Shattered Secrets. Jane M. Choate
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hated the fact that she felt cowardly for doing so. She’d never been one to shirk from her responsibility, but now...now she didn’t know where her duty lay.
“The sooner the police start processing this, the better.” Sal stood, grabbed her hand, squeezed. “Right now, we’re operating in the dark. We don’t know who’s doing this. We don’t know what they want. We need something, anything, to give us a handle on this.”
She needed the wisdom of Someone wiser than herself. Lord, please help me make the right decision. I can’t afford to make a mistake.
The silent prayer afforded her a measure of peace.
“Okay,” she said, reluctance drawing out the two syllables. “We take this to the police.”
“You’re doing the right thing.”
Was she? She didn’t know.
Olivia looked up at Sal, not surprised to find his eyes flat and dark. He was all Delta at the moment. Good. She had a feeling she was going to need his special set of skills and training.
She’d kept track of him during the last two years. Stories of what he’d done in his work for S&J Security/Protection frequently made the Savannah papers. Sal was a hero, though he’d deny it with his last breath.
He’d brought home the courage that had defined him as a Delta, risking his life to safeguard others. It would always be so with this man who put country and honor first. Her heart had filled with pride when she’d read the articles chronicling his bravery and resourcefulness.
On top of that, she was still trying to make sense of the feelings swirling through her system at his nearness, making it difficult to breathe. The slightest touch sent sparks arcing between them. Or had she imagined it?
Her instincts couldn’t be trusted at the moment. High stress and emotional upheaval were a potent combination. Mistaking vulnerability for something else could only lead to heartache, and she did her best to set aside the complex feelings the last twenty-four hours had stirred up.
She’d managed to take a few deep breaths; at least, she didn’t sound like she was gasping for air any longer. She looked at the man who had burst back into her life, riding to her rescue like the hero he was.
His code of honor was a way of life, dictating how he lived and what he stood for. That’s why he was here, to help her, to save Calvin’s life and maybe her own. No other reason.
She’d do well to remember that.
The trip to the police station was made in near silence. Sal slanted a glance in Olivia’s direction. The lines that fanned from her eyes and scoured her forehead were new and emphasized the paleness of her features.
Finding a severed finger in a box was enough to send anyone into shock. Added to that was the threat that the same could happen to her. After the initial fright, she’d handled it with a steely resolve he could only admire, but the experience had taken its toll. The shadows under her eyes had grown darker with every minute.
Olivia needed something—someone—to hold on to. And right now that someone was him. Even though things had ended, he still had feelings for her. Guilt over his past gnawed at him. He couldn’t ask someone as full of faith and goodness as Olivia to share that with him. Seeing her beat herself up over what had happened to her boss tore him apart.
He’d do his best by her, if only because he didn’t know any other way. Doing his best, giving his best had been drummed into him during his Delta days. Deltas never gave in and never gave up.
Outside the police station, Sal pulled into a parking slot and turned to Olivia. Going with instinct and need, he placed his hands on her shoulders, drew her in.
“I don’t know if I can do this,” she murmured against his chest. “You heard Calvin. I can’t be responsible for them hurting him again. I can still hear his screams in my mind.”
He felt the shudder race through her and tightened his grip. “You aren’t responsible. For any of it.” He waited until she stopped shaking before releasing her. “Going to the police is the right thing.”
“If you say so.” But her tone lacked conviction.
He wasn’t going to convince her, but neither could they keep evidence of a kidnapping from the police.
Olivia was an officer of the court, but she was also a woman made vulnerable by her feelings. He knew how intensely she felt things. Whether fighting for a client or fighting for a friend, she gave her all. In that respect, they were very much alike.
He wanted to reassure her that everything would be all right, but she would see that for the lie it was. The truth was, there was no guarantee that they would get Chantry back alive. The kidnappers had already proved how far they would go to achieve their ends. The only thing he could promise was that he’d give his own life before he allowed anything to happen to her.
Sal took her hand and squeezed. “Remember, you’re not alone.”
The lack of a ransom demand bothered him. Kidnappers always had an agenda. It was obvious they were trying to rattle Olivia, to frighten her into doing whatever they said when they issued the demand. But why hadn’t they done so? It made no sense.
He didn’t believe for a moment that the people who had taken Chantry would let the man go once they had what they wanted. If anything, they’d be more likely than ever to kill him, and Olivia as well.
There was something else Sal hadn’t told Olivia. They were into day two of the kidnapping, maybe more seeing as how Chantry had been unreachable two days before that. The second day was a threshold. Any possibility of a positive resolution decreased substantially after that. The situation tended to harden up, the danger to the victim rising dramatically.
Sal hadn’t shared his worries with Olivia yet. She needed time to regroup before facing the next hard truths.
The police department wasn’t filled with bored cops and surly criminals as television shows depicted. Instead, it looked like any other office made up of professional men and women going about their jobs in a purposeful fashion. The occasional shout or cry didn’t cause a dozen guns to be drawn. No, the atmosphere was one of grim purpose, flavored with the smells of old coffee and new sweat.
Sal had been in his fair share of PDs during the last several years of working for S&J. They were much like the military, with a clearly established chain of command and organizational hierarchy.
He steered Olivia to the desk sergeant where they stated their names and business to the efficient-looking woman behind the desk. A raised brow and the order to have a seat was her only response.
When a detective appeared, Olivia and Sal stood, followed him through the bull pen and went inside an office. He closed the door behind them. “Detective Richard Nynan. Now suppose you tell me what this is all about.”
Sal opened the box, indicated the finger inside and gave an overview of what had transpired.
“You say this belongs to your boss?” Nynan asked Olivia.
She nodded. “I recognized the ring.”
“No chance it could have been removed from your boss’s finger and put on—” he gestured to the severed digit “—whoever this belongs to?”
“No. The ring was custom-made for Calvin, I mean, Mr. Chantry, to reach the joint of his finger, just like it does. See how the stone tapers at the top?”
“Okay. That helps.” Nynan made notes on a legal pad. “I think I have it all.” He fixed his attention on Olivia. “You have no idea what the kidnappers want?”
“As I told you the first six times you asked the question, no, I don’t.”
“Sorry. Just trying to get things straight