Deadly Disclosure
Meghan Carver
FATAL FAMILY SECRETSGetting shot at on her way to work is only the first shock of law student Hannah McClarnon’s day. The second is when FBI agent Derek Chambers—her first love—reveals the truth about Hannah’s family. Though Hannah was raised by a wealthy Indianapolis couple, her birth father was with the Chicago mafia. And now, convinced she has information against them, they’re hunting her down. Derek’s first big assignment is to protect Hannah, and it’s becoming more personal every minute. He’s never revealed why he left long ago, and he still believes Hannah deserves someone better. But with the enemy in relentless pursuit, he’ll risk his life to be the man she needs—and loves—again.
FATAL FAMILY SECRETS
Getting shot at on her way to work is only the first shock of law student Hannah McClarnon’s day. The second is when FBI agent Derek Chambers—her first love—reveals the truth about Hannah’s family. Though Hannah was raised by a wealthy Indianapolis couple, her birth father was with the Chicago mafia. And now, convinced she has information against them, they’re hunting her down. Derek’s first big assignment is to protect Hannah, and it’s becoming more personal every minute. He’s never revealed why he left long ago, and he still believes Hannah deserves someone better. But with the enemy in relentless pursuit, he’ll risk his life to be the man she needs—and loves—again.
“You should try to rest.”
“What about you? You need rest, too.”
“Nope. FBI agents don’t sleep. Didn’t you know?” Derek offered a smile, but even in the faint glow of the fluorescent lights, Hannah could see how weary he was.
“I keep thinking that this is just not the day I thought it was going to be. All I wanted to do was go to work, get some great experience that might lead to a permanent position after law school, then go home and read a novel. And now? Now I’ve been shot at—how many times?”
“I’m sure it’s been a little confusing for you, especially with the news I had to bring to you.”
“So this is going to be your life now, as an FBI agent? Always on the run?”
“Some parts of the job will probably be boring, but there’s also sure to be more of this.”
“More girls that need your protection?” Where did that come from? He had been hers at one point in time, but not anymore.
Dear Reader (#u04e5b02a-2072-5cba-b6ab-ff75cb1dc22d),
What a thrill it is to present this second novel to you! The idea for this story came to me the day I noticed the discrepancy in dates on my own birth certificate. Unlike Hannah, I’ve always known I was adopted. Also unlike Hannah, my birth father was not in a Mafia family, but it was an interesting scenario to plot! With the danger following Hannah as a result of her adoption, I knew she would need someone familiar by her side. Derek from Under Duress seemed the perfect choice.
The ultimate theme of the story, though, for both Hannah and Derek, is adoption into the family of God. Hannah is shocked to learn that she was adopted, and she questions her entire life. But Derek, having struggled with his faith in his own circumstances and come out victorious, is there to remind her that all believers are adopted...into the family of God. Romans 8:15 tells us that we can approach our Heavenly Father without fear but with love and confidence. What a blessed assurance!
I would be honored to hear from you. You can visit my website at www.meghancarver.com (http://www.meghancarver.com), where you can sign up for my author newsletter, or email me at MeghanCCarver@gmail.com. If you’re on Facebook, I’d like to be your friend at Facebook.com/meghancarver (https://www.facebook.com/meghan.carver.5). If you wish to write on good old-fashioned stationery, you can send it to me c/o Love Inspired Books, 195 Broadway, 24th Floor, New York, NY 10007.
Many blessings to you,
Meghan Carver
By sixth grade, MEGHAN CARVER knew she wanted to write. After a degree in English from Millikin University, she detoured to law school, completing a juris doctorate from Indiana University. She then worked in immigration law and taught college-level composition. Now she homeschools her six children with her husband. When she isn’t writing, homeschooling or planning another travel adventure, she is active in her church, sews and reads.
Deadly Disclosure
Meghan Carver
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
For you did not receive the Spirit of bondage again to fear, but you received the Spirit of adoption by whom we cry out, “Abba, Father.”
—Romans 8:15
To my parents, both adoptive and biological.
Contents
Cover (#u0634a535-9be1-54fa-92e5-79d033085e87)
Back Cover Text (#uc7aab466-2694-5318-bc60-c78bfa895ef2)
Introduction (#u6c1f8303-3e1a-5876-a1d9-1a9811758816)
Dear Reader (#u09a5d0d1-c46f-55d4-9434-111a5a726c95)
About the Author (#ue77b3705-481b-503b-b602-b6182b5d9a0c)
Title Page (#ubcc36a88-7fd9-5e0d-8544-8a2be33eb472)
Bible Verse (#u0148fb4f-2261-595f-853e-6542406e43b9)
Dedication (#u08bbc795-09e0-5306-9045-c1b73dfb11cd)
ONE (#u253a9d62-da3c-5b5c-b608-7bfd1cfa855e)
TWO (#ue2e55bf9-5a28-528e-bdcf-57143e5de613)
THREE (#ud776ba3d-8ac4-5a3e-a82f-0fc3c1c7a0a3)
FOUR (#u8bab40e3-c9da-5168-b18b-0892c25f12ae)
FIVE (#litres_trial_promo)
SIX (#litres_trial_promo)
SEVEN (#litres_trial_promo)
EIGHT (#litres_trial_promo)
NINE (#litres_trial_promo)
TEN (#litres_trial_promo)
ELEVEN (#litres_trial_promo)
TWELVE (#litres_trial_promo)
EPILOGUE (#litres_trial_promo)
Extract (#litres_trial_promo)
Copyright (#litres_trial_promo)
ONE (#u04e5b02a-2072-5cba-b6ab-ff75cb1dc22d)
Hannah McClarnon’s low heels click-clacked a rapid tempo on the cement. Her heart beat out a similar staccato as the black truck revved its engine behind her.
She stepped up her pace to get across the street to what she hoped would be the safety of the sidewalk, sneaking a peek at the driver out of her peripheral vision. Sunglasses shoved up tight on his face to block out the late afternoon sun hid any distinguishing features.
In a flash of the sunlight off of the truck’s side-view mirror, the driver hit the accelerator. The truck bore down on her at an increasing speed. Hannah’s heart seized in her chest as she clutched her tote and dashed to the sidewalk. An alley appeared a few feet down, and as she ran for safety, a crack tore the air. The brick next to her arm exploded with the bullet. A squeal escaped from somewhere deep inside of her, and she rushed into the protective enclosure of the alleyway.
Hannah leaned against the brick wall, gulping air. Was she safe or was the assailant still there? A quick glance down the alley only revealed a turn. Which way did it go? Or was it a dead end? She hadn’t worked in the little downtown area long enough to have had the opportunity to explore all the nooks and crannies yet. At least the alley was too narrow for the truck.
The clock on her phone warned her that she had less than ten minutes until her next appointment, something mysterious that her new boss, Mallory Callahan, had scheduled. She quickly dialed 911 and relayed her emergency to dispatch. But could she wait that long until help arrived? Although she couldn’t fathom why the man in the truck had shot at her, neither did she have any reason to believe that he would just drive away.
Of course, she’d been in the public eye before. She was the only daughter of shoe-manufacturing magnate Willford McClarnon. This was Heartwood Hill, though, a suburb of Indianapolis, and it was a bit unusual since her father’s business was in Lafayette. And this guy obviously hadn’t been looking at her shoes.
With trembling hands, Hannah tapped the camera icon and then hit the reverse button. The urge to peek around the corner pressed hard, but she forced it away. Grasping the end of her phone with her fingertips, she slid the camera end of the phone past the corner of the building. As soon as the screen showed a wide angle of the street, she snapped the photo and brought the phone back toward her.
She took a deep breath and examined the picture.
The truck was still there, a black monstrous thing with a star-shaped decal in the front windshield. No one else was around. There was no one on the sidewalk, and no vehicular traffic filled the street, but that was not unusual for so late in the afternoon. Office hours had ended a while ago, and the professional district had mostly emptied as everyone headed for home.
Now what?
Her destination, the three-story building where the Callahan twins had their law offices, was just around the corner, but would the alley connect? If it did, she could be there, safe in her cubical, in a few minutes. Perhaps law enforcement would arrive by that time.
The truck revved again, and perspiration slicked her palms so that she nearly dropped her phone. Apparently, the shooter thought she was an easy target and could just lie in wait for her to reappear, like a mouse emerging from its hole. Well, Hannah McClarnon was no mouse. She wouldn’t stay here and wait for another bullet.
