Operation Second Chance

Those evergreens and the stylish, red-barked madronas were also among the few things he missed about this side of the mountains, where he’d also left behind the shattered remnants of his life’s dream.

He turned away from the window and resumed his pacing, glancing at the computer station where another of the Foxworth personnel, a guy Quinn had introduced as Liam Burnett, their local tech expert as opposed to the guy in St. Louis, had arrived and was looking at the file on the flash drive. Cutter, who had been restlessly pacing and refusing to settle, greeted him with delight, so obviously there was a big connection there.

“Hey, partner,” Liam had said, bending to scratch behind the dog’s right ear, which made the animal wiggle in delight. “Ria says Hi, and you’d better come over for some cookies soon.”

Cutter gave a short little woof that sounded for all the world like “Yep!” Adam spent a lot of time with dogs on the ranch, but he’d never seen one quite as communicative as this one.

Liam went back to studying the file, then gave a slow shake of his head. “Sorry, boss,” he said to Quinn. “It’s not likely any character recognition program would be able to translate this accurately.”

Adam thought he heard a trace of a drawl in the man’s voice, and wondered where he was originally from. Texas, maybe; they had a hand on the ranch from Tyler, and he sounded like Liam.

“Cursive’s very tricky in the first place,” Liam explained further, “since even the same letters can be shaped differently. Add in that there are too many spots where the size of the letters and numbers change to fit what space he had left, and the pages they’re written on were unlined and so the rows of text aren’t always straight, and it’s impossible.”

“So in this, at least, the human eye and brain has it all over the electronic one,” Hayley said.

Liam grinned. “Yes. Hard though that is for me to admit.”

He sent the photographed images to the printer as he set up a decoding grid with the double alphabet laid out for each of them. They would be doing this the old-fashioned way. There were twenty-five pages of notes on the drive, so they each took five and settled in at the table to translate, letter by letter, dating each page with the date on the original.

Even Cutter seemed to realize this required concentration and quiet, because he padded over to first look out the window, then plopped onto a comfy-looking dog bed beneath the glass and settled in to wait.

Adam had to shift things a bit, to get to the angle he needed to write—thankfully no one seemed to notice the rather odd positioning—but he still finished first. Maybe because he had a better idea of what he was looking at, more familiarity with his partner’s phrasing. He recognized place names quickly, and thought maybe he’d absorbed more of Greg’s code than he’d realized. He sat there reading through the decoded pages he held, frowning a little. When Liam handed him his pages he only nodded and started reading those, too. Quinn, Hayley and Amanda finished moments later, and they all slid their pages across the table to him. He was already putting them in date order before he realized what they’d apparently all tacitly decided, that he was the one to read all this and figure out what it meant.

For a moment the thought of trying to make sense of all this seemed beyond daunting. But he owed it to Greg to at least try. And so he read. Made a couple of notes. And read. More notes. The room stayed silent, and in a moment when his mind strayed he had a vision of them all watching him, holding their breath. It made him want to hurry, but he forced himself to go at it methodically, as Greg always had. He’d been nothing if not thorough. Which told Adam the answer was here, somewhere, he just had to find it.

When he finished reading the last page he sat staring at it. In part trying to process everything, but also because he knew the moment he put down this last page they’d all be waiting for him to explain everything. And he could, some of it. What he couldn’t give them was the biggest, most important piece.

Finally, he gave in and set down the page. And although every part of him told him not to, the first person he looked at was Amanda. He wondered how she felt, having her name and that place laid out before them all, knowing that this above all was what her father had valued so much to make it the key to all of this.

She met his gaze, waiting silently. And in this moment, this precious moment, there was less of the anger there, even less hatred in her eyes. Because he might be able to give her something, some final piece of her father?

It was a moment before he could manage to speak.

“I...remember some of this. Four of these interviews I was there for. But the notes he made here don’t seem to have much to do with what we did those interviews for. Or with each other, for that matter. The other three I don’t know about. Judging by the times on them, they were done either after hours or when I was on another assignment, so I wouldn’t have been there.”

“Another assignment?” Quinn asked.

He was glad of the reason to look away from Amanda. “I was still pretty new, so they would stick me in other divisions for a week or so at a time so I’d know where they were coming from.”

Quinn nodded.

“And you remember when those times were?” It was Amanda, and it would be beyond rude not to look at her, even if he was wondering if there was an accusation in the question.

“I remember all of it,” he said flatly. “Every day.” And it haunts me every night.

“After hours?” Hayley asked then. “Did he do that often?”

