Every Secret Thing Read online

  He’s not yours to look at. Tearing her gaze off him, she reached for her water bottle.

  Lucas wriggled his feet into a pair of leather-thonged flip-flops, drawing her gaze back to him.

  “And I thought I had big feet,” she commented.

  “Don’t hate,” he retorted, shooting her an amused look. “Listen, I’m leaving my cell phone in the side of my bag, right here.” He leaned over and patted the pocket it was in. “If I need to reach you, I’ll call it. You really should charge the phone Fitz gave you, you know.”

  “I don’t like being spied on,” Charlotte retorted.

  “Then charge it but don’t turn it on,” he suggested, while glancing at his watch again. “That way you can use it if you have to.”

  He had a point, she realized. “Okay,” she agreed. “I’ll do that now. I assume that’s waterproof, too?” she asked, pointing at his fancy watch.

  “Of course.” He smiled up at her, and they both fell quiet. His gaze focused on her face. “Keep your disguise on till I’m back,” he added. “We’ll probably be leaving tonight.”

  “I know.”

  He looked like he might hug her before heading to the door. Instead, he grimaced and spun away, letting himself out quietly.

  “Bye,” she called as the door clicked shut behind him.

  Knowing he planned to sneak out the back of the house, Charlotte went to stand by the window so she could watch Lucas’s shadow streak toward the canoes. But in the absence of moonlight and with the rain falling in a silvery curtain, she never caught sight of him.

  She was almost certain they would be leaving that night. That warehouse had to be the reason Lloyd had come here in the first place, the reason why he’d been killed. It occurred to Charlotte there actually was something she could do. She didn’t have to sit around feeling helpless or hunted, after all.

  Even in the dark, Lucas could see Saul shudder as they waded into mud. Grateful for the water’s warmth and the flippers that protected their soles from sharp mussel shells, Lucas adjusted his mask and bit down on his snorkel. He’d be even more grateful if the flippers Saul had procured weren’t two sizes too small for him.

  With no weapons between them except the blade strapped to Saul’s thigh, they gripped each other’s wrist as the water deepened. When it reached their bellies, they each sucked in a big breath and went under. Lucas gave a squeeze, and they struck out, still holding onto each other and counting every other kick.

  Swimming just beneath the surface with the rain drumming their watery rooftop, darkness surrounded them. They kicked in a steady, synchronized rhythm, forging the brackish water swiftly. Lucas noted a small leak in the seal of his mask, but it wasn’t bad enough to merit stopping.

  Surfacing on the count of thirty, they cleared their snorkels and drew air. Clearing his mask, Lucas estimated they were near the middle of the river. A light current tugged at them. He consulted the compass glowing on his tactical watch and corrected their bearing accordingly. With another squeeze of the wrist, they submerged a second time, counting to thirty before surfacing to assess where they were.

  The warehouse pier jutted up in front of them, frosted by the light coming from the scant windows. Lucas would have preferred to insert into a warehouse dark as pitch.

  Submerging again, they went all the way under, proceeding past a forest of barnacled pilings. The light from inside the warehouse filtered through the water, turning the dark void into an underwater landscape full of darting fish, sunken branches, and bits of lost tackle, including a crab pot.

  Following a trough dredged into the muddy bottom, they swam beneath the garage doors and into the bay inside the warehouse.

  Lucas signaled that he would surface first. Pressing himself close to the slimy bulkhead, he peeked above the waterline into an empty berthing area. When no alarm sounded, he signaled the all-clear to Saul and raised his mask, draining the water that had leaked inside. Saul bobbed to the surface next to him. Together, they took in what the halogen lights illuminated—row upon row of crates, stacked clear to the back wall.

  No one appeared to be guarding whatever was stashed inside them.

  Lucas drifted toward the only ladder with Saul right behind him. Stowing their cheap rubber flippers behind it, they climbed the rusty rungs on bare feet.

  The warehouse was exactly as Saul had drawn it, with a docking area capable of housing two large boats. Saul pointed out a crowbar lying atop a pile of crates nearby, and they moved toward it. With the drum of rain on the high tin roof masking their movements, Saul inserted the end of the crowbar under the lid and gave it a yank. The squeak that resulted made them freeze like thieves.

