Hidden (Jacobs Family Series Book 1) Page 18

  Calling her each night before she went to sleep was above and beyond. He’d finally admitted to himself and his family that his concerns weren’t about the job.

  “I can’t fall in love this fast,” he’d argued. “I’ve only known her three weeks.”

  “You don’t get to choose, Son.” His mother’s voice was gentle but firm.

  Watching Dana this morning, he’d known in his heart he was past the point of infatuation. How was he to explain that to her though? She already thought he was daft, and he really didn’t blame her.

  Maybe it was better to focus on the job. Let their feelings sort themselves out over time. If they had time.

  Ben studied his half of Drogan’s grid and concentrated on plotting cam locations. The best way to help Dana was to catch Drogan. Then he could date her like a normal person.

  Dana received approval for the equipment before noon.

  Immediately, Ben had more volunteers than he knew what to do with. He sent four people as far away as Santa Fe to purchase the cams. He could have found all the equipment in Taos, but he didn’t want to be so obvious. There was no telling who Drogan had on his side.

  Then the fun began.

  Red claimed to frequent the chicken place often.

  Captain swore he used the Squeaky Clean Laundromat at least once a week.

  Cheryl was suddenly dying to see the new flick at Taos Cinema.

  Setting up a receiving center was Clay’s job. One he took seriously.

  “Monitoring over a hundred feeds won’t be easy,” Ben observed. “What’s your plan?”

  “Ten screens, split into ten pictures each.” Clay had the flat screens lined up and stacked. They covered an entire wall of the conference room and would have made any man’s testosterone level jump.

  “But how do you watch a hundred scenes? I mean, visually you can’t possibly take in that many images at a time.” Ben could watch two, even three baseball games at a time, but this was beyond him.

  “Actually, no one has to watch them. The computer will.” Clay had wired the screens together. He handed the central cable to Ben. “Hold this while I crawl under here.”

  “The computer is going to watch a hundred live feeds?”

  “Sure. We’ll put a person in here, too, but I’ve fed Drogan’s profile to the computer’s facial recognition program. It will scan continuously, and an alarm will sound if he crosses a cam.”

  Ben stared at the screens as the feeds came on line one-by-one. “You’re not kidding me?”

  “I wouldn’t do that, Marshall.”

  “And I wouldn’t want you looking for me, Clay.”

  “Then don’t do anything wrong.”

  Ben was grateful the man smiled when he said it. At least he thought it was a smile. “Roger that.”

  He turned and glanced once more at the screens. They made him feel like a hundred eyes were watching him. “I’ll go tell Dana everything is set up.” He fled the room, grateful to be away from so many cameras.

  He nearly ran into Dana as she walked out of her office.

  “Clay has all the live feeds up.”

  “Great.” She didn’t look quite as relieved as he thought she would.

  “Did he tell you about the facial recognition software?”

  “Sure. It’s something we’ve used a few times before, never on this scale, of course.”

  “Gives me the creeps.” Ben rubbed the back of his neck. “Say, you want to get out of here? Go for a walk or something?”

  She looked at him skeptically. “You mean I’m allowed?”

  He stood up straighter, crossed his arms behind his back. “I guess this has been tough on you.”

  “A little.”

  “We could go rock climbing.” The thought instantly relaxed the tension in his neck. Was it really just four days since they’d been out near Lake Abiquiu? It felt like they’d worked a month straight.

  Dana was already shaking her head. “No. I can’t. There’s too much to do here.”

  “Nothing your staff can’t handle.”

  “It took us what—three, four hours by the time we drove out there and back.”

  Red walked past them, a bucket of chicken in his right hand. “It would do you good to get out of here for a while.”

  “Why is everyone in my business?” Dana asked.

  Ben only shrugged.

  Suddenly, she clasped her left hand under her right arm, as if she had a sharp pain in her side.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing.” She turned away from him toward the windows. “It does look nice outside.”

  Ben moved closer. “Seventy-two and sunny.” She looked at him as if he’d lost his mind. “What? I happened to check the weather at lunch.”

  “And why would you do that, Marshall?”

  “Fishing forecast,” Captain said, as he passed them on his way to the copier. “Checks that fishing forecast on his work terminal every day.”

  “The man enjoys ratting me out.”

  Dana smiled, but Ben noticed she was still clutching her left hand.

  “All right. I have been missing my jog. How about four-thirty? If you think you can keep up.”

  “You’re on, boss. You need to go by your house?”

  “No. I have a gym bag in the Honda.”

  “Good deal. Four-thirty then.”

  Two hours later, they were jogging through the Fred Baca Park. Ben wore a fanny pack with his Glock tucked safely inside. He didn’t tell Dana he had Red parked at the north end and George parked at the south. What she didn’t know at this point might help her relax.

  He’d caught her twice clutching her left hand to her side, and once he was sure he saw it shaking.

  After five miles, he begged off.

  “What’s wrong, Marshall? Out of shape?”

  “Maybe I’m not used to this mountain air.” He walked to a water fountain at the side of the path. “Ladies first?”

