The Agent's Secret Past. Debby Giusti

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      Turning, she noticed an open laptop on a desk in the corner. A plasma screen TV and two bookcases, stacked with three-ringed binders, filled the corner of the room and balanced the rather stark but comfortable furnishings. She approved of his uncluttered decorating style. Her own preference leaned to basic needs with few extras, which probably stemmed from her upbringing.

      She accepted the coffee Colby offered and wrapped her hands around the mug, thankful for the warmth of the thick stoneware. After taking a sip, she gazed through the window at her own quarters visible in the distance. The once-sizable structure was now only a shell of steel support beams and charred debris.

      Her hold baggage, containing the majority of her household items, wasn’t due to arrive from Germany for another two weeks. The fire had destroyed only what she had brought in her luggage. All of which could be replaced.

      “These might help.” She turned to find Colby holding out a pair of heavy socks.

      “Thank you.” Accepting the offering, she quickly settled into a nearby chair and slipped the thick woolen coverings over her bare feet. “I didn’t realize I was so cold.”

      “You were bordering on shock, which worried me.”

      “I appreciate your concern and the coffee.” She smiled. Yet her attempt to remain upbeat was only halfhearted. The reality of what had happened tonight clamped down on her shoulders and wouldn’t let go.

      “Give me a minute to thaw out, then I’ll head back to my BOQ,” she told him.

      “You won’t be able to salvage anything tonight, Becca.”

      “Except the clothes that are still in my car.” She laughed at her own foolishness. “I stopped at the commissary after work and lugged the groceries inside when I got home, but I failed to go back for the laundry I had picked up earlier. My gym bag’s also in the trunk along with a pair of running shoes.”

      “What about your weapon?”

      She ran her fingers over the purse still strapped to her shoulder. “I grabbed my Glock and purse before I ran. CID badge, military ID card, car keys. Everything I need is inside.”

      “Sounds as if you were expecting trouble.”

      Colby’s comment struck too close to home.

      When she didn’t respond, he raised his brow expectantly.

      Becca stood, needing to distance herself from his penetrating gaze. She walked into the kitchen and placed her mug in the sink.

      “I’ll drive you to your car,” he said when she returned to the living room.

      “Thanks, but I can walk.”

      “Not in this weather.” He glanced at her feet. “I’ve got a pair of slippers that should fit you. They were a gift from my grandmother, but they’re too small for me. The leather soles will protect your feet until you get the gym shoes from your car. You’ll also need a jacket.”

      He disappeared down the hallway and returned with sweatpants and a hooded sweatshirt she pulled over her flannel pajamas. The slippers were roomy but warm.

      “Maybe the fleece will be enough,” she said, regarding the bulky coat he offered.

      He shook his head. “You need more insulation if we’re going to be outdoors for any length of time.”

      “What about you?”

      “I’ll wear my Gore-Tex. It’s with my training gear in the back bedroom.”

      She shrugged into the jacket that smelled like sandalwood and lime and waited as Colby located his military outerwear and car keys.

      Although she appreciated Colby’s help, she needed to keep up her guard. No matter how nice or how good-looking he was, she didn’t want anyone to complicate her life.

      Her gaze returned to the window and the smoldering ruins beyond. Involuntarily, she shivered, regretting her youthful infatuation with Jacob Yoder when the Amish drifter had first stumbled into her life. How eagerly she had given her heart to him, not knowing he had taken up with an older woman—an infirmed Amish widow whose farm he coveted.

      Bitter tears had stung Becca’s eyes when she’d learned of their marriage. Even more difficult was her father’s insistence that Becca help Jacob’s sickly wife with housekeeping chores.

      Jacob paid her father nicely for her services, and her needy datt turned a blind eye to what Jacob really wanted.

      Her stomach soured, recalling when Jacob had lured her to the barn. She’d fought him off and narrowly escaped. Knowing her father would never believe her own innocence, she had run away from Jacob, her father and her Amish roots.

      Two years later, her sister’s phone call forced Becca to return home, but she arrived too late to save Katie or her datt.

      With a heavy heart, Becca turned from the window, hoping to distance herself from the niggling concern that too often hovered close at hand.

      Jacob was dead.

      The case was closed.

      But if that were true, then why did some inner voice keep warning her that Jacob Yoder was still alive?

      * * *

      Acrid smoke hung in the air around Becca’s BOQ as Colby parked his green Chevy near her Honda and waited as she slipped on her shoes and shrugged off his suggestion to stay in the car. Worried though he was about her well-being, he admired her determination to get to the bottom of what had caused the explosion.

      Together they crossed the street to where Sergeant Flanders stood next to his squad car.

      “What’s the latest?” Colby asked, raising his voice over the drone of the fire engines.

      “We haven’t been able to get close to the building, sir, but we’ve done a preliminary search of the surrounding wooded area and plan to retrace our steps after daylight. The post maintenance company has been called as well as the fire marshal, staff duty officer and post engineer. General Cameron was notified.”

      Becca stared over her shoulder at a second residence still under construction on the next street. “Has anyone searched the other building?”

      “Not yet, ma’am.”

      She nodded to Colby. “Let’s check it out.”

      Stopping at his car, Colby grabbed a Maglite from the trunk and handed a spare to Becca. “We might need these.”

      Flashlights in hand, they hustled across a narrow strip of green space and cautiously rounded the front of the structure. A utility van sat at the far end of the parking lot. The side panel decal read Peachtree Construction.

      “Why would someone leave their truck in an isolated parking lot overnight?” Becca gave voice to what Colby was thinking.

      “Time to have a look-see.” He shone his flashlight through the windshield. A ladder and tools were visible in the rear. An insulated coffee СКАЧАТЬ