  Lifting the lid and the packing material, Lucas gaped at a multitude of crude-looking canisters lined up inside. Improvised explosive devices, he realized, spying coils sticking out of them. They looked like a stash the Marines might have come across in Afghanistan. How they’d found their way to a warehouse in Sabena was a question only members of The Entity could explain.

  Exchanging a charged look with Saul, Lucas withdrew from his sodden shorts the camera Master Chief had passed off to him. Using its night-vision feature, he snapped several pictures of the crate’s contents. Saul replaced the lid and waved him deeper into the stacks to open a second crate. The lid gave way with a grating sound that made Lucas wince and look around.

  “Sir,” Saul whispered, directing his attention to the aerosol cans lining the interior.

  “What is it?” Lucas asked.

  “Agent 15,” Saul replied, reading one of the labels.

  Lucas immediately thought of Jaguar’s stepdaughter, who’d been gassed in the back of a patrol car not too long ago. It was suddenly clear how Dwyer’s henchman, a former SEAL-turned-police-officer, had managed to get his hands on the illegal substance. The Entity had stolen it, and they weren’t above using some when needed.

  Lucas was snapping pictures of cans when Saul grabbed his arm in warning. Dread pegged him as he turned his head to see an enormous Doberman Pinscher peering at them around the end of the aisle.

  “Don’t look at him,” Saul murmured in a quiet, almost casual voice. “Put the camera away.”

  Lucas jerked his gaze from the dog’s glowing eyes and swiftly slid the camera back inside the pocket of his shorts, zipping it shut.

  “Back up slowly.” Saul tugged on one of Lucas’s belt loops, urging him to lower the lid and back away.

  “What is it, boy?”

  A uniformed watchman materialized behind the dog. Catching sight of the SEALs, he jerked up the rifle he was carrying and bellowed, “Freeze!”

  The SEALs were already in retreat. At the watchman’s command, they spun and ran, leaping into the water just as a deafening shot rang out. The explosion coincided with a searing sensation by Lucas’s right shoulder blade. He flinched from it, twisting down and away as he’d been trained to do to avoid taking another bullet. Two more rounds pelted the water close by. Searching for Saul as he hit the muddy bottom, he was glad to see the chief right behind him. Saul seized his belt loop again and tugged him in the direction they needed to go.

  A barnacled column scraped Lucas’s left cheek. He jerked away from it, dislodging the mask that had been resting on top of his head.

  I’ve been shot.

  He refused to let that circumstance slow him down, but the absence of their flippers most certainly did. It took over a minute, holding their breath all the while, to slip under the garage doors into the safety of the river. Lucas tried his best to keep up with Saul, but with only one arm working and with kicks that grew increasingly feeble, he could tell he was slowing them down.

  Saul brought them both up for air.

  “Stay with me, Little John,” he rasped. “Relax,” he added, rolling Lucas onto his back and putting his body under him in a lifeguard’s hold.

  “I can swim,” Lucas protested.

  “Save your strength, sir. I got you.” Saul started kicking for both of them. In
that instant, the wail of a squad car split the quiet night.

  Here comes the posse, Lucas thought. But unless the cops jumped in a boat and came after them, the SEALs would get to the other side and away from the Manor before any of the police chief’s men could descend on them. He pictured Charlotte waiting in the room for their return. If only there was a way to warn her.

  By the time Saul helped Lucas through the muck onto dry land, the rain had subsided, drawing sharply colder air in its wake. Lucas shivered as the air enveloped him.

  Saul muttered a string of self-directed epithets. “Didn’t do my homework. Didn’t know about the dog.”

  “We got what we needed.” Lucas assured him, gritting his teeth to keep them from chattering. “Do I have the camera?” he asked, patting down his pocket. “Yes. Let’s grab Charlotte and get out of here.”

  They both froze at the sound of a twig snapping. With relief, Lucas recognized the glint of Charlotte’s spectacles as she hurried toward them, his HK slung over one shoulder and his belt with his holstered pistol tied around her waist. He couldn’t have conjured a more welcoming sight.

