The Chance

Two

Even though Laine needed help with the heavy lifting and some of the picture-hanging in her new home, it didn’t take any time at all to begin to feel settled. She had learned long ago how to be extremely focused. In less than a week all her furniture was in place right down to throws over couches and pictures on the walls, thanks to a lot of help from Devon and her fiancé, Spencer. The owner’s furnishings were now in storage, packed up and taken away on the same truck that brought hers. She had picked out a couple of walls she wanted to paint and purchased the supplies. Despite the challenge painting with her right arm presented, she was determined to get it done. She could handle most of the trim if it was shoulder level or lower, but reaching the roller above her head would be a job for her left arm. She was getting really good with that left arm! She’d try using her right arm, though—it was great therapy. She was very dedicated to her exercises.

This place was going to be different—she was going to make this home. Her town house in Virginia was where she stayed. Although she had her own things—furniture and accessories—in all the years she was there she had only rented the place. She traveled, went undercover, visited her brother and his family on weekends and holidays. Her town house had been temporary for years and she was away as much as she was there. But this—the house with the view—she was going to make it hers. It was going to be her refuge for the year. She had earned it.

It was Saturday afternoon and the sun was shining for a change. There was one person in Thunder Point she knew and hadn’t yet seen. Someone she really owed. And it looked like a perfect day for a jog through town and across the beach.

As she ran, her mind wandered back to that last assignment. She had gotten almost all of the women and children out of the commune compound through a break in the fence, but her success had been completely foiled when Jacob figured her out. He beat her and confined her, tying her to a chair in his house. She was further foiled when Jacob somehow located and abducted Devon’s three-year-old daughter, Mercy, bringing her back to the camp. Later, when it was all over, the FBI learned he had simply done a computer search for Devon’s address.

At the time, Laine had been his prisoner. So had Mercy. It had been Jacob’s plan to escape with his daughter and whatever money and documents he could gather together. And then he planned to burn the place to the ground, leaving any others, like Laine, behind. He torched the warehouse holding the marijuana plants knowing the fire could spread into a full-on wildfire that would threaten the whole valley—something he no doubt hoped would occupy law enforcement long enough for his escape.

Laine had managed to free herself and grab Mercy, but in the process she’d been shot in the shoulder. By the time help arrived in the form of Rawley, Spencer, Cooper and Devon, she was nearly unconscious from blood loss—her brachial artery had been nicked.

Of course Laine had known Devon and Mercy from her time in the camp but she had no idea who these men who saved her might be. She found out later—it was Rawley Goode, a Vietnam vet in his sixties, who put together a rescue plan in mere minutes. Laine got the details after she was conscious and recovered enough to take it all in.

She jogged across the beach. By the time she got to Cooper’s, she was panting pretty hard. She found the proprietor sitting on the deck in the sun, though he wore a jacket. He had his laptop open and was studying something closely.

“Hey, there,” she said. “How’s the house coming?”

He looked up and smiled at her. “About time you checked out my place. House is coming along ahead of schedule, thank God. Sarah’s had about enough of living in one room.”

“When’s the baby due?” she asked.

“July. We should be in the house by June at the latest.”

“That’s awesome, Cooper.”

“How about your place?” he asked.

“It’s looking good. My stuff came right behind me and the movers took the owner’s furniture to the storage facility. I’m pretty settled already. Just a matter of putting a few more things away.”

“I heard you have a good view.”

“Oh, yes. A big deck and a big kitchen and a couple of fireplaces. If I’m not happy every day, I can’t blame the real estate. Hey, any chance Rawley is around?”

“Last time I noticed he was carrying in supplies. He should be in the kitchen.”

“Thanks. I’ll see you on the way out.”

She went through the bar and into the kitchen. Rawley was crouched, rearranging some things in a cupboard. “Hey, stranger,” she said.

He stood and turned toward her. He wore worn jeans, boots, a heavy shirt over a T-shirt and a red cap. She knew he was in his early sixties but because he was skinny and his face was deeply lined, he looked a little older. She caught the light in his pale blue eyes as he recognized her. Only one corner of his mouth lifted. He nodded toward her right arm. “How’s the wing?” he asked.

“Coming along,” she said, automatically rotating her shoulder. “I’m in good shape now.”

“What are you doing here?” he asked. “Don’t you have spy work to do?”

She smiled, looked down, shook her head. “I’m on leave,” she said. “I need more time before I—” She cleared her throat. “I’m not a spy. I...” He smiled at her and put his thumb in the front pocket of his jeans, leaning on his left leg. “Well, not exactly. I’m an investigator. And I think we should downplay that role a little bit.”

“Whatever you want, chickadee,” he said. “Good work,” he added.

“You saved my life.”