Instead, she straightened her back against the brick wall and began inching down the alley. By the time she reached the corner, she couldn’t see the street. That should mean that the man in the truck couldn’t see her, but she couldn’t stop herself from hurrying across the chasm. She dodged a couple of trash cans and a pile of pallets. Around another corner, the alley opened up just across the two-lane street from the parking lot in front of the office building.
Returning her phone to her tote, she briefly pressed her hand to her heart before gripping the bag. With a quick glance up and down the street, she forced herself to step out from what felt like the safety of the brick enclosure. “Lord, keep me safe,” she prayed, as she puffed hair off her forehead. Her whispering voice sounded loud as it whooshed in her ears.
As she was about to step up onto the curb on the opposite side of the street, the squeal of tires on asphalt startled her. She pumped her legs into a jog, gripping the handles of her handbag so tightly her fingers went white. Suddenly, the professional image she had tried so hard to exude in her first real job didn’t matter. Dread crept up her spine at a breakneck pace. A glance to her right revealed it was the same truck again. He had found her. The man in the truck with the star-shaped decal.
Hannah felt her stomach lurch, bile rising in her throat.
The roar of his engine warned her that he was approaching again. He had to be only a few yards behind her. She quickened her pace and inhaled deeply for a quick shot of energy. It was doubtful that anyone from the office building would see her and come to her rescue. Most likely, at this late hour, only the Callahans were left, and only one of their windows, the one at the end of a hallway, faced the parking lot.
Where were those sirens she had summoned with her emergency call?
Perhaps she had an advantage, being on foot. A landscaped flower bed with evenly spaced brick posts ran between the street and the parking lot. The turn-in for vehicles was around the corner. Ignoring the dampness of the grass and mulch on her new pumps and stocking feet, she hopped between a couple of bushes and onto the asphalt parking lot.
All she could think to do was keep walking. Quickly. She kept herself as concealed by the decorative brick posts as possible.
Her phone trilled from the front pocket of her bag. The sudden noise reverberated through her, and in her half-panicked state of mind, she sped up her stride. She let the phone ring, and it sounded like a gong counting out her final steps.
Hannah glanced at the truck, still approaching. Was he trying to get closer for a clean shot? It seemed as if those posts were successfully blocking her. The ringing stopped, the sudden silence urging her on.
The truck roared around the corner to the entrance to the parking lot, gone from her sight, albeit only temporarily. Perhaps she could get inside before he pulled into the lot.
She murmured another prayer—Lord, get me inside safely—and clutched her tote. Her lunch break had been much later than usual, more of an early supper, and shadows were just beginning to gather as the sun sank lower in the sky. The trees that stood in stately rows in front of the building seemed to snake out clutching arms, and she shook her head to clear the wanderings of her imagination.
Woman, pull yourself together. This is no way for a future Juris Doctor to behave. One more year until graduation, and then she hoped, she prayed, that she had a bright future ahead.
Only a couple of other vehicles sat in the lot, and they were empty.
She glanced up at the granite that shone pink in the evening sun. The artificial light from the offices of the upper floor spilled out to the side of the building and battled with the sunshine, an eerie illumination that skittered a chill up her arms. Safety was up there, just a few steps away. She tightened the belt on her black cardigan and tried to square her shoulders as she rushed toward the door. The black truck careened around the corner and paused at the entrance of the parking lot, as if the driver was assessing the situation and possible risks. Then it turned into the lot.
Alarm shook Hannah, goose bumps popping out on her forearms. Still looking back at the truck, she lengthened her strides toward the door, clutching her bag as a shield. If she made it to safety, she might laugh later about the absurdity of a little bit of canvas and a coin purse protecting her from the weapon that the menace in the truck wielded against her.
She approached the front of the building at a half run, sensing as much as hearing the passenger-side window of the truck power down. Her hand on the door handle, her eyes closed to whatever danger might be coming, she heard the door open and a firm hand gripped her bicep. A scream stuck in her throat as a shot fired. The hand pulled her inside and down to the floor as bits of granite rained on the walk in front of the door. She landed on her knees on the cool marble floor.
“Over there.” A husky male voice commanded her to crawl in the direction he pointed, to the side away from the door. He stood in front of her, shielding her with his body.
She clutched her bag, gulping air, willing her breathing to slow to a normal rate. Was she safe now?
“Are you okay?” Her rescuer turned toward her.
Hannah was met with rich, dark chocolate eyes, an intense gaze that summoned a wave of recognition and an attraction she had thought was long dead. “Derek?”
* * *
He watched the truck turn in a circle, surveying the area, then angle toward the door. The driver-side window lowered. Derek Chambers kept his SIG Sauer down but ready.
In his peripheral vision, he saw Hannah rotate and begin to stand. He held a hand out to stop her. “Yes, it’s me. Stay down for now. Against the wall.”
She complied. “Who’s out there?”
“We’ll get to that in a minute. I’m your six-o’clock appointment, but let me resolve this situation first.” He’d been sent with some specific information to give her, but now was not the time for that conversation. Not with a shooter outside. The faint wail of sirens drifted in the door. “Did you call 911 already?”
The truck engine revved, and Derek stole a glance her way to see Hannah pull her purse close as she struggled to maintain a neutral expression. “Yes. Several minutes ago. Now who is that guy?”
An excellent question, but first... “Are you all right? The bullet struck the side of the building, but I think I got you inside before the granite shattered. What about your hands and knees?” He let his gaze sweep the street and the parking lot. The guy in the truck had certainly chosen the right time to make his move. The professional district of little Heartwood Hill was deserted at this hour.
Derek heard Hannah rub her hands together. “I’m a little sore, but I’ll be okay thanks to you.” A second glance revealed she was stretching her shoulders. “This isn’t the first time he’s shot at me. He blew a big chunk of brick off a building a block or so over. I think my bigger problem is that man in the truck.”
“Yes. I heard the shot and was on my way to help you.” He could have gone straight up to the offices when he arrived for the appointment, but he hadn’t wanted their first encounter after so many years to be in the presence of her employer. Waiting for her in the lobby had seemed like the best plan.
A gun barrel appeared in the window of the truck. Derek’s senses rushed to full alert. He raised his weapon and aimed at the driver-side door as he maneuvered behind the granite exterior wall of the office building as much as the structure and his bulk would allow.
Before he could decide whether to shoot out a tire, the wall exploded next to Derek. The shot missed him and Hannah, who was well-covered, but a second pockmark now marred the building. A couple of cars sped past on the main road, and the truck peeled out of the parking lot, raising the window as it went.
That last one was a warning shot, especially with the sirens rapidly approaching, and Derek got the message loud and clear. The shooter would be back. That was fine with Derek. He would still be protecting Hannah, whether she welcomed it or not.
He holstered his SIG and inhaled deeply, willing his heart to stop racing. But the fervent beat of his pulse only briefly slowed, because then he turned and helped the beautiful woman he’d just rescued to her feet. He put his hands on her upper arms and held her, a warm, comfortable feeling that summoned up pleasant memories of the past that trickled through him...for a nanosecond. A look of surprise and dismay flitted across her face like spring storm clouds and acted as a splash of cold rain on him. He had a job to do, and he was determined to do it well. The FBI would not be disappointed in him, a new academy graduate. Derek pushed her away, out of sight of the door and nearby window, reminding himself that it was also best to push her out of his mind. There was one task to do here, and it didn’t involve dredging up old feelings from the past. Judging by the arch of her eyebrows and the pinch of her mouth as she studied him, he wouldn’t have any problem keeping himself detached.
But the tiny lines around her pretty brown eyes softened as she considered him. She had matured into a lovely, self-confident woman, and there didn’t seem to be any remnant of the awkwardness of her teen years. Her petite frame stood a few inches shorter than him, and her soft brown hair fell over her trembling shoulders as she looked up at him. “What do you mean you got here just in time? Does this have something to do with my appointment?”
As the adrenaline of the rescue subsided, a subtle scent of flowers began to tickle his nose, probably from Hannah. He retrieved his badge and showed it to her. “I’m with the FBI now. I’ve been sent with some information that directly affects you.” He averted his gaze. If only he had a script, then he might sound suave and confident. Desperation welled up as he struggled for words to comfort the stricken woman standing before him. The sirens screamed down the street and advanced to the parking lot, saving him from further discussion, at least for the time being. “I need to talk to the police first, but then let’s talk privately. That’s why I made the appointment.”
