Angela Strong - Presumed Dead

“Who is it?”

“Preston.” Saying his own name sounded strange. He usually gave a different alias everywhere he went.

The door swung open. “So you are real. I thought maybe I’d imagined the whole thing.” Holly left him at the door and sat on the brown leather sofa in front of a stone fireplace. She clicked the television remote to turn down the volume of the local news, which was covering the bombing she’d just escaped.

Preston closed the door and looked from the on-screen reporter standing in front of the charred cabin remains to the woman whose great-grandparents had built it. “How are you doing?”

“Numb right now. My attorney brain is trying to make sense of all this, but the pieces don’t fit together.” She gave a wry smile. “Mom and Dad offered to drive up, but I told them you are taking good care of me.”

His shoulders sagged until he registered her small smile. “No, you didn’t.”

Her smile disappeared. “I wanted to. I hate secrets.”

“So do I.” His secret was what kept him from taking her to The Rustic Lounge to enjoy a good meal and talking until midnight, the way they used to. “How did it go with the cops?”

The corners of her mouth curved down. “I might as well tell you about my cancelled engagement.” She looked away. “My former fiancé—your old JAG friend Caleb Brooks—was at the cabin. Said he wanted to work it out with me. Police seemed to suspect him at first, but now they are looking into the other woman. I personally think she’s more likely.”

Preston clamped his jaw shut. He could get himself in trouble here if he wasn’t careful. “I’d like to look into other possibilities.”

She lifted an eyebrow. “You mean like check into which of my former clients have been released from jail recently and that kind of thing?”

“Yes.” She’d be a good investigator with her experience in law and the research that went into it. Unfortunately, that was what gave her the idea she could help find his saboteur. He’d disappear before she ever got the chance to try.

She scooted over. “Are you going to sit down?”

He’d been planning to keep his distance. His mission was to find the person after her so she could return to her life safely. Nothing else. Which meant they had work to do.

“How about we go to the business office and use their computers for our research?”

She frowned. “You don’t have a computer or phone?”

He shook his head. “I go to the library for research since I can’t pay for internet or cellular service without a credit card.”

Holly blinked. “Of course.”

And hers would have been destroyed in the bomb blast. He tilted his head toward the door. “Come on.”

Preston led her across the commons area with its picnic tables, fire pits and swimming pool, toward another small cottage structure that housed a few game tables in one room and computers in the other. Two kids swatted a Ping-Pong ball back and forth and didn’t even notice them as they entered the smaller interior room.

Holly sank into a chair and ran an internet search on Operation Desert Hope before he could stop her. The black-and-white image of a burning helicopter took his breath away. It came to life in his memory with the roar of fire, the heat of flames, the smell of sulfur and the taste of acid in his throat. Shouts. Sirens. The realization he’d let his team down. Not to mention the failed recovery of hostages whose families counted on him to bring them home safely. Then there was Sergeant Beatty warning Preston to lie low until he discovered exactly what had happened.

Preston had failed them all.

“Holly.” He pushed through the past to get back to the woman in the room with him. “We are investigating the bomb at your cabin, remember?”

She spun her chair to face him. “You’re not giving up on finding your saboteur, are you? Do you have any idea who it might be?”

His breath hitched. He couldn’t do this now. “My first goal is to keep you alive. Please log in to your work files.”

She narrowed her eyes. “Police are probably arresting Denise Amador right now.”

Preston rubbed his temples. If she wanted to believe Denise was her only threat, how was he going to get her to help him figure out who the real enemy was?

Holly bit her lip. “Do you think Caleb will defend her? Nah. Never mind. I don’t want to talk about him.”

She didn’t want to think about her situation at all. That must have been why she wanted to focus on him instead—why she was so adamant about investigating the helicopter crash.

“Holly, if you don’t need my help anymore, I’m not going to stick around.” He couldn’t relive his last day with SOAR over and over, letting her hope she’d find something he missed. He knew what it felt like to have your hopes dashed, and he wasn’t going to do that to her. If she refused to work with him to find out who was really after her, then he’d watch from a distance to make sure the police kept her safe and arrested the hit man and the person who’d hired him. That was probably the best thing for both of them.

She huffed but turned back toward the computer to log in to her files at work. “I’m going to look at this again later.”

“Fine. For now, let’s try to rule everyone else out before we focus on Denise,” he suggested. Planting a bomb was not the logical next step up from stealing a boyfriend. “What cases have you lost in your career?”

Holly scanned the digital files. “Just a few. Dante Scott. The basketball player accidentally hit a kid who was running out in the street to catch up with a bus. Guilty of manslaughter. The jury was just trying to make an example of him to all the other pro athletes who think they can get away with crimes.”

Preston knew that case well, as did the entire country. It said a lot about her success in law that she’d represented the professional athlete.

He lowered into the seat next to her. “He got out of prison early for good behavior, didn’t he? I’ll look him up.” The man’s alibi would be easy enough to check. He couldn’t go anywhere without the press following. “Next.”

Holly scrolled down the list on the screen. “Madeline Carpenter claimed her twin committed the robbery, but we couldn’t prove it. She’s still in prison. You think she could hire someone to kill me from prison?”

“Possibly. We can check the inmate calling records to know for sure. Next.”

“Taylor Everingham. He smuggled drugs over the border, but only because his wife’s life was being threatened by a drug lord. They still found him guilty.”

Preston leaned forward and gnawed on a fingernail. “Would he kill you if his wife’s life was in jeopardy?”

Holly twisted a wispy strand of hair at the base of her neck. “Possibly. But he’s still in jail, too.” She leaned against her seat back, rubbing her hands together. “That’s it. Do we go after Denise now?”

“We can. Or we can check out families of victims who were upset when you got a client off.” Nothing rang true for him so far. There had to be someone more familiar with explosives. Someone with more of a motive.

“If that’s what you want to research, we’re going to be here all night.” Holly tilted her head and smiled sweetly. “Can we go pick up some dinner first?”

Preston looked down to avoid smiling in return. She did not ask him out. She was asking him to feed her. Which was a good thing. If she’d been asking him out, he would have had to say no. “I’ll call in an order of ribs.”

She rested her elbow on the countertop and her chin on her fist. “Remember that time Dad was grilling ribs and a bear showed up, so we all had to hide out in the cabin, and dinner was burned to a crisp?”