Critical Doubt Read online

  Neither Mason nor Hank had made it to Paul's funeral. Would they come for Todd?

  But he was writing off Todd too soon. He would come back. They would talk. He would help him.

  He hated himself for not being the man he used to be, for letting down his team. He kept thinking he'd get back to normal and then he'd get back to them. But there hadn't been enough time. Paul was dead. Todd might be, too.

  He could only imagine what Savannah thought of him now. He'd seen the questions in her eyes. She'd clearly noticed the changes in him. If they'd met today for the first time, she wouldn't have looked at him twice.

  As her pretty image filled his head, his mind went back five years. He could still remember how he'd felt the first time he'd seen her, like he'd been hit in the chest by a fastball. He'd literally lost his breath. Carlos had been with him at the bar. They'd been acting as each other's wingman that night when Savannah had walked in and ordered a double shot of tequila. He hadn't been able to take his eyes off her.

  Carlos had laughed and leaned in, saying, "Make your move, dude. She won't be alone long."

  He hadn't needed any further encouragement. He'd offered to buy her next shot. She'd given him a long, assessing look and then said, "Why not?"

  He didn't remember much after that. They hadn't really talked. They'd drank and danced to some awful band and then made their way out of the bar and up the elevator to his hotel room.

  They'd spent the rest of the night making each other very, very happy. He'd drifted off sometime before dawn thinking that he'd buy her breakfast. But she'd been gone when he'd opened his eyes. And he'd felt an unexpected and shocking wave of disappointment.

  He'd looked for her in the hotel and at the bar the next night, but she hadn't shown up, and he'd had no idea who she was or where she lived. He'd even tried to track down the dance group, but they'd already checked out of the hotel. He'd thought he'd never see her again.

  He certainly hadn't expected her to show up at Paul's funeral, to be tied to Paul's wife, to have a background that was nothing like the one he'd given her in his head. He still didn't completely understand her reason for letting him think she was a dancer instead of a soldier. She certainly hadn't seemed like a soldier that night. And, apparently, she hadn't been one for very much longer after that. Now, she was an FBI agent.

  He couldn't quite see her as that, either. He wanted to know more. But that wasn't going to happen. He led a very quiet life on the bay now, and Savannah lived on the other side of the country.

  Five years ago, he'd felt like he'd been in the right place at the right time when he'd met her, but now it was not only the wrong place but the worst time.

  He wasn't the man she'd slept with. He was damaged, broken, and he couldn't imagine bringing anyone into the hell he lived in. Not that she'd be interested, even if he was willing.

  There was also probably a man in her life. How could there not be? She was stunning. And she'd kissed like no other woman he'd ever been with…

  His body hardened at that memory, and sleep seemed more elusive than ever.

  He tried to bring up calming snapshots of the Chesapeake Bay in his head, but his brain fought back, slipping in images from Paul's funeral, from his conversation with Todd on the patio, the crash site, and the empty car. He couldn't stand it. He pushed his brain further back in time trying to find a moment when everyone was happy, but he couldn't get there. Instead he saw the abandoned hotel where they'd conducted their last mission. They'd split up the team, three in the front, two on the side, two in the back. Their point of entry was supposed to be empty, but it wasn't. Flashes of light blinded him. The bangs echoed through his mind. Carlos falling to his knees. Leo disappearing in a burst of fire and smoke. He screamed as he was hit.

  As the noise receded, he heard footsteps, a rustle in the bushes, a small bang.

  His eyes flew open. He was back in Todd's house. Had he heard something? A shadow crossed the window. He blinked twice.

  Was someone rattling the door? Was Todd home? Or had the sound come from his turbulent dreams? Why couldn't he trust his brain anymore?

  The questions went unanswered as the grandfather clock went off, and his mind shattered.

  He jumped to his feet. One chime, and it felt like a knife had gone through his temple… He had to make it stop.