“Sure. Upstairs. My cubical.”
The elevator dinged its arrival, and Reid Palmer, Derek’s friend from their prior days together on the Heartwood Hill police force emerged. He hurried to Derek and shook his hand, nodding briefly to Hannah. “Everyone okay? I heard the shots from upstairs.”
“Yeah.” He nodded toward the parking lot, where a couple of cruisers, lights flashing, had pulled in. “Help has arrived.”
Reid stepped forward to the officers, but Derek turned back to Hannah. “You’ll have to talk to the officers and tell them what happened. Are you all right? Can you do that?”
She nodded, a look of trepidation spreading across her face. “Will you stay with me?” Her hands still shook as she brushed a lock of hair off her forehead. Being shot at was not terribly new to Derek, but it must have been terrifying for her.
“I’m not going anywhere.” Derek suppressed a sigh as the adrenaline faded from his system. He longed to gulp deep breaths of oxygen to refuel, but he wanted to appear calm and steady for Hannah’s sake. He forced a grin and lightly touched the back of her arm to turn her toward the officers. “Let’s get this done.”
A half hour later, the officers were clued into everything that had just transpired and had a copy of the photo Hannah had snapped of the truck. Now, the hardest part of his assignment had arrived. “Time to talk?” he asked her.
She checked her wristwatch and shuffled her purse again with trembling hands. “Sure.” Hesitating all of a sudden, she peered around Derek and out the front door. “He’s gone for certain now, though, isn’t he?”
“With all this law enforcement? Definitely.” At least, he should be if he was as clever a villain as the FBI suspected.
She turned toward the bank of elevators and nodded for him to follow, her steps short as if she didn’t want to get too far away from his protection.
Derek caught up in a couple of long strides and resisted the urge to cup her elbow. “So you’re more than halfway through law school and now have a summer internship? Your parents must be proud.” His head pounded at the memory of her father, Mr. Willford McClarnon, shoe-manufacturing mogul and commander in chief of the McClarnon family.
She tossed a quizzical glance his way as they entered the elevator. He pushed the button for the third floor. “You never met them, did you? Father has a business reputation to uphold, and Mother has endless garden club meetings. There’s no place for a daughter to be a lawyer in their world. If Michael had attended law school, it would have been perfect. He would be the perfect son. But the lines are clearly drawn between what’s appropriate for a girl and what’s appropriate for a boy. Lines that haven’t changed since the 1950s.” She inhaled a deep but ragged breath and shook her head slightly as if she’d said too much. “No. They’re not proud. They didn’t want me to go to law school.”
Derek gripped the handrail. He wasn’t surprised. Rather, a powerful wave of sympathy rocked through him. “Your father ought to embrace your ambition and bring you on as a corporate lawyer. Surely with a company that large he has need of many lawyers.”
“He hires all he needs.” The elevator doors opened, and after a quick scan of the elevator well, Derek let Hannah step out first. “The society my parents circulate in is very old-fashioned. Women are expected to volunteer and have hair appointments and gossip over chicken-salad sandwiches for lunch at the country club. Women don’t work, let alone in a profession where men wear the suits.”
Pausing outside the law offices, he flashed her a wry grin. “So you’re the family rebel.” He’d known she had some independent tendencies given their history together, but he hadn’t figured it would go this far, to buck her parents’ expectations.
“My father is part of an old-boys network that works for his business. He’s not enough of a rebel to start a new trend. Everyone has to make their choices. This seems to be God’s will for me, and I choose His ways.”
At least she had parents who cared about her. Derek pulled the door open for her and watched her heels make footprints in the carpet as she strode into the reception area. She hadn’t been forced to finish her teen years with an aunt and uncle who thought she was an imposition.
God’s will. Had that been God’s will for him, his parents’ deaths when he was just a young teen? What a struggle of faith that had brought about over the years. And yet, here, right in front of him, was the reason he knew God had blessed him. The very woman who had helped his faith grow into something bigger and better. Despite his struggles, he knew the blessings had been plentiful, first with a position at the Heartwood Hill Police Department, then with a good friend like Reid Palmer, and now with a new position with the FBI with plenty of hope and possibility.
But first, he needed to get through this first assignment with his former love at his side. Those old feelings of inadequacy surfaced from wherever he had squashed them years ago and threatened to choke him. He tamped them down with a hard swallow and followed Hannah into the office. Despite all the time he had spent preparing for this moment, he still had no idea how to break the news. News that, most likely, would rip her world apart.
TWO (#u04e5b02a-2072-5cba-b6ab-ff75cb1dc22d)
Could there be any further surprises today?
Hannah shook out her ruffled turquoise skirt and tugged at the hem of her black cardigan with trembling hands as she turned down the hallway and headed toward her desk. A nervous perspiration stuck to her like humidity on a muggy August day, but there was nothing she could do about it.
Maybe she should apply for a gun permit. Her brother had one, and her father certainly kept firearms in his safe room at their home. But a McClarnon woman with a little pink pistol in her purse? Then again, after heading off to law school, would a concealed-carry permit really be that shocking to her father?
Hannah drew in a shuddery breath, still trying to process the fact that she’d almost been killed today. If it wasn’t for Derek Chambers, of all people, who’d jumped into the fray on her behalf, who knew what might have happened. It was a blessing that he’d made an appointment to see her, though she still had no clue why. She never thought she’d see him again, especially considering the way he’d ditched her almost ten years ago.
She sighed, desperately wishing she could dash out for a few minutes alone and collect her thoughts, but the expectation to appear professional and get through whatever it was he needed to tell her weighed on her.
Before she could reach her desk, Mallory stepped out of her office and enveloped her in a warm hug. “Reid told me to stay here but I was desperate to come down and see if you were okay. Are you all right?”
“I’m fine. A little shaky, but unharmed.”
“What a relief! No ambulance arrived, so I figured no one was hurt, but I still couldn’t help worrying.” She glanced behind Hannah.
Hannah turned to include Derek in the conversation. “This is Derek Chambers, FBI. Derek, this is my employer, Mallory Callahan. Apparently, he’s our six-o’clock appointment?”
“Yes. The timing of your appointment seems to have been rather fortuitous. I’m glad you were there for her, Derek. Thank you.” Mallory motioned to her office. “Shall we get started?”
“I think I ought to talk to Hannah first, and then we’ll proceed from there.”
“Fine. Take all the time you need.” A quizzical look crossed her boss’s face, but then she smiled warmly and returned to her office.
Hannah continued to lead Derek down the hall. She spotted his reflection in the glass of a framed print on the wall, and couldn’t help noticing how fine he looked in his khaki cargo pants and his navy button-front shirt, which hid his shoulder holster. He wasn’t a thin and gangly teen boy anymore, but a well-muscled and self-possessed man. Still, though, his law-enforcement position wouldn’t fit with her parents’ high-society world, no matter how much strength and self-command he exuded. They appreciated and supported the work of men in uniform, but guys like him weren’t exactly a part of the high-powered board meetings and fancy dinner-party circuit.
The muscles around her smile spasmed as she pointed Derek toward the chair next to her desk. “Have a seat. Will this take long? I have a few things I’d like to get done before I go home tonight.” And it probably wasn’t best if he stuck around any longer than absolutely necessary anyway. Even with another disappearing act, it would be difficult to tuck the memory of Derek Chambers into the recesses of her mind now.
Without an answer, he graced her with another subtle grin, the dimples in the corners of his mouth slanting into pleasant lines, like he was remembering a good joke or a fond occurrence.
Hannah sighed. What had happened to her day that she had so carefully planned out? Could her heart take much more?
He seemed at a loss for words as he pressed his lips together and looked everywhere but at her. This couldn’t be good, although she couldn’t fathom what this could be about. Sure, she had her difficulties, but nothing that would warrant the appearance of an FBI agent. “So, you said you’re with the Bureau? Is that why you’re here?”
“Yes.” He cleared his throat and met her gaze. “I actually just graduated from the academy, and have been given my first assignment.”
“And what is this first assignment?”
“You. My supervisor thought it best to send an agent you already know and, I hope, trust. I know it’s been a long time since we’ve seen each other, Hannah, and I realize what I’m about to tell you is going to come as a huge shock. But I need you to believe me and trust me.”
She crossed her arms over her middle and waited for him to continue.
