Tension filled the air, thickened it.
"What do you mean, Haley, by everything?" His voice seemed muted, strangled.
"You know, life in general." She shrugged, pretending a lightness she didn't feel. "It was too difficult, it seemed, to go on. I didn't want to." She looked at her hands and whispered, "On the plane here, I thought about dying. How easy it would be. How maybe I deserved it."
He lurched to his feet, pale and stricken. "Haley."
She smiled a little, but still couldn't meet his eyes. "I got over it, Cam. I came here. And within a day, things had changed. I wanted to live. Quite desperately." Now she did turn to face him, and found him standing right before her, looking ready to do battle. For her, she realized with a sweet pang. "You did that for me," she said softly, touching his face. "You and the others."
"Well, thank God for that." He hugged her fiercely. Then he cupped her face, his eyes searching and intense. "Promise me you got over those other feelings-the ones that made you feel you couldn't go on."
"I promise."
Relief came into his expression. But the worry remained. "Haley, I'm not used to keeping my feelings inside, like you. I just can't do it. You're going to have to hear them."
She tried to duck her head, not wanting to see his pity and disgust, but he made her look at him. Surprisingly she saw neither, just compassion, understanding, and far more emotion than she was equipped to handle.
"I hate what you went through," he said gently. "I know there's a lot you've left out, but you'll tell me the rest."
"Yes."
"I hate thinking about you sick, afraid, alone. Feeling worthless." His eyes turned grim. "Wanting to end it all." He kissed her very tenderly. "I'm just so thankful that you made it here. I can't regret that."
He had a way of putting things, she thought, as she felt herself being enclosed in his warm, reassuring embrace. "I'm not sick now," she said, a little amazed by it. She hugged him close, buried her face in the crook of his neck, where he smelled so good. "It's funny, but since I've been here, my stomach has gotten better and I hardly ever get a headache."
"Good. We'll get through this," he said with quiet strength.
How she wanted to believe that. She closed her eyes, listening to the rain pummel at the earth outside.
"Together," he whispered. "We'll do it together. And then, we'll go from there."
Together. The word implied so much. She dug her fingers into his waist, knowing she must look half-wild as she lifted her head. "I've been so afraid for you and the others."
He let out a wordless sound of amazement, of remorse, and pulled her closer. "Darlin', I can protect myself and the others."
"I… care about you."
His eyes went opaque. "Say that again."
"Cam." She let out a little laugh. "You know I do."
"You don't know how it makes me feel to hear it. Say it again," he demanded.
Still uncomfortable with the words, she rolled her eyes and said obediently, "I care for you more than I've ever cared for anyone, but-"
"No," he said gently. "No buts." He kissed her, pouring everything he felt into that one sweet connection. "No more secrets," he declared when the breathless kiss had ended.
"No more," she repeated softly. Then she stole his heart when she pulled his head back to hers.
From half a world away, the shadowy figure finally got another lead.
It had been badly needed, since the last one had petered out when the call from Haley had been untraceable.
But now there had been several phone calls to the USGS-anonymous, of course. Someone was trying to get information on EVS-specifically on the deaths from the bombing-and that someone was just outside Colorado Springs, Colorado.
Dr. Haley Whitfield? There was no one else left.
Triumph surged. It was just a matter of time now.
Chapter 10
The next morning, Haley took one last swipe over the kitchen floor with her sponge. The tile gleamed from one corner to another, giving her a surge of satisfaction.
When the phone rang, she let out a frustrated sigh. "Of course," she muttered. She stood in the far corner, the length of the huge kitchen away from the telephone.
Ring… ring… ring.
Eyeing the beautifully clean, wet floor, she debated. Let it ring, or make tracks on her perfect tile? She made a face and hopped across the wet floor, leaving the dreaded prints.
"Hello?" she said, breathless. Silence.
"Hello!" she demanded, letting her irritation show.
"Do exactly as I say and I won't kill any of them."
Her heart stopped, the breath clogged in her throat. "What?" she whispered.
"You heard me."
"Lloyd?" Lloyd Branson, her boss. "But… you're dead."
The gruff voice laughed and the evil sound sent chills up Haley's spine. "Am I?"
Mindless, she sank to the wet, pine-smelling floor. Her jeans soaked up the water, but she didn't notice as she leaned back against the counter for support. "You're alive."
"Yes. And everyone else is dead."
How could this have happened? "Alda told me-"
"Exactly what I forced her to tell you. She served her usefulness. She's gone now."
Terror, mind-numbing terror. "You're insane." She sounded so calm. Haley thought. Until she realized. "You know where I am."
"Oh, yes." His voice hardened, sounding unlike the quietly determined, kind man she'd always known him to be. "Pay attention now, Ms. Whitfield. Your freedom's over. You work for me again."
"No." Never.
"Oh, yes. I want you to make a little trip."
"No."
"Back to South America. We have a project to finish, and I'm flying with you to make sure you don't get cold feet or do something stupid… like bring someone with you. You'll meet me at the gate at seven o'clock."
Only hours from now. "No," she whispered.
"Don't forget your passport. I wouldn't want to have to fit you in my suitcase." He laughed softly and goose bumps rose over her skin.
Dear God, he was here. In Colorado. And he knew exactly where she was. "Don't come here," she said quickly. "Please. I'll come to you."
"See that you do."
"Please. Please, don't hurt anyone."
"Follow directions, Haley, and see that I don't have to."
Her stomach turned. She was cold, clammy, and very close to being sick. Her nightmare was coming true and all she could think was that she just might throw up on her newly cleaned floor.
"Dr. Whitfield, are we in agreement?"
"Yes," she whispered, starting to shake. She gripped the phone until her hand went numb. She couldn't see the pretty kitchen, could only see Zach, giving her that sweet, shy smile. Nellie and Jason-and oh, God, their unborn baby. And Cam. She loved him, oh, how she loved him. And now, if she wasn't careful, she'd destroy him.
"Don't hurt them. If you do-"
"No bargains. Now listen up. Once we're back in South America, you'll re-create that undersea system for me. The earth-movement detector. I want another one."
"I can't."
"You can," he insisted roughly. "If you don't, everyone around you will be very, very sorry. I want you to show me how to use the system by myself. I also want your notes. I want your observations. I know you took them with you when you left here."
She hadn't. The small notebook in her purse held only a tiny fraction of her work. Her other notes had all been destroyed in the office bombing. "Okay," she said, afraid to make him angry, just wanting him as far from Colorado as possible.
"When we're done, you will turn yourself in. You'll tell them you stole the uranium and sold it, and that you bombed EVS."
And because everyone thought him dead, he'd be free. With the uranium-which she had no doubt he'd sell to the highest bidder-he'd be wealthy beyond imagination. He'd never be found.