Saving Grace

Sitting here in Jack Dugan’s sleek, elegant guest room with a bowl of luscious food in her hands—with the waves licking at the shore and gulls crying out overhead—the desperation and despair of that night seemed as far away as the moon.

She felt a deep guilt at her weakness, that she had even considered ending her life. That she had almost succumbed to the pain.

“You okay?”

She blinked away the shame, knowing there would be plenty of time for it later. “I’m fine,” she lied. “You?”

Beau cleared his throat again. “Yeah.”

She heard the raw emotion in the single word and drew a shaky breath. She should have known the anniversary would hit him hard, should have tried to reach out to him.

Beau had loved her daughter, too, and had relished his role of honorary uncle. She thought of birthday parties and piggy-back rides and lazy Sunday picnics in the park.

Before she could answer, though, to offer whatever kind of meager comfort she could, he changed the subject.

“So tell me what you’re doing with Jack Dugan, of all people.” His tone shifted suddenly, edged with a suspicion that hadn’t been there at the beginning of their conversation. “What are you up to? Dammit, Grace. Don’t you dare tell me you’re playing Lone Ranger on this one.”

She frowned, puzzled by his anger. “What are you talking about?”

“Don’t try to con me. I know you better than that. There’s no way I’ll believe it’s purely a coincidence you’re staying with the owner of Global Shipping Incorporated.”

The first glimmer of unease began to stir within her and, suddenly restless, she rose to return the empty bowl to the tray on the bed. “Should that mean something to me?”

There was a long silence on the other end of the phone line, then Riley swore softly. “You don’t know, do you?”

“Know what? I’m too tired to play games with you. Spit it out.”

“Global Shipping, Inc., and your friend Jack Dugan are smack dab in the middle of a multi-jurisdictional investigation for smuggling.”

The lingering taste of the fruit turned to ashes in her mouth and the glimmer of unease became a riot of foreboding. “Drugs?”

“No, big, bad nasty assault weapons. Name a kind of illegal weapon and he’s suspected of bringing it in.”

Somehow this had something to do with her, otherwise he wouldn’t have been so suspicious of her reasons for staying with Dugan. She frowned. She must still be woozy from her illness because, try as she might, she couldn’t figure it out. “It’s been a year since I turned in my badge. Why would you think I’d suddenly develop an interest in some petty smuggling ring?”

When he spoke, Beau’s voice was as sharp as a switchblade. “You need me to spell it out for you? Weapons, Grace. GSI and Jack Dugan are suspected of bringing in most of the assault weapons on the street today, including the AK-47 favored by our mutual friend Spooky Lawrence. The same Spooky Lawrence currently serving fifteen-to-life for killing an eleven-year-old girl named Marisa Solarez in a drive-by shooting outside her school.”

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