“The FBI’s organized crime division has an agent on the inside of a crime family out of Chicago, and he discovered that a long time ago, one of their family captains had a baby with his girlfriend. When that little daughter was about a year old, the girlfriend and the baby went missing. Agents found her car. It had gone over a precipice and crashed in the field below. There was blood and hair in the car, but no bodies. She and the daughter had just disappeared, and local law enforcement ran out of leads. Case closed, or so they thought.”
“How terrible.” A million sympathetic thoughts and questions raced through Hannah’s mind, all left unspoken as Derek continued the narrative.
“Apparently, this captain had his suspicions about his family and this mysterious car crash. I don’t know what he knew or suspected, but our guy on the inside just recently got intel that he has been looking for them. Now, we have information that he has found the mother.”
“She’s alive? Is she all right?” What this had to do with her, Hannah had no idea. But it was an interesting story. She uncrossed her arms and leaned on the desk, anxious to hear the rest of the tale.
“She’s alive, and we have agents looking for her. Through the mother, we believe, that captain has also found the daughter. As you can imagine, we’re not anticipating a happy family reunion. Both of them are in danger.” Derek leaned forward in his chair, an intensity lighting his brown eyes, and enveloped her small hands in his. “Hannah, you are the daughter.”
“I’m what?” Her heart seemed to stop for a moment as she scrambled to process what this would mean. The huge upset it would cause to her world. But it couldn’t possibly be true. She was a McClarnon. Wasn’t she? She shook her head slowly, keeping her eyes closed to lessen the dizziness that threatened her, and pulled her hands away. “That can’t be right. You’re thinking of someone else.”
“No. You are the daughter.” He spoke slowly as if giving her time to breathe in between each word. “You’re adopted.”
“And how do you think you know this? I haven’t seen you since high school, and now you show up out of the blue to tell me that I’m not the daughter of my parents? How dare you!” She moved to pound a fist on her desk, but Derek grabbed her hand.
“I’m sorry, Hannah.” He held her hands in both of his once again as he recounted all the pertinent details of this child’s birth—the place, the date, the time.
With each statement, Hannah wanted to tell Derek it wasn’t possible, that the little girl couldn’t have possibly been her. But her throat had choked each time, like trying to swallow a pill that was too big for her. “So, Mother and Father are...” If all this was true, what were they?
“They’re still your mother and father. Your relationship with them hasn’t changed and doesn’t need to change. But now you know they are your adoptive parents. Your mother didn’t give birth to you.” He looked around the cubical as if trying to give her a little space. “So you had no idea you were adopted?”
“No, assuming that what you’re telling me is even true, which I doubt. They’ve just always been my parents. Why would I think anything else?” She paused as his words sank into her consciousness. Her mind could barely absorb it all. Didn’t want to absorb it all. “You said the mother and daughter were in danger. So, that’s why that guy shot at me? He knew who I was even before you told me what you know? I thought I knew who I was, but now I’m not so sure.”
“You are still the same person, Hannah. But yes, he was here for you. That’s why I’m here. To protect you. I just didn’t think they’d find you so fast.”
“So, was that the man who you say is my birth father? Do you think he’ll be back?” She fluttered her hands to her neck, but it didn’t soothe her like she had hoped.
“No, most likely it was not your birth father. He may be in the area nearby, but he would have sent one of his men. And yes, that man will be back.”
“What else do you know? I need to know everything.”
“There’s not much more, I’m afraid. We’ve never had enough evidence to arrest him, so our knowledge is limited. I’ve just been brought on the case recently because of my—” he cleared his throat “—friendship with you. My supervising agent believes that your birth father thinks you may know something or have something that would incriminate him. For that reason alone, he would be willing to eliminate you.”
Hannah’s stomach flip-flopped at the word eliminate. “As we have already established, I didn’t even know I was adopted. That is, if it’s even true. How could I possibly incriminate him? I have several favorite things from when I was a child, but they all came from my parents.” She took a mental inventory of her old belongings. Her father had encouraged her to clean out some things from her childhood, but she couldn’t bear to part with them. Sentimental, he’d called her. A pack rat. But she hadn’t seen the harm in keeping a few boxes of mementos in the back of the closet. “I honestly can’t think of anything.”
“Perhaps there’s nothing, but my mission right now is to keep you safe.”
“So far, you’ve done a fine job.” Hannah forced a smile. She might not trust Derek any longer with her heart, but she would trust him with her life. “I think I better talk to Mallory and fill her in.”
“I’ll wait outside the door if you’d like some privacy.”
She stood and Derek followed suit. “For now, yes, I’d appreciate that.”
As she made her way toward Mallory’s office, Hannah shot a glance back at Derek and mouthed thank you, then whispered a prayer for calmness and wisdom as she knocked on her boss’s door. Surely, she was safe here in the building. The shooter had left. But it was still a comfort to know that the broad-shouldered, strapping FBI agent would be nearby with his trusty weapon at the ready. Just in case.
At Mallory’s call to come in, Hannah opened the door and stepped inside. Her boss sat behind her desk and pointed Hannah toward a floral upholstered chair. She clutched her skirt in her fists and teetered on the edge of the chair. “Do you have a few minutes?” She licked her dry lips.
“Of course.” Mallory came around the desk and sat in the other client chair, waiting for Hannah to continue.
Hannah pushed herself back into the upholstery. She wasn’t really sure what she was asking for, if anything. After all, she’d only been working there a few weeks, and now she was apparently causing a threatening situation to the office. Mallory didn’t seem upset about it, but could this cost her the summer job? Who would want an intern who brought danger to the premises?
After law school, it would be back to her parents’ mansion and the life of a spinster, pro bono attorney. At least she could practice law, after a fashion. She and her father had reached a truce, and she was determined to keep her end of it for the sake of her family. But for now, this was her freedom. “I’m not quite sure how to approach this, but you need to know. Derek is here to protect me. It seems the FBI is investigating a crime family with which they think I have some connection.”
Mallory’s eyebrows lifted slightly, but otherwise she maintained a neutral lawyer’s expression.
Hannah clutched her skirt more tightly. “It turns out that I’m adopted. At least, that’s what they say. Derek says my birth father is with the Mafia, and he’s looking for me.” She let out a long breath, which she’d been holding, seemingly since Derek had broken the news.
“Wow. That’s some big news.” Mallory leaned forward and laid a hand on Hannah’s forearm. “Why does the FBI believe you’re adopted?”
“Details of my birth. Adoption records. Derek’s just recently become involved.” She raced through a dozen different memories from her childhood, but no clue emerged about her adoption. “I have my birth certificate, and Father and Mother are listed as my parents, but I can’t say I’ve ever read it thoroughly.”
“Your birth certificate wouldn’t show that you were adopted, except for the discrepancy in the dates. Your parents would have a court-issued decree that finalized the adoption.”
Hannah furrowed her brow. “What do you mean by a discrepancy in the dates?”
“The firm has copies of your birth certificate and your driver’s license in your personnel folder from when you began employment here. I can pull it up if you’d like.” Mallory returned to her desk and her computer. Soon, a printer on her credenza was spitting out a copy of Hannah’s birth certificate, which her boss handed over.
Hannah stared at the dates but had no idea what she was looking for. Her heart thumped, but she didn’t move so she wouldn’t betray her anxiety. “What should I see here?”
Mallory leaned over the desk. “Your birth certificate has definitely been amended. See? Here is your birth date.” She moved her finger down the paper. “And here is the issue date. It’s over a year later. There’s no reason for it to be any more than a month or two after the fact unless the time was needed to finalize an adoption.”
The pounding of Hannah’s heart moved to her head until the edge of the room turned fuzzy. “So, it could be true. My birth certificate proves it.” Tacky sweat inched through her blouse and the fuzziness stood at the edge of her vision, threatening to consume her.
“Whatever is going on, it’ll be fine. Trust in the Lord to reveal whatever you need to know when you need to know it. And from the looks of it you have a valiant protector in Derek.” Mallory’s lowered tone fought through the haze. “It doesn’t change who your parents are or who you are.”
Hannah gulped in breaths that didn’t seem to reach her lungs. The fuzziness marched in on her like a swarm of grasshoppers. Through the haze, she saw Mallory come back around the desk and sit in the other client chair. Her warm hand covered Hannah’s, her smooth, reassuring touch a rhythmic call back to the present.
“I need to talk to my mother.” She forced a strong tone, one she didn’t feel but desperately needed to push away the dark cloud that threatened to envelop her. “And my father.” Oh, her father. What would he have to say about this?