  Two…he opened the clock's door and pulled at the chains. Nothing happened.

  Three…he grabbed a vase off the table.

  Four… he threw the vase against the glass. It shattered and rained down to the floor in a cascade of sharp slivers. He stared at it in bemusement.

  Five…the damned clock was still ringing. He hit the vase against the hanging bells, until he couldn't hear them anymore and then he fell to his knees on the floor, staring at the carnage of the clock and the vase that had broken into a dozen pieces.

  It was finally quiet again, but there was blood on his hands.

  More memories ran through him. Blood…just like the blood seeping under Carlos's head.

  He stumbled to his feet, to the sink in the kitchen. He ran his hands under the water, scrubbing at his skin until every last staining drop was gone.

  And then he found his way back to the couch, exhausted, his body drenched with sweat. He closed his eyes and sleep finally overtook him.

  When he awoke, there was sun streaming through the window. It was so bright, it hurt his eyes. He glanced at his watch. It was eight. The morning had finally come, and he'd slept for at least a few hours.

  As he swung his feet to the floor, a knock came at the door. He had to ask himself again if it was a real noise or one in his head, but as it came again, he pulled himself together and headed across the room. Maybe there was news of Todd.

  He threw open the door and found Savannah on the porch. She'd changed out of her black dress into skinny jeans and a fuzzy dark-green sweater that brought out the green in her eyes and the gold in her hair. She was like a burst of sunshine, and it hurt to look at her, too.

  "I brought coffee and bagels." She held up a tray with two cups and a brown paper bag.

  "Is there news?"

  She shook her head, her gaze somber. "Chief Tanner called Abby this morning. Search and rescue teams started an hour ago. A volunteer search is starting at nine, and they're pulling up the car as we speak. Maybe it will provide some clues. Can I come in?" Not waiting for a response, she brushed past him.

  As she entered the living room, her eyes widened.

  He followed her gaze to the shattered glass, the broken bells, and the chunks of a once-large ceramic vase and realized that hadn't been a dream.

  "Who won?" she asked, giving him a concerned look. "You or the clock?"

  "Well, I'm still standing."

  Her gaze moved to his shirt. "Is that blood?"

  He glanced down at the material tinged with dark spots of red. "Maybe. But I'm fine."

  "I seriously doubt that." She set the bag of bagels on the coffee table and handed him one of the coffee cups. "You look like you need this."

  "I can't argue with that." He took a sip of coffee, a little surprised that Savannah wasn't reacting in a more hysterical fashion. When he'd first started losing his mind to the bells, the woman he'd been dating at the time had flipped out. She'd become afraid of him. And she'd left very soon after that.

  But Savannah didn't seem in a hurry to go. Nor did she seem interested in looking away from him. He was more than a little uncomfortable with her scrutiny.

  "Are you thinking it's a good thing you took off five years ago?" he asked finally. "Because you hadn't realized I was a crazy person?"

  "Actually, I was wondering why the clock bothered you so much."

  "It rang every damn hour. I couldn't sleep."

  "So you smashed it."

  "It seemed like a good idea at the time."

  "Did the pain stop after the clock went quiet?"

  He met her gaze. "Yes. But it will come back. It always does."

  "Since
you were injured?"

  "My knee wasn't the only injury I suffered. My brain keeps hearing bells. They drive me crazy. They're not ordinary, soothing bells. They can be jarring, clashing, and grinding. Any sound can set them off."

  "What do you do when they go off?"

  "I try not to jump out of my skin. I try to find quiet."

  "And sometimes you shout at the bells to stop like you did yesterday when I found you by the river."

  There was no point in pretending. "Yes, sometimes I shout. But it rarely makes a difference. I can't control when they start or when they stop."

  "Is it physical or psychological?"

  He shrugged. "No one knows. Apparently, my symptoms are not part of any textbook PTSD diagnosis."

  Her gaze filled with sympathy. "I'm sorry, Ryker."

