Holiday Illusion. Lynette Eason
and raised a red-tinged golden brow. “So?”
“All right, here goes. I’m an ex-FBI agent. I quit four years ago, signed my resignation and never looked back.” At least not any more than I could help.
Shock seemed to hold Lucas captive. She went on before he could ask the questions she saw gathering on his lips. “A little over four years ago, I was working undercover as an au pair for a wealthy, big-name family here in Rocking Wave Beach. It was supposed to be a routine sting operation. I was there to get information about this guy who was involved in all kinds of bad stuff. It was a well-known fact that he worked from home, and our main target was his office computer. Anyway, I waited until my ‘employer’ left for a business meeting in India. I got on his computer and went to work.” Talking about Chastelain was hard for her.
“I think you left a few details out of the many talks we had in Brazil.” He cleared his throat. “So what did you find?”
“Nothing.”
“Huh?”
“Nothing terribly incriminating. Not for the big stuff we were after. There were a lot of e-mails containing numbers. Written almost in something like code.”
“What did that mean?”
“I wasn’t sure, but I had a gut feeling it had to do with money. I needed one of our analysts to go over them, so I forwarded them to her, then erased my ‘footprints.’ I just had to take the chance he wouldn’t realize someone had been on his computer. Later, we figured out the numbers were the ones entered into a set of books. Doctored books.”
“And that’s how you guys were able to arrest him? For illegal books?”
“Yes, but I wanted more. I knew there was more. He was reportedly into all kinds of things. Thanks to another agent, we had pictures of de Chastelain meeting with a member of one of the top crime families in South Carolina. Anyway, I finally cracked his safe open and found the books. There were two sets. One was a record of income from the legitimate side of his import/export business, the second set of books held doctored numbers. That’s the income that was reported to the IRS. The other one kept up with what they really brought in. Anyway, by the end of the investigation, the only thing he was able to be charged with was tax evasion.” She shook her head, took a sip of her soda. “I had a small microphone planted in his office, but he never mentioned murder, gun running, or the transporting of illegal aliens from Mexico to Texas, then on to South Carolina—at least not in a way that we could pin a charge on him. But he did brag about stealing the IRS blind.”
Lucas looked a little green. She placed a hand over his. “Are you all right?”
“I’m not sure. Is there more?”
“Yes.”
“How much?”
“Dr. Lucas!”
They turned as one to see the nurse rushing toward them.
Anna’s heart stopped. Paulo.
Nurse Lindsey, the woman assigned to Paulo, said breathlessly, “Paulo’s in cardiac arrest. They’re working on him now.”
Anna and Lucas bolted from the cafeteria and took off down the corridor.
Arriving at Paulo’s room, they found him surrounded by medical staff but still alive. Machines whirred, Mark barked orders, nurses jumped…and Paulo fought like a trouper.
Anna felt tears clog her throat. How did she pray? If she prayed for a heart for Paulo, she was praying for someone else to die. Shutting her eyes, she told the Lord, It’s in Your hands, God, whatever You decide is best.
For the next hour, she and Lucas paced and she prayed. Finally, Mark came out to tell them that Paulo was bouncing back and would be in good hands for now but said in all seriousness, “I hope he gets a heart soon. He doesn’t have much longer without it.” Lucas followed Mark back into the room, leaving Anna to wilt against the wall.
Relief battled grief. Relief that the little boy had pulled through this setback and grief that another person would have to die for Paulo to live.
Then she realized something. And the sudden glaring insight into her character slugged her in the gut, leaving her breathless, nearly gasping out loud. She stumbled to a chair and dropped into it, staring into space, seeing nothing but the past four years of her life.
Then in crystal clarity she saw how hard Paulo fought, pushing through his fear, battling the odds that were against him, conquering one obstacle after another—with faith and courage—and sheer bulldog stubbornness. She’d often thought how brave he was, been amazed at his willingness to never give up, been brought to her knees at his incredible, unconditional love for the God who created him.
But she had never realized what a coward she’d become.
Until now.
And with that same discerning eye, she now saw what she had to do if she ever wanted to be free of the fear that held her captive.
Oh Lord, tell me no. And yet, how can I say I have faith when I live in fear?
One way or another she was going to have to find that evidence. The evidence that she knew was there, somewhere in de Chastelain’s house. That was why she was here. And, she blew out a breath in disbelief, God had used a sick little boy and a caring doctor, to get her here.
Still stunned at her self-realization and what God was asking her to do, she sat there in a fog of thought trying to decide what she should do first. Where should she start?
The little rush of excitement took her by surprise. Oh, it didn’t overpower the all-consuming fear, but it was there—that feeling she used to get before venturing out on a new case. For the next thirty minutes, she sat in the hospital waiting room, praying, formulating a plan. She was going to catch a murderer. After four years, she was going to complete her case.
De Chastelain.
A short phone call later to Justin Michaels, her former supervisor, informed him of her impending arrival. He’d been blown away to hear that she was actually right here in his city and was definitely anxious to talk to her.
Slipping from the room, she planned to catch a cab to the FBI headquarters branch office downtown. Part of her dreaded returning to that place, yet another part of her was anxious to see if revisiting the location where she’d been shot would enable her to put the nightmare to rest.
Only one way to find out.
“Where are you going?”
Lucas’s voice startled her. She turned, gulped at the effect he had on her blood pressure, ignored it for the umpteenth time, and said, “I’m going to call a cab. I need to go see my former supervisor, Justin Michaels, and figure out if we can pull together a plan to put de Chastelain away for good—before he gets released.”
“I’ll go with you. I’ve got the rental, remember?”
“I can take a cab, and besides, I’d rather you not go.”
“Well, too bad. I’m going. Paulo’s stable and being carefully monitored. I’ve got my cell, and the hospital will call if I’m needed. I’ve got no reason not to go.”
“Lucas, that’s crazy. I don’t even know…I mean…”
“Exactly what are you trying to say, Anna?”
“It could be dangerous and I don’t want you involved if I’m putting myself back into the line of fire.”
THREE
He stilled, keys swinging from his fingers. “‘Back in the line of fire’?”
Anna snapped her mouth shut. Oh, Lord, he’s been my best friend for close to three years. Don’t let him do something stupid like think he has to try to help…or stop me from doing what I need to do. She was well aware the only reason their relationship