“Yes. Talk to them. And at some point, you may want to search for your birth mother.” Compassion flooded Mallory’s voice, and Hannah appreciated her delicacy. “But I want to warn you. If you do search, you may not be happy with what you find. Or you may not find anything at all. We don’t know how much the FBI knows about her past, her circumstances or even her location.”
The surrealistic nature of those options settled on her shoulders like a heavy cloak, and Hannah couldn’t force out an answer.
Mallory patted her hand. “Talking to your parents is a good place to start. But whatever news they may have, if any at all—” she paused for emphasis “—try to stay calm. Now, I will help you in any way I can if this turns out to be true. I’m willing to talk anytime, and now you have my personal phone number.” She scribbled on the back of a business card and pressed it into Hannah’s hand. “Go now, if you feel you need to, and the job is here whenever. A lot has happened, so take whatever time you need.”
After flashing her boss a grateful look, Hannah focused on the seven digits on the card until she could stand steady. “What a day.” Her stomach flip-flopped. Her parents had some explaining to do. She knew what her next move was—to get some answers and, hopefully, to stay safe.
* * *
“Are you two all right?”
Derek accepted the firm handshake of his old pal Reid Palmer. “We’re fine. Thanks for your help down there.”
“No problem. You’ve got a lot going on.”
“Yes, but not as much as Hannah. She just found out she’s adopted, her birth father is a Mafia boss and I’m the one who had to tell her.” He crossed his arms over his chest and touched his fingers to the thumb break on his shoulder holster. “Hannah’s really shaken up, understandably so. But she’s resilient. Tougher than she used to be. She’s going to need to be, with the danger she’s in.”
From his vantage point down the hallway, Derek saw the door to Mallory’s office swing open. But no one emerged.
He hadn’t let down his guard since the attack less than an hour ago, despite the fact that he saw the shooter speed away. But surely they were safe up here. There were only two doors to the suite of offices. The back door was locked, and Derek and Reid stood within view of the front door. No one had come or gone.
He moved to the window at the end of the hallway that overlooked the parking lot. The truck had not returned. But the office only faced out one side of the building, so he had no way to check all entrances and side streets. Wherever Hannah thought she was going next, Derek would not leave her side.
Voices filtered down the hallway, but he couldn’t make out any words. He nodded toward the open door. “What do you make of that?”
Reid shrugged. “They’re almost done.” Apparently, his friend wasn’t on alert, despite his own little difficulty a year or so ago with his wife, Samantha. At the time she had been on the run from a thug who had tried to kidnap her adopted daughter, Lily, and had crashed into Reid’s car. The end result was a harrowing two days and eventually their wedding. “Congrats on your graduation from the FBI academy, by the way. You were one of the best officers on the Heartwood Hill PD to work with, but sometimes we move on to other things. This your first assignment?”
“Yes. Quite a start, don’t you think?”
Reid raised his eyebrows. “Is there a history here? With Hannah?”
“Yes.” Derek jammed his hands in his pockets. “That’s why I’m here. My supervising agent thought it best if the FBI sent someone Hannah knows. What they don’t know are the details of our past.”
“And?”
“We dated secretly in high school our senior year. Her family is super wealthy and upper class. My aunt and uncle were most definitely not upper class. We knew her parents would never approve, so we kept it a secret. Nearly every Friday night, we would go to the library to study. She just didn’t tell her parents that she was with me. We would drive in to the Indianapolis library, where no one knew us except the librarians, and they didn’t care.” Images of a seventeen-year-old Hannah contrasted in his thoughts with the Hannah he had rescued today. She had only grown more beautiful. More compelling.
“Let me guess.” A frown creased Reid’s brow. “Someone found out.”
Derek nodded. “Her father.” He shrugged, but tension made it difficult to relax his shoulders again. “I don’t know how. I just know that one day we were planning on attending college together, and the next, I was summoned to the McClarnons’. Her father told me clearly that I was to leave her alone. What else could I do? Mr. McClarnon was—is—a powerful man. I didn’t want to get on his wrong side. I knew I wasn’t good enough for her anyway. We had been naive to think that a relationship could work.”
“So you didn’t see her again?”
“I saw her at graduation a couple of days later. I never got close enough to talk to her. That was it. She went away to college. Her parents moved from Heartwood Hill to Lafayette, an hour away. The end.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes.” She wasn’t his Hannah any longer. Never would be.
“Does she know her father forbade you from seeing her?”
That was the toughest part. “No.” Mr. McClarnon had also strongly suggested that Derek not tell Hannah anything of their meeting. As far as she knew, he had just abandoned the relationship.
Derek prayed for the strength and tenacity to complete this first assignment for the FBI. He was over her, right? The fact that there had been no one else in the intervening years simply attested to his devotion to his job. But he couldn’t help wondering if his superior had known the specifics of their romantic past, would he have assigned someone else?
It didn’t matter now. He was here, standing in the hallway waiting for the beautiful and sweet Hannah McClarnon to emerge from a meeting with her employer. This mission had no close alignment with his heart. It was just the first in what would hopefully be a long line of successful missions in his future.
Reid shifted to lean against a doorjamb, pulling Derek’s focus from his inner thoughts, and nodded toward the office where Hannah was. “So what about her birth family?”
“I don’t know a lot.” He jammed his fists in his pockets as if that could release some of his pent-up frustration. “The short version is that we have an informant on the inside of a crime family operating out of Chicago. One of their so-called captains has been looking for a former girlfriend and their daughter that disappeared over twenty years ago. Now, he’s found the girlfriend. We believe that the girlfriend was forced to give up information about the daughter. That daughter is Hannah.”
“And the birth mother?”
“I don’t know. That’s not part of my mission, but I do know the FBI hasn’t located her yet.”
“I don’t know how much help I could be, but if there’s anything, don’t hesitate.” Reid clapped him on the shoulder. “Even though we’re not on the force together any longer, we’re a part of a brotherhood. And after the way you saved my bacon last year, you know I’ll do whatever I can to help you out.”
“Thanks.” Derek appreciated the vote of confidence. He nodded toward the voices coming from the office. “You have any read on her?”
“Hannah? She hasn’t been here long. Just started a few weeks ago, and she works primarily with Mallory. But I’ve heard both Mallory and Samantha say that she’s smart and reliable, both excellent qualities for a future lawyer.”
“Yes, she was the same in high school.”
Hannah stepped out of the office, followed by Mallory. Hannah’s stunning beauty made Derek’s mouth feel like sandpaper, and he swallowed hurriedly to cover the effect she had on him. He couldn’t let that get in the way of his mission. Get it done and move on. That was his mantra.
But he couldn’t look away. She still seemed stricken. Upset. Whatever had been said in that meeting didn’t appear to have lessened the sting of receiving life-altering news that had rocked her to the core. He wanted to go to her, fold her in his arms, stroke her silky hair and whisper to her that all would be well. But not only did he not know if that was true, especially considering what she had just learned that afternoon, but it also wouldn’t do either of their hearts any good to follow the inclinations that would undoubtedly only lead to more crushing despair.
He clenched his fists in his pockets, working valiantly to shift his gaze to the floor, to the window, to anywhere but at her. Reid’s lowered voice sounded near his ear. “She does have a certain quiet beauty, but that’s all I’ll say. I’m a happily married man, late for supper with my wife and daughter.”
Derek shook his hand and watched his buddy leave through the back door. He stared at the closed door for a few moments, forcing his thoughts back to the assignment. It was time to move on.
Hannah thanked Mallory and then motioned Derek into the tiny break room. “Would you like a cup of coffee? I can’t imagine I need the caffeine after the news you just dropped on me. But maybe holding the warm mug would help?” She turned to grab the canister of coffee and kept her back turned slightly to Derek, but he could still see that she fumbled for a paper towel from the roll on the counter and then dabbed her eyes.
He cleared his throat gently. “Sure, coffee sounds good. Why don’t you sit down and I’ll get it?”
She sniffled and pushed the paper towel in her pocket before she turned to him. A tentative smile flickered on her lips. “If you don’t mind, I’d appreciate it.”
“Of course.”
From what he had seen out of the hallway window, it seemed that there was no sign of the truck or even any vehicle that seemed suspicious. The red-and-blue flashing lights of law enforcement were still visible in the parking lot below. Derek relaxed a bit but kept his attention trained on the door. Hannah could have a little bit more time to process this new information, but at some point, they would have to move on.
