Navy Justice (Whidbey Island, Book 5) (15 page)

Beyond a doubt, the general was solid.

Joy looked at her computer clock and closed her laptop. She had twenty minutes to get to Coupeville for Emily’s signing. The twenty-minute drive would give her enough time to construct a facade of excited exhaustion at starting her new career.

Hopefully, she’d hear from Brad before the night was over. They needed to determine if the unknown suspect, or suspects, might be from Farid’s village, and if they were, what was their relation to Farid?

Walking into the midst of the crowd at Whidbey Fibers reminded Joy that she’d finally found her home. A community where her life was predictable and never frantic the way it had been with her parents or in the Navy. Entering the well-appointed space usually felt like receiving a warm hug, but tonight a low roar of conversation was punctuated by loud laughs and women’s raised voices. Joy’s typical calm eluded her.

The stacked wire baskets that lined the enormous back wall were filled with hanks of yarn in brilliant colors. They were an interesting contrast to the muted natural fibers for sale in old whiskey barrels on the floor. The owner, Winnie Ford, had increased her stock fourfold since Joy had started coming to the weekly knit-ins. Even new colors of her favorite selection of luxury cashmere yarn wasn’t enough to snap her out of her fixation on finding out who was behind the domestic terrorists.

“Joy! How are you doing, officemate?” Serena Delgado said, walking up to her.

* * *

“I
DIDN
’
T
KNOW
you were a knitter, too, Serena.”

The dark-eyed beauty smiled. “I’m what I call a process knitter. I’m not good at finishing big projects. But so many of my friends come here, and Emily’s been my best friend since I moved to Whidbey with my son two years ago. I’ve also been getting hand-knit items from local knitters into the holiday spirit baskets they make up each year down in Angelville.”

“Wow. I need to take lessons from you in how to get connected in the area.” For a relative newcomer to the island, Serena had certainly become embedded in the community.

“Hey, Joy!” Winnie stepped up to offer Joy a mug of mulled wine. “This is Max’s secret family recipe. But if you don’t want wine, there’s hot cider over there, too.”

“Thanks.” She’d only have a sip or two since she was driving. Winnie’s eyes lit up at the mere mention of her husband, Max. Winnie had what Joy hoped for one day. A man she could count on to be home each night.

Not a former SEAL turned rogue FBI agent.

She sipped the warm wine and whistled. “Wow! This is awfully strong. I’m driving, so I need to keep my bearings. I’ll take the mulled cider, please.” The single sip she’d taken burned the back of her throat.

Winnie smiled and exchanged her mug for a cup of cider then went to greet another group of knitters as they came into the shop.

There were far more faces than the dozen or so at their knitting group. Joy liked that she could blend in without having to engage in major conversation, but she did have to make sure she said hello to Emily.

Working her way through the crowd, she spotted Emily speaking with a tall familiar male. She walked up to them.

“Joy, I’m so glad you made it.” Emily gave her a tight hug and whispered in her ear. “You look like hell. Bad first couple of days?”

“It’s only my second day and no, they’ve been okay. So far. Who’s your friend? Didn’t I see him this morning?” she asked in a low voice.

Emily pulled back, nodding.

“Joy, let me introduce you to Ben.”

The tall man smiled and thrust out his hand. “Ben Franklin.”

“As in ‘a penny saved is a penny earned’? Sorry. You must get that a lot. Nice to meet you, Ben.” She turned from him to Emily and decided that her original assessment this morning appeared to be correct.

Definite sparks flying here. The romantic kind.

“What’s going on?” Emily’s question caught her off guard and made her wish she’d asked Emily first.

Conscious of inquisitive eyes on her, including Ben’s, Joy let out a laugh she hoped would put an end to their speculation. “Just tired. Nothing more than starting a new job and a new life. Like I said, it’s been fine, but seeing the explosion from my balcony yesterday morning—that was rough.” She felt like a number one slime. Using a probable attempted murder or terrorist event to gain sympathy and distract from what she was really doing. She’d reached a new low.

“Oh, honey, that’s awful.” Immediately, it seemed as though all the women present had to offer their comments.

“I heard it’s another one of those PTSD cases.”

“Thank God they didn’t blow up any planes! My husband was on the flight schedule today.”

“The base is under the tightest security. I had to go to Walmart instead of the commissary for my groceries.”

Joy raised her hands and tried to smile. “I know! It’s been surreal these past two days, hasn’t it?” Talk about an understatement.

