Lethal Exposure. Elisabeth Rees

he said finally. “He wasn’t scared.”

      “Good,” she said firmly. “I’m glad of that.”

      He waited for more questions to come, but she fell silent and turned her head to look out the window, watching the wide streets of Blountstown pass them by. The ornate colonial-style buildings gave the town a feeling that was rich in history, and he knew that Rebecca loved working among its proud residents. But right now, he guessed that her mind wasn’t on the residents of Blountstown. It was focused on an event that took place a year and a half ago on a dark hillside in Afghanistan. The code name Dark Skies mission that had taken Ian Grey’s life hung over both of them like a shadow. He knew that Rebecca was sometimes angry with God for taking her husband, and Jack couldn’t heal her heart, no matter how hard he tried. Maybe this tentative questioning regarding Ian’s fatal mission was the final step in her healing process. He could only hope so.

      He turned in to the Liberty News parking lot and screeched the minivan to a halt.

      “I don’t believe it,” he said, staring straight ahead. “What on earth is going on?”

      Parked in the corner, tucked against the wall of the parking lot, was his Porsche, gleaming like a yellow beacon in the hazy morning mist.

       THREE

      Rebecca and Jack locked eyes in mutual shock. She automatically reached her hand to open the passenger door and go take a closer look, but Jack’s fingers closed around her wrist.

      “No,” he said firmly. “I’ll go check it out.”

      He parked the minivan as far away from the Porsche as possible in the small parking lot and moved his hand to rest on top of hers in her lap. “Stay here. If anything bad happens, run into the building and call the police, okay? Don’t put yourself in any danger.”

      “Jack,” she said, “be careful.”

      He gave her hand a squeeze. “I always am.”

      She watched him slide from his seat onto the ground, keeping low and alert. With his hand resting on his holstered gun under the loose fabric of his shirt, he approached the Porsche cautiously, checking the surrounding vehicles for anything suspicious. He skirted around his car, looking through the windows and squatting low to check the underside.

      Finally, he returned to her and retook his place in the driver’s seat of her minivan.

      “It looks exactly the same as always,” he said. “There’s no sign of anything having been tampered with.”

      Rebecca felt the air growing muggy like a storm was brewing. “But what’s it doing here?”

      Jack shook his head. “I have no idea, but let’s save that question for later.”

      He looked up at the tall Liberty News building. “We need to go get those photographs so we can hand them over to the police. The sooner we make this situation go away, the sooner you can get back to normal.”

      Normal, Rebecca thought. What exactly is normal? Normal was living life as a single mom, watching her children grow up without a father, relying on Jack to do all the things that Ian should be doing: teaching the girls to ride a bike, building them a tree house, going to ballet recitals. It wasn’t fair to expect Jack to do this forever. She should be able to manage alone by now. After all, eighteen months had passed already.

      “Yes,” she agreed. “I guess we both want to get back to normal. You can get on with your life again.”

      He looked a little taken aback. “I am getting on with my life. I didn’t mean to imply that you’re a burden.”

      She inhaled deeply and thought of all the words she wanted to say to him, but none of them would come. “We’ll talk about it later, Jack,” she said, opening her car door and stepping out onto the pavement. “We need to have a conversation that is long overdue.”

      She saw a look of confusion fall over his face as he exited the car and came to stand next to her. “What are you talking about, Bec? I thought we were doing fine.”

      “That’s just the problem, Jack,” she said, turning to walk up the steps to the revolving door of the Liberty News. “There is no we.”

      * * *

      Jack took the steps two at a time to catch up to Rebecca, who had stridden ahead of him without warning. Whatever she had just alluded to had unsettled him. He had a worrying suspicion that she wanted him to back out of her life, and this thought sent a cold sensation of anxiety through his body. Yet he couldn’t profess to be wholly surprised. A beautiful woman like Rebecca deserved to meet someone special and be cherished again. She had probably realized that she would never meet such a person while he was on the scene, scaring off any potential suitors.

      He saw her disappear through the revolving door and waited for the next wing to turn before darting into the space and finding himself in the large foyer of the building. The temperature inside was the perfect relief from the chilly February day, and the air smelled fresh and clean. Numerous framed newspaper stories adorned the walls, showing the history of the paper through the years, with many of the photographs having been taken by Rebecca.

      “Rebecca,” a voice echoed across the foyer. “What are you doing here today? Our receptionist told me you’d called to request the day off.”

      Jack looked over to see Rebecca’s editor, Simon Orwell, rush to her and envelop her in a hug. Jack’s skin prickled with something he couldn’t put his finger on.

      “She also told me about your burglary,” Simon said. “How awful for you.”

      “I won’t be here long,” Rebecca replied. “If it’s okay with you.”

      “Of course it is,” he said. “Take as much time off as you need.”

      Simon’s eyes slid from Rebecca’s and caught sight of Jack behind her. His manner instantly changed to one of brusque formality. He straightened out his yellow suit jacket and adjusted his electric blue shirt collar beneath. He was known for his snappy, if unconventional, dress sense and was thought of as an eccentric media mogul in Florida, where he owned several regional newspapers, many of them sharing the same office space as the Liberty News.

      “Conrad,” Simon exclaimed. “So good to see you. Long time no see.”

      Jack approached Simon and extended his hand. Simon was one of very few people who used Jack’s first name, and it emphasized the distance between them. They had met many times but had never gotten to know each other well, keeping their conversations usually limited to the best way to avoid traffic gridlock in the morning. That was as personal as either of them wanted to get.

      Jack shook Simon’s hand firmly. “I don’t suppose you happened to notice who parked my yellow Porsche in the Liberty News’s lot this morning?” he asked, trying to keep his tone as light as possible. “I took it to be cleaned, and the company must’ve dropped it here instead of the parking lot in the center of town like I asked.” He rolled his eyes. “They get it wrong all the time. I just wondered if you’d seen which attendant left it here.”

      “Sorry, no,” Simon said, releasing his hand. “But you’re welcome to use our telephone to call them and check.”

      Jack held up his hand. “No, thanks. It’s not a big deal.”

      He caught Rebecca’s eye and gave a small shake of the head, letting her know that he didn’t want to divulge any information to Simon. Simon’s natural nosiness was not what they needed right now. If he sniffed a story, he’d be all over it like a bad rash.

      “I’ve come to get something from my desk,” Rebecca said, keeping her voice light, as Jack had. “I left it here yesterday, and I need it for the weekend.”

      Simon