“Nah. Not really. I got in that camp to find Mercy. I think it was Spencer saved your life, jogging down some back road, carrying you with his fist shoved against your shoulder on account a’ the bleeding. Yeah, he’s the one I’d say saved you. I’m just an old vet. But I got attached to that little girl and I wasn’t about to let some lunatic take her away from her mother.”

“Some old vet,” she repeated. “A Green Beret with two Purple Hearts, a Bronze Star and a Silver Star....”

“Window dressing,” he said with a shrug. “It’s the by-product of staying alive.”

“You’re one of the most decorated men I know.”

“It was a bad time, back then, but we all did our best,” he said. “And there’s a rumor you got yourself a little window dressing, too.”

She gave a nod. “I’ve been notified. I was recommended for an award. You know these things take time.”

He grinned at her. “Notified of what kind of award, exactly?”

“FBI commendation. It’s very big in my crowd. But that’s another thing I’ll try to keep to myself. I’d appreciate it if you’d do that, too.”

“No problem, chickadee. I was never one for struttin’ so I get it.”

“I wanted to say thank you,” she said. “I know you weren’t alone, but I read all the transcripts and everyone agrees, you put a plan together to get Mercy out, along with anyone else stuck in that camp. Will you come to my house for dinner? So I can thank you with food? I love to cook.”

“Might could,” he said. “Cloudy and wet weather this time of year, Cooper can manage. But I ain’t much company....”

“How about if I invite Devon, Spencer and Mercy. I’ve been meaning to anyway. They helped a lot with the whole move.”

“Sounds okay.” He reached in his pocket and pulled out a cell phone and showed it to her. “Got one of these now. Cooper couldn’t stand it if he didn’t know where I was every second. Now he calls this. And I usually don’t answer. But it’s got games and books and a flashlight. Not a bad contraption. Want the number?”

What a kick he was. And he was so full of it—he was not the old bumpkin he portrayed himself to be. He bordered on genius, but he battled PTSD and had for years so he’d never really developed his intellect as much as was possible for him. He told her his number and she merely nodded.

“You don’t wanna write that down somewhere?” he asked.

“I got it,” she said. “I’ll give you a call. And listen...Rawley, there are no words. If you hadn’t done it, gotten inside, run the rescue like you did...”

“Some things just work out to be kismet, chickadee,” he said, showing her a wide grin. “Right place, right time, luck.”

“Skill,” she added. “Courage.”

He looked down, maybe uncomfortably. “Courage. Kind of funny what you’re left with when there ain’t no way out. I just put one foot in front of the other, that’s all. Glad it worked out. You gonna be able to paddle a kayak with that busted-up wing?”

“By spring. I’ll call you in the next day or two.”

“Sounds good. You ain’t one of them vegetarians or anything, are you?”

She laughed. “No. I like hearty, meaty meals.”

“That’s a blessin’. I hate leavin’ the table hungry.” Then he grinned at her again.

She couldn’t help herself. She hugged him. She laid her head against his shoulder and wrapped her arms affectionately around him. He might look like a skinny old man but there were solid muscles under her cheek, her arms. She just stood like that for a moment and then she felt him wrap one long, strong arm around her back while the other hand stroked the top of her head a little bit. Then she let go of him.

“I’d say you were the brave one,” he said. “You could’a bled out from that bullet.”

“I’m getting a medal,” she said. “The by-product of staying alive.”

He smiled. It was melancholy.

“You lost a few along the way, didn’t you, Rawley?” she asked.

He lifted a thin, graying eyebrow. “A few. Didn’t you?”

She just nodded, but she wasn’t willing to think about or discuss the details. Ten years in the FBI, a lot of it undercover, they’d lost a couple of men. And then suddenly she knew what he was getting at—he’d rather have the men than the medals.

She slapped his arm gently. “Thanks,” she said. It came out very softly. “I’ll call you about dinner. And you won’t go away hungry.”

“Good enough.”

She left him then and as she walked through the bar she was thinking that old soldiers go away quietly. It was apparent to her that Rawley had used his time in the Army well, but it had also used him up. True heroes never talked about their acts of heroism. He was one in a million.

I’ve used my time in the FBI well, she thought.

When she got back to the deck, Cooper had the laptop closed and his feet up on the rail. “I take it you found him?”

“I did, thanks.”

He pushed a bottle of water across the table toward her. “Are you running back to town, too?”

She took the water and unscrewed the top, taking a drink. “Just across the beach. Then, even though I have ‘house’ things to do, I’m going to take advantage of this sunny day and sit out on my deck. It’s too cold, but the sun feels good.”

“Want some advice? Get yourself one of those little fire pits to put out on the deck. It only gives off a little heat, but it’s cozy.”

“Good idea,” she said.

