Agent Undercover (5 page)

Dylan walked toward the couch. “Are you sure you don’t want me to get out of your hair so you can rest?”

Lying down and closing her eyes sounded wonderful. She’d pushed herself too hard today and was feeling the effects of it. However, Paige was determined to get some answers first—and push away the delicious feeling of being in his arms. Not that it was surprising that she’d enjoyed being there considering her instant attraction to the man. What surprised her was the desire to get to know him better on a personal level, not just in conjunction with her job.

And because of that desire, she had to tread carefully. Find out what she could about the fire and his sister, before she could even admit she was interested in him.

She had about twenty minutes before the pain pill would kick in.

“In a few minutes. Please, sit.”

He did, watching her with that concerned look on his face that made her do things she hadn’t done in a really long time. Like giggle. Really, what was up with that?

Paige told herself to focus on what he had to tell her—not the fact that he was looking better and better every minute she spent in his presence. She still had to rule him
out as a suspect for the fire that had killed her friend and fellow agent.

And his sister.

But his background check had come back clean. She was here simply checking up on him as a formality. The fact that he had acted to save her life after her collision with the car, the fact that he was straight-up honest with her about his sister’s drug use and the fact that he didn’t seem to have a deceptive bone in his body had her convinced he’d had nothing to do with the fire.

But she’d press on with a few more questions and confirm her beliefs. As much as she would like to go with her gut, she needed some hard evidence that said he was innocent of any wrongdoing. Paige hated this deception, the lying to him, the constant watching of her words around him. She shoved the feeling aside.

Deception was the nature of the career she’d chosen and she’d do it well.

“So …” she settled on the other end of the couch “… what happened that night? I’d ask how Will is handling it, but I guess that’s pretty obvious.”

Grief clouded his eyes and she felt a pang of guilt for poking around memories that weren’t that old and were obviously painful. But she had to.

It was her job and she needed to find Larry’s killer. But she couldn’t help offering, “I can see the pain in your eyes. You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to.” Biting her lip, she continued her role. “But I’m going to be working with Will at school. It might help me with him if I know some of the story.” She’d prefer the whole thing, but would take what she could get for now.

Pulling in a deep breath, Dylan rubbed a hand over his eyes and said, “Whatever Will saw scared him enough—

traumatized him enough—that he hasn’t said a word since.”

Paige winced. “I’m sorry.”

“So am I.” He looked down at his hands. “Sandra, my sister, and her boyfriend, Larry, were at home when the fire started. I don’t know why they couldn’t get out.” His words slowed. “At first, I thought Sandra must have been smoking something and it was her fault the fire started, but the autopsy report showed she was clean.”

“Wow, you said she was trying to get off the drugs. Looks like she was successful.”

He shrugged and looked up to meet her eyes. “Maybe. She’d gotten clean before and gone back to it, so …”

Moved by his pain, she reached over and clasped his hand in hers. “I really am sorry.”

“Anyway, I don’t know what Will saw or heard that night, but until he deals with it, he’s never going to get over it … or stop having nightmares.”

“Poor kid.”

“Yeah. Some nights are rough.”

“Where were you that night?”

He grimaced. “I was with a patient at the hospital almost all night in Bryson City. I didn’t find out about the fire until the next morning when the social worker brought Will to me.”

He was with a patient all night. Easy enough to confirm. Her heart warmed. Her instincts were right. He didn’t have anything to do with the fire. Her eyes grew heavy.

Paige reached over and squeezed his fingers. “I’m sorry, Dylan, I’m fading. Can we talk later?”

“Sure. I shouldn’t have stayed so long.”

She was glad he had. With a pang, she realized she didn’t want him to leave. But he sure couldn’t stay.

Then she couldn’t hold back the yawn that hit her. Her eyelids felt like they had weights attached.

Dylan gave a small smile and glanced at his watch. “You’d better get some rest. I’m going to check in with Eli and see if he’s made any headway on who trashed my office.”

