Hidden Peril Page 19

  “I hear you. Work can be all consuming sometimes.” He flicked a glance at the fingers she’d curled around the edge of the door.

  She loosened her white-knuckle grip. “I like being busy.”

  “Running an almost one-person business is a guarantee of that, as we both know.” He gave the interior a sweep over her shoulder. “The shop looks great, by the way. I noticed while I was in on Saturday that you’ve rearranged some of the displays.”

  “It’s important to mix things up every few weeks, keep it fresh, or regular customers get bored.”

  He chuckled. “I guess that’s why I’m in insurance instead of retail. Well . . . back to the salt mines.” With a lift of his hand, he continued down the sidewalk to his office.

  After watching him walk away, Kristin closed and locked the door.

  This wasn’t good.

  If a knock from a friendly neighbor could send her pulse skyrocketing, what would happen when the bad guys showed up to retrieve the hollowed-out candles?

  She needed to get a grip on her emotions.

  Fast.

  She’d assured Luke she could handle her small part in this operation without tipping anyone off, and she did not want to let him—or the innocent victims—down.

  Thank heaven she’d had this trial run with someone who was on her side instead of a terrorist. Next time she’d be more prepared.

  She crossed to the back room and cracked the door. “All clear.”

  The two agents dropped their pretense of working on an outlet and rose.

  “Who was it?”

  “My neighbor. He noticed the lights were on earlier than usual and was checking on me. We’re all a bit on edge after everything that happened here in April.”

  “Got it.” They both returned to their tasks in the showroom, and Kristin trailed after them.

  “Do I need to activate all this once you guys are ready to roll?” She waved a hand to encompass the cameras and mics they’d installed.

  “No. We control the equipment from our surveillance van. Your main job is to say the code word to alert our people.”

  “I don’t have that yet.”

  “I believe Agent Bradley will provide it as soon as they’re ready for you to display the merchandise. Give us a few minutes to test this, and we’ll be out of your hair.”

  She wandered back to the pillow covers, sorting through them while the two agents communicated by phone with someone who verified the cameras and mics were working.

  Within ten minutes, they’d packed up their tools and were gone.

  Now all she had to do was wait—and hope the people who were going to retrieve the candles showed up fast after they were on display.

  Preferably on a day Alexa wasn’t working.

  But her clerk had said she could be flexible in her schedule over the next two weeks in light of the situation in Boston—so if Luke gave her sufficient notice, she’d rearrange the hours to ensure she was on duty for the first two days after the candles were put out.

  Assuming the people running the operation didn’t want to risk another regular customer buying them again—as Elaine had—that would be long enough. The candles would be purchased, ending her role in this drama.

  And removing her once and for all from the reach of terrorism’s deadly tentacles.

  “They found Bishara’s son.”

  As Nick passed on the news, Luke angled away from the crime scene he’d been working and adjusted the cell against his ear, a surge of adrenaline jacking up his pulse. “That’s welcome news on a Friday morning.”

  “And none too soon.”

  True. They were closing in on the eight-week mark since the candles had been shipped. With or without a location for Touma, in another few days they’d have had to roll or risk raising suspicion at this end.

  “What’s next?”

  “Special ops has been notified. A rescue mission is in the planning stage. The location doesn’t appear to be all that secure, so the extraction shouldn’t be difficult. For now, the ball shifts back to our court. We need to be close to our guy before they move.”

  “Understood. When do you want the merchandise to be put on display?”

  “Tuesday morning. Will you pass that on . . . along with the code word we discussed earlier this week?”

  “Yes. I’ll take care of it today.” A perfect excuse to see Kristin . . . and a perfect end to his workweek.

  “I’ve alerted Bishara about the new development too.”

  “I’m sure he was relieved.”

  “That would be an understatement. He’s already passed over all the contact information he has for buyers, as well as the PO box numbers he’s been given in the past for funds transfer. Those are all over the country. If you have some time, we could use more manpower on this. There’s a ton of information to track down in a very condensed timeframe.”

  “I’m at a crime scene now—but I can clear my schedule for the rest of the day and swing over there next.” After a brief detour to WorldCraft. “Any luck tracing the source of the email with the photo of Bishara’s son?”

  “No. It appears to have gone through a number of remailers. We’ve got a trap on Bishara’s cell, though. I assume his contact—who goes by the name of Amir—is using a burner phone and will keep the call short, then ditch the cell. But at least we’ll be able to get a rough idea of his location. I’m hoping he’s in town. That would simplify our job.”

  Nothing about this was simple . . . but keeping the takedown local would be less messy. All the players who were fully briefed would be on hand.

  “Sounds like this is picking up speed. I’ll be there in less than an hour.”

  He ended the call and turned to find Colin frowning at him.

  “What’s picking up speed?”

  “Another case.”

  “Does that mean you’re bailing on me with this one?” He waved a hand toward the crime scene.

  “After I clear it with Sarge.”

  Colin squinted at him. “Is this Kristin’s case?”

  “Yeah.” Now that he had a better handle on her relationship with her childhood buddies, he couldn’t fault the man’s concern.

