Hidden (Jacobs Family Series Book 1) Page 4

  This time Clay didn’t look to Dana for confirmation. He hit the remote and rewound the tape to the point of the first bell. Instead of watching the backpack site, they all watched the man in the blue-jean jacket. And what they saw was exactly as Ben had described it. When the man reached the front doors, he never paused. He veered like a jet on a predetermined course.

  Dana walked to the wall and flipped on the lights. It was almost time for shift change, and they had a lot of work to do. She picked up her phone and dialed Nina’s extension.

  “I want all personnel here in ninety minutes. We’re going to code yellow.”

  She hung up the phone and faced the two men in her office. “Clay, I want you to get with Red and do an analysis of this man. Tell me everything you can.”

  “Sure thing, Dana.”

  “Ben, work on the message he left. Ninety minutes isn’t much, but do your best.”

  “You’ve got it, boss.”

  She half expected him to salute, but he didn’t. He’d done a good job—she’d credit him with that. Give him a few weeks, and maybe he’d learn to address her by her name.

  Nine

  Ben went out and purchased copies of all the local magazines, brought them back, and spread them around his lab. He’d barely begun studying the message under his magnifying lamp before he had to stop for the meeting.

  Watching Dana clarify the situation to all of her staff impressed him tremendously. She led with quiet confidence. He had detected a general respect for her among the staff individually. When they were gathered as a group, it was more than obvious. Dana was a born leader.

  She explained the situation succinctly, didn’t insult them by reminding them what their jobs were, and she certainly didn’t commit the cardinal sin of wasting their time. The purpose of the meeting was to deliver the most immediate information in the most expedient way.

  Afterward, he returned to his lab. He thought he might stay there an hour, then go back to his apartment for dinner. He still hadn’t unpacked his boxes. Three hours later his stomach began to grumble. Frustrated beyond belief, he left everything he had with Toby, the night-shift guy, who promised he’d stick with it until morning.

  “Call me if you find anything,” Ben said.

  “If that’s what you want.”

  Toby looked at him dubiously. The man was in his fifties and had a habit of rubbing his bald head when he questioned what someone said. He was rubbing it now, as if it were a bowling ball that needed a new shine.

  “It’s what I want, Toby.” Ben slapped the man on the back and walked out of the room.

  The muscles in his neck were knotted and tense. He could use a five-mile jog, but he’d be lucky to find the energy to drive home. Heading toward the break room to grab his jacket, he nearly bumped into Dana.

  “Ben, why are you still here?”

  “Actually, I’m headed home.”

  “Which doesn’t explain why you’re still here.” She looked at him pointedly, and he realized again that she was very good at what she did. Dodging her questions didn’t work.

  “I didn’t even notice what time it was,” he confessed. “Then my stomach started growling, and I realized I was starved.”

  Dana walked with him out the rear entrance toward their parking area. “This will probably be a long operation. Don’t burn out in the first twenty-four hours.”

  “Aye aye, boss.”

  Under the parking area lights, he saw her turn sharply toward him, and he couldn’t help but smile. He did enjoy teasing her. Jiggling his keys in his hand, he stopped walking.

  “I’ll walk you to your car. Where is it?”

  Dana shook her head as she looked around. “That’s not necessary.” She turned slowly in a circle.

  As he watched her, the stubborn look on her face turned to one of confusion, then absolute aggravation.

  “Something wrong?”

  She let out a growl.

  “Definitely something wrong. I completely forgot that I took my Honda into the shop. I was supposed to pick it up before five. Good grief.” She looked around again, as if her car might appear.

  “I’ll give you a ride home,” Ben said.

  Dana shook her head, brown hair slipping over her shoulder. “No. Thank you though.”

  Ben looked around them, then back at her and waited. He smiled when the realization finally dawned on her that he was her best choice—unless she wanted to take someone off active duty, or call a cab.

  “There aren’t a lot of cab companies in Taos,” she admitted.

  “I don’t mind. My truck is over here.” He motioned her toward the old Chevy.

  She gave him a small smile and nodded. “I live in Cimarron Hills.”

  “I know where it is.”

  “I remember now. You lived here before when you were younger.”

  “One summer between my freshman and sophomore year in college.” He moved toward the truck, which he’d parked at the end of the lot.

  “You’re sure this truck will make it to the end of town?”

  He managed to look offended. “Of course. Why wouldn’t it?”

  Dana stopped beside the black-and-white, Chevy truck, but she didn’t get in when Ben opened the door. “It looks well maintained, but it also appears to be quite…old.”

  Dana said the last word carefully, as if she was afraid it would offend.

  Ben still held the door with one hand. With the other he reached around her and tapped on the top of the cab. “Not only is she old—she’s classic.”

  “Which is a good thing?”

  “Extremely.”

  She sighed, but she did get into the truck. Ben moved around to the driver’s side, determined not to waste any time. From the look on her face, she might rethink her decision and take a hike at any moment.

  He cranked the truck and slipped it into gear. The moon rising over the mountains graced the sky with a shimmer of light. Ben realized he was happy for the opportunity to have a few moments alone with Dana. He wanted to find ways to help her, but he also trusted that God would provide opportunities in His own time.

