CHAPTER FIVE
‡
Shailyn stared out the small oval window of the Gulfstream G650, hardly noticing the sunrise. A couple of the men had asked if she was okay when they noticed she wasn’t sleeping. There was no reason to worry them with the truth, so she lied and said she was fine. It made them feel better and took the pressure off her to explain.
“Here.” A porcelain coffee cup was presented to her instead of the usual Styrofoam ones given to the passengers on airplanes. The man with the blond hair and boyish face took the seat across from her, though his cute dimple wasn’t showing at the moment. “I thought you could use some caffeine if you’re not going to sleep.”
They were less than an hour away from landing in Sanford, Florida, but it wouldn’t have mattered the location.
She was dead to the world.
“You’re angry with Calvert for making that unilateral decision.” Sawyer Madison settled back into his seat as if they were discussing the weather. “I understand why you’re upset. Even your parents don’t know the truth, but their reaction at your funeral needs to be very real.”
Shailyn remained silent as she looked down at the coffee in her hands. He’d given it to her black, just the way she preferred. It should have been disconcerting that he had knowledge of such a private thing, but nothing bothered her now that her life was not her own any longer.
“You’re mistaken.” She took a tentative sip of the steaming java, surprised at the rich smoothness. This wasn’t standard rent-a-jet coffee. “I’m not angry. Aside from that one phone call to my father that I know you’re very well aware of, I haven’t spoken to my parents since I entered WITSEC. The definition of death can be taken so many different ways.”
Shailyn couldn’t help but seek out Townes, who had been on the other side of the plane going over various files. He never left her side until she was seated on the plane, and even then stayed close enough to keep his eyes on her at a glance.
She was still coming to terms with the fact that her father had been the one responsible for keeping her and Townes apart during the whole trial process. All this time she’d thought it was either his guilt or the fact that her body was covered in more scars than he would ever acquire in two lifetimes. The two technically went hand in hand. Either way, her father had no right to make decisions on her behalf. She was her own woman and always had been. He also didn’t deserve to think that his only daughter was dead without an explanation.
“What exactly does Townes hope to accomplish by faking my death?” Shailyn hadn’t given up her long winter coat, although she had taken her arms out of the sleeves. The lapels laid over her shoulders for extra warmth. It wasn’t nearly enough. “Wouldn’t that mean Moss is free to move on to other women?”
“Yes and no.” Sawyer shot her a grin, allowing that dimple of his to form. His blue eyes sparkled with optimism, yet there was a solemnity one couldn’t miss. “Moss is too intelligent to take the press release at face value. He’ll need to confirm it. He’s going to want to believe you died from complications of what transpired under his hand, but he won’t be able to let you go without looking into it.”
“Which means Moss has to come out of hiding to get to the root cause of my death,” Shailyn surmised, still not comprehending why Townes and his men thought this strategy could work. “We all know that he won’t do that. He’ll have one of his minions do his dirty work.”
“Which is why no one can know the truth.” Sawyer shifted his legs so that they were stretched out into the aisle. It appeared he was mulling over his strategy before he continued speaking. “It will make it harder for Moss to confirm your death. He’ll want your autopsy report, thereby giving us the time to investigate a developing lead we think could steer us straight to him.”
“And what promising lead would that be?”
Townes chose that moment to look up from the file in his hand. His grey eyes immediately met hers. He’d unbuttoned his sleeves and rolled them up to his elbows, as well as loosened the blue and black tie around his neck. No amount of expensive apparel could hide what he truly was—a strange blend of an old-fashioned warrior.
He was half Chiricahua Apache, or Aiaha as they called themselves on his father’s side, along with a mixed bag of Scottish Highlander and everything else on his mother’s side. It made for a very stoic breed of fighter that never quit. Once he latched onto something, he would hunt it down to the bitter end, forsaking all other comforts until he could face his enemy in personal combat.
What would he say if she were to tell him that he was the reason she struggled to survive?
“There was a fifth-grade teacher who went missing decades ago,” Sawyer explained, folding his hands over his middle as he settled in to tell her the story. “Her body was found around five years ago in a forest by some naturalist out for a hike, but no one was ever charged for her murder, because there was so little evidence left by the time they found the body. You see, Caroline Marinovic taught in the same small school district where Shepherd Moss was a student. He was twelve years old when…”
A low buzzing began in her mind, almost as if to camouflage Sawyer’s words once the name Caroline triggered an uneasiness that she hadn’t experienced in a very long time. Flashes of the past began to form and shift before her eyes but just as quickly faded. She focused on Sawyer so he wouldn’t recognize her outward signs of an anxiety attack.
“…and her fiancé still teaches at the same high school. We need Moss’ attention diverted while we investigate close to his childhood home. We need his focus on our distraction while we dig up the bones of his past.”
“Because you think that’s where he’s hiding right now, don’t you?” Shailyn tightened her grip on the mug to stop her fingers from trembling. She needed to gather her composure before stepping one foot outside of this plane. She should be a pro at relocating by now, but she’d always done so alone. “Do you think this woman’s fiancé is helping Moss? Why would he do that? Have you contacted him?”
“We’re not sure of anything right now, but it’s a promising thread we need to unravel. Caroline Marinovic had similar markings on her bones that would indicate…”
The low hypnotic humming once again tried to draw her into the past, and this time the enticement was too much to resist. Lights flashed until her vision tunneled and lured her right back to the gates of hell.