  He hated the compassion in her eyes. He didn't want her to look at him like he was wounded. He wanted her to see him the way she had before. But that wasn't going to happen. That man was gone, and he needed to accept that. He took another sip of his coffee, needing the caffeine to kick in fast.

  "Did you sleep at all last night?" she asked.

  "A few hours. It wasn't just the clock that kept me up. I had a lot on my mind."

  "I'm sure. I was thinking about Paul and Todd, too." She paused. "You came into my head as well."

  "Oh, yeah?"

  "I hadn't let myself think about the night we had together, but suddenly I couldn't stop remembering all the details, from our first drink at the bar to my leaving your hotel room."

  "Why hadn't you let yourself think about it?" he asked curiously. "Did you have regrets?"

  "No. I just knew it would never happen again. It was better not to think about it, not to drive myself crazy wondering if I should have stuck around to say good morning."

  "You could have stayed until I woke up. We could have exchanged names, seen each other another time."

  "I don't think that's what you were looking for."

  "Or what you were looking for."

  "You're right. I had to make a big decision, and it was time to get on with that. But that night was incredible, Ryker. I don't know if it's because we only had the one night, so we didn't have to deal with anything beyond our romantic fantasy, but it was rather extraordinary. At least, that's the way I remember it."

  "I remember it that way, too," he admitted, feeling the air charge around them. They might be different people now, but the attraction was there. Their bodies still wanted each other, even if their brains were on a different page.

  "So," she said, drawing in a breath. "Do you want to join the search party?"

  He wanted to take her to bed, but he knew that wasn't the right answer. "Yes," he said, forcing himself to focus on what they needed to do, not what he wanted to do.

  "It's good that it's not raining and windy anymore. The chopper can go back up. Hopefully, Todd is just lost in the woods and trying to get home."

  Her words brought forth another memory from the night before. "I thought he came back last night. I heard something. I saw a shadow outside the window. And then I thought someone was jiggling the door."

  "Did you get up to look?"

  "I started to, but the clock went off, and my brain shattered. Or maybe the clock went off first and I never heard the other sounds. Sometimes reality and dreams blur together, especially when it comes to noise."

  Her gaze narrowed and then she moved over to the window. He came up behind her.

  There was a tree outside with long branches that brushed the panes of glass. Below the window were several thick bushes.

  "What time did you hear the noise?" Savannah asked.

  He tried to remember. "I think it was sometime before five in the morning." He'd barely finished speaking before she headed to the door. "Where are you going?"

  "Outside. I want to look around."

  "It was probably in my head," he said, as he followed her outside. He was barefoot, and the ground was ice cold, but as she moved around the house and down the side yard, he kept up with her. She stopped by the window, then squatted down to look at the ground. "It wasn't your imagination, Ryker." She pointed to several large footprints in the wet soil.

  He was shocked by the sight of them. He'd been almost positive the noises were in his head.

  "Someone was standing by this window," she added, straightening. "They could see into the house."

  "They would have seen me on the couch," he said, realizing the sofa was in plain view. "And then when I got to my feet."

  "They must have left when they saw you."

  He thought about that. "Who would have come to Todd's house in the middle of the night? What would they want? And why wouldn't they ring the bell?"

  "Maybe someone decided to break in after they heard the news about Todd. They figured the house was empty."

  "What are you doing?" he asked, as she pulled out her phone.

  "Taking a photo of the print. I'll send it to one of my techs, see if they can tell us more."

  "Like what?"

  "Size, type of shoe, whether it's male or female. We may get nothing, but you never know."

  "You're treating this like a crime scene." The idea bothered him more than a little.

  "Maybe it is."

  "Nothing happened."

  "Because you were in the house."

  He could see a mix of emotions flitting through her eyes. "What are you thinking?"

  "Maybe Todd's accident wasn't an accident. Perhaps he was run off the road. It's a long shot, and I'm probably wrong, but the fact that someone tried to break into the house after Todd went in the river concerns me."

