Hidden (Jacobs Family Series Book 1) Read online

  “Do not speak to me about your god. He wasn’t there for me eighteen years ago. Do not tell me he was there the night I held my mother, the night she died.”

  A lone tear slid down her cheek. She stared down at the ground for a moment. He could barely make out her next words.

  “God turned away from me a long time ago.”

  “No. He didn’t.”

  “You weren’t there.” The words were a screech, torn from her heart. “You were not there. You didn’t hold her. You didn’t wait for someone to come and save you.”

  She looked out past him. His need to go to her was a physical ache in his chest. She stood poised to run. And he feared she’d never come back.

  “I’m bad luck, Ben. Figure it out now. And we are not the same. My parents never sat in a swing and watched the sunset.” She looked up, steeled herself. “That’s fine. I’m fine. I can do this alone. I don’t need your faith. I don’t need a family either.”

  “Dana, everyone needs someone.”

  “No.” Her voice was a whisper again, softer than the call of the night birds. “Some of us do it alone every single day.” Then she climbed into her car, and she drove away.

  Watching her taillights, Ben stared out into the blackness of the night and wondered what he should have said, what he should have done differently.

  Fifty-one

  Ben called her twenty minutes later to confirm she’d made it safely into the office. She didn’t answer her cell. He wasn’t surprised.

  He thought of driving over to the office, but didn’t trust his temper. Dana was scared and hurting. Now was not the time for him to push. He punched in the main number. Clay answered the phone.

  “Is Dana there?”

  “Yes.”

  “Put me through to her, please.”

  He waited for a good three minutes, much longer than it took to transfer a call. When Clay came back on the line, he had to resist the temptation to pitch his phone into the darkness.

  “She’s busy.”

  “In other words she refused to talk to me.”

  “Correct.”

  Ben sighed and rubbed his forehead where the pounding was beginning with a vengeance. “Make sure someone follows her home.”

  “Of course.”

  “I’ll take the 4:00 a.m. shift.”

  “Copy that.”

  Ben dropped the phone beside him on the seat. Starting the Chevy truck, he drove toward his apartment. He could go into work. Might as well, since he knew he wouldn’t sleep. But work was her refuge, her only shelter at this point. He wouldn’t deny her what comfort she could find there.

  No, he would go home, if the one-room apartment could be called that. Suddenly, he missed the camaraderie of his unit. Not nearly as much as he missed Dana though, and she’d only been gone thirty minutes. Something told him the scars she was struggling with were going to keep her away longer than a half hour.

  Pulling into his parking lot, he picked up the phone and called his parents. He’d hoped to reach his dad, but his granddad picked up.

  “Benjamin. How are you, Son?”

  “I’m all right, Granddad. How’s the fishing?”

  The old man cackled. “Caught six trout this morning. Your mother fixed them for lunch. Wish you’d been here.”

  “Me too.”

  Silence stretched between them. Ben ran his hand over the black, steering wheel, envisioning the miles it had covered. Thought of the things his granddad had seen.

  “You want to tell me about her, Son?”

  Ben didn’t answer right away. He considered all the ways to describe Dana, but they all seemed inadequate. “You remember the spring I was a kid and we found that fawn?”

  “Sure. You were ten. We heard some shots early on a Saturday morning.”

  “Right. It was poachers I guess.”

  “Never did find them.” He could hear his granddad rocking in the old swing. “You were sure taken with that fawn though. Insisted on bringing it home. Thought you could raise it like a dog.”

  “You told me a deer was a wild animal. Course I wouldn’t listen.”

  “Benjamin, you’ve had a stubborn streak from the moment you were born. Your mother says that’s why you were born breech—too stubborn to turn around.”

  Ben stared out the front window of the truck, but he was seeing the enclosure he’d built for the deer. The one he’d thought was high enough to keep her in.

  “Nearly broke your heart the morning you walked out and found the fawn gone. Deer aren’t meant to be domestic animals though. You did a good thing, helping her through those first few weeks.”

  “I can still see her eyes.” Ben said.

  “We talking about the deer, Son?”

  Ben laughed. “Maybe not, Granddad. Dana reminds me a lot of that fawn.”

  “Dana’s a beautiful name. Be patient, Ben. It’s not easy for a man, but it’s possible.”

  Ben thought back on what Dana had told him, what had been piercing his heart for the last hour. “Do you think when something hasn’t had the nurturing of a mother it can ever be whole again?”

  “Your girl has had a difficult time.”

  Ben flinched at the possessive pronoun. “Yes, sir.”

  “Well, I think God’s grace can heal anything, even the absence of a parent.”

  “Regardless of what caused the absence?”

  He heard the old guy draw in a deep breath. When he finally spoke, his voice sounded older and gentler than the wind in the trees outside Ben’s window. “God’s bigger than that, Son. Can’t put limits on him like you would a river or a person. He can do anything.”

  The creaking of the old swing resumed. “Sometimes we can accept God did the tremendous things—like create those stars you’re staring at. Then we try to believe He can heal a fawn, or a person, and we stumble. Our belief falters. God can take care of your Dana. Don’t ever doubt it.”