  He didn’t feel a real need to spoil the night with his own voice. Dana looked tired. He suspected she didn’t relax very often. Glancing at her in the light of the moon, he thought she was starting to loosen up a little around him. He didn’t want to bungle the moment by rambling on about things she’d rather not hear.

  From the way she stared out the window, he gathered she was preoccupied with the case. Or maybe she was trying to maintain the professional distance she valued so highly.

  Ben slowed the truck as a fox ran across the road in front of them. Dana turned to look at him, a smile lighting her face.

  “He was beautiful,” she whispered.

  “So are you,” he said.

  Her smile slipped, then fell away. She stared down at her hands, then back out the window as he continued down the road. “You say the oddest things.”

  “Why is it odd to say you’re beautiful?”

  She didn’t answer, merely shook her head.

  “Tell me about your truck. I know we pay you enough for new wheels.”

  Ben laughed. It felt natural to him, laughing when he was with her. She made him think of home and a long parade of tomorrows and all that might be.

  “You don’t play fair, Dana Jacobs. You know very well a man can’t resist bragging about his wheels.”

  Dana tugged at her seatbelt, loosening it enough to allow her to angle into the corner of the truck. “Brag away.”

  “This is a 1967 Chevrolet, with a three-speed manual transmission.” Ben rubbed the steering wheel. “It was my granddad’s.”

  “He left it to you?”

  “Granddad’s still around. He’ll turn eighty-seven this year. About the only thing he drives any more is a golf cart.”

  “When did he give it to you?”

  Ben stared out at the stars sprinkled over the mountains. He had a hard time coming to terms with the fa
ct that thirteen years had passed. He was used to getting up each day and doing what needed to be done. Days had piled up that way though, turned into seasons he couldn’t recapture.

  “Ben?”

  “Yeah.” He looked over at her and thought again how beautiful she was.

  “You were going to tell me when your grandfather gave you the truck.”

  “Right. I kind of got lost in the memory of it, I guess.” He reached over and squeezed her hand that rested on the seat between them. He felt her stiffen—knew he’d crossed into her personal space.

  The memory of those teenage years still felt like a fresh wound at times though, reminding him of the isolation he’d struggled so hard against. He pulled his hand away to shift the gears in the truck and noticed when he did that she tucked both her hands under her legs.

  “Granddad gave me this truck thirteen years ago. Makes me feel a little old to think of how long ago that was.”

  “You were fifteen.”

  “Yeah.” Ben laughed again and ran his hand over the top of his head, as if he could ruffle his thoughts into some logical order. “We knew it would take at least a year to get it into running condition. It was nearly thirty years old then and had been parked out behind the barn for quite a while.”

  “So why—”

  “Do you remember your high school years? Going to the school today and watching the kids on the tape…it brought it all back for me. If memories were a taste, for me those years would be bitterness—loneliness shrouded in confusion. Does that make any sense?”

  Dana nodded.

  “I don’t know how my parents survived me. I was a brooder.”

  “Doesn’t sound like the Ben I know.”

  Ben stared at something in the darkness. “I was a stranger then. Maybe everyone is at fifteen. I would sulk about anything and everything. It wasn’t my nature, which made it worse. It was like wearing a pair of shoes that didn’t fit, but I’d get up and put them on every day anyway.”

  “I’m sure you weren’t so terrible.”

  “Oh, I was. My dad couldn’t do anything right. Couldn’t talk to me. Mom tried, but I wouldn’t listen. But Granddad…” Ben let his fingers caress the wheel again. “Well, he seemed to know I was trying to scratch my way out of my old skin. Scared and mad about it.”

  They approached Cimarron Hills, and he glanced at Dana. “So for my fifteenth birthday, he gave me the keys to this truck. I must have spent more time in the barn with him, working on this truck, than I spent in the house that year. I know I slept more nights there than I did in my own bed.”

  “And it worked out.”

  “Yeah. It did. It took more than a year to redo it. I was soon hooked on the project. By the time I left for college, we’d turned it into a work of art.”

  Ben pulled into the residential neighborhood. Dana directed him down a street to the left, last house on the right. The home was modest, well kept, and tidy. He parked in the driveway. To his surprise she made no move to get out.

  “Were things better with your dad by then?”

  “Better, but still not good. It wasn’t until I moved away that I was able to appreciate what kind of man he was. Distance can help with that sometimes. When I came home the first summer of college, it was as if those poisoned years had never happened. He didn’t once hold them against me.”

  Ben studied Dana in the moonlight, thought he saw a glimmer of tears in her eyes. Reaching again for her hand, he asked, “What’s wrong?”

  “I think it’s wonderful you had a loving family. You’re very lucky.”

  Ben nodded, gently massaging the palm of her hand. “Yes. I’m very thankful for my family. My little brother was a much better teenager than I was. He had a little trouble in college, but he made it through. We stick together.”

  Dana stared out the window, as if she were searching the darkness for something lost. “What happened when you deployed?”

