Finding Grace Page 16

  “Huh?”

  Luke could see Griggs’s mind racing. So that was why Thorne—

  “You do it so often you can’t remember? Let me refresh your memory: five feet, give or take, short purple hair. Coming back yet?”

  Dagger had found a living object for his wrath.

  Griggs eyed Dagger’s clenched fists and made the grave error of attempting a bluff. “Oh, that little freak. He punched me first. What’s it to you?”

  “What’s it to me, you pussy little twerp? I happen to know that shiner you were sporting was the direct result of your attempt to take inappropriate liberties with someone you were just supposed to pick up for questioning. You want to try that with me, Griggs? Maybe you’d like to take me somewhere where there’s no cameras. Tell you what, I’ll even let you handcuff me first.”

  What worried Luke most was that Dagger wasn’t yelling any more. He was cool and collected enough not to give Thorne’s gender away.

  It was a serious accusation. Yet, rather than report it, Thorne had only asked him to put Griggs on Traffic. If Luke were honest with himself, he’d admit that he’d never have done it if he hadn’t known Thorne’s reason for asking was a good one. Problem was, Traffic was nowhere near enough of a consequence for Griggs’s actions.

  He stood up. “This true, Officer Griggs?”

  Griggs didn’t answer and Luke didn’t need him to. He’d already admitted to assaulting a handcuffed prisoner who wasn’t resisting. As for the other charge, he’d have to ask Thorne, but it wouldn’t surprise him. There were rumors around the precinct that Griggs was a gay-hater.

  “Don’t tempt me to let Dagger have you. The man’s on a short fuse today and I’m not sure this old office can take much more. You’re on unpaid leave as of now, while I look into this. And if I see that union rep in my office, believe me, it’s not going to help your cause any. Close the door behind you.”

  He sat back down and looked up at Dagger as he scrubbed his face. “Shit fucking Mondays. Thanks for bringing that matter with Griggs to my attention and for not tearing the man limb from limb like I know you want to. I understand, I really do. I wish Thorne had told me, but I’m not surprised she didn’t. She doesn’t have much trust in the system, not that I blame her.

  “Anyway, think about what I said. Thorne’s tough and brave, but there may be some things she’ll never get over. You can either accept that, or walk away. That’s not a heart I’d like to see broken, Dagger. I mean it.” He let his face harden, his gratitude and admiration for her shoring his courage in the face of the most dangerous man he’d ever known, on either side of the bars.

  As soon as Dagger left his office, Luke picked up his phone to call Paul, give him a heads-up, but no one answered. He tried twice more before leaving a message. He stared at the phone and frowned. There was always someone around to take calls at Blackridge. What was going on over there?

  * * * *

  Dagger decided to walk to the office instead of calling a cab. It wasn’t that far and Luke had been right, he did need time to think. But he didn’t like any of the thoughts that were spinning through his head, even if a lot about Grace made sense now. He could only hope his imagination was coming up short on the details of what had happened to her. The rage he was feeling had him drenched in sweat even though it was snowing again and the wind was snapping at his face.

  Too bad the only available target for that rage was himself. He’d told her to just get over it, had actually called her a crazy bitch. He couldn’t forget her eyes and the way she’d looked at him when he’d slammed the door. He’d made her cry. Fuck, he was an asshole. He didn’t deserve her. That didn’t mean he was going to let her go, though. He just couldn’t imagine living without her. However she wanted it, whatever she could give him, he’d be goddamn grateful for.

  He swore at the big black SUV that went speeding through a big puddle in the street, soaking him in filthy slush, and caught the passenger’s eye. Could this day possibly get any fucking worse?

  Chapter Fourteen

  Even through the din of the ranting, the reek of vomit, the cigarette’s stale smoke, and the crushing weight of his own helpless remorse, Paul met his friend’s eyes across the room and saw the strange vulnerability behind Dagger’s shock and anger. It instantly confirmed his suspicions about what was going on between him and Thorne. He recognized that dazed look, too. He’d seen it in the mirror after his first argument with Katherine before they were married—when, just for a moment, it had occurred to him that he might lose her.

  The situation, as he saw it, wasn’t just godawful, it was thoroughly damned.

  He handed Dagger the letter with General Ross’s signature.

  “Tied our hands like steel cable. If that was anyone else’s name, Darmfelder would never have gotten in the door. I tried to call, of course. The general was out. If I had it to do over…I don’t know. I just don’t know.”

  Dagger didn’t seem to notice his internal battle. He just nodded, scanning the contents of the paper before letting it fall from his hands to litter Thorne’s desk. He stared out the window. After a minute, the room fell silent.