“Please take a seat. We’re about to get started.” Winnie clapped her hands and gestured to the rows of folding chairs set up for the occasion. Joy marveled at her authority and her grace. The group was geared up to go on and on about the explosion, and peppering Joy with questions about how much of it she’d seen. Winnie’s timing was perfect.

And of course, there was always the topic of Joy’s love life. Or rather, lack thereof.

“Are there any cute guys at the law firm?”

Joy made her way to a seat, hoping to put off answering.

Serena shook her head before Joy had to. “They’re all happily married. But Paul does have a single brother...”

“I’m not dating the boss’s brother. I’m not dating anyone. C’mon, ladies, you know I didn’t come to Whidbey to find a man.”

At their collective groan, she shrugged. “Not right away, that is.”

“Ladies and gentlemen!” Winnie stood at a makeshift podium. Joy noticed several new knitters, including two men, in the crowd, all identifiable by their knitting bags and the projects they worked on as they listened to Winnie.

“Emily’s getting quite the following since her patterns popped up on Ravelry,” Amy Miller whispered in Joy’s ear, referring to a social media site for knitters and crocheters. She took the adjacent seat. Amy, whose bright blond spiral curls framed a cherubic face, was one of the other single women in the knitting group. The two of them had spent a couple of nights out in Seattle at dance clubs.

“She’s worked so hard for this. I’m thrilled for her.”

Amy placed her hand on Joy’s arm. “How are you, really? You look wiped out. It must be hard changing careers. Or have you finally realized you’re going to get bored here?” Amy’s eyes reflected concern, and Joy felt a twinge of guilt.

“I’m not changing careers, not really. And like I’ve said a hundred times before, I’m done moving. This is where I want to be. The new job is great. I’m just having a slightly harder time adjusting to life after the Navy than I expected. And the explosion yesterday sure didn’t help.”

Winnie introduced Emily and thankfully put an end to Amy’s inquisition. Joy loved watching Emily share her passion and her enthusiasm for creating patterns and putting together her book.

Emily seemed so happy and content in her life, but Joy wondered if she ever felt lonely.

Maybe not with the scintillating Ben Franklin on the scene, she suspected.

Loneliness—not a stranger to Joy.

She’d never thought of herself as lonely. Growing up the child of two career diplomats, she’d appreciated the different countries and cultures they’d been posted to and made friends in each new place. Learning new languages was a challenge, and one she enjoyed. When it was time to go to college, Joy had known she wanted to make a difference in the world, but she also knew she didn’t want to move as often as her family had.

Yet she’d chosen to accept a full-ride scholarship from the Navy for law school once she’d finished the academy, and had loved her years as a JAG. But she’d hit a wall. After working with Brad on Farid’s case, she’d been faced with the reality that she was in her early thirties and if she hoped to settle down, have a family someday, she had to do something about it now.

The family might not happen, but she had control over the settling-down part.

If she didn’t start building the life she wanted, it might not happen, either. Traveling the globe was fine for her parents; they had each other and had married young, giving them a shared history that had sustained them through the toughest tours.

She smiled as she thought of her parents. She was supposed to visit them during the holidays at their latest and probably last Foreign Service posting—Paris.

Emily finished speaking and after the applause died down, the guests stood to get in line for the book signing.

“Do you already have her book?” Amy almost spilled her drink as she leaned close to Joy.

“No, but I will tonight. I’m going to buy three and have her sign them.” She’d keep one and send one to her mother and the other to her aunt, a rabid knitter.

“You can say you’re
fine
all you want, Joy, but I know something’s up. Call me when you’re ready to talk. I’m here for you.”

She accepted Amy’s warm hug and tried to soak up the affection in spite of her serious case of the guilts. She couldn’t tell Amy anything remotely close to the truth.

Brad was the only person who knew what kind of trouble she was courting by going out on a limb for him.

Brad.

Why, why,
why
was the only man she’d felt a strong connection to out of reach? What was it with her? The men who were emotionally available, who could be reliable, steady partners, had no sexual appeal for her.

She told herself, yet again, that she didn’t want Brad
or
his crazy life.

Of course, he hadn’t offered her anything.

And why was she even spending time worrying about this? She had books to get signed and work to do at home. Emily ended her remarks and because she sat in the second row, Joy was able to get her books signed in short order.

“Em, I’m so proud of you! We’ll catch up next week.” When Emily had signed the three copies, Joy kissed her friend and took the books to the cash register to pay for them. Winnie had her assistant ringing up the books as she put them in a colorful tote emblazoned with the knitting cooperative’s logo. Whidbey Fibers had become its own empire in Puget Sound. Winnie had been a Navy wife who’d lost her first husband and married a second Navy man, Max. She’d managed to make a career for herself, while raising three beautiful girls. Winnie had it all—stability, family, a husband she obviously adored.

