Torn Loyalties Page 16

  “Where?”

  “Spare bedroom, back of the closet, top shelf.”

  “You lied to me,” Grant said, anger simmering in his voice. “You knew about Blue Shoes.”

  “Everyone knew about Blue Shoes. I just didn’t know I knew him.”

  Grant stiffened. “Is he Talbot or Dayton?”

  “My money’s on Dayton, but I don’t know for sure. If I did, I wouldn’t be stuck in here, would I?”

  He wouldn’t. He’d be free or dead.

  “Anything else we need to know?”

  “I’m afraid not. It wasn’t for a lack of trying, I can tell you that. I just couldn’t decipher which of them was guilty.”

  Grant wished he didn’t understand that dilemma.

  * * *

  Saturday afternoon Talbot phoned Grant, and asked for a preliminary report. Grant told the commander there were still too many unconfirmed loose ends but he and Madison would have one ready for him in a few days and that they were on the way in to interview Dayton.

  “Anything unexpected come up so far?” Talbot asked.

  Far too much on far too many. “A few surprises, but nothing conclusive yet, sir.”

  “Very well. Keep me posted.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Madison clasped Grant’s hand. “Does he know you’re stalling him?”

  “I don’t think so. Not yet, anyway.”

  “Good.” She didn’t look forward to sleeping with one eye open until this was resolved.

  Ten minutes later they sat outside Dayton’s cell. Madison recorded a lengthy diatribe of Dayton vowing that Talbot was Blue Shoes, and he hadn’t done a thing he shouldn’t have done.

  Losing patience with the man, she asked, “What about hiring the skateboarder to plant the plastic mailbox in Della Jackson’s purse?”

  “Talbot asked me to as a favor. It was a private joke, he said.” Dayton shrugged. “Poor taste, no matter how you slice it, but when a superior officer issues a direct order, you obey it. You both know that as well as I do.”

  Madison almost believed him. He hadn’t said a word since his arrest, but seemed to have no problems now speaking his mind. The words flowed, and made solid sense. Dayton hadn’t been idle while sitting on that cell floor with his back to the bars. He’d been planning and preparing for this moment and it had paid off. He presented himself well, articulate and convincing.

  But, Madison wondered, was he being honest?

  When after the interview she and Grant left the Nest, she still wasn’t sure. “We need access to his house to pull the records Blake stashed there.”

  “We can’t get it without Talbot’s authorization.”

  “He gave us blank permission to do what needed doing.” The glare hurt her eyes. Madison got out her sunglasses.

  “Professionally, not personally. His office, no problem. But his home...”

  State laws came into play. “Point taken.” Madison thought it over. “Talbot expects us to do this. Call and ask him for express permission. If he denies it, then at least we made the attempt and that’ll be included in the report.”

  Grant did and within a few minutes, they had Talbot’s permission and Dayton’s apartment address. A spare key was hidden in a rock near the back door.

  Twenty minutes later, Madison and Grant walked through the apartment to make sure it was clear. Then they slowed down to look around.

  Modern and minimalist, every room was chrome and clean-lined, and all the fabrics were white, navy and burgundy, including the dish towels folded neatly in the third drawer beside the stove.

  “This is unnatural,” she told Grant, who sat at the table, thumbing through the file Blake had hidden in the spare bedroom closet on the top shelf. Whether or not Blake actually had put the file there, it had been located exactly where he’d told them it would be. “No one lives like this.”

  Grant looked over at her. “Like what?”

  “Look at this place.” She lifted a hand. “Nothing is out of place. There isn’t a speck of dust anywhere or even a piece of lint on the carpet. It’s not natural.”

  “He lives alone, and he’s been military all his adult life. You went through the training. You know even clothes folded in drawers are precisely placed.”

  She walked out of the kitchen. “I also know that as soon as that training is over, a normal person starts relaxing a little.” She stepped back and opened a lower cabinet, then examined the bottoms of his pots. Not a mark on them. “These pots have never been used.”