  “To the truck?” Ben laughed. “My brother Jed offered to drive it for me those six years, but Dad bought him a newer model. Jed never did have a handle for mechanical things. Instead, Dad took care of it—kept it until I returned.”

  “Your truck is sort of a family heirloom.”

  Ben studied her, prayed for wisdom, then plunged ahead. “Not really, Dana. It’s only a truck. I like driving it, because every time I slide behind the wheel it’s as if I can see my granddad sitting here. I can practically smell his Old Spice aftershave. But it’s still just a truck—nuts, bolts, pistons.”

  “I don’t understand. I thought you loved it.” Her voice had grown incredibly small.

  He’d met her one week ago, and she was his boss, so he couldn’t really explain what he did next. Perhaps it was the intensity of what they’d been through the last twelve hours. He’d experienced that in combat, too—strangers could become brothers in a day. Sometimes a day was all you had.

  So he followed his heart, reached out, and tucked her hair behind her ear. “I know men are supposed to love their trucks, but I’d rather not invest that kind of emotion in a thing. You can lose things pretty easily.”

  “You can lose people too.”

  “Yes. I know that’s true. But they’re not really lost to us. Only gone for a time.”

  Ben waited. Why couldn’t he have the words, the right words, to make loss and grief and faith easier for her?

  “I understand what you’re saying. I wish I could believe it.” Dana pulled her hand away and opened the truck door.

  “You can, Dana.”

  “But I don’t know how.”

  She turned to look at him. In the dimness of the dome light, he could see the fear and longing. What had happened in her past to injure her? Something told him it was more than the ops gone bad, more than the guys on the wall. The pain in her eyes spoke of something personal. It nearly broke his heart in two.

  Then she exited the truck, shut the door, and walked away.

  Ten

  Dana was at her desk an hour early Friday morning. She had a ten-year-old Ford sedan she kept parked in her garage, and that was what she drove into work. It wasn’t as dependable as the Honda, but it would do until she could ask Clay to take her at lunch to swap out the cars.

  She was early, and for once she’d slept well, which was unexpected. She’d thought she might toss and turn all night, especially after the feelings Ben had stirred up. She’d worked hard to be personable with her staff and yet maintain a professional distance.

  Somehow she’d failed to convey that to Ben Marshall. Straightening her blouse, she wondered if she should speak to him directly about it or try being aloof. With some men aloofness worked, but they were going to have to work closely together. Sighing, she realized she’d need to speak to him and the sooner the better.

  Scanning the larger room outside her window, she saw the day shift coming in, greeting the night people. It seemed everyone was here early. No doubt they were all keyed up about the new investigation. She envied the easy banter they shared with each other, but she firmly believed it was better if she kept herself at something of a distance. While it might be lonely for her, in the end things ran smoother. Personnel respected her authority more and could relax better when she wasn’t around.

  And to be honest, she didn’t need the heartache that came with developing relationships. It only took one glance at the three pictures on her wall to remind her of the truth of that hard-earned lesson.

  She stood, straightened her ivory blouse, and walked around her desk. Staff briefing first, then Ben Marshall. Who said Fridays were the best day of the week?

  Clay brought her fresh coffee when she walked into the main room. Without her saying a word, the talking died down and folks found a seat. It wasn’t as crowded as the day before when she’d called everyone in, but there were still twenty-five staff members in a room that usually contained twelve—thirteen since they’d added Ben to the day shift.

  He sent her a casual wave when their gazes connected. She nodded, t
hen took a sip from the coffee. Ignoring the way her heart raced, she reminded herself of the conversation they’d have in a few minutes. Once she was clear about where they stood, he’d tone it down. Then her personal life would once again resume its smooth, if somewhat dull, timbre.

  Which was fine. She had enough excitement in her professional life.

  “Cheryl, you want to summarize the night shift’s progress?” Dana perched on a desk, but was careful to keep her posture straight. She wanted her staff to know they had her full attention.

  Cheryl was a beautiful, petite, black woman. She’d been with the Taos office for two years, and she’d proven herself on a dozen missions. She had a sharp mind and a no-nonsense attitude that Dana appreciated. All of it was wrapped up in a soft, southern voice.

  “There’s little chance we’ll find out who the sweatshirt belonged to. No identification inside of it, and the school ordered over three hundred last year.”

  This sent a small murmur through the staff. Dana took another sip of coffee and nodded for Cheryl to continue.

  “Sayeed spoke with Sheriff Dunn’s office about the iPod.”

  Cheryl nodded to Sayeed, who picked up the thread of the briefing without a pause.

  The thirty-year-old Middle Eastern man was actually a ballistics expert. Because of his knowledge and experience, he’d made close contacts with the local law enforcement office. Several times they’d requested his help with an investigation. Each time Dana had happily complied.

  “The iPod was reported stolen by a freshman girl named Angela Johnson on April 4. She noticed it missing after lunch and filed the paperwork with the school officer. I contacted personnel at iTunes. Since that time the unit has not been accessed.”

  “Any data at all?” Dana asked.

  “Everything was fried to a crisp by Ben’s laser,” Sayeed confirmed.

  Ben ducked his head and everyone laughed. The moment helped to ease the tension that had been crackling in the air like static electricity.