A Home by the Sea (14 page)

 

One or two ends to tie up. Just boring stuff. But I'll go soon. And I'll be thinking of you when the music starts.

 

Grace closed her eyes, put a hand to her heart. She felt strange, both solid and weightless at the same time.
Alive
was the word. Amazingly alive, connected to Noah by odd, humming threads of awareness.

Her blood seemed to zing with little electric sparks as she read his message again. She smiled, then typed.

 

Please do. ‘Night.

B
ACK IN
D.C., Noah read Grace's message again. He took a hard breath and then closed his phone. He hadn't expected to miss her this way, like a slow, dull ache in his chest. He hadn't expected anything like this low, raw edge of need that didn't let up.

But she missed him, too. That meant something. The thought put a stupid grin on his face, which he quickly wiped away. No point in stirring up nosy questions from his coworkers.

Besides, there was no point in making plans. Grace had a full plate in Oregon, and…

Noah rubbed his gritty eyes. He was just finishing his first break in six hours, swilling down a cup of bad coffee with a soggy pastry, and he wouldn't be going home anytime soon.

He looked up as his best tech analyst trotted over with the disemboweled digital circuits and wires of a new improvised explosive device, fresh from the lab. With another shipment uncovered at the Baltimore docks, law enforcement manpower was going into deep overtime.

This assignment would probably take most of a
month, Noah estimated. Right now everyone was praying that only two ships were involved.

He studied the carefully labeled wires. “So what have we got, Anna?”

The tech expert ran her fingers over the tangle of bright colors. Something about her movement made Noah think about the order and beauty of the yarns in the shop that he and Grace had visited. But this device belonged to a different world, he thought grimly. Whoever had made this IED had left a similar one in a crowded Kabul street outside a hospital with dozens of sick children inside. That cold mind had left any concept of order and beauty behind long ago.

His twentysomething tech assistant pulled out two green wires and brandished them with a look of glee. “Nothing too technical, boss. Strictly low-brow wiring. We've seen this kind of layout before. But they've done something different with this one. See the blue wire near my thumb?”

Noah looked. In a handful of years, explosives had graduated from basic mechanics to a constantly evolving science requiring highly trained technicians in a number of fields. Every report could save a life out in the field. “Tell it to me straight up, Anna. Make it in words of two syllables,” he added drily.

“Redundancy.”

“Four syllables.”

“Just checking that you were paying attention, boss. You look a little tired. Yesterday might—”

“I'm fine, Anna.” Noah rubbed his shoulder. He'd been called out again the night before.

The tech flipped out the two green wires and then turned the device, showing a similar set of couplings in three different colors. “Four sets. Multiple redundancies. If one doesn't work, the circuit triggers the next through gravity pulls. And they didn't stop with wiring redundancy. Look under the cheap plastic they used for the housing. That's one very nasty gyroscope.”

Noah leaned closer. “So if anyone lifts this baby once it's armed—or even sneezes while they're touching it—
kaboom.
”

“You got it.” But his tech's smile didn't reach her eyes. “Bad juju here. Oh, it's not beyond our technical abilities. The problem is that the container ship was full. There could be a thousand of these little nasties stuck in hundreds of corners. And there's always the possibility…”

Her voice trailed away.

“That more than one ship was sent to more than one dock.” Noah ran a hand over his face. “Yeah. I've been thinking about that possibility.”

“It's one thing to deal with a device like this in one city once a year, boss. If we get flooded with them…” She blew out a breath and shook her head.

Noah could do the math. It would be a very, very bad year for the home team if they didn't nail down some protocol fast. They needed training updates for all military and law enforcement who might come
in contact with these devices. Not sophisticated, but still deadly.

He had already drafted an alert to port and border personnel across the country. If anything similar turned up, Noah wanted his team to hear about it first.

Meanwhile, his job was to try to figure out how to solve problems, and his people were the best.

Period.

Given the mountain of analysis and field time in front of him, sleep was going to be a luxury. So was a normal life.

“Good job, Anna. Give me twenty minutes to wrap up here, and then I'd like to talk about the plastic used in these devices, along with any chemical signatures that can help pinpoint locations. We need to alert border personnel what to look for and how to handle it once they find something.”