“If he had his teeth into something,” Adam explained. “He was the most dedicated cop I ever saw.” He looked back at the pages stacked in front of him. “And he had his teeth into this.”

“The question is,” Quinn said, “what exactly is ‘this’?”

“It looks like a long list of various meetings or gatherings of the criminal element,” Adam said, with a gesture at the pile, “that aren’t connected to anything specific. Except...”

“Pix,” Quinn said.

Adam’s gaze shot back to Quinn’s face. And he saw in the man’s eyes what he’d forgotten for a moment, that Quinn Foxworth had been a soldier, a fighter, long before he’d become...a champion against injustice, or for lost causes or whatever he was now.

“Yes. It occurs in nearly every reference. If there’s anything that tied it together, in Greg’s mind at least, it was that.”

“What is pix?” Amanda asked.

“I wish I knew,” he said. “Greg obviously thought he was onto something big.”

“Is there any chance he would have used the actual letters for this one thing, instead of the code? Should we be looking at Btp, instead of Pix?” Liam asked.

Adam shook his head. “If he wanted it secret, he’d never risk something someone could just guess.” He looked back at the pages yet again. “The way it’s used, in context with the rest and capitalized, it seems like it has to be a name.”

“Agreed,” Quinn said. “Question is, thing or person?”

“I would have thought person,” Hayley said, “but I suppose it could be a place.”

“An organization, maybe?” Amanda put in.

“Could be,” Quinn said. He looked at Adam. “Any common thread in the cases you remember here?”

“Not that I can think of right now. I’d have to see the case files to really remember.”

Quinn nodded. “I’ll see what we can do about that.”

Adam opened his mouth to say it was unlikely they could get the full files, then remembered who he was talking to. Quinn Foxworth was remembered and remembered well at the department, and he could probably get whatever he darned well pleased. He, on the other hand, would likely get the door shut in his face, no matter what the official investigation had concluded.

“It has to be important,” Amanda said quietly. “He never would have hidden it like that if it wasn’t.”

“Agreed,” Quinn said.

“Where exactly did he hide it?” Adam asked. “He didn’t freeze it in an ice cube, did he?”

Amanda’s head snapped up. “He told you about that?”

He couldn’t stop his smile. “Yeah. He was pretty proud of that one.”

For the barest instant, he thought she almost smiled back. “He should have been. It took me nearly two weeks.” She glanced at Quinn, who raised one eyebrow at her. “I got a speeding ticket. Dad took away my car key and hid it. Said it was somewhere in the house, and I could drive again when I found it. Took me nearly two weeks. I looked in the freezer, but I never thought to look actually in an ice cube. I just remember wondering why he had an old-fashioned ice cube tray in there when we had an ice maker.”

This was the most normal she had sounded since he’d gotten here. Not that there wasn’t the undertone of sadness when she spoke of her father, but she didn’t sound miserable. Just full of her love for the man who had practically raised her on his own. And it was that that made him speak again.

“Did he ever tell you how proud he was of you, that you didn’t drop his name trying to get out of it?”

“He told me I did the right thing,” she said. “That it wasn’t something to be proud of, it was just what a good person did.”

“Well, he was proud,” Adam said. “But then, he was always proud of you.”

“And I him,” she said, and a tiny bit of that old snap had crept back into her voice.

He vowed he would stay in speak-only-when-spoken-to mode from here on. And keep his gaze away from the woman who kept drawing it without even trying.

“We’ll dig into this a bit,” Quinn said. “I’d like to know how this is all connected, and why it was so important that he hid it so carefully.” He glanced at Adam. “Taped in a small square cut out of just enough pages near the spine of one of Amanda’s favorite books.”

Adam immediately did what he’d vowed not to do and looked at Amanda. “The wizard books,” he said. Her eyes widened slightly. He lowered his gaze. “He told me once one of his best memories of when you were a kid was reading those with you.”

There was a long moment of silence, during which he stared at the stack of pages, before she spoke. Her voice was quiet, and held a stronger note of that sadness. “Thank you for telling me that. It’s one of my best memories of him, too.”

The way she said it eased him, at least she wasn’t mad at him again. He wondered how she would feel if he told her just how much of her Greg had shared with him. Her dreams, her fears, his worry because of this or that, and the fears any father of a daughter had, amplified geometrically by being a cop and too often dealing with the worst of the worst out there.

You’ve done your best, Greg. She’s fit, she’s strong, you’ve taught her to fight, she’s smart and she pays attention.