  “What happened?” she demanded.

  “We were seen,” Saul said. “Lucas took a bullet.”

  “Lucas!” She ran up to him with gratifying concern, her hands warm and gentle. “Where were you hit? Your face is bleeding.”

  “That’s just a scratch. Upper back, right side.”

  She ducked under his arm and felt his back. When her fingers slipped in the blood there, she gave a gasp of dismay. Saul, who had found a dry shirt in the bag he’d stowed under a canoe, tore it with one powerful yank and proceeded to bandage his back with practiced efficiency.

  “We need to move,” Saul said, tying it off.

  Blue lights flickered through the trees on the other side of the river. It wouldn’t take long for the watchman to give a description that would make the officers think immediately of Lucas, since few men were as tall as he was.

  “We’re all set to leave,” Charlotte informed them. “I’ve packed the car and pushed it to the head of the driveway so Mrs. Digges wouldn’t alert her friends in the force. I even left her the old-timey key so she wouldn’t bill us for it.”

  The men regarded her in mutual astonishment.

  “You are off the chain, ma’am,” Saul stated.

  “Thanks—I think. Where are Lucas’s flip-flops?”

  “Right here.” Saul fetched them from under an overturned canoe.

  Cursing his helplessness, Lucas let Charlotte help him slip his sandals on. Then, propping a shoulder under his armpit, she started up the hill with him while Saul changed into dry clothing. The warmth coming off her athletic frame chased away the chills rippling up his back.

  “Don’t faint on me,” she ordered. The HK swung at her hip as she labored under his weight.

  “Trying not to,” he said through his teeth.

  “And no dying on me either,” she added on a firm note.

  “Not in the plans,” he assured her.

  Saul caught up to them carrying his duffel bag. Supporting Lucas on the other side, he helped Charlotte get Lucas to the head of the driveway where, sure enough, the Camaro sat waiting for them. After tossing his duffel into the back and snatching up an emergency kit, Saul trundled Lucas into the passenger seat, while Charlotte ducked into the backseat from the driver’s side.

  “Find gauze,” Saul ordered, handing her the kit. “I think he’s bleeding through the bandage.”

  She was still pawing through the kit when Saul jumped behind the wheel and started them forward, adjusting his seat closer to the pedals as he drove.

  Having listened to the wail of sirens growing ever louder, Lucas feared they might not even make it out of Sabena. Charlotte ordered him to lean forward, and he issued a groan as she added a layer of gauze under his makeshift bandage.

  “Now sit back and use the seat to apply pressure.”

  He did as she said, just as they reached the intersection with Main Street. He could see blue lights on the bridge, coming from the very direction they needed to go in order to head home.

  Saul cursed and glanced at his map. “Sorry, sir. Looks like we need to take a detour.”

  Keeping the Camaro’s lights extinguished, he turned left, hopefully unseen, and rapidly accelerated.

  The sudden pressure on Lucas’s wound had him swallowing a groan and gripping the arm of the door. He couldn’t tell if the sudden darkness around him was because they’d left downtown Sabena or because he was losing consciousness. It was definitely the latter, he decided, as dizziness stormed him.

  “I’m going to pass out,” he warned in a faint voice.

  The last thing he felt was Charlotte throwing her arms around him.

  Chapter 12

  “Talk to me, Saul. What are we doing?” Charlotte heard the edge of panic in her voice and tried to subdue it. If ever there was a time to keep a clear head, this was it.

  “This road goes on forever,” he answered tensely. “I don’t see a way to double back or cut over to the interstate or anything.”

  With her arms wrapped around Lucas, keeping him from slumping forward, Charlotte studied the map on Saul’s dashboard. He was right. The dark, two-lane road they were on headed dead north, with no other road intersecting, at least not close enough that they could see it on the map.

  “Can we turn around?”

  The twinkling in Saul’s rearview mirror provided an instantaneous answer.

  “They’re coming after us.” Saul abruptly accelerated.