Don’t compare
.

“What was that?” Winnie tilted her head and looked at Joy.

Crap, had she spoken out loud?

“Are you okay, Joy?”

“Why does everyone keep asking me that? I’m fine, really I am. Maybe just a little tired from starting a new job.”

“Of course you are.” Winnie nodded emphatically. “And let’s not even talk about what happened yesterday... On a different topic, have you seen the schedule for next month? We’re having the sweater class for the kimono jacket you admired on Amy last month. It’s straight knitting, no seams. Think of it as a big scarf!”

Winnie handed her the tote over the crowded counter.

“I’ll think about it. Thanks, Winnie.” Joy took the schedule and dropped it into the bag. Winnie gave out class schedules as if they were a secret chicken noodle soup recipe. A sure cure for whatever ailed a person.

“You can sign up online or call us here.”

“I’ll probably do that.”

It seemed too much to ask, to hope that she’d be free in a week and able to do something as lovely and simple as a knitting class. Without the constant worry over Brad’s welfare and Farid’s case.

Hot and tired, she had to get out of the jam-packed shop. Her agitation was so great she didn’t even stop to tell Winnie that she’d progressed to more complicated patterns. The tickle in her stomach was turning into a full-fledged GERD attack. She needed quiet and space. No more thoughts about men and relationships.

As she drove out of Coupeville on the way north, it was tempting to turn toward General Grimes’s house in the woods. But her cell phone had no messages from Brad or the general. Neither did her email.

Nothing to do but go home.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

“Y
OU
DIDN
’
T
NEED
to drive me home, but thank you.” Emily sat in Ben’s small fuel-efficient car as he maneuvered across Deception Pass onto Fidalgo Island.

“It’s my pleasure, and the least I could do since you wouldn’t let me buy you dinner.”

“I told you, no dates. We’re colleagues, and we can be friends.”

“That’s right, friends. I know I take all my work friends out hoping they’ll let me spring for a meal.”

“You’re not being fair, Ben.”

“Tell me how you got interested in knitting.” She admired the way he didn’t hold grudges, the way he changed the topic as smoothly as she’d seen him care for a newborn who needed extra attention. He was the senior pediatrician at Naval Hospital Oak Harbor, and the scuttlebutt was that he was also the Navy’s best. It was only a matter of time before he got transferred to a bigger base, a teaching hospital, where he’d be able to reach more patients and instruct residents.

At least, that was what Emily thought.

“I learned to knit as a child. My grandmother taught me. I picked it up again after my husband died. It gave me something to do with my hands and kept me from going crazy those first couple of years after he got sick and then died. After a while I realized it’s truly a passion of mine, and I started making my own designs.”

“I find it impressive that you’re as accomplished at knitting as you are at nursing.”

“Thank you.” She was grateful for the dark interior of the car; she hated when anyone saw her blush. Her pale skin made her look like a beet when she did.

“You’re taking the next left.” She didn’t want him to miss the awkward turnoff.

“I remember.” His profile was strong, but his mouth curved into a smile and she found herself wondering just how soft those lips of his were.

Was this how she was finally going to break her decade-long mourning period?

“You’re not the first man I’ve dated, you know.”

“I didn’t think I was. And we’re not dating, remember?”

“I’ve tried to date other guys, and I’ve gotten as far as a few weeks, but it never worked out.”

He pulled into her long drive. “I don’t need your history tonight, Emily.”

“It’s just that a lot of people assume I’m gun-shy because my husband died when we were still newlyweds. I loved Peter, but I’ve done my grieving and moved on. My life is full.”

Ben didn’t respond as he put the car in Park and turned off the ignition. His windows were down and his moonroof open. The sound of the wind as it rustled across the grass in the fields surrounding her subdivision, the distant sound of waves hitting West Beach, the occasional
hoot
of a great horned owl—they all soothed her and helped her feel not quite as foolish as she supposed she should.

“Ben, I don’t want you to think it’s you. But I’m not ready—”

She stopped as he unbuckled first his belt and then hers. And reached over the console to grasp her face in his hands. His elegant masculine hands revealed all their strength and gentleness as they held tiny babies. She’d noticed those hands when she’d worked alongside him.

“Emily, all I want to do is kiss you. May I?”

She blinked and nodded, unwilling to miss out on this. Just in case...

Several minutes later Ben lifted his mouth from hers, and she was very, very grateful she’d opted for
just in case
.

