Always The One. Tara Randel
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and mope? The idea of a solo trip didn’t appeal, but he realized that maybe he was better off alone in the long run. In life.
On that sobering thought, Derrick made his way to the water’s edge to escape the pervading good cheer. The surf rolled in at a steady pace as he approached. The scent of burning wood and wet sand should have relaxed him, but as he stared out over the dark horizon, his mind traveled elsewhere.
Usually he kept himself so busy at work that he didn’t have time to dwell on the past. The pace in DC was hectic, and in his position as a special agent with the Federal Bureau of Investigation, he took every case he could. But coming here to Florida brought back memories he’d tried to block over the years. Even as they faded to black-and-white.
He and Hannah had come up with the idea to get married while they were at the beach, shortly after high school graduation. Hannah had been talking about college and how she didn’t want them to be separated and before he knew it, they’d hatched a plan. It had been a night much like this, filled with promise and joy, but they’d been alone instead of in a crowd like the folks gathered here to celebrate with his mother. Seemed like it had always been him and Hannah against the world. He’d liked it that way. Didn’t need anyone else and neither did she.
Excitement had gleamed in her eyes. She’d thrown herself into his arms for a kiss that sealed the deal. Two months until their birthdays and then they’d make things official.
Until fate decided otherwise.
He let out a sigh as he heard someone approach. He looked over his shoulder and spotted Dylan walking his way.
“You going to be able to make it back in time for Mom’s wedding?” his brother asked.
“Looks like I’ll have to now.”
“Because you cheated.”
He canted his head. “Like that’s a shocker.”
Dylan chuckled. “You can get time off?”
“Turns out I’ve accrued a month and a half worth of vacation time my superior is hounding me to take. He hates paperwork and wants me to lighten his load by going, in his words, anywhere.”
“Have you made plans?”
“I was thinking about hitting the road.” Dante had restored and modified a classic ’67 Challenger for Derrick. The same car that was a piece of junk when he’d arrived in Hannah’s driveway the day he’d discovered her gone…
He’d jumped out of the car. Run up the brick path to the front door and rung the bell. Could barely keep still from the excitement coursing through him. After a few minutes of silence, he’d pressed the button again. And again. He’d moved to the large picture window and cupped his hands around his eyes to peer into the dark recesses of the house before stepping from the porch to walk around the house. No one out back. Stumped, he noticed the next-door neighbor watering her flowers.
“Hey, Mrs. Gaines. Have you seen Hannah around?”
The older woman frowned. “Heard noises last night. Couldn’t sleep, so I looked out the window to see who was making the ruckus. The family got in the car and took off.”
That couldn’t be right. “In the middle of the night?”
“There were some official-looking men telling them to hurry. Hannah and her mother were crying but they were pushed in the car and left.”
Gone? Just like that?
“But…”
The neighbor shrugged. “Can’t tell you any more than that.”
Derrick jerked when his brother spoke.
“I asked where you’re headed.”
He shook off the memories, including how his actions, and his father’s, in retrospect probably set events in motion. Maybe if it had been a normal breakup—still not a great scenario—he would have had closure. But his nature, to find answers, kept him hooked.
“No destination in mind. Just get in the car and drive.”
“Need a wingman? For part of the trip?”
“Nah. I’m good.” He gazed over the water. “You’re right, Dylan. It’s time to let go. Maybe on this trip I can finally get rid of baggage from the past.”
Dylan clamped his shoulder. “It’s a good idea.”
Derrick thought so, even if his heart cracked a little bit deeper.
MONDAY MORNING HE was back in his office, finishing the last of his stack of paperwork. His superior, Ron Collins, popped into Derrick’s office.
“I thought you were leaving today.”
“I am. Just wanted to clear my desk before taking off.”
“You do have plans, right?” Ron asked, hope in his eyes.
Derrick laughed. “Yes. I’ll be gone until next month. My mother is getting married in February and after that, I’m all yours again.”
“Look, I know I sound like a broken record, but it was either remind you about your accrued vacation time or you lose it.”
“It’s fine. I needed the push.”
Ron nodded at the computer screen. “You tied up the museum case?”
“Yep.” He rifled through the papers on his desk to find the printed report. “Here you go.”
“Nice job.”
“Thanks.”
“And Derrick?”
“Yes, sir?”
“Enjoy your time off.”
Derrick allowed a small smile. “Will do.”
Once he’d finished the last report, he gathered his mail from the corner of his desk. He tossed a few envelopes aside until he came upon a bulky 3 x 5 package. His name was scrawled across the front in a flowery script. Definitely not official. The return address came from Nevada. He didn’t recall knowing anyone from there. Curious, he ripped the package open and peered inside. No paper. He tipped it upside down and out tumbled a small red gem, about the size to fit an expensive women’s ring. When the late morning sunlight from his office window reflected off the gem, his breath caught in his throat.
He took a pen from the holder and pushed the cut stone closer. Leaned down to inspect it better. A flash of memory jolted him and he sat back in the chair—multiple stones scattered on Hannah’s father’s desk. Hannah asking him not to tell anyone what he saw.
Could this be a signal from Hannah?
He grabbed the envelope and scanned the return address again. Dark Clay, Nevada.
He swiveled in his chair and typed the name into the computer. Found the location about twenty miles outside Carson City near Lake Tahoe.
His heart started pumping wildly. Finally. After all these years. A connection. Was this Hannah’s way of contacting him? And why now?
Did it matter?
No.
He picked up his phone and booked the next available flight to Reno-Tahoe International.
SOMEONE WAS WATCHING Hannah Rawlings. Or, Anna Rawley, as she was currently known. She was sure of it.
She’d been on the run long enough to recognize when the little hairs on the back of her neck were warning her, not acting up because of the biting wind. She walked around the playground of Ponderosa Day School, avoiding patches of ice as she pulled her wool coat more snugly around her.