  “Thank you, Granddad.”

  “Sure, Benjamin.”

  “Don’t catch all the fish.”

  “I’ll leave some in the river for you.”

  Ben hung up, more hopeful than he’d been when he’d driven into the parking lot. And quite a bit humbled by a man who at the age of eighty-five had trouble walking the banks of a river.

  He didn’t know what he was supposed to do, but it wasn’t the first time he’d been at a loss for direction. Granddad was right though. He could trust God to know what to do. Patience was something he’d never claimed to be good at, but maybe it wouldn’t take very long.

  He smiled, walking up the stairs in the darkness, realizing how impatient his thoughts were. He definitely had a lot of learning to do.

  Fifty-two

  Dana wanted to change the work schedule so she wouldn’t have to look at Ben the next day. She’d never told anyone about her parents. She was mortified.

  Now he knew she was a freak.

  So she was fairly surprised when she pulled out of her driveway and he was parked at the corner. After ignoring his calls last night, she’d expected him to hand the assignment off to someone else.

  He gave her his usual one-handed wave, then pulled in half a block behind her. She still wasn’t ready to talk to him though. When her cell phone rang and his number showed on the display, she ignored it and turned up the radio.

  Cowardly, but effective—for a few miles anyway.

  When they pulled into the parking lot behind the office, she had decided how to hide her embarrassment. She wouldn’t give him a chance to break it off with her—whatever it was. Had they been dating?

  Regardless of what they called it, obviously their relationship was over after last night. She wasn’t like him. She’d never be like him. In fact, she wasn’t like most people. Most people had families and knew how to deal with relationships.

  She wasn’t most people, which was why she was so good at keeping folks at a distance. Starting today, Ben Marshall would stay where he was supposed to—out of her personal lif
e.

  Grabbing her purse, she shoved her sunglasses on and hopped out of the Honda, slamming the door a little harder than necessary. She turned around and nearly walked right into Ben.

  “Cell phone broken?”

  “Pardon?”

  “I was wondering if your cell phone was broken since you didn’t pick up when I called this morning. Or last night for that matter.”

  She raised her chin even higher, grateful he couldn’t see through her sunglasses. “I guess I had the ringer off. Besides, I was busy on the drive over.”

  “Busy?”

  “Yes.” She walked away from the car, ignoring his closeness as he followed her toward the building.

  “Busy as in reading briefs while you were driving? Or maybe there was someone in your car I couldn’t see that you were having a conference with.”

  She turned on him like a guard dog on attack. “It’s none of your business what I was doing, Ben. I didn’t have time to answer your call. If you need something, talk to Clay or send me an e-mail.”

  Satisfied that he was momentarily speechless, she turned and fled into the building. Of course, she had to clutch her left hand across her ribs as she did so to still the tremors, but it seemed a small price to pay.

  With Ben Marshall and all personal matters out of the way, she could focus on her day.

  Which was exactly what she did, in spite of the fact she caught him glaring at her several times. Let him glare. He’d figure out she was serious and then back off. She’d meant what she said last night. He was better off without her. The truth was painful, but accurate.

  “Surveillance program is running at 100 percent,” Clay reported at the Monday morning staff meeting. “No sign of Drogan, but I’ve added a program that looks for and identifies repeat visitors.”

  “Wouldn’t most people be repeat visitors?” Dana asked.

  “I’m telling you I only go to the chicken place twice a week,” Red declared. “Three times at the most.”

  Everyone laughed except Ben who continued studying her.

  “You’re right,” Clay said. “Most people do visit the same place repeatedly. They have a routine. The program catalogues them, checks them against the federal database, then discards them as a person of interest if they’re not found.”

  “Drogan wouldn’t have appeared on any federal databases,” Ben pointed out.

  “True. One of the persons he used to put the surveillance bugs in place here had a federal record. The other did not. So we know sometimes he uses people without a record.” Clay shrugged. “It’s a long shot. The program slips the discarded repeats into a file so we can look at them later manually. If anyone can’t sleep at night and wants extra work, see me after the meeting.”

  Several people groaned, but Dana sensed it was good-natured. Overall, they seemed to have adjusted to the increased stress.

  “Any additional status reports?”

  “That call we had from the motel,” Nina said. “Someone had skipped their bill and left a note claiming anthrax was in the room. Tests came back from the state lab. As we suspected, it was Johnson’s Baby Powder.”

  Red lurched backward in his chair, causing it to groan. “What?”

  “Cornstarch with aloe vera,” Nina continued. “And vitamin E.”

  “I put on a hazmat suit for baby powder?” Red buried his head in his hands.

  Nina looked up from her notes. “I walked into the hotel room without the hazmat.”

  “Yes, I remember that you did.” Red sat up straighter. “I bet you have softer hands now.”

  “I didn’t touch the stuff, Red.” Nina looked at him solemnly, while the rest of the staff snickered.

  Everyone except Ben. He continued to watch Dana, and when her hand began to tremble, when she tucked it safely under the table, she looked up and met his gaze. Of course, he had noticed.

  She didn’t see him the rest of the day, and she didn’t ask why.