“Thank you, Emily.” His voice, usually so smooth and commanding at the hospital, was rougher, huskier. Sexy as all get-out.

“Thank you, Ben.”

He stroked her cheek once more before he pulled back and got out of the car. Emily tried to gather her thoughts as he walked around the front of the vehicle, but there was nothing to gather.

He’d left her unable to focus on anything but her reaction to his kiss.

Her door opened and she slid out, rising to her full height, which meant she reached his shoulder.

“You don’t have to walk me to the door, Ben.” Really, this was getting a little silly. Unless... Did he expect to come in?

“I don’t do anything I don’t want to, Emily. That’s something you’ll figure out as we get to know each other better.”

“Ben, this doesn’t have to be the start of anything. I’m not expecting it to.”

They were at her front door, and she slid her key in the lock. Inside, loud barking commenced.

“You have a dog?” he asked.

“Two. You?”

“Three.”

“You have three dogs?”

“I rescued them from the shelter last Christmas. I couldn’t take one and leave the other two.” He shrugged.

“And I thought I was crazy with my two. Plus eight cats, but only three live inside.”

He kissed her on the cheek. “Good night, Emily. See you in the morning.”

* * *

T
ECHNOLOGY
WAS
ONE
of Joy’s best friends as it allowed her to keep her calendar up-to-date with the ease of one entry, whether it was via phone, laptop or tablet. Still, after years of post-graduate education, whenever she was stymied over a case she wasn’t afraid to rely on more basic old-tech methods.

She sat at her kitchen table minutes after she returned from the book signing and quickly wrote down everything she knew about Farid’s village from what General Grimes had testified and Brad had told her. With each mark of her pencil on the yellow legal pad, she hoped to put the memory of Brad’s kisses further from her thoughts and increase her chances—
their
chances—of finding out who the unknown terrorist was. The GERD and her nerves were agitated because this hadn’t been solved. Her reaction didn’t have anything to do with Brad.

But his kisses... His lips hadn’t disappointed.

She put her pencil down.

It wasn’t her imagination. Their physical chemistry was as strong as it had ever been when they were unable to act on it. Brad felt it, too; that was obvious from the way he’d grabbed her and held her against the undeniable erection under his cargo pants.

There wasn’t anything keeping them apart at this point—if she was willing to give up everything she’d worked so hard for. If he was willing to let go of his past and try again. She wasn’t. He wasn’t.

At least, she
hadn’t
been willing to change. Those kisses certainly could’ve been game changers in other circumstances...

But it wasn’t his kisses that compelled her to help Brad. He was an honorable man, and this was the right thing to do, would’ve been the right thing, even if they shared zero chemistry.

Her phone vibrated and she looked at the screen, expecting a local number.

Maria Alexander.

“Mom!”

“Hi, sweetheart. We saw CNN earlier and were concerned about what they’re reporting. Was it very close to you, the explosion?”

“Not really.” The less said to her mom, the better. There wasn’t any sense in worrying her or her father.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, Mom. I’m so busy with my new job and getting out of the Navy that I’ve barely kept up with the news.” Lying to her mother topped her list of most shameful activities.

“Speaking of which, how’s the new job?”

Her mother was thousands of miles away in one of Joy’s favorite cities, and it sounded as though she was in the same room. That didn’t seem fair, not when Joy needed her right here, beside her. She actually ached for one of her mother’s hugs.

“It’s fine. I’m fine. How are you?”

“Your dad and I are doing well, thanks. Now, no chitchat. It’s me, honey. How are you
really
?” Her mother’s flair for the dramatic, normally annoying, was oddly comforting her.

“Hanging in there. It’s...complicated.”

Her mother’s warm chuckle brought tears to her eyes.

“When is it
not
complicated with you, darling?”

“Have I always been that difficult?”

“You’re not difficult, Joy. You’re just too smart for most of the men on the planet. This is about a man, right?”

“Kind of.”

“So you’ve met someone. Well, that happened more quickly than I expected. Especially with you out in the middle of nowhere.”

“Mom, Whidbey isn’t the middle of nowhere. Seattle is only two hours away, as is Vancouver. You and Dad will see when you come out and visit.”

“We will indeed. You’re still planning on coming to Paris for Christmas, aren’t you?”

“Yes. I wouldn’t miss it for the world. Will Tommy and Elaine be there?” She referred to her brother and sister-in-law.

