Compromised Identity. Jodie Bailey
Jessica just knew it. But before he could, the trill of a cell phone echoed off the cinder block walls.
“Dylan, wait.” Sean’s voice halted her.
Jessica stopped and turned.
He was holding up Specialist Channing’s cell. “It’s ringing.”
“Answer it.” Whoever was calling could know exactly what was going on, could hold the answers that would put Sean Turner on the road and out of her life for good, before she noticed yet again how blue those eyes of his were and how well he wore his uniform.
Sean shook his head. “I’m not taking the chance of tipping somebody off. You recognize the number?”
The phone stopped ringing as Jessica stepped closer. “Bring up the recent calls list.”
Sean obliged, but he stopped in midswipe as the phone chimed once. His face tensed and he held out the phone for Jessica to read the screen. “They just wiped the email clean.”
“What?” Jessica grabbed the phone and stared at the No Mail message.
“I backed it up, so we haven’t lost anything but—”
The phone pinged again, and Jessica flicked the screen to open a new message as Sean eased closer.
Tell Staff Sergeant Turner an old friend says hello.
Sean’s mouth pressed into a thin line, the edges whitening. He pulled the phone from her hand to focus on the words.
“What’s wrong?” Jessica took a step closer, reaching out to touch his arm, but stood instead with her hand hovering between them. They didn’t know each other well enough for her to reach out to him, though every instinct in her urged the contact.
“They know me.” His voice scraped over controlled emotions.
“They know your name. It’s on your uniform. Anybody who sees you knows it.”
He shook his head, finally lifting his gaze to look at her. His eyes were cold, hard. “No. They made a point to mention ‘an old friend’ in that message...” He stepped back and tensed. “They want me to know they don’t only know my name. They know who I am.”
Somehow they know who I am. It had been two hours, and still Sean’s words chased each other in Jessica’s head.
As the clock edged closer to five, Jessica settled in her seat, pressing her back hard against the gray plastic. The ID card facility at the Soldier Support Center was hopping with soldiers trying to get minor issues squared away for themselves and their family members.
This was not exactly where she wanted to be right now. As much as she tried to make conversation with the young wife next to her, her mind kept wondering if the analysis on the powder in her drink had come back, if someone was really going to try again to kill her and how the sender of that text message knew Sean Turner.
His composure had cracked at the words, coming back together quickly when he realized she’d noticed. Still, she couldn’t forget that look, that quick flash of something she couldn’t quite figure out.
Beside her, Ellen Johnson frowned, then smiled slightly. “Thanks for helping me put together all of this paperwork. There are so many hoops to jump through with Garrett deployed. I’m scared to death I’m going to do the wrong thing and someone will yell at me or something.”
The young wife was like a dozen others Jessica had met over her time in the Army. Young soldiers, panicking about deployment, would marry their girlfriends, move them on to a new post and leave them for parts around the world almost before the ink was dry on their marriage licenses. Jessica half understood it, that need to have someone waiting at home, that drive to protect the ones they loved by making sure they had the benefit of insurance should anything happen. Still, it always chafed her a bit when the guys did that, because so many wives were still children themselves, barely eighteen and pulled away from their families to live in a strange place while they worried daily about the men they loved. Some of them, like Ellen, might have been better off staying home with their parents during the deployment. The dream of making a home with a young soldier was often a whole lot more romantic than the reality.
Jessica shoved aside her thoughts and prayed they didn’t read on her face. She dragged the toe of her boot across the dark flecks in the floor as she sat taller. “You’re not the first to lose an ID card while her husband is away.” Murphy’s Law always seemed to kick in when the soldiers left, with something—or someone—getting lost or broken almost immediately. “I’m just glad I was able to help.”
“You didn’t have to stay and wait with me. I know this isn’t exactly under your job description.” The younger woman pushed straight blond hair behind her ear and smiled, her gray eyes not quite receiving the message. “I appreciate it. I’m not quite sure what all of the drama with my point of contact was, but she didn’t make me very comfortable asking her questions.” Ellen stopped to listen as another number was called, then tightened her hold on the boho purse in her lap. “It’s intimidating here, all of these soldiers in one place.”
“Friction happens. Where’d you grow up?”
“Michigan. Not exactly a lot of military bases up there.” Ellen waved a hand that encompassed the whole room, then dropped it back into her lap. “This is a totally different world, not just the Army and the South, but being married and everything.”
“I’ll bet.”
“I’ll be okay if you leave when they call me back.”
Jessica fought the urge to check her watch. The girls in her Bible study would get to her house around seven o’clock, and if she had any prayer of having dinner ready, she’d have to get out of here in the next fifteen minutes. Still, the last thing she ever wanted to do was telegraph that impatience to Ellen. “Are you sure?”
“When I’m done, I can walk right out of here that way.” She pointed to a door behind them. “I just go through those doors and I’m home free for the lobby and the parking lot, right?”
Jessica nodded. “Right.” She surveyed the room, unable to shake the feeling that had plagued her for the past ten minutes, as if eyes she couldn’t see were watching her. She was probably just jumpy after the past two days and her time with Sean Turner. The things he was saying were incredible, but the more he talked, the more she found herself believing him.
It didn’t help that she was remembering more details about yesterday. Either that or she was dreaming. It had better not be the latter. If she wasn’t careful, she’d start having nightmares. She shuddered and caught her lower lip between her teeth, letting go just as quickly. Projecting weakness was one of those things she hated the most, and biting her lip was a tell for sure. Her father had chastised her for it often.
She sat taller, much preferring the vision of Sean Turner’s blue eyes to the dark, menacing ones of the man who’d approached her with a knife. She shouldn’t think of the Staff Sergeant that way, though. There was a wariness to him, a way that he had of seeming vigilant at all times. Turner had trouble written all over him; she just couldn’t pinpoint why.
Best not to think about those eyes or that incredibly cute just-over-regulation-length dirty blond hair of his. It wasn’t often, even with the Special Forces unit on Campbell, that she got to see a guy with actual hair on his head.
Tossing her head, Jessica surveyed the few people still waiting in the rows of gray chairs as the clock ticked nearer to close of business. At the reception window, a man turned his head quickly, the motion catching her eye. She stared hard, waiting for him to turn back around. Did she know him? Something about the brief glimpse of his face was vaguely familiar. She ran through a roster of the soldiers in her unit, but none seemed to fit his description, and besides, the majority of them were deployed.
He glanced back