  “Maybe he just bought them, or he hates to cook.”

  “Maybe.” It didn’t sit right with her. They’d started stacking evidence near the front door. “I’m going to check his computer.”

  Grant nodded. “This is definitely Talbot’s logbook. We need to get back to your house, and add these entries to the timeline. See what it tells us about Talbot.”

  It could either clear him of wrongdoing, or further implicate him. “I won’t be long.”

  In the spare bedroom she sat down at the computer and went to work. Half an hour later, her frustration was building. His desktop computer had no saved files. Not one. Finding that too peculiar, she checked recent files and history—and found a plethora of evidence. “Grant,” she called out, her heart thumping hard.

  He came in. “What?”

  “It’s all here.” She pointed to the screen. “Maps and driving directions, flights, research on making bombs... He even ran Gary Crawford and did an exhaustive study on him and all the public information on his murders.” Madison scanned the file list. “Brett Lund, David Pace and Beth Crane are on here, too.”

  “Let’s disconnect it and take it with us.”

  * * *

  Madison and Grant worked all night and at ten the next morning read the final draft of their report. The logbook cleared Talbot, and the computer data squarely pointed to Dayton. Everything now pointed to Dayton, except the rose to Maggie, and Blake could be deliberately misleading them on that.

  Grant poured Madison yet another cup of coffee. “You satisfied with our determinations and findings?”

  “We’ve turned every stone we can find and presented the facts based on the evidence. That’s all we can do.”

  “Let’s take it to Talbot, then.”

  Madison drove them out to the facility. Grant phoned on the way to let the commander know they were coming, and when they arrived, Beecher sent them right into Talbot’s office.

  Grant passed their report. “Here you go, sir.”

  “Thank you.” He took it. “Would you two mind hanging around while I review it, in case there are any questions?”

  “No, sir. We’ll step out.” Grant opened the office door and he and Madison stepped through to Beecher’s office.

  He closed a file stamped “confidential” and rested his arm atop it. “You two look beat.”

  “It’s been a long couple weeks,” Madison said.

  Grant nodded. “Especially the last twenty-four hours.”

  “Dayton’s been expecting you to ask for the keys to his house.”

  “You mean his apartment,” Grant said.

  Beecher’s expression turned to stone. “Dayton doesn’t have an apartment.”

  Grant’s and Madison’s gazes collided. “Where’s his home?” A sick feeling pitted Grant’s stomach. Soured it.

  “On the bay. Same neighborhood as Madison’s.”

  “I’ve never seen him in my neighborhood,” Madison whispered to Grant.

  “Everything’s in some kind of trust,” Beecher said with a shrug. “He’s loaded and single.”

  “How do you know this?” Grant asked.

  “Just things I’ve heard around. You know how people talk.” Madison’s message bore down on Gran
t. Though unspoken, the context was clear. We’ve been had.

  “Grant, Madison.” Talbot appeared at his office door. “Well done.” He smiled. “Leadership should have all it needs to make the call and determine their fates.”

  Talbot. He’d framed Dayton and Blake, and he’d used them to put the final nails in their coffins.

  “Terrific,” Grant said, not missing a beat. “We’re done.” He smiled at Madison. “I’m going to take you home, and we’re both going to get some rest.”

  “Well deserved.” He clapped them on the shoulders. “I’ll send this in, and we’ll close this unfortunate chapter of history at the Nest.” He gave them a genuine look of gratitude. “I appreciate all you’ve done.”

  “You’re welcome, sir.” Grant nodded, slid Beecher a telling look, and then he and Madison left headquarters.

  Neither of them said a word until they were in Madison’s Jag and had passed the gate guards and left the installation.

  Grant spoke first. “How do we handle this?”

  Madison turned and headed toward her office. “We go to the one person we know we can trust, who will know exactly what to do and how to best do it.”

  “Mrs. Renault?”

  “Exactly.”