But if she crosses paths with the wrong guy, it may not be enough.

If she crosses paths with the wrong guy, there’s a good chance he’s going to be the one running away screaming.

“You were the light of his life,” Adam said softly. “He never stopped talking about you. Or worrying about you.”

“And I never stopped worrying about him,” she answered. And then, with acerbity back in her voice she added, “For all the good that did.”

And so the truce seemed over. And Adam tried to tell himself he should be glad it had happened at all, even if it hadn’t lasted.

Chapter 8

Now that Foxworth had clearly taken over...whatever this was, Adam was pondering what to do. He should have been well on his way home by now, probably through the pass and halfway there. He opened the weather app on his phone, since they somehow had a strong signal even out here. Better than at home anyway. Which was just as well, kept him from buying fancy, expensive phones. They had decent internet at the house and barn, but out on the Palouse, good luck with any kind of connection.

The storm that was still pouring rain on them here was already dumping snow in the mountains. The camera at Snoqualmie showed a near whiteout. Right now they were letting people through with snow tires, but from the look of it they’d be requiring chains soon. And the thought of wrestling chains onto his truck mostly one-handed was enough to make him groan inwardly.

Stop the pity party, Kirk.

“Thinking about tackling that?”

Hayley’s voice from behind him snapped him out of his thoughts.

“More thinking about not tackling it,” he admitted.

“Wise decision, I think.”

Hayley came around the chair, sat in the one next to it and handed him a cup of coffee. Adam took it gratefully. They’d moved back downstairs when they’d reached the point of rehashing the same ground again and again and accomplishing nothing. Until they knew who or what Pix referred to, they were at a loss.

“You’re going to keep digging into this?” he asked.

Hayley nodded. “If only for Amanda’s sake. Because he was obviously working on it when he was killed, it’s important to her.”

Adam glanced toward the small kitchen, where Amanda was with Quinn, apparently putting together some kind of lunch.

“He’s been looking out for her ever since, hasn’t he?”

“Yes.” She smiled. “My husband is hardwired that way.”

“So it wasn’t just...what happened to his parents?”

“That only solidified it, I think. Gave him direction, and determination.”

“He told me he wanted an organization that wasn’t hamstrung by regulations or politics, like cops are.”

Hayley nodded. “He wanted to be able to focus on helping, whatever it took.”

“Admirable,” Adam said. “I wish I could help more.”

Hayley gave him a quizzical look. “We still wouldn’t have a clue if you hadn’t come to help.”

“Doesn’t seem like much.”

“You’re pretty hard on yourself,” Hayley said, leaning back in her chair and taking a sip from her own mug.

He didn’t think so, but it seemed rude to protest what was clearly meant as a kindly observation, so he only shrugged.

“I presume you meant to beat that today?” she asked, nodding toward the snowy image.

“Yeah.” He grimaced. “I’d better call home.”

“You need a place to stay tonight?”

“I can go back to the motel by U-Dub,” he said.

“That’s where you were last night?”

He nodded. “Doctor’s appointment this morning,” he said absently, focused on calling up his contact list; Nat would be outside, prepping in case this storm still had snow left when it got to them, so he’d try her cell first. She wouldn’t be happy, but neither was he, leaving her and their folks with all the work.

“Still, huh?”

It took him a moment to remember what he’d said, and when he did he wished he hadn’t. “Still trying to sell me on more surgery,” he said, hoping she’d let it go.

“Would it help?”

“They say yes.”

“You don’t believe them?”

He put down the phone; Quinn’s wife was nothing if not persistent. But she was so kind it was impossible to dodge without being bad-mannered about it. “It’s more that I’m really, really tired of them cutting on me.” Which was true, but also a dodge, because they’d also told him he would end up with more function and much less pain, and he wasn’t certain he deserved that.

“That,” Hayley said, “is totally understandable.” Then, unexpectedly she said, “Why don’t you stay here tonight?”

He blinked. “Here?”

She gestured toward the back of the room. “There’s a comfortable bedroom back there, and a bathroom with a shower. And there’s food in the kitchen—you can help yourself.”

It was too much, for how little he’d done. “I...thank you. That’s really nice of you, but I think I’ll head back over and be that much closer in the morning, or whenever this lets up and I can get through.”

“Your choice,” she said, “just know it’s an option.”

He nodded. “Thanks again.” He hesitated, then thought it would be easier to ask her than Quinn, and said, “Would you let me know? If you find out anything?”

“Of course,” she said easily.