Paige nodded, grateful that her head only protested with a mild squeak instead of the raging scream that had accompanied that movement more than once since she’d awakened in the hospital.

With one last, lingering look that she wasn’t sure how to interpret, Dylan rose and headed for the door. Paige waited at the window until he got in his car and drove off. Then she made her way back to the couch. Light-headedness hit her, and she collapsed onto the cushions.

Grabbing the light blue blanket she kept thrown over the back of the couch, she pulled it over her and let her eyes drift shut.

Her last coherent thought was that she was more certain than ever that Dylan didn’t have anything to do with the fire that had killed Larry and Dylan’s sister. And that was a good thing because for the first time in her career, her heart was getting way too involved.

Thud!

Paige jerked awake. Heart thumping, blood humming in her veins, she sat up.

The first thing she noticed was the lack of pain in her head.

The second thing that caught her attention was the fact that she’d apparently slept all day because the sun was going down just outside the window behind the couch.

The third thing made her freeze, all senses on high alert.

Someone was in her house.

Her drug-induced haze had evaporated with the sudden rush of adrenaline. She needed her gun.

But it was in her bedroom in the end table in the gun box.

Making a mental note to keep it with her from now on, she slid off the couch and her bare feet hit the carpet. Her left hand grabbed the cordless handset from the end table.

She might need it.

Paige’s eyes scanned the open room, registering each detail. The family room blended into the kitchen separated by the large countertop. The breakfast area looked undisturbed. That left the two bedrooms.

One of which contained her gun.

Throat dry, breathing controlled into shallow breaths, thoughts slid through her mind as she crept on quiet feet toward her bedroom. Who would be in her house? And why? Had her cover been blown? If so, how? And where had the sound come from?

The laundry room? The only way to access that was through the breakfast area.

She just wasn’t sure. And she didn’t want a confrontation without her weapon. Physically, she didn’t think she could handle it. Not today.

Pulse pounding doubletime, all senses tuned for another noise that didn’t belong, she used the moonlight filtering through her still open blinds to guide her.

Paige passed the kitchen and paused at the door that led to the hallway. Cautiously, she peered around the edge, thankful she’d left the small night-light burning.

Nothing.

Pulling in another breath, fingers clutched around the cordless handset, she slipped through the door and into
the hallway. To the right was the guest bedroom. The left, hers.

She turned left.

Stomach swirling, Paige slid the few steps to the door and again, peered inside from around the edge of the frame.

No one. Her stomach relaxed a fraction.

Moving quickly, yet still doing her best to stay quiet, she set the phone on the end table then pulled the drawer open. Inside lay the box sheltering her weapon. Paige punched in the code and the door opened with a soft pop. Curling her fingers around the butt of the gun, she flipped the safety off.

The hair on the back of her neck bristled and she spun, eyes probing the shadows of her room.

And still nothing stood out to her. Her heart pounded, adrenaline rushed. The bathroom door stood open and she could see inside. The shower curtain was still open, slid to one side, just the way she’d left it. A glance in the mirror above the sink showed no one hovering behind the door.

And yet …

Shivers danced up her spine as she assessed the window. The closed curtains looked untouched, pulled together, also just like she’d left them.

But the bottom of one fluttered.

Paige chilled. She hadn’t opened that window.

But there was no place to hide, except …

Her eyes dropped to the bed.

A hand shot out, clamped around her left ankle and jerked.

C
rashing to the floor, her elbow cracked against the hard wood sending shooting pain up to her shoulder and all through her head again.

Her gun flew from her suddenly numb fingers, and Paige knew without a doubt, in spite of her taller-than-average height and training, she was in no shape to ward off an attack.

Stunned, she lay on the floor, fighting the pain and pretending the fall had knocked her out. She gathered her wits and scrambled for a plan, as she hoped her attacker wouldn’t put a bullet or a knife in her while she lay there.