“…does it feel? Are you past the pain, Caroline? Or have you come to yearn for it?”
The agonizing penetration of the blade in her side had her screaming out as he slowly took his time to work the knife into her flesh. A part of her hoped this would be the last one, but something told her this was just the beginning of the next level.
“Shailyn.” The warmth of Townes’ hands on hers jolted her back to the present before she cleared her vision to see that he was kneeling before her in the aisle. He appeared by her side as if by teleportation. He was such a large man that she still had to look up to meet his worried gaze. “Are you okay?”
Townes had taken the coffee she’d been holding and handed it off to Sawyer. He was asking her something, but she couldn’t get her thoughts in order to interpret what his words meant. She parted her lips to tell him what she’d remembered.
Caroline.
Shailyn couldn’t make her voice work. The fear had robbed her of speech. The panic at being taken to a place she only ever involuntarily visited in her nightmares was washing over her in waves. It was as overwhelming as the tides. One specific cut below the bottom of her left rib throbbed in remembrance of the blade being pulled out so gradually that the sickening sound of suction along the blood le or blood groove released her body’s grasp on the instrument could still be heard.
She understood this to be folly. The nonsense about a long flat channel on a blade for blood to flow along to reduce suction was an old soldier’s tale. Physics didn’t work that way, but she recalled the suction as the length of the knife was withdrawn. She cleared her throat and tried to speak again.
“Caroline.” Shailyn finally managed to say the name, immediately initiating a tremor of disgust that traveled through her entire body. “He called me Caroline during our time together.”
“Sawyer, get ahold of Brody and tell him our timetable just moved up,” Townes instructed in a tone that broke no argument. Sawyer instantly vacated the seat and had his phone to his ear before he took one step down the aisle. “Shailyn, are you sure that—”
“Don’t,” Shailyn warned as she yanked her hands from his. Whatever warmth he’d managed to give her instantaneously evaporated into space. “Do not treat me like a child who isn’t sure where she put her favorite doll.”
“I’m sorry.” Townes pressed upward and unwound back into the seat rather abruptly, obviously going for a different approach. She didn’t appreciate being handled as if she were made of some fragile piece of glass. Everyone always assumed that she was weak because of what she’d gone through. She had been forged in the fire—not broken. They all would mention how strong she must have been to survive such a horrible ordeal, but then they spoke to her as if she were a delicate china teacup. It was insulting. Coming from someone as close as Townes made it even worse. “It wasn’t my intention to—”
“I was chained down to a table for three days, Townes.” Shailyn inhaled a breath, albeit shakily. Her coat had fallen lower in her seat when she had leaned forward, so she took her time drawing it upward and back over her shoulders. He didn’t say a word as she settled back and tucked her hair behind her ears before she went into more detail. “I can recall almost every minute of the first day, but I’d lost consciousness several times by the second. I would fade in and out, usually when Moss wanted to talk to me as he worked. There are times when bits and pieces come back to me unexpectedly, as if playing on my very own motion picture screen.”
“You mean when something or someone triggers a flashback. Do you remember the trigger?”
Shailyn remembered that the scar on his jawline would whiten when something bothered or irritated him, but only now did she notice the way his lips thinned out when referring to her past. He wasn’t the only one who had a ticket to play the blame game. She was the one who’d purposefully slipped off to the restroom by herself without his knowledge because she’d been angry with him about something stupid.
“He called me Caroline.” Shailyn was used to the nausea that rolled over her upon thinking back on that time, and now was no different. She rested a hand against her abdomen to keep it at bay and intentionally evened out her breathing until the queasiness had dissipated. “How does this change the direction of the investigation?”
“It doesn’t.” Townes surprised her by leaning forward and reaching for the straps of the seatbelt on either side of her. In her opinion, securing her into the seat was a rather intimate gesture. She didn’t miss that he only ever rested his hand on her lower back…nowhere else. The metal pieces snapped together with a solid click, but Townes didn’t immediately pull away. “What can I do, Shailyn?”
The quiet inquiry didn’t need an explanation. He was asking what he could do for her to help her through the upcoming days, weeks, and possibly months of baiting a killer to come out to play. It was a very sweet gesture, but her reply had him pulling away as if she’d slapped him.
“You can stop being so hesitant around me, Townes.” Shailyn gave him a small smile to take the sting out of her words. “I’m still the woman you were once so close to. I’m still the same woman you took to bed just hours before we walked into that club.”
*
Rage.
That was the sole emotion running through his body at watching the headline news.
Did Townes Calvert really believe that he would fall for such a completely amateur stunt?
Shailyn Doyle was not dead.
She was alive and well.
He would know if it was true. He would feel it throughout his entire being.
The pretty blonde news anchor continued to explain the falsified details of a death that was nothing more than a ploy. Did the collective federal agencies believe he was that gullible?
No. They understood exactly who they were dealing with, which is why a seed of doubt had been planted. Was there truth to what was being reported?
He quietly walked into the small kitchenette as the low murmur of the television faded away. A blanket of serenity slowly washed over him as his fury diminished. He opened the cupboard and withdrew a glass before filling it to exactly one-half inch below the rim with water from the tap. The mundane task allowed his rather muddled thoughts to finally clear with its precision.
Shailyn’s death would need to be confirmed, of course. It was a relatively easy thing to do that he could delegate without getting his hands dirty.
He didn’t even bother to contemplate the choice he would have to make if such a revelation was true. After all, that would only be a waste of his precious time.