  Shaking her head yes, she stepped in front of him, reaching to thumb the water on with her left hand. When she did, he again noticed the tremor. She tried to tuck the hand away, but he placed his hand over it and helped her push the button.

  She drank slowly, then wiped the water from her mouth. “Thanks.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  Taking a long drink himself, he turned and found her standing with her back to him, arm clutched against her side.

  He walked up to her, pulled the hand away from her side, and held it between his own. “Let’s walk a little,” he said.

  She met his eyes and nodded.

  As they walked, he massaged her hand, her wrist, even the lower part of her arm. She didn’t seem to want to talk about it, so he didn’t bring it up.

  It occurred to him that maybe that’s what love does at times. Maybe it lets some things slide.

  Forty-nine

  Dana wasn’t sure when it happened, at what point she let Ben under her guard. It might have been on the path in the park when he noticed her tremor, saw her vulnerability, and never said a word.

  It might have been during one of their late-night talks.

  They began as a way for him to check in, remind her to set the alarms from the inside of her home, assure her they’d set the outer perimeter security.

  But over the course of the last week, those conversations had turned into something else. She found herself hurrying through dinner, watching the clock, knowing he would call after she’d been home an hour.

  He always did. Some nights they would talk only a few minutes. More often though, their conversations would last well past midnight. She’d curl up in the red leather chair, pull an old afghan over her—more for comfort than for warmth—and listen to him talk of his days growing up in Montana.

  Two nights after their jog, she found herself asking him about the tremor. The fact he hadn’t brought it up impressed her tremendously. The truth was it embarrassed her, and she worked hard to hide it from everyone else.

&nb
sp; “What do you think is causing it?” she finally asked him.

  “It’s hard to say. I’m not a doctor, Dana.” She heard the sound of him walking out the front door of his apartment. He often talked to her as he sat on the small patio that led down to the stairs. “Are you having any numbness in your fingers?”

  “No. I start shaking without any warning and at the oddest times. It always starts in my hand, then travels up my arm.” She tried to laugh it off, but heard the desperation in her own voice. “It’s like looking at someone else’s arm, Ben. I can’t hold a phone or a toothbrush.”

  When he didn’t speak, she added, “It’s a little frightening. Sort of like a seizure on one side of my body.”

  “I had something similar once,” Ben admitted.

  “A seizure?”

  His laughter eased the tension she’d felt building in her shoulders since broaching the subject. Maybe she was taking it all too seriously.

  “No, not a seizure. A tremor. It happened after my first bombing in Iraq. I worried I’d been hit with sarin gas or some other biologic, so I went to the medic.” His voice grew softer, and she knew he was thinking of his friends still half a world away. “They told me my body was experiencing something similar to PTSD—post traumatic stress disorder.”

  “That’s been in the news a lot.”

  “Sure it has—the major stuff—but people react to stress in less noticeable ways also. At least that’s how the doc explained it to me. He had lots of fancy words, but basically, my body was coping with what it had seen. He said it would work its way out eventually and sent me back to my assignment.”

  Dana thought of all that had occurred in the last month. “So you think my tremor will resolve itself over time?”

  Ben sighed. She could practically see him running his hand through his hair as he tried to find the right words. “I think you’ve been through a lot of pressure, Dana. Life is stressful for everyone, and I believe God can help you carry that load.”

  She started to interrupt him, but he hurried on. “I want to help you too. I care about you.”

  “I know you do,” she whispered.

  “These conversations, the walks we take, you letting everyone have a full part in your security—it will all help to divide the stress.” She heard a screen door slam as he walked back into his apartment. “But it’s still hard when you’re alone at night. I understand what that’s like. It takes a toll on a person.”

  She didn’t answer, wasn’t sure what to say. His words tore at the wounds she struggled to keep hidden. She was afraid if she spoke, her voice would betray her emotions.

  “We haven’t known each other very long, but I want to be there for you, Dana. I want to ask you—”

  “I can’t talk about this now.” She forced the words out, had to stop him before he went further. Suddenly, her pulse was pounding, and she was terrified. “Ben, I can’t… I need to focus on Drogan right now. Okay?”

  “We’re going to catch Drogan. Don’t doubt that.”

  “I hope it’s soon.”

  “I do too, sweetheart.”

  She said good night then, pretended she was going to bed. And she was tired, so exhausted she sat there, staring into the darkness. She needed Ben and wanted him to come closer. At the same time, she was so afraid of what would happen if he did.

  And what of his god? Obviously Ben’s faith was an important part of who he was, but staring into the darkness, Dana knew the truth. She didn’t have the courage to believe again. Once Ben accepted that, he wouldn’t want her any more than her father had.

  Fifty

  Two days later was Dana’s day off. She worked from home all day, but at least she stayed away from the office. On Sunday afternoon, Ben called her and talked her into taking a short hike at Cimarron Canyon. The fresh air had brought some of the color back into her face. After five miles of hiking, she actually seemed more rested than when they’d started.

  Coming around the corner of the trailhead, the parking area came into sight. Theirs were the only two cars left. He reached for her hand as they walked slowly across the gravel lot. “Why do you have to go in?”