As her sniffling subsided behind him, he started the coffeemaker and retrieved a couple of mugs from the cabinet. A few minutes later, he settled into the chair across from her and poured a touch of creamer in his mug.
Hannah added sugar and creamer, then sipped gingerly from the cup. She had regained some composure, perhaps from holding her polka-dotted mug as if it was a life preserver, appearing as if some of the upset was being replaced with something else. Frustration, maybe?
“How was your meeting with Mallory?” Derek leaned forward on the table. It wouldn’t be difficult to create a sense of intimacy in such a tiny space, an intimacy that he hoped would make Hannah more comfortable. “I know we haven’t seen each other in a few years, but you can still talk to me.”
She sipped again. “You always were a good listener. I liked that about you.” A tentative smile wobbled across her face.
“I liked listening to you.”
“Mallory confirmed that I was probably adopted, like you said. It’s just so hard to believe, so she pulled my birth certificate from my personnel file. She pointed out that the date of my birth and the issue date of the certificate were a year apart, a discrepancy that only happens when a birth certificate is amended by an adoption finalization.” A tear leaked down her cheek, and she retrieved the paper towel from her pocket to dab it away.
He blew out a breath he hadn’t realized he had been holding. “Okay.”
“I’m in my twenties, and my parents never told me? And what about Michael, my brother? Is he adopted?”
Derek just shrugged. It was probably best he not say anything but give her time and space to talk.
“You know Michael. You two hung out in high school.” Hannah paused, her face screwed up in an expression of contemplation. “He so obviously looks like Father that I doubt he’s adopted as well. But did he know all these years that I was adopted?”
“Does it matter?” He turned his mug around, studying all the sides. “It sounds like you don’t know for sure, so let’s not jump to any conclusions.”
“You’re right. I don’t know.” She flipped her dark hair behind her shoulder and stood. “I need to go talk to my parents. Immediately. They need to tell me the truth.”
“Now?” He mentally ran through a few scenarios. Going to Hannah’s parents’ house was actually a good idea. Houses like the McClarnon mansion always had top-of-the-line security in place, as well as a household staff. And he was definitely in favor of vacating the last place the shooter had seen them both—right here, outside this law office in downtown Heartwood Hill.
“Yes. Now. It’s Monday evening, so they’ll be at home.” She checked her watch. “Right about now, Mother will be supervising the washing of the supper dishes before the maid goes home, and Father will be reading a classic novel, something like Dickens or Hugo or Tolstoy. He meticulously sets aside a half hour each night to read and refuses to be interrupted. Lafayette is less than an hour away, so I can make it before it gets too late.” She had one foot pointed toward the door. “I’ll just grab my bag.”
“Are they really that predictable?”
“For years now. They have a schedule, and they stick to it.” Hannah lowered her voice to a man’s husky pitch. “‘That’s how you get ahead.’ That’s what my father always says.”
He couldn’t let her go by herself, not with that attack earlier. His assignment was to protect her at all costs and that’s exactly what he’d be doing. “I’ll drive you. That doesn’t sound like a conversation you should have alone.” At her startled look, he continued. “I won’t say anything, but at least you’ll have someone by your side and a listening ear when all is done. And I can keep you safe as we travel. Just in case.”
Her expression softened, the fine lines around her eyes crinkling with appreciation. “I guess you are my law-enforcement hero. Between the shooter and then the information about being adopted, I’m a little shaken.” She held up her small, delicate hands. “Okay, a lot shaken. Overwhelmed, really. I could use the company.”
Hannah retrieved her purse, and they rode the elevator down to the first floor. With the parking lot clear of present danger, Derek ushered Hannah back to his Ford Escape.
This was a turn of events he had anticipated, but that didn’t ease the nervous wrenching in his gut now that the moment had arrived. He was to come face-to-face with Hannah’s father again, after the first, and only time, they had ever spoken. Without a doubt, he still wasn’t good enough for their polite society, despite the badge and title he now proudly carried.
Lord, give me strength and wisdom with the McClarnons.
He never thought he would see them again, and now he was bringing their daughter back with a potentially deadly situation in tow.
THREE (#u04e5b02a-2072-5cba-b6ab-ff75cb1dc22d)
As they sped down Interstate 65 toward her parents’ home, Hannah prayed for strength and wisdom and comfort. Being a victim of violence was unheard of in her circles. Her father kept weapons in the house, but she’d never really been around them. And learning that she was adopted had upset her more than she wanted to admit. She loved her parents more than anyone on the face of the planet and wanted to please them, but now that she knew she was adopted, then what? Who was she? And who were her parents?
She tugged her purse off the floor of Derek’s SUV and dug around for the mints she always carried. The corner of a package scraped her hand. She grasped it and pulled out the box that had arrived in her mailbox earlier that day. Without time then, she had grabbed the package from the mail on her way to the interview and stashed it in her bag to open later. Centered on her lap, she studied the computer-generated return-address label that said it was from “Dad.” That was a little odd since he had always been “Father.” Hannah couldn’t recall a time she had ever called him by that casual moniker.
She placed her bag back on the floor and wiggled a finger under the corner of the wrapping. Maybe this was some kind of affirmation from him, some acceptance of her desire for a career in law. It was doubtful, but a girl could hope.
Derek ceased his scanning of the road around them long enough to glance at the package. His eyebrows lifted into question marks, but he remained silent. Hannah appreciated that he wouldn’t pry, but there was no harm in telling him. He had never met her father, and her father knew nothing of their secret romance in high school, so perhaps it would help him if he knew a bit of the man going in.
“I received this today from my father, and this is the first chance I’ve had to open it.” She tore away the paper and revealed a small box with a hinged lid. Inside, nestled in the white fabric lining, sat a wristwatch with a black leather strap and a brass case. The face was creamy white with the scales of justice engraved on it. “It’s beautiful.”
She held it out to Derek, and he glanced at it. “Nice. That was thoughtful of him.”
Hannah pulled it back and studied it. “Maybe he’s finally beginning to see that this is God’s path for me. Law school.”
“They don’t approve? Are you there against their will?”
Good question. Was she going against their will? She and her father had had their disagreement about school, but he had acquiesced. Of course, a job after graduation was another hurdle to jump. “I don’t think I’d say I’m defying them... I wouldn’t risk that. But they expect me to marry someone within their circles and then live a life of charity events and country-club dances and garden-club meetings. What they refuse to see is that I don’t want a life like that for myself. I would be so bored. So unfulfilled. I want to do more.”
“Do you doubt their faith?” he asked.
“No. I doubt their acknowledgment that I’m a grown-up with faith of my own, and that I’m also able to discern God’s will, especially for my life.”
“Well said, counselor.” He tossed a smile in her direction.
She strapped the watch on her wrist and held her arm out, admiring the sparkle of the brass case and ignoring what his dimpled grin did to her insides. “While we’re there, I’ll thank him for it, but he may not even know exactly what he sent. He probably had an assistant choose it and mail it.”
“Still, though, it was a thoughtful gesture.”
He was right, of course. Hannah stared out the window as they rode the next several miles in silence. Freshly plowed and planted fields shone in the evening sun, and Hannah inhaled deeply of Derek’s scent, a mingling of fresh laundry detergent and spicy aftershave. It was aromatherapy, a healing oil that brought peace and calm.
That calm disappeared when Derek spoke again, a huskiness creeping into his voice. “So are we going to talk about us? About this awkwardness?”
Oh, no. “No. I’d rather keep the awkwardness than dredge up the past. It doesn’t matter anyway right now, does it?” He’d left once. She wasn’t going to let him get close enough to hurt her again.
“It wasn’t what you thought.”
How could he possibly know what she thought? And why did he have to bring it up now? Did he really think she needed this, too, today? “It’s fine, Derek. Whatever. It’s in the past.”
“I just think you should know...”
A vehicle in her side mirror grabbed her attention and jolted her heart until she clutched at her shoulder belt as it looped across her chest. Was that the same truck as before?
She stared into the mirror, the sound of Derek’s voice drowned out by the drumming of her pulse.
“Hannah? What is it?”
She spun to look out the back window, crouching low behind the headrest. “I think that’s the same truck that followed me earlier, on the way to the interview. Is that a badge-shaped decal in the front window?”
“Yes. It’s been following us for a couple of miles now. I think we need to lose it.”
“We’re almost to Lafayette.” She turned back to face front, clutching and twisting the hem of her shirt. “Are we going to lead him right to Father and Mother?”