“I’m putting a fireplace on my deck,” Cooper said. “A half shade out there, too—the sunset is not only stunning, it’s blinding. And a half cover. This place is wet, but the view doesn’t let you ignore it—rain or shine, you like being right in front of it. Truth is, I’m building a deck that happens to have a house attached to it.”

She laughed at him. “How long have you known Rawley?”

“Just a year and change. He kind of came with the property. Ben found him and brought him here. Ben was my friend and left me the property. Rawley had been with Ben a few years.”

“Nice to have someone working for you who knows the business.”

Cooper laughed. “Don’t kid yourself that he works for me. He pretty much does as he pleases, checks in as little as possible and if he tells me to do something, I usually do.” He winked at her. “Chickadee.”

“Is it like having your father around?”

“My father’s not nearly as ornery, but in that age range,” Cooper said. “Rawley is an interesting guy. Real solitary. Real quiet. But he can develop some deep attachments—like to Devon and Mercy. They’re family now. And since Devon doesn’t have any family, that’s good. For that matter, Spencer doesn’t have family, either.”

“But you have family?”

“Tons. All in or near Albuquerque. Parents, sisters, brothers-in-law, their kids. Plus, I have a son—Austin. Spencer and I share a son.” Her expression must have been shocked because he smiled and said, “Spencer married my ex-fiancée and she passed away last year. How about you?”

“I lost my mother a few years ago, but my father and brother live in Boston. I’m very close to my brother—he’s married and has two little girls I adore, even though in my line of work I haven’t seen enough of them.”

“And you’re not on the East Coast?”

“I needed a change,” she said. “There’s something about this place.... In the time I lived on the farm, although under adverse conditions, I got a little attached and wanted to see a little more of the state. And there was the matter of getting to know the people who put everything on the line to get me out of that camp. Plus, my brother is a busy, busy man. And now that I have the time, I’ll probably visit him. Long flight, but so what? I talk to my brother at least a couple of times a week. I guess we’re all used to me living away from the family, so to speak. And hey—you’re not in the mountains of New Mexico.”

“That’s not the surprise. I left home when I joined the Army as a kid and haven’t lived there since. The real surprise is that I live here! I was a rolling stone until I came to Thunder Point. Now I’m a land baron.”

* * *

Laine stood on her deck, hands on hips, looking around, when the phone rang. Her cell phone was sitting on the kitchen counter and she went for it. No need for a landline in this house, she only had her cell. When she saw that it was her brother, her face lit up. “Pax!” she said. “How’s it going?”

“I missed two calls from you,” he said. “Sorry about that. Busy week. Lots of surgery.”

“No big deal. We have an understanding—first thing after work comes the wife and kids, then me. I’m very patient.”

“What’s it like out there?”

“Heat wave,” she said with a laugh. “It’s fifty degrees and sunny. I was just looking around the deck to find a good spot for a little portable fire pit so I can bundle up and sit out here at night. What’s Mother Nature doing out there?” she asked.

“You don’t watch the news, I guess.”

In fact she had been obsessed with news of Boston from the weather and current events to the crime. That was where her family was and she thought of them all constantly. But she said, “Not if I can help it.”

“We’re bracing for a nor’easter. Looking at two feet tonight. Roads and airport will probably shut down and everyone will stay home and watch old movies until the electricity goes out.”

“Except you.”

“I’m on call tomorrow night. Tonight I’m watching snow fall and listening to the wind howl.”

“How are Missy and Sissy and Miss Perfect?” she asked.

He let go with a bark of laughter and said, “One of these days I’m going to slip up and call my wife Miss Perfect and when that happens, I’m selling you out. I swear it. Everyone here is fine. Missy is having her first school concert in six weeks and is practicing the cello day and night—it’s almost as big as she is and sounds like mating season at an elk ranch around here. And Sissy is gearing up for a spring dance recital, which for six-year-old girls should be enchanting. Thank God she didn’t choose a musical instrument or I’d start sleeping at the hospital.”

His eight-year-old daughter was Melissa, who they called Missy. His six-year-old daughter was Catherine, who they called Sissy for “sister.” And his wife, Genevieve, she had secretly named Miss Perfect because she was the ultimate wife and mother. She never complained at all. It was unnatural. Here she was, stuck with a couple of kids, tons of responsibility, a mostly absent husband, and yet she took it on with a contented smile. What the hell was that? Laine wondered. Had she no limits?

But Genevieve had two sisters and they were all thicker than thieves. She was a dear and good mother, a faithful wife, a dedicated friend, a beloved daughter and a little too domestic and nurturing for Laine’s blood. And she had taken away Laine’s best friend, her twin brother. She was perfectly wonderful to Laine, but Laine had never warmed to her. They weren’t girlfriends. But then not only did Laine have very few girlfriends, but it was also impossible for anyone to be closer to her than Pax.