“The last part's easy. They just call us,” she said smugly.

“We can't be everywhere. We need to check fastest disposal techniques. Laser, simple heat? Water disruption? I need tests and answers.” He stared at the gutted device, cursing softly. “We're not going to have a whole lot of time to get up to speed on these things. The FBI is going to need whatever we have, and I want our answers to be solid.”

“You've got it, boss.”

Noah winced as Anna moved away, cradling her device. He was only thirty-seven. He hated
when these young bright types treated him like an old man. On the other hand, he wasn't getting any younger.

Right now he felt like he was about two hundred and nine.

He pulled out his cell phone and read Grace's last message. Some of his tension lifted.

“Doing a lot of texting today, boss.” Anna studied him, one hand on her hip. “What's her name?”

“None of your business.”

She nodded slowly. “So it's serious. I'm glad. I hope she knows how lucky she is.”

Noah didn't have a clue how to answer that.

 

“W
HO IS HE
?” Jilly pushed a carton of hot noodle soup toward Grace. “What did he say? Is he coming to visit?”

“I don't know.”

“Did you thank him for the roses?”

“I did.”

“Did you tell him how you feel about him?”

“I don't
know
how I feel about him.” Grace sighed, knowing her friend could turn into a real bulldog if she thought it was important. She felt a momentary ache of loss. How had he left her so muddled? A month ago she had been totally determined to concentrate on her career and avoid any kind of entanglements.

“No, I didn't tell him how I feel. I told you that
it's too soon. No matter how I try, there's still the shadow of James blurring my future.”

“Forget about James. The man was never right for you anyway.” Jilly shook her head. “You still can't see that, can you?” Muttering, she grabbed her coat and stalked toward the elevator.

Grace wondered at the sudden anger in her friend's voice. Why was Jilly so upset?

There was no way to ask. The elevator doors were closing. Frowning, Grace glanced at her watch. She needed to go see if there was any change in her grandfather's condition. After that she would try to get some rest on the couch.

She heard a small chime on her phone, shoved in her pocket. When she pulled it out, a new line of text glowed on the screen.

 

So we change the game plan. One month from tomorrow. 7:00 p.m. My place. I'll bring the champagne. You bring the heat.

 

Grace took a deep breath, feeling anxious and off balance—but achingly
alive.

 

You're totally on.

 

B
UT AS SHE SETTLED
on the couch down the hall half an hour later, Grace had a cold memory of her grandfather's face, still asleep, still without any sign of recognition. A month might be just the begin
ning of his recovery. It could be six months or a year before he was mobile or able to take care of himself.

Her life was going to change in ways she couldn't see or understand. Her old dreams had to give way to hard new realities.

She pulled up the knitted blanket that Jilly had brought and closed her eyes. Her grandfather had been strong before this accident, and Grace told herself that he would be strong again. But her dreams were restless, filled with darkness and the sad cry of the wind through lonely grass.

Three in the morning

S
OMETHING CLATTERED LOUDLY
down the hall. A voice rose, querulous and afraid. Grace shot up, disoriented by the sound of beeping machines and an alarm.

Two nurses ran past her down the hall.

The frightened voice grew louder. Grace realized it was her grandfather, but he wasn't making any sense. In a quavering voice he called a name over and over.

The name was Marta, his dead wife.

Grace's grandmother, dead for years now.

Two nurses were already inside the room when Grace got there. Together the nurses strained to push the struggling man back into bed. Grace was shocked to see his wild eyes, completely without recognition. “I want Marta.
Where is Marta?
” he
demanded hoarsely. His hands dug at his hospital gown in confusion. “Where am I?”

“You will be fine, Dr. Lindstrom.” One of the nurses pressed the call button while she tried to push him back onto the bed.

He shook his head, fighting to stand up. “Who are you? How do you know my name?”

Grace's heart pounded as she came closer, hoping that she could help calm her grandfather.

But his eyes ran over her face with no sign of recognition. “Where am I?” he demanded. This time his voice wavered in a broken sound of panic. “I want Marta.”