Movement to her left. A subtle shift in the air around her told her whoever had been under her bed was now crawling out—on the other side.

Darting to her feet, she spun, ignoring the raging pain in her arm and the little men with jackhammers in her head. “Who are you? What do you want?” As she spoke, she moved backward, using her bare foot to feel for the gun.

Her brain registered what physical details she could see in the darkened room. About her height, wide shoulders, black mask, black clothing.

Paige felt her heart thudding in her chest and worked
to control her breathing and the nausea clawing in her throat.

The figure remained silent, but she could hear his rapid, hitching breaths. Paige’s foot grazed her weapon. Throwing herself to the floor, she wrapped her fingers around the butt of the gun and rolled until her back was up against the wall.

She froze, trying to listen.

Silence.

And her eyes landed on empty space.

Her intruder was gone.

She bolted after him, doubled over with pain yet determined to see as much as she could. Did he drive? Where was he parked? Before she could get out of her bedroom door, she heard her front door slam shut.

Giving chase would be futile in her condition, but she had to try. She reached the door, head and arm throbbing. Throwing it open, she held her gun ready in case he was waiting for her. She stepped out onto the porch.

Empty.

Taillights faded in the distance.

Her intruder?

Probably.

In disgust, she returned to her house and grabbed another painkiller while she punched in a number on her cell phone. Reporting it to the police would just bring more unwanted attention down on her. She wouldn’t call the police, but Charles needed to know.

After another round of prayers asking for a good night’s sleep, Dylan tucked Will into the bed for the fourth time and sat on the edge. “’Night, buddy.”

Will reached out and squeezed Dylan’s fingers. He
might as well have wrapped his hand around Dylan’s heart. Surprised at the gesture of affection, he tried not to let his excitement show. Instead, he smiled and leaned over to plant a kiss on the boy’s forehead.

Will let his gaze linger on Dylan’s face, then he turned on his side and closed his eyes.

The lump in Dylan’s throat grew, and it took several swallows to get it down. How he wished he’d been a bigger part of Will’s life before Sandra had died. But she hadn’t let him. She’d been desperate to hide her renewed drug habit from him.

And it hadn’t been hard. At first.

Dylan had been so wrapped up in Erica, first as the woman he was dating, then as his fiancée for a year, that he hadn’t paid much attention to what Sandra was doing.

It wasn’t until his sister had started asking for money just about every week that Dylan remembered Sandra’s previous pattern. After playing private detective one weekend, he’d figured out what she was doing.

Sickened at the thought that the money he’d been giving her had gone up her nose or in her veins, he’d confronted her and threatened to turn her in to the cops.

She’d been furious. Then tearful. Then begged him not to because Will would be taken away from her.

Dylan closed his eyes as guilt swept over him.

If he’d turned her in, would she be alive today?

Maybe.

When it looked like Will was going to stay in the bed this time, Dylan rose and made his way into the den. His housekeeper and part-time babysitter, Cheryl Hunt, walked from the kitchen drying her hands. The lively, sixty-year-old woman had become more like a mother to him than
hired help. “Well, if you don’t need me any longer, I suppose I’ll be on my way.”

Dylan smiled. “Thanks, Cheryl. Don’t know what I’d do without you.”

She waved a hand in dismissal. “Oh, you’d figure something out.”

He laughed and walked her out to her car. Once again, just like in the hospital, he had that feeling of being watched. Spinning around, his eyes probed the darkness, looking for any sign of movement. His ears pricked, listening, alert.

“Dylan? Are you all right?”

He jerked. Cheryl stared at him, her forehead pinched with concern.

Helping her into the car, he reassured her. “I’m fine. Just thinking about something.”

“Do you want me to stay a little longer?”

Dylan shivered as the hair on the back of his neck spiked. “No.” He forced a smile. “We’re good for the night. You drive safe.”

He waited until she was settled in her car and pulling out of the drive before narrowing his gaze and looking around. His heart thudded as he examined the bushes lining the house.