“Not if I can help it.” Still peering into the rearview mirror, Derek grabbed the steering wheel with both hands. “Hold on.”
Hannah grasped the door handle with her right hand and the edge of the seat with her left as he pulled hard on the wheel. The little SUV cut across two lanes of traffic and veered down the exit ramp toward South Street. A whiff of exhaust and warm rubber assaulted her as she fought to stay upright in her seat. Multiple car horns protested the rudeness of the truck’s driver as a blur of black followed them down the ramp.
“He’s still tailing us. Now what?” Her palm slicked against the handle. She dried it on her skirt and prayed silently for safety and security.
“We keep going.” Derek was so focused on the road that he didn’t even glance at her. “Remember, we’re in the lead, deciding where to go. He has to react. That gives us the advantage.”
At the bottom of the ramp, he turned west. The evening sun was just above the horizon, blinding in its intensity. Hannah slapped down the visor, but it didn’t reach low enough. The truck squealed through a yellow light to follow them.
“How can you see? Shouldn’t we turn out of the sun? An accident won’t help us now.”
“Affirmative. Hold on.” At the next thoroughfare, he made a fast and hard right. Hannah barely had a chance to glance at the street sign. Sagamore Parkway. The name seemed familiar, but the surroundings did not. Her parents had moved to Lafayette after she had graduated high school, so although it had been her legal domicile through college and law school, she wasn’t familiar enough with the city to know where they were. Truth be told, she had barely wandered any farther from her parents’ mansion than to the local branch of the library and the mall.
The black truck followed, but Hannah noted with satisfaction that two cars separated them and more traffic traveled just ahead of them. She couldn’t quite see the face of the driver, to make visual confirmation that it was the same man as before, especially in the gathering gloom of evening and with that distance between them. But the truck was the same, so the driver was mostly likely the same as well.
Derek screeched the SUV left, again into the sun, on Union Street.
A shiver threatened as Hannah read the road signs. “We’re in a school zone.” She pointed to the left, and he swiveled for a quick glance. “Multiple school zones. We can’t do that slow speed. What is it, twenty miles per hour? Look at all those buildings. He’ll catch up for sure.”
“It’s late. School’s out.” He released a hand from his grip on the wheel long enough to squeeze her hand as it clutched the seat. “No need to slow down.”
His hand radiated warmth and gave her a sense of security, but a glance in the side mirror revealed the truck still barreling down on them. “So now what? Could you take him?”
“I’d rather not find out. Not by myself.” Derek jerked the steering wheel, turning them south onto North 18th Street. Houses flew by on the right, and the school zone ended at what the sign said was Murdock Park. It looked like it could be a good place to hide, but there were no roads.
“So where do we go? Drive on the sidewalk?” She pointed to the park and the wide walking path that entered into a wooded area.
The truck blared its horn and crossed into oncoming traffic to blow past a blue sedan. It was now only one car behind. Derek glanced in the mirror again and gritted his teeth. “No. This isn’t an action movie. That wouldn’t be safe for pedestrians, and it would draw too much attention to us.” He pulled the car onto a small residential road. “Here.”
“So we keep turning until he can’t catch up? Like how when a crocodile attacks, you’re supposed to run in a zigzag pattern because they can’t turn that well?” Law was supposed to be safe. Free from physical harm. She hadn’t joined the police force or the CIA. There had been no training in law school for outrunning bad guys.
“That’s a myth. Not true.”
“What? That’s not what we’re doing?”
“Not true about crocodiles. For us, yes. We’re eluding capture.”
The SUV bumped through an intersection and exited the residential area for a commercial zone. Instead of houses, there were passing businesses and strip malls, with only two or three separate shops dotting the sides of the street.
“We’ll be fine. I see something up ahead. Hopefully, this is the last time I’ll have to tell you to hold on.”
Hannah dug her feet into the floorboard as Derek bounced the vehicle over the curb and into the parking lot of a funeral home. Great. Well, at least they were in the right place if the shooter did catch up to them. She shot up a prayer as they turned around back. Lord, I love You, but I’m not ready to meet my maker.
He tore through the parking lot and around the side of the two-story brick structure that looked like it used to be a fine, older home. A detached garage with an open bay door beckoned around the back. Derek pulled the Escape into the space that was large enough for a hearse and jumped out. Hannah followed but crouched down at his command to stay low, as he raced to the side door and then punched a button on the wall.
The garage door began to close.
Derek signaled to her, and she crept toward the hood of the car, deeper into the garage, until she met him at the hood. He put an arm around her shoulders, a help to keep her steady and a strength to comfort her as they watched the door close. They were soon swallowed in complete darkness.
She held her breath, the perspiration trickling down her back marching side by side with a tingle of apprehension, as they waited for the truck to come roaring through the parking lot and crash through the door. But all she could hear was her heart beating.
“Is that it? Are we safe?” She kept her whisper so soft she could barely discern her own voice.
“I think so.” Derek’s hoarse whisper tickled her ear, and another tingle traversed her spine, this one for different reasons but still full of apprehension. “Let me grab my phone.”
The glow of the screen illuminated his face and the grim set of his mouth. With the tap of an icon, the phone’s flashlight illuminated their part of the garage.
“Are they gone?” Derek lowered his arm, and a chill immediately set in to Hannah’s shoulders. “How did they find us?”
“I don’t know yet, but I think you need to call your parents and let them know we’re coming. If you go see them in person, they might want to make sure their security is in order.”
“What? No. I need to spring it on them in person. See their reactions for myself. That’ll get to the truth of the matter. And not to worry, their security is always top-notch. Besides, that truck is gone. We lost him.”
He laid a hand on her arm, but this time it felt restrictive. “I still think you should call.”
She shoved herself up to her feet. “It’s not up to you.” An angry tone entered, and she stopped herself. She didn’t want to be that person. With a deep breath, she tried again, this time more level. “I will drive myself to my parents’ house if I need to, leaving you here at the funeral home.” She gestured around the darkness. “Rather, in the garage.”
Maneuvering in the dim light of his phone flashlight, she tiptoed around him and toward the driver’s door. “Hannah.” His tone was warm and wrapped around her like a thick quilt.
A quaver crawled up her throat, and she swallowed hard to tamp it down. “I’m sorry. It’s just so much to process. You’ve never found out anything like this—that you’re adopted.”
“No.” He stepped closer. “You remember. I was raised by my aunt and uncle after my parents were killed. But I’d like to think I have a little idea of what you’re feeling. Confusion. Betrayal. Curiosity.”
“Oh, Derek. I do remember. I wasn’t thinking.” She had known he was living with an aunt and uncle, and he had mentioned, all those years ago, that his mom and dad had passed away. But she didn’t know any more than that. There was clearly more to Derek Chambers than she had realized. She placed a hand on his arm, a zing in the darkness striking to her core. “I’m sorry. We didn’t talk about it much.”
She sensed, more than saw, his shrug. “It didn’t seem important at the time. I wanted to think about us and our future, not my past.”
“Then you really do know what I’m feeling. You understand the importance of getting the truth.”
“Yes. I do.” A steely determination had crept into his tone.
She stepped again toward the driver-side door. “So, who’s driving?”
* * *
Derek glanced at the sign that read Union Street as he turned back onto the side street that seemed to widen out in the next block or so. He’d settled Hannah into the passenger seat, and now he was following her directions as she got her bearings in a town she didn’t know all that well.
The scent of gasoline and death lingered in his nostrils from the funeral home’s garage. Maybe it was just his imagination, the idea of the scent of death. Maybe it was a memory from witnessing the murder of his parents. But even if it was, he still wiggled his nose in an attempt to eradicate the aroma before he could be inundated with images he had struggled to forget.
His cell phone vibrated next to his hip, and he grabbed it from the holster on his belt. A square popped up on his incoming-call screen. His supervising agent’s code name for himself. So newly graduated from the academy that the protective plastic coating was barely pulled off his badge, Derek knew he’d have to check in frequently.
He glanced at Hannah, relieved that she didn’t seem to be paying attention to his phone. Being around her again made him jittery, and he didn’t want to mess up in front of his supervising agent. “Go.”
Square’s voice was hoarse in his ear. “Secure?”
“For now.”
“Did you acquire the subject?”
The subject seemed a harsh way of communicating about the complex yet feminine woman who sat beside him. “Yes.”