  “If you need help on anything that doesn’t require top-secret clearance, let me know.”

  Kristin must have passed on that nugget to her buddies . . . unless Cole had let it slip.

  “I will.”

  “Watch her back.”

  “That’s my plan.”

  Colin stared at him long and hard for several beats. Finally he gave a clipped nod and walked away.

  Kristin was fortunate to have such staunch friends—as he told her thirty minutes later after he entered WorldCraft and the bell over the front door summoned her from the back.

  “Yeah. Colin and Rick mean the world to me.” She smiled up at him. “But I’m always open to new friends.”

  “Count me in that category—and aiming for more.”

  “Promises, promises.” She shot him a teasing grin, then grew more serious. “I missed seeing you this week—but I appreciated your texts.”

  “We’ve been slammed with cases. And I didn’t have any news to report, anyway . . . until now.” He filled her in on his call with Nick.

  “I’m glad they found Bishara’s son—and I’m glad this is winding down.” She swallowed. “So Tuesday’s the day.”

  “Yes.” He scanned the deserted shop and dropped his voice. “The word is dangerous. Work it into the conversation, maybe in reference to the conditions in Syria.”

  “No problem. I often talk about the situation over there to customers who buy the candles.”

  “Are they in the back?”

  “Yes. The pseudo electricians brought them and showed me what to look for on the bottom label.”

  “You won’t have any trouble checking that unobtrusively?”

  “No. I always wrap anything breakable in bubble wrap, and while I’m doing that it will be easy to turn the candles over.” She smoot
hed her palms down her slacks. “Will you keep me updated after the candles are gone?”

  “As much as I can. And now I need to run. Nick asked me to come by and help research some of the information Bishara provided.”

  “You want a cup of coffee to go?” She gestured to the pot she always made for customers.

  “Yes. Thanks.” He followed her over. “How’s everything in Boston?”

  “No change.” She poured his coffee. “My dad’s getting discouraged. We both are. Nine days is a long time to be in a coma.” The last word hitched as she put a lid on a disposable cup and handed it to him.

  “You can go back out there after the candles are purchased if you want to.”

  “I may do that—but I’ll decide after this is over. Let’s get through the next few days first.”

  “Okay.” He gave her fingers a squeeze. “Hang in. And if you need to hear a friendly voice beside Colin’s or Rick’s, I’m only a phone call away.”

  “I know . . . but I’ve been trying not to sabotage your keep-it-professional policy.”

  “I’m beginning to regret making that rule.”

  “Don’t. It’s a smart one—and I respect you for it. We’ll have plenty of opportunity to be together after this is resolved.”

  She gazed up at him . . . and for a moment he got lost in her eyes. They were the most amazing color—like the beckoning horizon where sky meets sea, calling him to a voyage brimming with possibilities.

  As that thought flitted through his mind, his mouth twitched. For a guy Becca had once called utterly unpoetic, that wasn’t half bad.

  “Luke?” Kristin studied him. “What are you thinking?”

  “That I’m going to bend my rule a little.” Without waiting for a response, he bent down and pressed his lips to her temple.

  Lingered.

  Until her shuddering breath whispered against his ear and nudged him back to his senses.

  “I’m out of here—for now.” He retreated until he was beyond touching range. “But expect to find me on your doorstep the instant this is over.”

  “I’ll hold you to that. The sooner the better.”

  He resisted the urge to loosen his collar as an appealing dimple dented her cheek.

  She wasn’t the only one counting down the hours on this investigation.

  But after lifting a hand in farewell at the door, he deliberately switched gears. For the next few days, his focus needed to be on dismantling a terrorist organization that funded ISIS cells in the US—and finding the man who was controlling the players like a chess master manipulating his game pieces.

  Because unless they got the top man, he’d disappear into the shadows, recruit new minions, and create another scheme to carry out his mission.

  That wasn’t an acceptable outcome.

  They needed the brain behind this . . . and neither he—nor Nick and his people at the FBI—would rest until Amir was caught.

  Preferably before anyone else got hurt . . . or killed.

  Kristin smoothed a hand over the cloth covering the round table near the shop entrance, adjusted the placard with the photo of the monks and their story, and backed a few feet away to survey the results of her last chore on this Saturday afternoon.

  The table was well-positioned to draw the attention of anyone entering . . . but it needed more visual interest.

  She surveyed the shop, homing in on a display of colorful, woven table runners.

  Perfect.

  After retrieving one, she draped it across the round table.

  Much better.

  All was in readiness for her to set out the candles on Tuesday morning—and since Alexa had agreed to work Thursday and Friday afternoons next week instead of Wednesday and Friday, the candles should be gone before she was back on duty . . . assuming everything happened as fast as Luke expected.

  Kristin twisted her wrist to display the face of her watch. Almost closing time. But there was no hurry to lock up. She had nothing on her evening agenda. No rehearsals yet for Alice in Wonderland, no bookwork for the shop, no chores at the condo . . . no date.

  Based on Luke’s parting remarks yesterday, however, her Saturday nights should be far more lively as soon as—

  Her phone vibrated, and she pulled it out of her pocket, her smile fading as the name on the screen registered.