Nothing.

Standing still, he let his eyes wander the property as his ears tuned in to the night sounds.

More nothing.

With slow, measured steps, he reentered the house, shut the door and locked it.

Taking a deep breath, he ordered his heart to slow its rapid beat.

Silence settled in on him. Around him.

Slipping to the side window, he pushed aside the curtain and looked out. The motion lights on the corners of his house only illuminated so far. Beyond them, it was pitch black.

But nothing moved.

Senses still in alert mode, he allowed his mind to drift to Paige Worth. Now there was an interesting woman. Pretty, tall enough he didn’t get a crick in his neck when looking down at her, and from all indications, she had an independent streak a mile wide.

He liked that.

His eyes trailed back in the direction of Will’s room. “And she obviously likes kids.” Speaking the words out loud made him laugh at himself. “You’ve got to get a life, Seabrook.”

Then he frowned. No, right now, Will was his life. Until the little boy felt comfortable and learned to trust again, Dylan would put his own life on hold.

Although Paige sure did seem to bring out the best in Will.

He wondered if she would bring out the best in
him.
He thought he might like to find out. When the time was right, of course. And if she shared his love for God.

What do You think, Lord?

Dylan walked to the couch and sat down, grabbing the cordless handset. He’d already memorized Paige’s number, and he punched it in. It was only nine-thirty. Not too late to call.

He hung up.

Unless she was still sleeping.

But she’d probably slept all day, he argued with himself.

Redialing the number, he felt his heart pick up speed in anticipation of hearing her voice.

“Hello?”

“Hi, Paige, it’s Dylan. I just called to check and see how you were feeling.”

“I’m doing fine, thanks.”

Something in her voice made him frown. “Are you sure?”

“Absolutely.”

“You don’t really sound fine.”

A breathy laugh filtered through the line. “I promise, Dylan, I’m fine.” A pause. “But thanks for checking on me.”

“Sure.” An awkward silence. Then Dylan cleared his throat. “Did you eat supper?”

“Uh … not yet.”

His suspicions aroused, he asked, “Do you have any food in the house?”

Silence. “Dylan, I’m a big girl. I promise I can take care of myself.”

Dylan knew he flushed even though she couldn’t see him. He was kicking himself for not checking to make sure she had something to eat before he left. “Right. Sorry. I just …”

Her voice softened. “I know. Thanks, though.”

He didn’t want to let her off the line, but he couldn’t think of anything intelligent to say. Better stop while he was ahead. “Talk to you later?”

“Sure. Bye.”

For several minutes after she hung up, Dylan sat still, staring at the wall. Then a smile curved his lips, and he dialed another number.

“Hi Cheryl, it’s Dylan. I was wondering if you and some of the ladies in the church would be willing to help me help a friend.”

Three days later, after a clean bill of health and enough casseroles in her refrigerator to last her at least a decade, thanks to Dylan and his friends from church, Paige climbed in her car and made the short drive to the school.

The cloudy, gray sky said she’d better have an umbrella handy. Rain was in the forecast and a tornado watch had been issued. She’d forego walking until the weather cleared up.

When she’d told Charles about the intruder in her house, he’d been deeply concerned. “Are you hurt?”

“No.” Well, her arm still ached, but the pain pills she’d been taking for her head had helped the arm, too.

“Is your cover blown?”

Paige had thought it over very carefully. “I really don’t think so. It could have just been a random thing. The neighborhood’s not the worst in town, but it’s not the best, either. Don’t pull me yet. Let’s see if anything else happens. I’m not ready to give up before I’ve even really gotten started.”

“What about Dylan Seabrook? Have you gotten any vibes on whether he knows what his sister was involved with?”

Oh, she’d gotten vibes all right. But not ones she cared to share with Charles. “He figured out she was doing drugs. But I don’t think he knows anything about where she was getting them.”