  Charlotte’s heart galloped. They were screaming down a road surrounded by dark trees and almost total darkness, and Saul had yet to turn on the lights.

  “How can they even see us?” she cried. They had to be at least a mile ahead of the vehicles chasing them. “Are your reflectors that good?”

  “Maybe,” he retorted on a grim note. “That or they put a tracking device on my car.”

  Police Chief Blanchard’s voice echoed in Charlotte’s head. You drive a Camaro right? I check all the cars that run through town. It’s good to know who’s comin’ and goin’.

  “Oh, yes, I think they did,” she decided. “We need to find it and take it off.”

  “Can’t stop now,” Saul retorted, grimly. Glancing toward his teammate, he added, “Reach over him and recline his seat. I’m going to need your hands free.”

  Eager to help, Charlotte managed to lower Lucas’s seatback, so she could let go of him. “What now?”

  “Reduce the view on this map,” Saul requested, swerving suddenly to avoid the possum waddling across the road. “I need to see our options.”

  Hitting the minus sign on the corner of his map, Charlotte took comfort from the sound of Lucas breathing. He was still alive. God wasn’t going to let him die like this. Zooming out the map’s view, she could see some roads coming up, including Rt. 301, the same road she’d been traveling on when Jason and Laura Dunn abducted her. The sight of Patuxent River Military Air Station filled her with relief.

  “Look, it’s Pax River,” she cried, using the commonly used name for it. “They have a hospital there. It can’t be more than thirty miles away,” she estimated. “We can make it.”

  “If we can shake our tail,” Saul agreed through gritted teeth.

  Charlotte glanced at the speedometer and nearly fainted. They were moving at well over a hundred miles an hour in near perfect darkness.

  “Since they know where we are, can’t we put the lights on?” she pleaded.

  “Good point,” Saul muttered, switching them on—just in time, as a family of deer stood poised on the edge of the road, waiting to cross. Saul blared the horn, startling them into retreat. As they tore past the animals, unscathed, Saul blew out a breath of relief, then looked in his rearview mirror and cursed again. “They’re gaining on us.”

  “How?” Charlotte cried. “I thought your car was fast.”

  “Cruisers have super-charged engines.”

>   His grim tone filled her with dread. “You’re saying we can’t outrun them,” Charlotte guessed.

  His only answer was to glance into his mirror.

  Heart in her throat, Charlotte twisted in her seat to see out the back window. Second by second, the two patrol cars got closer.

  “This is what happened to Lloyd,” she realized, trying not to panic. “We should get evidence so we can prosecute,” she added, grubbing in her purse for the cell phone Fitz had given her. She had charged it per Lucas’s suggestion but kept it powered off. That was about to change, as she needed its camera.

  “What are you doing?” Saul demanded.

  “I want to film them chasing us. Maybe it’ll help me prove they did the same thing to Lloyd.”

  “Yeah, well I ain’t planning to die like Lloyd. You got the HK back there with you?”

  “Yes, it’s right here.” Good thing she hadn’t had time to put it in the trunk.

  “Full magazine?” he asked as he took it from her, then laid it across his lap.

  “Yes. What are we going to do? Stop the car and shoot them when they’re close enough?”

  “No, there’s no stopping,” he retorted.

  “How are you going to shoot?” she demanded. “You’re driving.”

  “You’ll see,” he said. “If you want to get that video, now’s the time.”

  Charlotte’s phone had finally powered up. Accessing the camera, she put it in video mode and pointed it out the back window.

  “This is Charlotte Patterson, intern with NCIS.” The words tumbled out of her. “I’m with the two US Navy SEALs tasked by the FBI to guard me. We’re being pursued by the Sabena police. As you can see, there are two cruisers closing in on us, and they’ve silenced their sirens. They’re chasing us because we just discovered the contents of the warehouse in Sabena, situated across the river from Magnolia Manor. A group known as The Entity is storing stolen weapons there. The warehouse is owned by the police chief’s cousin, and Blanchard is related to Commander Dwyer, who’s a member of The Entity.”

  By the time she’d spoken that last sentence, the two cruisers had narrowed the distance between them to less than a football field.