to her heart and watched him fold his large frame into the little rental car that looked too small for him.

She lifted her hand as he went around the line of trees and disappeared from view. Then she spun around and dived into Gil’s possessions, returning most of his things to the box.

After packing away Gil’s belongings, checking on the few horses left at the ranch and eating dinner, Lana made some tea and curled up with her laptop.

Her activity had driven Logan from her thoughts—temporarily. She’d better get Logan out of her head—at least until their lunch. He’d be on his way soon, and she’d be among his vague memories and one of many people he’d encountered while trying to clear his commander’s name.

But a girl could dream—or at least do a little investigating on her own.

She powered on her laptop and entered Logan’s name and Dallas, Texas, in a search engine, her eyes widening at the number of articles scrolling down her display. No wonder Logan believed she could just pick up and leave. No wonder he felt a person shouldn’t have to put up with an uncomfortable situation.

Easy for him to lecture her about principles—he had all the money in the world to buy them.

Sighing, she snapped shut the lid of her computer and swept it off her lap. Now she had to try all over again to get Logan off her brain, and after discovering more about him that became even more important. Given Logan’s background and situation, he could never be right for her.

She got another cup of tea and settled back on the couch, this time losing herself in the English accents and costumes of a period drama on TV. As she clicked onto the next episode, frantic banging on her front door disturbed the English countryside.

Knots tightened in her belly. She hoped none of the horses had been taken ill. She kicked off the blanket wrapped around her waist and strode toward the front door.

With her hand on the doorknob, she peeked through the window and her heart skipped several beats as she looked at the tear-streaked faces of Carla and Daniel McGowan. Bruce had better not be on one of his rampages, terrifying the children.

Lana jerked open the door. “What’s wrong, kids? Where are your parents?”

Carla placed a hand on her little brother’s shoulder just like Lana used to do with Gil. “Daddy’s not home. They’ve taken Mama. We hid in the closet.”

Lana’s fluttering heart banged against her chest. She gathered the children toward her and into the house and slammed the door. “What are you talking about? Who took your mother?”

She crouched in front of Daniel and wrapped her arms around his shaking body. Had Dale gotten involved in drugs along with her drinking? Bruce’s wife had been associating with some rough characters in the dive bars she favored.

“I don’t know, Lana.” Carla sniffled and wiped the back of her hand across her nose. “Mama was downstairs watching TV. I heard the doorbell ring and then loud noises when she went to answer the door. When I looked through the banister from upstairs, two men were in the house and they were hurting Mama.”

Lana put a hand to her throat. Dear God, what had Carla witnessed? “Is that when you hid?”

Carla nodded. “I made Daniel get away from the stairs and we hid in the closet.”

“Did these men look for you?” Keeping Daniel by her side, Lana walked backward toward the kitchen and her phone charging on the counter. Carla followed them.

“They stayed downstairs, yelling at Mama. I kept quiet.” She patted her brother’s head. “And I kept Daniel quiet, too. Then I heard the front door close and I couldn’t hear anything else. When we went downstairs, they were gone—Mama, too.”