  * * *

  In the Lost, Inc., conference room forty minutes later, Mrs. Renault had been briefed—and had aged ten years. She showed them the interior of a continuity log that was purportedly Talbot’s. “The one Blake planted at the apartment wasn’t the real one. This one is.” Mrs. Renault thumbed the pages.

  “It’s blank.”

  “Yes, it is. And when tests are done on the fake one, and they date the entries, it’ll be proven fraudulent. Andrew didn’t record entries because he didn’t want any records of his activities.”

  “Why would he do this?”

  “I have my suspicions and they include counterintelligence. That’s all I’m free to say.” She stood and stepped away from the conference-room table, dialed a number from memory and then waited.

  “Chairman Sayers, please. Renée Renault.”

  Grant whispered to Madison, “She’s calling the Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff?”

  “Apparently.”

  Minutes later, Mrs. Renault launched into a succinct, detailed briefing. “What shall we do?”

  A moment later she hung up the phone. “We’re to stay put together until Beecher notifies us Andrew is in custody.”

  “Beecher?” Grant frowned. “How do we know for sure whose side he’s on?”

  “He’s one of mine.” Mrs. Renault smiled. “Where do you think I got Talbot’s real log?”

  Madison’s heart felt squeezed. “I’m so sorry, Mrs. Renault.” She had to be hurt deeply by Talbot’s betrayal.

  “So am I.” Sadness permeated her eyes. “I respected him once.”

  “How long will it be before he’s taken into custody?”

  “Minutes.” She hiked her chin. “Beecher filed a preliminary report with me earlier today, so we were prepared. Just waiting for your full report.”

  “You keep saying we,” Madison noted. “I get the feeling that you’re not just the former spouse of—”

  She gave Madison an enigmatic smile. “I’m exactly who you believe me to be, Madison. I just come with...shall we say, perks.”

  Former Intel. She had to be former Intel. That’s the only way her insider connections made sense. “What were you doing professionally when you and John met?”

  She smiled again, and didn’t say a word.

  The phone rang. She stared at it. “That’ll be Beecher, telling us it’s done.”

  “Hello.” Madison answered the phone.

  “Madison, may I speak to Mrs. Renault, please.”

  Madison passed the phone. “Beecher.”

  Mrs. Renault listened. “Thank you. Me, too.” She slowly put down the phone. “Andrew is in custody at the Nest. Two in the loop are inbound to sort everything out.”

  “Does Beecher need help?” Grant asked.

  “No, he brought in his explosives team—they’re all mine—so everything is under control.”

  “I believed it was Dayton.”

  “You suspected Talbot,” Grant said.

  “We both did. But I hoped it wouldn’t be him.”

  Mrs. Renault swept a hand over Madison’s shoulder. “You two have been through a lot, and not only have you handled it well, you’ve given the loop what it needs to protect us all.” She squeezed Madison’s shoulder. “I’m proud of you.”

  Madison wasn’t a fool. They hadn’t surprised Mrs. Renault with any of this. “How long have you known Talbot was Blue Shoes?”

  “Not long.” She hiked her chin. “Grant, will you be staying with us at Lost, Inc., or returning to active duty?”

  “It depends.” He looked at Madison.

  “Ah, of course.” She sent him an encouraging look.

  “What about Dayton and Blake?” Madison asked.

  “Your report combined with what we have—they’ll be held accountable for their infractions, no more and no less.”

  The disclosure was less than Madison hoped for and more than she expected. “And the Nest?”

  “Will stay prepared.”

  That’s what it was. Madison recalled the exercise with the trucks and boxes. They weren’t coded. Seeds were seeds, water was water and purifier was a water purification tablet. It was a doomsday preparatory facility, to assure that resources were available if and when needed. And a place to detain those with access to high-level, classified information that carried high risks if placed elsewhere.

  “I’m still not clear on why Talbot asked us to investigate,” Madison said. “He couldn’t call in the inspector general because it would broaden the need-to-know loop. But why us?”

  Mrs. Renault dipped her chin, and gave Madison the infamous brow lift. “He thought after helping you, you’d dismiss evidence against him.”