“And Senior?”

“The same. You haven’t heard from him, huh?”

“No. Frankly I’m not surprised. I told him not to call me until he’s ready to apologize for being such an ass and has something positive to say to me, so I imagine hell will freeze over before I see his name on the caller ID.”

“You take him too seriously,” Pax said. “Learn to not hear him. Nod, say nothing, do as you please.”

“I can’t,” she said. “You get away with that. He’s not as critical of your choices....”

“Yes, he is. But I don’t care. He’s not driving my bus. And if you’re honest, you have to admit, no one but you has been driving your bus for a long, long time. Like since you were seven.”

“He aggravates me so,” she said. “He thinks if he opens his mouth it must be gospel and we should all thank him for taking the time and trouble to move his tongue against his teeth.”

“Don’t get worked up all over again,” Pax counseled. “It’s over. You moved. I just wish you weren’t so damn far away. Get your computer set up and use Skype with the girls—they miss you.”

“He doesn’t treat you like he does me,” Laine said, unable to let it go yet. “He’s very proud of you!”

“He thinks I took his advice and became a doctor. I didn’t. I’m doing exactly what I want to do. And he’s still telling me how to work even though he doesn’t know shit about pediatric surgery. I try to tell him as little as possible, but I also never take him seriously. Now tell me what’s new and exciting in your little town.”

“I painted a wall,” she said with a weary sigh. “Mostly with my left arm. And I’m going to paint another wall, but I think that’s it. I had to have a friend hang the pictures—this arm isn’t strong yet, especially when reaching over my head. I’ve read three books since I talked to you last Tuesday, today was the first day it was decent enough for a good run, but I swear to God the cold makes the screws in my shoulder throb....”

“You know it’s not the screws....”

“Feels like it.”

Laine’s parents were both doctors. Her grandfathers on both sides were doctors. She had two cousins who were doctors. Successful men and women, all. Laine wasn’t the first Carrington or Wescott to choose another profession, but Dr. Paxton Carrington Sr. was appalled when she changed her major from premed to criminal justice. “Believe me, you don’t want to live in a blue-collar world,” he had said. Blue-collar world? It was almost impossible to get into the FBI without an advanced degree.

Laine’s mother had said, “You must find work you feel passionate about. The most important thing in life is finding what gets you up in the morning, what you would do for free, the thing that makes your heart beat. I’m not a doctor because my father was a doctor. And I’m damn sure not a doctor because my husband is one. And I could care less what my children choose to do. Well, if you choose to be homeless drug addicts, I might have an issue....”

“But aren’t you more proud of Pax? A premed honor student?” Laine had asked.

“I look at what’s ahead for you, Laine, and I find it all so exciting, I wish I could live in your skin for just one day!”

“But Dad hates what I’m doing!”

“Does he? He probably thinks he knows what’s best for you, but I’m here to tell you—you’re the only person who can make this choice. And it doesn’t matter what anyone else wants.”

“But admit it, Dad is more proud of Pax!” she had insisted.

“I’m not sure about that. What I know for a fact is that Pax is acting on script. He’s doing exactly what your father expected him to do and it’s easier, more comfortable. You, my darling Laine, are a challenge for him.”

All through college, all through her postgrad program, all through her early years at the FBI, her mother couldn’t wait for her to call, fill her in on all the edgy, interesting stuff she’d worked on or even just knew about.

Senior had said, “What’s that girl thinking? She’s wasting her life on the underworld! The dregs of society!”

When Laine told her father, over Christmas, that she’d been recommended for a commendation from the FBI for saving lives in the line of duty he had said, “As if a medal is going to validate you. Doctors save lives every day.”

And she’d left Boston in an angry huff, vowing she was through with him.

Laine missed her mother so....

* * *

Eric was grateful every day that he had asked Gina McCain if she’d be comfortable with him living in the small town of Thunder Point because he was in the diner where she worked almost daily. Half the time her husband was also there. Eric and Gina went way back. High school for her, though he had been a dropout. Their relationship had been brief but to both of them, very memorable.

Eric bought the local service station in October, had spent two months expanding and updating, and for all that time right up to the present he’d been living in the local motel—the Coastline Inn. It wasn’t much, but it was clean and cheap. There was free coffee in the early morning but no restaurant. Only the diner and McDonald’s served breakfast, unless he felt like going all the way across the beach to Cooper’s place. Since he had no time to look for a house or the energy to fix up both a business and a residence, he bought himself a small dormitory-sized refrigerator and a toaster and settled into the motel. He’d walk down to the motel office early in the morning, grab a large coffee and a newspaper, then head to the station. At lunchtime he’d head to the deli or diner for more satisfying food. He wasn’t much for fast food, something he was stuck with more than he liked. Many busy nights he and his employees made do on burgers or pizza.