  Instead, she focused on her work, cleaned all the files off her desk, and managed to complete the two personnel reviews that were a month overdue.

  Every time there was a knock on her door, she expected to see his face and his smile.

  Each time her heart skipped a beat.

  And each time she was disappointed.

  Fifty-three

  Ben followed in his truck up into her driveway at nine o’clock that evening. It was well past dark. He waited in front of his truck as she parked her Honda in the garage, walked slowly to the back, and stood looking at him.

  “What are you doing here, Ben?”

  “I want to talk.”

  “You could have called.”

  “Would you have answered?”

  She looked past him. “Probably not.”

  “I want to come inside.”

  “No.” Now she did look at him. The expression on her face was hard, set. She clutched her left arm under her ribs.

  “I see your arm’s still bothering you,” he said softly.

  “Cheap shot, Ben.”

  He walked away from the truck, into the darkness of her yard, then back again. “Can we sit on the porch for a minute?”

  She shook her head.

  “Please.”

  “No,” she whispered.

  “Why, Dana?”

  Instead of answering, she turned away and started up the walk. He was at her side in three long strides. She didn’t resist when he turned her toward him. She only looked at him, eyes as big as that fawn’s. He read her answer there, knew she’d already decided.

  But he had to try.

  He couldn’t make himself leave without trying to reach her through the barriers she’d built around her heart.

  “Dana, sweetheart. Don’t you know I love you?”

  “Stop.”

  “Can’t you tell? Do you think I’d lie to you?”

  “Please stop.”

  He moved his hands up her shoulders, framed her face, brought his lips to hers, brushed them ever so gently. It was like kissing a statue.

  “Dana, please don’t do this.” He brushed the hair back from her face, tried to read her expression in the near darkness of the landscape lighting.

  “You should go.” Then she turned and walked into her house.

  He stood there awhile, maybe a few minutes, maybe longer. Finally, he walked to his Chevy and found the strength to drive away.

  He’d been so sure if he could see her away from the office, he could make it right. What had made him think it would be that easy?

  Fifty-four

  Dana believed her week couldn’t get any worse.

  It was past three when she fell asleep Monday night. Her mind insisted on replaying those moments with Ben. She couldn’t help wondering what would have happened if she’d melted in his arms like she’d wanted to.

  They’d only be back at square one, and they’d have to face this morning all over again farther down the road.

  She looked out her kitchen window Tuesday morning and knew she’d done the right thing. He fancied himself in love with her, but he didn’t understand the extent of her damage. Even if she could somehow hide the broken parts from him, he would want children. How could she be a mother? She had no idea where to begin caring for a child.

  Yes, she’d practically raised Erin, but that was different. As they’d grown older, Erin had become the mother hen of the two. Dana smiled at the thought of the animal ark her sister ran. It would seem one of them had grown to adulthood unscathed.

  Rinsing out her coffee cup, she set it in the dishwasher and picked up her shoulder bag for work. As she turned, the light through the window caught on the toaster, creating a sort of rainbow.

  Arks and rainbows. She remembered the biblical story from her days in Sunday school—before her mother had died. Back when she’d been naïve enough to believe in such things. God had promised Noah safe passage. As a young girl, she had been foolish enough to believe such promises applied to her as well. So the teacher had told her.
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  Life had taught her differently though.

  God might have kept His promise to Noah, but He didn’t seem to keep the promises He made her.

  Which was one other reason she needed to stand firm against Ben Marshall. He was a man of faith, and she respected his beliefs. But faith was something she didn’t possess.

  Marching to her car, she pulled the note from her windshield, recognized his handwriting, and ripped it to shreds. Tucking the pieces into her bag, she backed out of the driveway and headed into work. Already she could tell it was going to be a long day.

  Fifty-five

  “You’re sure she tore it up?”

  “I’m sorry, Ben.” Sayeed spoke into the phone as he followed Dana into the office. “I saw it with my own eyes. She tore it up and stuffed the pieces in her bag.”

  “At least she didn’t cast it to the wind,” he muttered.

  “Dana is not one to litter,” Sayeed said. Ben could make out the sounds of early morning traffic in the background. “You sound desperate, my friend. In my country we would go to a woman’s family and ask for permission to wed. We do this here as well. It is a sign of respect.”

  Ben sighed. “Different culture, man. Thanks anyway.” He disconnected and stared at his desk, thinking the situation might be hopeless enough that he’d give Sayeed’s idea a try—if Dana had any family.

  The thought clicked so loudly in his head he looked around to see if someone had dropped a book on the floor. Dana did have family. Her sister Erin lived in Texas. Surely he could find her phone number. Of course, Dana would kill him if she found out, but since she wasn’t speaking to him anyway, he didn’t have much to risk.

  “Dana’s pulling in, Marshall.” Captain looked at him with his usual unreadable expression.

  “Right. Got it. Thanks.”

  “You want some advice?” Captain adjusted the headphones so they were slightly askew. He rubbed one eyebrow as he spoke, not bothering to wait for Ben’s response. “Don’t give up on her. The ones you have to work the hardest for, they’re the ones worth having.”