  Uh-oh.

  Her father had stayed in touch with texts and emails for the past few days, but he’d only called once.

  Please, God, let this not be bad news.

  Finger trembling, she pushed the talk button. “Hi, Dad. Is everything okay?”

  “Yes.” A hint of excitement crackled over the line. “Better than okay. Your mom is showing signs of regaining consciousness.”

  Kristin rested a hand on the empty candle display beside her and took a deep breath. Thank you, God. “That’s fabulous news! Tell me what happened.”

  “She’s making sounds and showing some reaction to pain and to touch. She hasn’t opened her eyes yet, but she’s moving around a little. The doctors are very hopeful. This is a huge step forward.”

  “I wish I was there.”

  “So do I—but I know you have a full plate . . . and this is a waiting game for now. If all goes well, we should see more and more awareness returning. But it could be a long, slow process.”

  “I still wish I was there.”

  “Maybe you can come back in a week or two. Your part in the situation you told me about should be finished soon, right?”

  “That’s what I’m counting on.”

  “Why don’t you plan a trip then? It would probably be better if you came after your mom was more communicative, anyway.”

  “I suppose that makes sense, but I . . .”

  The bell above the door jingled, and Ryan entered.

  He hesitated and nodded toward the phone, but she motioned him in.

  “Did someone come into the shop?” Her father’s query pulled her back to their conversation.

  “Yes, but I can talk.”

  “I think we’re caught up—and I’m on my way in to see your mom. I’ll call you again tomorrow with an update.”

  “Thanks, Dad. Take care.”

  “Will do. Talk to you soon.”

  She slid the phone back into her pocket and exhaled as Ryan joined her.

  “I hope that wasn’t bad news.”

  “No. The opposite. Mom appears to be coming out of the coma. I just wish the timing was better. With everything going on here, I don’t know how soon I can get back out there.”

  “Is there some sort of problem with the shop?”

  Whoops.

  “Um . . . not really. But the business doesn’t run itself, and I’m still playing catch-up from being gone last week. After asking Alexa to work extra during my last trip, I don’t want to impose on her again.”

  “I got the impression from talking to her last Saturday that she’d be happy to have more hours. I expect there’s always plenty to do in a shop . . . like fill up empty displays.” He smiled and tapped the table beside them.

  “Displays are easy.” She waved a hand in dismissal. “This one will be full again by Tuesday. Keeping up with inventory and the books, however—not to mention evaluating potential vendors and communicating with existing ones—is time consuming.”

  “Can’t you do most of that from your laptop?”

  “Some. I may head East next weekend, depending on how fast Mom improves.”

  “Seems reasonable. In the meantime, why don’t you let me treat you to dinner at Panera to celebrate the news about your mom?”

  Kristin tried to mask her dismay.

  Of all days for Ryan to decide to ask her out.

  Nice as he was, there was only one man who interested her . . . and she’d rather spend the evening with a good book than go on a date she knew would lead nowhere.

  “I appreciate the thought, Ryan . . . but I’m actually in the mood for a quiet night of chilling with a book.”

  “A
nother time, maybe.”

  She was saved from having to answer by the arrival of a last-minute customer who poked her head in the door.

  “Sorry to show up so near closing, but I need a hostess gift for tonight. If I shop fast, can you give me five minutes?”

  “Of course. Let me help you find something.”

  “I’ll talk to you next week.” Ryan offered her an amiable grin and let himself out.

  Ten minutes later, after locking the door behind a satisfied customer, Kristin closed the front window shades, flipped off the lights, and exited out the back door, into the alley.

  She hadn’t lied to Ryan. Her evening plans did include reading. She was only halfway through the critically acclaimed suspense novel she’d picked up in the airport while waiting for her flight to Boston.

  But it was hard to immerse yourself in a fictional tale, no matter how exciting, when your life was beginning to feel like a bestselling thriller.

  As she’d learned from this ordeal, however, she much preferred her suspense between the covers of a book.

  And once this was over, she was going to focus on romance in her reading . . . and in her life . . . for the foreseeable future.

  19

  “Delicious meal, Sis. Thanks for the invite.” Luke sat back in his chair on Becca’s patio. “Beats what I cook for Sunday dinner, that’s for sure.”

  She snorted. “Last I heard, your culinary repertoire consisted of Cheerios and Ragu spaghetti sauce.”

  “They’re nutritious.”

  “You can’t live on cereal and pasta. There are other food groups, you know.”

  “Then keep inviting me on Sunday.” He raised his glass in salute and took a sip of his iced tea.

  “You’re always welcome. If you’d like to come more often, all you have to do is—”

  “No! I want Unc Luke to put me to bed!” Mike barreled through the patio doors with Mark on his heels, a frazzled-looking Neal in hot pursuit.

  “Sorry.” Neal shot Becca a contrite glance. “I thought I had them corralled. Come on, guys. I’ll tell you a story.”

  “Unc Luke tells better stories. They have guns in them.” Mark eluded Neal’s lunge with a practiced dodge and raced over to Luke’s chair. “Will you tell us a story, please?”