  “I want to be there at shift change. See if they’ve made any progress on Drogan’s location.”

  “George would have called you.” He said the words softly while rubbing his thumb over the back of her hand.

  “I know.” She tucked her hair behind her ear and smiled up at him. The tenderness in her gaze took his breath away—felt like a punch to his gut. He would do anything to keep it on her face. “I’m used to stopping by.”

  “You can get used to root canals. I wouldn’t recommend having one on a Sunday.”

  Ben ducked in time to miss the well-aimed swipe she took at his head.

  “I’m trying to limit my hours. I didn’t go in yesterday.”

  “And folks were still talking about it at lunch.” Ben laughed, pulling her toward his truck when she started to walk away. They’d reached their cars parked at the beginning of the trailhead. He lowered the tailgate on the truck and sat on it. “Stay long enough to enjoy the sunset.”

  He watched her battle between what she wanted to do and her sense of duty. He could pressure her, but knew it would be a bigger victory if she won it on her own.

  “Until sunset,” she agreed.

  They sat there as the day cooled, legs swinging, and Ben thought of how some things were the same no matter where you were. No doubt a few of the guys in Iraq were seeing the same sunrise, and his family in Montana was probably sitting in the old porch swing, watching it set.

  He’d like for Dana to experience a sunset from the homestead in Montana. It truly was like no place on earth. The thought caused him to realize he knew very little about her.

  “What?” she asked. “Do I have dirt on my face?”

  “No.”

  “Then why are you staring at me?”

  “I was thinking about the sunset.” Ben glanced out over the mountains in front of them, then looked back at Dana. She was the prettier view.

  “You’re staring again. I can’t relax when you do that.” She pushed him, and he nearly toppled off the tailgate.

  Instead, he grabbed her arm to steady himself. Deciding holding her was an even better idea, he tugged her closer, leaned against the bed of the truck, and wrapped his arms around her.

  With his chin resting against the top of her head, they both gazed out at the red, purple, and orange colors splashed across the sky.

  “I was thinking how beautiful the sunset is,” he admitted. “My folks are probably doing the same thing in Montana at this very minute. We have this old swing off the back porch. Most nights they go out before dinner, sit, and watch the day play out.”

  “Do you miss them?” Dana’s voice was small, a whisper in the dying light.

  “I sure miss my mom’s cooking.” Ben laughed when Dana elbowed him. “Yes, I miss everyone, but I talk to them once a week. They know my job takes me away.”

  She nodded but didn’t speak.

  “Thinking of home made me realize I don’t know anything about you, and I want to.” He felt her stiffen beneath his arms. “Don’t take it wrong. I think you’re amazing, but I only know about your life here. Your sister lives in Texas, so I guess you grew up there. What was it like?”

  Dana pulled away from him. “I have to go.”

  “Wait. What’s wrong?”

  “This is wrong. Everything is wrong.” She walked away from the truck and stood looking out at the sky now losing its color.

  “Whoa. Hang on, beautiful. What did I say?” He took her by the shoulders and turned her toward him, waited for her to meet his gaze. “I didn’t mean you had to tell me your darkest secrets, Dana. I was thinking about family, and I realized I’d never heard you talk about yours—except for Erin. What about your mother and father?”

  She wrenched herself from his hands, walked to her car, and unlocked it, but she didn’t get in. He watched her in amazement, wondering
what he’d torn open. In the near darkness, she turned toward him.

  “I’m not like you, Ben.”

  “How are you not like me?” He longed to go to her, to wrap his arms around her as the first chill of the evening blew through the air. Something told him even one step toward her would send her fleeing into the night. So instead, he steadied his heart rate and softened his voice. “Talk to me, Dana.”

  “You never stop. It’s as if I’m an onion, and you won’t stop until you’ve sliced through every stinking layer.”

  Her hands clinched into fists at her side. She stared past him into the gathering dusk, forced her hands open, and walked back to him. It was like watching an android walk. It was like seeing the woman he’d first met so many weeks ago. He ached for how much ground they’d lost in the last three minutes.

  She came within a few inches, but was careful not to touch him. Peering up into his face, she spoke softly, her voice completely empty of emotion. “You want to know about my parents? You really think it’s important to know me that well? My father killed my mother.”

  There were no tears, and her voice never rose. She might as well have been giving a briefing to the staff. “He’s serving a life sentence in Huntsville State Prison. He killed her when I was ten. My sister and I were raised by foster parents, always afraid he might be paroled.”

  She turned and walked back to her car.

  “Dana, I’m—”

  “Do not…” Finally, her voice broke, and her head dropped. He moved toward her, but she put her hand up to stop him. “Do not say you’re sorry, Ben. If you care about me at all, please. Don’t say anything.”

  She drew a deep, steadying breath, then looked up at him. What he saw in the twilight was a woman so wounded he wondered how she managed to walk through each day.

  “I don’t need your pity, and I don’t want it.”

  “Is that what you think? That I pity you? Dana, I love you, and God can—”