“Is there knowledge?” Square was asking if Derek had informed Hannah of her adoption and the identity of her birth father.
“Affirmative.”
Hannah looked over at him, a question in her wide, brown eyes. Derek shrugged but didn’t respond, an attempt to convey nonchalance. Hopefully, it would calm both of them.
“Location?” The supervising agent would check in regularly with Derek for his first two years as an official FBI agent. But since Derek had just arrived in Heartwood Hill that afternoon, it seemed a little soon for an update. Perhaps that was because the supervisor had been unable to accompany him. Whatever he had to do to comply, though, Derek was willing. He was living his dream, and nothing would stand in his way, not even the beautiful creature who sat in the vehicle with him.
“Sliding into home base.” It was summertime, and that meant baseball. Square would understand that Derek had Hannah in transit to her parents’ house.
“Okay. Play ball.” His supervisor ended the call, and Derek understood that he was to proceed but with extreme caution.
Hannah flipped her brown waves over her shoulder. “Everything okay?”
Derek ran through what she must have heard from his end of the call. It wouldn’t have been anything out of the ordinary. “Yeah. Just checking in.” She understood the danger, of that he was sure. No need to dwell on it.
As he continued to follow Hannah’s directions, the drive wound them through small starter homes to an area of ethnic grocery stores and soccer fields to an upscale mall and eventually to a section of town where Derek guessed the houses were a million dollars or more.
“How long has it been since you’ve been home?” Despite the gloom of the evening, Derek still saw luxurious, large yards with winding drives, profusions of flowers and statues of footmen holding lanterns at the end of driveways.
“Probably too long, but law school has kept me busy.” She pointed to the right. “Turn here.”
“What do your parents know? About us? Did you ever tell them anything?” Derek had had his own private conversation with Mr. McClarnon, but Hannah’s father had strictly instructed him not to breathe a word to Hannah. For years, he had carried the torment inside of him and now he was to walk right into the presence of the man who had ended it all. And his own daughter didn’t know.
Hannah tossed a startled look at him that quickly morphed into a soft haze, as if she was remembering the good times they had shared. “No. Nothing.”
“That was probably wise. What would be the point?” He took in her rich brown hair, her coordinated black-and-turquoise sweater outfit, her designer bag. He didn’t know the brand names, and maybe that was the point. He was quickly realizing that he would do anything to protect Hannah, but that also brought the pain of the knowledge that there was zero chance for a relationship. She was beautiful and smart and caring and seemed perfect for him. But he had a career now, the one he had dreamed of since the time his parents were murdered.
How could he ask her to leave her family for him when they had so much to offer and so many resources to provide for her? What kind of jerk would he be if he expected her to give up the love of her parents and brother and sit in a tiny apartment alone, while he went out on mission after mission after mission? He exhaled roughly. Besides, when it came down to it, he wasn’t good enough for her anyway.
Derek pulled into the long cement lane that led to the McClarnon mansion. A gardener was pushing a wheelbarrow toward the back, probably to the garages and outbuildings, ready to go home for the night. The house loomed larger than life, gables peaked into the clouds and three separate chimneys pierced the night sky. Large beveled windows reflected his SUV’s headlights as he pulled up next to a wide set of stone steps flanked on either side by ornate, carved handrails.
Broken cement steps had marked his childhood, steps that had led to a run-down house owned by his aunt and uncle. They had, he supposed, graciously allowed him a bedroom that was probably less than half the size of Mr. McClarnon’s dressing room. Certainly, finding out she was adopted was a shock to Hannah, but at least she had parents who truly loved her and provided for her exceedingly well. His aunt and uncle had made it abundantly clear that he was a burden, just as Mr. McClarnon had not minced words when he had told Derek he was not worthy of Hannah’s attention.
Derek swiped a hand over his forehead. Tiny beads of perspiration had popped up at the prospect of meeting Mr. McClarnon again. Truly, he’d rather go toe-to-toe with a bank robber than that man. But facing him was unavoidable.
Hannah was out of her side of the Escape before Derek could emerge and come around. Just as they reached the front door, it opened. A man held it wide for them. He was dressed as formally as Derek would have been for the high school prom, if he had ever gone, in a black tie over a starched white dress shirt. A gray vest was buttoned from top to bottom under a black morning coat, and a thin stripe ran down his gray trousers. If memory served, this was the same butler who had ushered him into Mr. McClarnon’s presence nearly a decade ago.
“Good evening, Miss Hannah. Welcome home.”
“Hello, Carson. I assume Mother and Father are in their usual occupations for a Monday evening?”
A sideways glance from the butler crawled over Derek, but he forced himself to stand tall. What kind of FBI agent would he be if he allowed himself to be intimidated?
“Are they not expecting you?”
“Not exactly, but it’s urgent.” She swept past Carson, who stepped back quickly to allow her space. Derek followed, stretching out to the full inch he had over the man. As they hurried down the well-appointed hallway toward the sitting room, he fought to maintain that height. He would need it in the coming moments.
As they walked, he surveyed the area. Despite what little he knew about the home and what was normal for the McClarnons, it didn’t seem that anything was out of order, or that the shooter or his cohorts, whoever they may be, had been around. Still, he knew better than to let his guard down and would continually monitor their surroundings for any potential threat of danger.
Hannah sauntered into the sitting room ahead of him by a few steps, and Derek sniffed the floral perfume of Hannah’s mother and heard her surprised greeting before he made his presence known. When Derek entered, Mr. McClarnon pulled back from a one-armed hug with his daughter, spied him and stiffened, the ice in his crystal glass clinking against the side.
“Evelyn.” He spoke softly to his wife, and she immediately turned from her happy reunion with her daughter.
Mrs. McClarnon ran a hand down her silk skirt and stepped forward, her face masked with the high-society politeness and artificial hospitality of welcoming someone who was beneath their station. She held out her hand. “Derek, isn’t it? Good evening.”
“Ma’am.” Derek crimped her hand, suppressing a grin at the mischievous thought of whether or not he should kiss it.
Hannah’s father cleared his throat, a call to attention. “Well, Mr. Chambers.”
“You remember my name.” A curious look from Hannah skittered around his peripheral vision, but he didn’t make eye contact. He would have some questions to answer, but not yet.
The squeeze on Derek’s hand was tight. A challenge. Derek squeezed back, enough to communicate that he wouldn’t be intimidated but not enough to hurt the older gentleman.
Mr. McClarnon’s eyes burned into Derek’s. “Wish I could say it’s good to see you again, but here you are with my daughter.”
FOUR (#u04e5b02a-2072-5cba-b6ab-ff75cb1dc22d)
How did her father know Derek’s name? Willford McClarnon was an astute businessman—aggressive and perhaps even harsh when the occasion called for it. But Hannah also knew him to be polite and hospitable and loving. He had never even met Derek and, in fact, wouldn’t have known him at all since their high school romance had been a secret. Still was a secret. Wasn’t it?
Hannah shifted from one foot to the other, now uncertain as to what should come next. Would life have been different if they had told her parents? Would they have accepted Derek? Perhaps they should have tried. But one glance at her father, now glaring at Derek and seemingly holding his hand in a death grip, confirmed that their high school decision had been the right one. That old romance was better kept a secret, just as the renewal of her attraction to him should also be kept under wraps. Again and again the thought bounced around her mind: better to get this situation resolved and let Derek go back to wherever he came from.
Her father finally released Derek’s hand and turned toward her mother, placing a protective arm around her. They exchanged a glance, but Hannah couldn’t read their expressions.
“It’s always nice to have a visit from our little girl, even a surprise one.” Her father’s tone held the hidden meaning that she should have called first, arranged a time, allowed them to prepare tea or some sort of refreshment, perhaps on the veranda.
“I’m not sure how nice you’ll think this is, Father.” Hannah couldn’t believe the words coming out of her mouth. She wasn’t being disrespectful, but assertiveness had never been her forte. Perhaps law school had had a positive effect on her confidence. Either that or the news from just an hour ago was enough to embolden her. She pulled her birth certificate from her purse and thrust it toward him. “I have a few questions.”
Her father examined the document for a few seconds, then looked at her with a question of his own in his eyes. “Yes?”
“Derek, a, um, friend from high school who is now in law enforcement, came to the office today and told me that I’m adopted. Adopted, Father! And then the lawyer I work for pulled up my birth certificate and said that the date of issue confirms it.” She pointed at the birth certificate. “Is that what this means?”
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