  "I agree. Hell, maybe neither of their accidents were accidents. What if Paul didn't just fall off the roof?"

  "But who would have a reason to kill Paul or Todd?"

  "I don't know, but it's almost easier to believe that there was someone else involved than to think that one fell off the roof and the other drove off the road. Neither of those actions fits the men I knew."

  As they walked through the yard, he could see her looking around for more clues, but there was nothing that stood out. When they came around the front, he looked up and down the street, but he could barely see the nearest house. "If someone was snooping around in the middle of the night, I doubt anyone saw them," he said. "No neighbors to speak of."

  "And Todd has no security cameras on the house. Why would he? There's not much crime in Dobbs. At least, not until now."

  "We need to find Todd, and we need to look at his car."

  "I'm ready whenever you are."

  Chapter Seven

  Thirty minutes later, they were on the road. Ryker had showered and changed into jeans and a sweatshirt, then downed two bagels before getting into Savannah's car. She'd insisted on driving, since she knew her way around the area, and he'd reluctantly agreed. He liked to be in control of everything, including a car, but he didn't want to waste time getting lost.

  When they got to the river, there was a command post set up near the crash site with groups of volunteers walking along the shoreline. The helicopter was back up in the air as well. They checked in at the command post and were told they could start from the crash site, or they could drive themselves to a spot farther down the river and begin there. They opted for the latter. He didn't think Todd would be near his point of entry into the water. He had to have been swept downstream.

  As Savannah drove along the river, he realized the water was even higher and faster than it had been the day before. Last night's storm had dumped enough rain to bring the level up several inches. There were lots of people walking along the shore and the road. It felt like the entire town had come out to search for Todd. It was amazing how many people cared about a man who had only been in town a few months.

  "There's the car," Savannah said, pulling over to the side. They got out and crossed the road, moving down a steep slope to a flat area where Todd's car had been pulled out of the river.

  There were at le
ast a dozen people at the scene. Savannah marched forward, flashing a big smile and her badge at the officer closest to the car. Seeing the dumbstruck look on the man's face as he allowed them to pass, Ryker didn't think she'd even needed the badge.

  "All the damage is from where the car broke through the guardrail," Savannah murmured, as they walked around the car, noting the missing front fender and the considerable damage to the hood. "The airbag was deployed. The front window was shattered." She ran her gaze along the driver's side door. "But there's no sign of blood on the airbag, nothing on the seat or the door handle. No personal effects inside the vehicle."

  "They could have washed away."

  "Possibly." She stopped abruptly as Chief Tanner stomped over to them, anger in his eyes.

  "Move away from the car," Tanner ordered, sending a sharp look at the officer who had let them pass. "I told you to keep everyone away."

  "She's FBI."

  He turned back to Savannah. "This has nothing to do with you or the bureau. Stay out of it."

  "I have resources you don't have. You need to use me, not shut me out."

  "I don't need your resources or your help. You may think you're a big shot, but in my mind you're the same troublemaker you always were. Now, step away, or you'll find yourself spending another night in my jail."

  Ryker was impressed with Savannah's unwillingness to back down, but he didn't think she was going to win this round with the chief, and he didn't want to see them cut out of the investigation completely.

  "I wanted to see the car," he cut in. "Todd and I served together. I want to bring him home."

  "We all do. You can help by joining the search. I'll deal with the car. Move along."

  They walked down to the river's edge where Savannah drew in several deep breaths.

  "At least, we had a chance to look at the vehicle before he chased us away," he said.

  "Not long enough."

  "I wasn't sure you were going to back down."

  "I'm not stupid," she retorted. "I know when to retreat."

  "I never said you were stupid."

  "I'm sorry. I just hate the way Tanner treats me. I have never been my best self in this town. It's why I rarely come back here. People respect me in LA. Actually, they respect me anywhere else but here."