  Grant nodded. “Loyalty. He knew how much it meant to you, Madison, and how much getting you out of detention meant to me.”

  Mrs. Renault smiled. “It was a reasonable expectation. You are both loyal. He just misjudged to what.” Madison must have seemed puzzled, because Mrs. Renault added, “Your loyalty is to God, truth and your nation. That’s far bigger than any one man.”

  Madison wrapped her mind around it all.

  “I’m taking the rest of the day off,” Mrs. Renault told Madison. “If you want me, call my mobile. I’ll be at the Emerald Grand in Destin.”

  “Why? You’re welcome to use my beach house.”

  “Thank you, but no. I need some time to myself.” She frowned. “Andrew trashed my home and destroyed everything I had of John’s. I need time alone with my memories.” At the door, she paused and looked back at them. “Love is far too rare to squander because we allow ourselves to forget.”

  Profound words. Ones Madison took into her heart.

  Mrs. Renault left, and Grant stepped to Madison’s side. “I think her heart is broken.”

  “She’ll miss John’s things. They’ve kept him close to her.”

  “I think she was beginning to fall in love with Talbot,” Grant said.

  “I hope not.” Madison looked at Grant. “She trusted him, and he betrayed her. That, and destroying what she had left of John, well, it’s a lot to make a woman bitter.”

  “I betrayed you,” Grant whispered, his Adam’s apple bobbing. “Are you bitter?” The look in his eyes spoke directly to her heart.

  “Your situation was very different. You were caught between the proverbial rock and hard place—torn loyalties between your duty to your country and your heart.” Empathy filled her. “I expect you spent a lot of time on your knees about it all.”

  �
�I did.” He frowned. “Trying to keep right with God and do what I had to do...it wasn’t easy.”

  “It rarely is.”

  “So why wouldn’t you let me explain myself?”

  She’d been waiting for this. “I’ve prayed a lot, too. We’ve been together for four months—”

  “Almost five.”

  “Almost five.” She smiled. “But all of it was time under challenges. Suspicions and doubts and—”

  “One crisis after another.”

  “Exactly.” She paused, framed her thoughts. “I know we care about each other, but we’ve never been together when we weren’t in crisis with each other. I wasn’t sure I could trust my feelings or that you should trust yours.”

  “Until we got you out of the Nest, that was true,” he said. “But we’ve been pretty normal since then—you and me, I mean. We’ve still been dealing with unusual things.”

  “Unusual is normal at Lost, Inc.” She shrugged. “Comes with the territory.”

  He searched her face. “So what are you saying?”

  “I told you before. I was worried that in normal times you’d no longer be interested.”

  “That’s what the waiting to talk has really been about. A delay tactic.”

  She nodded. “It was important to know if when we’re normal the spark would still be there, or if you’d...” Her throat closed. She couldn’t say it.

  “Leave you?”

  As she’d been left in Afghanistan. She nodded, and stepped out in faith. “I don’t want to lose you.”

  “I don’t want to lose you, either.” He paused, waited for her to meet his gaze. “The spark will always be there. I love you, Madison.”

  Her heart stopped, then beat hard and fast, pumping wonder and contentment through her entire body. “Really?”

  He smiled, stroked her face with such tenderness. “Really.”

  Shaky, breathless, she pulled the Purple Heart from her pocket and studied the scratch he’d made in it. A heart. He’d given it back to her when she’d been detained in the Nest, but she had been too afraid of being wrong to dream about what it meant. After her release, knowing he’d been ordered into her life, she didn’t dare. But the more they were together, working in tandem on different adversarial challenges, the more confident she grew; more daring and sure of him and of herself. Her daily devotionals became their daily devotionals. Not dreaming with the man who freely admitted you left him breathless, who chiseled at the shield around your heart until it crumbled—a shield you believed so thick and strong it would never fail—a man who opened his heart to his Lord with you as you opened yours seemed...cowardly. She lifted the medal. “I hoped that’s what this heart meant.”