“Tommy’s not sure he’ll be able to get leave, but they’re working on it.” Tommy had followed in their father’s footsteps and was also a Foreign Service officer. He was a junior in the State Department, on his second post, in Djibouti. He’d met his wife in the Peace Corps after college.

She felt a sudden pang of self-doubt. “Mom, I have to go—I’ve got a case I’m working on. Can I call you back in a few days?”

“Tomorrow we’re going to London with the British Ambassador and his wife, but we’ll be back by the weekend. We’ll catch up then if that works for you. Try to call me on Skype next time.”

Mom loved to use Skype; she said she felt as if she was in the same room with Joy. Joy suspected her mother wanted to see if she was really healthy and happy.

“Sure, Mom. Love you.”

“Love you, too, sweetie.” They ended the connection, and she fiddled with her phone. She needed to talk to Brad, to work through her notes and memory of the case with him.

The dozen or so lines of text she’d written blurred in front of her.

Her perfect life had imploded in the hours since yesterday morning.

* * *

T
WO
HOURS
LATER
Joy wasn’t any further with her private investigation. She stood up from the kitchen table and lifted her arms over her head. It was almost midnight, and she’d have to be up early to go into the office.

The thought of being at work exhausted her—having to pretend she had nothing on her mind but her new job, that she wasn’t trying to figure out a puzzle that had life-or-death consequences.

Sleep wouldn’t come easy, so she decided to get ready for bed and try to take her mind off everything. It looked as though Brad was safely entrenched at General Grimes’s or elsewhere, at least for the night. Until she heard from him or found out whether Grimes remembered anything else that would help, there was nothing more she could do.

She’d never been comfortable admitting her own powerlessness.

Good old Navy training kicked in, and she went methodically through her nightly routine, taking off her makeup and brushing her teeth.

* * *

I
T
SEEMED
DARKER
around Joy’s house than it had at General Grimes’s. He still couldn’t believe the old man had handed him the keys to his Wrangler.

“Take it and go out the back road.”

“I can’t put you at risk here, too, General.”

“The news is reporting that they’re closing the case. No one’s looking for you anymore, or not publicly at any rate. You know as well as I do that my security detail told your boss you were here the minute they identified you. He won’t be worried now, but you may have one angry guy on your hands. We also both know that if anyone was going to come here, asking more questions, they already would have. Just be very careful about saying anything related to Farid or his village on open comms, at least until you get your information further up the chain.” For a man like General Grimes, a reporting senior would never be more than a link in the chain of command.

They’d shaken hands and Brad had promised to have the vehicle back to Grimes as soon as possible.

What the Jeep lacked in shock absorbers, it made up for in fun driving. He contented himself with letting the wind blow through the open windows as the moon played hide-and-seek with the clouds racing across the inky sky.

He’d parked the car in dense brush a mile from Joy’s and hoofed it the rest of the way, careful to stay hidden from the road. He didn’t give a rat’s ass what the news media reported. He was already exposed by his simple action of not staying ashore through the op, and then his disruption of their attempted aircraft takedown. They knew by now that he was an undercover operative, in place to take
them
down. The people who were out to hurt innocent Americans didn’t think for a minute that he was dead. And they wouldn’t, not until they had his body as proof.

All the lights were out at Joy’s, except for the soft glow from an upstairs window. He leaned over the side of the house from his perch on her stone deck and figured it was the master bedroom.

Joy’s bedroom.

Damn it, he wished they’d met under different circumstances. Where time didn’t matter and they had nothing but long nights in front of them.

He told himself it wouldn’t make any difference. He’d still be doing this kind of work. Which meant no more serious relationships. Joy deserved better—and wasn’t she seeking something better by making a nice life for herself out here?

Still, a man could dream.

Just not now. He’d have to save his fantasies for after he’d wrapped up this case and Joy was nowhere near the bastards who dealt in death.

He let himself into her house with the key she’d given him; opening her door reminded him of the way he’d entered her place yesterday. It had been far too easy—and the idea of anyone else breaking in made him clench his fists. Once inside, he walked through the kitchen and up the stairs. If she was sleeping he’d leave her and settle on the couch. Whether she was awake or asleep, he needed to know she was safe.

The sounds of splashing water and a low-throated humming came out of the bathroom as he neared the door. He hated to scare her or invade her privacy.

He also hated that he couldn’t interrupt her in a sexier way.

Silence from the bathroom. She’d heard something.

“Joy, it’s me, Brad.”

“Nice time to stop by, Ivy.” As tough as her tone was, he also detected the quaver. He felt bad about scaring her. He’d brought enough darkness into her life over the past forty-eight hours. Less than that, actually.