“He’s a doctor. He wasn’t prescribing them for her?”

The thought had occurred to her. “I don’t think so. She was more into cocaine from what I understand. But it wouldn’t be a bad idea to run his license and see who he’s prescribing for.”

“I’ll do it.”

“He also has an alibi for the night of the fire.” Paige
gave him the information, and he promised to check it out.

Charles had called her back the next day saying Dylan had prescribed a few drugs but nothing addictive. A couple of antibiotics and a cough medicine for Will.

And he’d been at the hospital with a patient all night. Relief flowed through her. Not that she’d really thought he had anything to do with the fire, but his nice, solid alibi made her feel better about him.

The school came into view, and she pulled into the parking lot. The rain threatened to start at any moment, so she grabbed her umbrella from the backseat.

The minute she hit the front door, the skies let loose. Paige hurried into the office, shutting the door on the deafening noise.

“Good morning, can I help you?” The woman’s ID badge read Heather Wilson.

Paige stepped forward. “Hello, Ms. Wilson, I’m Paige Worth, the new guidance counselor.”

The secretary’s eyes went wide. “Oh! You’re the one who saved little Will Price, aren’t you?”

Oh, boy. Word traveled fast in a small town. Of course, the incident had taken place right outside the front door of the school. She wondered if she would encounter answering questions about saving Will all day long.

Probably. Paige forced a smile. “Yes. I just happened to be in the right place at the right time.” She glanced around. “And now that I’m feeling better, I’m ready to get to work.”

“Well, we’re glad to have you.” Paige breathed a relieved sigh when the woman let the subject of the rescue drop. Ms. Wilson grabbed a set of keys and a badge from her desk and said, “If you’ll follow me, I’ll show you to your office and you can get settled.” She handed Paige
the badge. “You’ll need that to access certain areas of the building. Just swipe it with the strip facing the door.”

Paige took it and clipped it on her shirt. She’d had her picture made the day of the interview. The day she’d been officially hired by the superintendent.

Ms. Wilson bustled on. “Dr. Bridges is in a meeting at the moment, but I’m sure he’ll stop in to check on you later when he hears.”

“Sounds great.”

Paige followed the woman out of the double doors and down the hall.

Ms. Wilson unlocked the door and stepped back. “Everything should be in there. I think it’s still pretty well-organized. Once you familiarize yourself with the location of everything, you shouldn’t have any trouble jumping right in.”

Paige looked around the office. It was a nice-size room broken into different areas. A large carpet surrounded by toys, a couch facing a rocking chair and a long conference table in front of the window. She smiled at Ms. Wilson. “This should be just fine.”

The woman nodded, pulled a key off the key ring and handed it to Paige. “That will get you in the building and your office. Also, there have been tornado watches posted in recent weeks so we’re going to have a tornado drill later today. Just follow the crowd and do what they do and you’ll be fine.”

Paige thanked her and Ms. Wilson left.

Instead of jumping in and getting to know the room, Paige decided to get to know some of the people—and see what kind of information she could glean.

She couldn’t think of a better place to get started than the teacher’s lounge.

As she stepped out of her office, she noticed the janitor
sweeping the hallway. “Excuse me, could you tell me where the teacher’s lounge is?”

His dark eyes gave her an assessing look then focused in on her badge. A friendly smile curved his lips revealing a dimple in his left cheek. “You’re new, aren’t you?” Paige told him who she was, and he gave her directions, then said, “I’m Sam Hobbs. If you need anything else, just let me know.”

“Thanks.” She headed in the direction he’d pointed. When she reached the right door, she looked back and found him still watching her, a gleam in his eye. She gave a silent snort. Well, he could forget that. She was on the job. She didn’t have time for romantic entanglements.

Dylan’s handsome face came immediately to mind, and she felt the heat creep into her neck.

But if she did have time, she had to admit Dylan would be the one she would be interested in.
No, you’re interested in finding out what Will might know about his mother’s death.