When he got up to leave, Hayley gave him a hug, Quinn shook his hand and Amanda, rather stiffly, said simply, “Goodbye.”

She had her purse over her shoulder and her keys in her hand, so he gathered she was leaving, too. But she was hesitating, so he guessed she wanted to say something to the Foxworths without him hanging around. Oddly, it was Cutter who protested his departure the most energetically, almost blocking the door and looking from him to Amanda and back, his gaze intense, as if he were trying to communicate something. He whined slightly, and it had such a worried sound Adam almost laughed at the dog. But something about this animal made laughing at him seem...inappropriate, if not foolish.

It was Hayley who called him back to her, also oddly by saying to the dog, “Not yet.”

When he was back in the truck, he remembered he was going to need gas. Might as well do it now in the hopes of an early start home in the morning. Or maybe he should just start home now, and hope they had the pass plowed by the time he got there. Not that it would do much good if it was still coming down that fast and thick, but he’d feel better.

Until you got stuck up there and had to tough it out in freezing temps or ended up in a snowdrift with the truck wrecked.

His map program told him the nearest gas station was a couple of miles away, on the way to the ferry. He found it easily and pulled in. He rather grimly watched the numbers on the pump roll as he filled the truck’s large fuel tank. He’d just finished the hit to his debit card when it struck him that he and Amanda would likely be on the same ferry going back to the other side. And for a moment he seriously pondered either waiting for the next one, some forty-five minutes later, or driving a half hour to the nearest other ferry. But a glance at his watch told him that would dump him in downtown Seattle at a peak traffic hour, and even if he survived to get on the freeway he’d be going through peak traffic there, too. Even though it was less than half as far, it would likely take him four times as long. Not something he wanted to deal with.

At least the blue classic car would be easy to spot. He would just stay several vehicles behind her, and once on board he would stay in the truck, he thought. Then he would never encounter her, because she certainly wouldn’t approach him.

He pulled out of the station onto the road and headed for the boat. It was the in-between time on this side, it seemed, too early for the rush of commuters coming back, and too early for those heading over to the city for the evening. And so he had the road pretty much to himself at the moment, only a few cars in sight ahead. His regular glance in the rearview mirror told him it was even sparser behind him, without a vehicle in sight.

Just as he looked back forward, something registered, like a freeze-frame of an image. His gaze shot back to the mirror. He’d been right. It had been a flash of bright blue that had caught his eye. He waited, realized he was holding his breath and forced himself to suck in some air. The blue got closer, close enough that he knew. Definitely Greg’s car; the likelihood of there being two of those classics here, on this road at this moment, was so slim as to be nonexistent. It was still raining fairly hard, so he couldn’t see into the vehicle. Not that he needed to, he could imagine Amanda at the wheel easily enough.

He made himself look forward again. Saw that he’d slowed to a creep, only then aware he’d taken his foot off the accelerator.

Good thing there’s not much traffic, Kirk. You’re driving like an idiot.

He resisted the urge to cut onto a side street and let her go past him, even though it would be easier to stay clear of her if she was ahead of him. But she was close enough to see him now, and if she recognized his truck, which she probably would, she’d know he was dodging. Why that mattered, with everything else she thought of him, he wasn’t sure. But it did.

They could still ignore each other, he told himself. Even if she was still right behind him when they boarded. Maybe he’d get lucky and they’d end up getting on at the point where the crew divided the oncoming vehicles, sending them to opposite sides of the vessel. Maybe—

A resounding crash cut off his thoughts. No screech of tires, but the road was probably too wet for that. Nothing in front of him... His heart jammed up in his throat. And even before he looked in the rearview mirror, he somehow knew.

The blue car was not in sight. Another vehicle was making a wild U-turn, and it sped off in the opposite direction.

He made the same maneuver and sped back the way he’d come. Not after the fleeing vehicle, but with his eyes scanning, searching...

There. A glimpse of blue. The side of a car at an unnatural angle. Greg Bonner’s pride and joy, sideways in the roadside drainage ditch. Smoke rising from the engine compartment.

And Amanda, pinned inside.

Конец ознакомительного фрагмента.

Текст предоставлен ООО «ЛитРес».

Прочитайте эту книгу целиком, купив полную легальную версию на ЛитРес.

Безопасно оплатить книгу можно банковской картой Visa, MasterCard, Maestro, со счета мобильного телефона, с платежного терминала, в салоне МТС или Связной, через PayPal, WebMoney, Яндекс.Деньги, QIWI Кошелек, бонусными картами или другим удобным Вам способом.