“You're in the hospital, Dr. Lindstrom. You were hurt. You are here to recover. Do you remember anything?”

His eyes clouded. “Hurt? Where?” He looked down at his hospital gown and pulled at it with trembling fingers, tracing the heavy bandages around his ribs. Then he looked at the IV line in his arm. “I don't remember being hurt.”

He stood, rigid, and his gaze fell on Grace. “I want to call the animal shelter,” he said very carefully. He gestured to Grace. “Nurse, could you get me a phone?”

Grace realized he was looking at her. He thought she was a nurse, a stranger.

She forced a smile. “Dr. Lindstrom, please get back into bed. Then I'll get the phone, and you can call anyone you want.”

He blinked at her, as if trying to figure out something about her voice. And then he sat down on the bed, slowly and very carefully. He folded his hands on his lap. “I just want Marta,” he repeated, sounding sad and very lost. “I've lost her.”

Grace forced herself not to cry. She lifted the quilt from the floor where it had fallen and stepped back as the nurses hurried to check on the IV that her grandfather had fought to pull out in his frenzy. When he was settled under the covers, he looked at her again. “I need a phone. Marta will be worrying about me.”

Grace leaned down and patted his hand. The skin felt cold and terribly thin beneath her touch. “I'll get the phone for you, Dr. Lindstrom. You can call in a few minutes. Why don't you just rest for a moment?”

His eyes fluttered. “Marta,” he repeated thickly. His gaunt fingers dug into the hospital blanket as he kept repeating the name, a lifeline to his past. To security and the only person that he remembered, though she had been dead for years.

Grace felt a hand on her shoulder. One of the nurses was guiding her toward the door. “You should wait outside. We'll take care of him now.”

Blinded by tears, Grace found her way back into the corridor while the nurses talked to her grand father, who kept repeating his dead wife's name. Grace sank back against the wall, her knees weak. She couldn't stop trembling. What if he never came
back from this? What if the trauma had damaged part of his brain permanently?

Footsteps echoed up the hall. “What happened?” Jilly ran toward her.

“He woke up. He didn't recognize me. He doesn't remember anything,” Grace said hoarsely. “He keeps calling for my grandmother, and she's been dead for years.”

Grace felt Jilly tug a shawl around her, pulling her back down the hall to the nearest chair. Without a word Jilly pressed a cup of hot chocolate into her hands. “Drink that. You're freezing.”

“I don't want anything, Jilly.”

Her friend made a sharp sound and lifted the paper cup to Grace's mouth. “Just do it, Lindstrom. Don't even try to argue with me.”

Closing her eyes, she choked down some of the hot chocolate. But nothing would make this cold, clammy fear go away. “Jilly, what if he—what if he's always like this?”

“Stop it.” Grace heard the fierce determination in her friend's voice. “He's going to recover. You wake up in a hospital alone, in pain and disoriented. You're on medications and you haven't eaten. Of course you're confused. He'll be better as soon as he gets stronger. You need to believe that.” Jilly's voice was rough. “He
needs
you to believe that, Grace.”

“I'm trying.” Grace's fingers twisted in the shawl that Jilly had draped over her shoulders. “I'm trying so hard. But if you had seen him, how thin he is now,
Jilly. How sad and frightened he was, trying to find my grandmother.”

“It's awful. I wish you hadn't seen him that way.” Jilly's voice hardened. She slid out of her coat and pulled it around Grace's shoulders over the thin shawl she wore. “He'll be asleep now for a while. They probably gave him medicine. You don't need to be here, Grace. You should go and rest.”

“I can't—”

“You can. You're getting out of this hospital now.” Grim and determined, Jilly stood up, tugging her toward the elevator.

Grace couldn't seem to concentrate. Her friend pulled her along to the front door. The cold sea wind hit her face and made Grace blink, looking around her. “I can't leave him, Jilly.”

“If you stay there any longer, you'll turn into a basket case. Now be quiet. My car is right over here.”

Jilly pushed her into a dusty red Wrangler. They shot out through the parking lot and onto the coast road that wound south to Summer Island.