Line of Fire Page 28

“If you’re going stir crazy with not working, you can always help me with the new shelves I want to build,” I told Shannon. “You are good with your hands, aren’t you?”

  He reached for me. “I’m good at a lot of things.” His lips touched my undamaged cheek in a light kiss, and then another, as he worked his way to my mouth.

  Something on the TV caught my attention and I sat up, destroying the moment.

  “What—” Shannon followed my gaze where an early morning news show recapped the previous night’s top news.

  The camera panned the hospital lobby, showing the girls talking to uniformed officers. The face of the tough-looking girl appeared on the screen. “Yeah, it was scary,” she said, twirling a strand of blue hair. “I was always planning to escape, but I worried about leaving the other girls. Some of them are so young.”

  Something was different about her, but what? I snapped my fingers. “She’s wearing Cody’s coat. So that’s what happened to it.”

  “Without that woman,” the girl was saying now, “I don’t know how we would have gotten away. Her and the man with her—they’re good people.”

  The anchor reappeared on the screen, talking about strength and luck and how some of the girls were being reunited with their families. “As to the identities of the girls’ mysterious benefactors, local police and the FBI have declined to comment, saying only that those involved were under law enforcement authority and wish to remain anonymous.”

  Shannon’s fingers closed around mine. “They got that right.”

  “It all worked out,” I said. “The girls are safe, and Levine’s going to prison.” Kirt’s cousin, Millard, had finally awakened and had agreed to testify against Levine and Kirt. “Unless he gets out on a plea bargain.”

  “I doubt it. Not with what he planned for those girls. The whole country will be watching the trial. Once they find the body of the real Deputy Levine, his fate will be sealed. His only option now is to talk and help us get his so-called partners before they get to him. If he doesn’t, not even prison will be safe for him.”

  I shivered, feeling suddenly cold, though the waiting room was warm. “He was going to force me to be a part of it—the drugs and the girls.” Human trafficking. It was still hard to get my brain around the horror.

  Shannon frowned. “That’s what I was afraid of. I couldn’t think of any reason for them to attack us in Portland. I mean, the commander would have eventually found Jenny’s birth father. I worried it was something connected to your ability.”

  So that’s what he’d been hiding in the truck on the way back from Portland. I’d figured it out for myself, but only after it was too late. “Wish you’d let me in on that earlier.”

  He gave me a lopsided smile. “Would it have made a difference?”

  “Probably not.”

  We sat in silence for a long moment, and then I said, “Thanks for coming on this case with me.”

  “I had fun. Sort of.”

  I knew what he meant. It had been hard, but it was one more small victory for the good guys.

  My phone vibrated in the pocket of the jacket Agent Cross had found for me, having confiscated Levine’s for evidence. My own was still missing, and I had only one knit glove, which I used now to hold the phone. I’d have to get a new phone soon, because every time I touched it, I relived my own imprint of the fear I’d experienced after Cody had been shot and I was in the van, hurtling toward Shannon’s location. Not fun.

  “My sister,” I said to Shannon, jabbing at the answer button with a bare finger. Fast, before an imprint could fully play out.

  “Hello?” I said, holding it near my ear but not touching it.

  “I saw the girls on the news this morning, and I thought no way is this not connected to you. What’s going on?”

  “I’ll tell you, but it’s going to take a while.” I hadn’t quite finished explaining the night’s events, including how her drawings had come to life, when Cody’s doctor appeared, a tall, sturdy man with thinning blond hair. He looked as exhausted as I felt.

  “Wait a minute,” I said to Tawnia. I rose to my feet rigidly, relaxing slightly when Shannon also stood and put his arm around me, balancing on one crutch.

  The doctor cleared his throat. “He’s awake and asking for you. At least I think it’s you from his description. I’m not sure if he’s all there, though. He keeps talking about figures in black with guns.”

  Considering Cody had been shot, I didn’t think that was at all strange. “How is he doing?” I asked. “Medically, I mean?”

  The doctor smiled. “He’s a tough old bird. I think he’s going to be fine.”

  We followed him to a room, where Cody lay on a bed, looking fragile and gray beneath his tan and in definite need of a shave. One of his pillows lay on his chest, with his bare hands and arms resting on top in a rather awkward position.

  “So you’re okay.” He glanced at the door where the doctor had vanished. “Stupid man wouldn’t tell me anything about what happened. I saw those guys go toward the house, but when I tried to get out of the car …” He shook his head. “Must have passed out.”

  “We’re fine,” Shannon said. “So is everyone else.”

  Cody breathed a sigh of relief. “What about the Vandykes?”

  “Jenny has been returned to her parents, and from what I heard, the reporters are hailing you and Mrs. Vandyke as heroes for protecting Jenny from human traffickers.”

  Cody arched a brow. “Didn’t expect that. Thought maybe the commander was out there waiting to arrest me.”

  “All you did is give Gail Vandyke a place to keep Jenny,” I said, sinking onto one of the chairs next to the bed.

  “Well, he also impeded an investigation, but I think given everything else that went on, no one cares. But be prepared for a media frenzy.”

  Cody frowned. “I ain’t talking to any of them. Vultures.”

  “Might get you some buyers for your artwork,” I said.

  “Don’t need ’em. Can’t keep up as it is. Look, can you get me another top sheet? Whoever folded this one was so angry it left an imprint. I must have relived her fight with her boyfriend hundreds of times when I was unconscious.”

  That explained the pillow. “Sure. Is the rest of the stuff okay?”

  He nodded, but before I could move, he added, “So you think you’ll be sticking around a bit? For the stories, I mean.” His face showed absolutely no expression, as though he was asking about the weather or what I’d eaten for dinner.

  Like he didn’t care.

  I knew better.

  I’d also experienced firsthand his self-hatred, and I knew I had to choose my next words carefully or risk losing any contact with him.

  “Autumn! Whoo-oo, Autumn!” came a tinny voice.

  We all stared at the phone in my gloved hand. I’d forgotten my sister and was probably breaking all kinds of hospital rules having the phone on in the ICU. “Just one more minute,” I said into the receiver. I brought my gaze back to Cody, who was still watching me with a guarded expression.

  “I want to hear it all,” I said. “Especially about your mother. But there’s something I need to tell you first. Something you should know.”

  An edge of despair crept into his mismatched eyes, so I hurried on. “It’s not just me. I have a twin sister. Her name is Tawnia. She’s the one who found you and sent me to Hayesville in the first place. She’d really like to talk to you.” I’d let Tawnia tell him about the baby—and plan for the future. She was good at planning.

  Tucking the phone into a paper towel from the dispenser near the sink, I passed the phone to him.

  “Hello?” he said. “This is Cody Beckett.” I didn’t think I imagined the hint of tears in his gruff voice.

  Returning Shannon’s grin, I began to search the cupboards for a clean, imprint-free sheet.

  About the Author

  Rachel Ann Nunes (pronounced noon-esh) learned to read when she was four, beginning a lifelong fascination with the wri
tten word. She began writing in the seventh grade and is now the author of more than thirty published books, including the popular Ariana series and the award-winning picture book Daughter of a King.

  Rachel and her husband, TJ, have seven children. She loves camping with her family, traveling, meeting new people, and, of course, writing. She writes Monday through Friday in her home office, taking frequent breaks to take care of kids.

  Rachel loves hearing from her readers. You can write to her at Rachel@RachelAnnNunes.com. To enjoy her monthly newsletter or to sign up to hear about new releases, visit www.RachelAnnNunes.com.