  Farley shifted uncomfortably under the quiet. “She put up a hell of a fight, Dagger. Took two of ’em to take her down and that was after she puked all over Major Asshole. One’ll have a shiner by dinner and the other one will be walking with a limp till after Christmas.”

  “Cigarette smoke makes her sick.”

  Dagger’s voice sounded raw and he swallowed after he said it. Paul knew he was remembering the first ride he’d given Thorne.

  The returning silence in the small crowded office was almost deafening.

  Farley said, “I think that sadistic little pissant knew that. The smile on his face when she was laying there, cuffed head-to-toe, all small and hopeless-like, made me wanna puke myself.”

  Paul watched Dagger’s death grip on the back of Thorne’s empty chair tighten. “Farley—”

  “Look, here’s her glasses.” Markham picked them up. “Hey, they’re not even prescription.”

  “Yeah, they flew off when the one little shitweasel backhanded her,” Farley offered.

  “Not helping.” Paul said. But it was too late.

  The back of Thorne’s chair snapped like a twig. Right before it sailed through the window.

  The room was quiet enough to hear the chair land and the glass tinkle before Markham asked in a hushed tone, “That what happened to the window in the big office?”

  “Nope,” Farley innocently replied. “Thorne did that. Right before she jumped.”

  Paul knew it was time, past time really, to be the one to answer the questions, before he actually had to gag Farley.

  “She did that because she thought I was going to expose her.” Everyone looked at him, including Dagger.

  “So now you understand how important it was to her that no one find out she was a woman, or what happened to her.” He looked around the room. “I never lied to you, Dagger, not to any of you. I never once referred to Thorne as a ‘he.’ I just let you all make your assumptions. Thorne wanted it that way. Hell, she needed it that way. Do you have any idea how hard it was for her to come in here and trust a bunch of men? Would you have had me break my promise?”

  Dagger’s shrug was grudging.

  “I suppose there’s no harm now in filling in a few details.” Paul abandoned Thorne’s office to the weather. The rest of the men followed him into the big one.

  He leaned back against a table and exhaled through his nose. “Grace Thorne sold her first patent when she was sixteen. That was the one the major was referring to.”

  “Ya knew?” Mills’s eye narrowed.

  Paul glared at him and cleared his throat. “I read every report, including the classified one, and all of the information available on Thorne before I recruited her. I vetted her fully, just like every other member of this team.” He paused and looked around the room. “She answered all of my questions more than satisfactorily
during the interview. What the major neglected to mention was that she sold that first patent to a U.S. company. It was hardly her fault that it was bought out by a French company three years later. Everything in the major’s report was either twisted like that or pure conjecture, as Thorne said earlier today when you were all doubting her. Now, can I get back to the story?”

  His gaze met sheepish nods.

  “She’d been living in foster homes as a ward of the state. After the sale went through, she applied for emancipation. Although it’s rarely granted to someone so young, she was able to prove she could take care of herself. She became Dr. Grace Thorne just after she turned twenty. She disappeared on her twenty-first birthday. What was left of her was found six and a half weeks later in a ditch.”

  A tortured crack filled the room. Another chair had ended its useful life.

  He went on quickly, before Dagger turned any more furniture into kindling on the sidewalk. At least, unlike Thorne, it could be replaced. “The major was correct, however, in that she was not expected to recover. She was in no condition to testify against the three men who’d…” He trailed off. “Their sentences were ridiculously short. Dr. Thorne dropped out of sight not long after they mysteriously died in prison. That was all about five years ago.”

  “How exactly did they die?” Dagger sounded a little better, a little more alive.

  “Simultaneously. Some kind of electrical accident. They never did figure out what caused it.”

  “Electrical? Huh.” Dagger’s grimace was slow and thoughtful.

  He couldn’t help returning it. “Thorne was in a cyber cafe at the time it happened. Her browser history revealed some comic books sites and a fancy online shoe store. The investigation stopped there. She neither admitted nor denied having anything to do with it when I raised the question, although she did offer her philosophy.”

  Slow nods spread through the office.

  Mills surprised everyone when he said, “Good thing she’s on our side. Damn and hell, though. Wish I’d known she was a woman. I wouldn’t have been such a…An’ her such a lil’ thing, too. Well, sounds to me like she saved us some trouble, anyways. If they wasn’t already dead ’n buried, I’d feel obliged to…Jus’ whatever I can do now, I guess.”

  Another round of nods.

  It was quiet after that until Dagger looked at him and said, “I’m going to need a few days off.”

  “Yeah, me too,” everyone else said at the same time.

  Paul frowned and looked around the room. “We’re all thinking the same thing, but we need to do this right, settle this for good. There are proper channels, the right people to talk to. I’ll speak to General Ross as soon as I can find him. It’s a pretty sure bet that Darmfelder’s taking her to Washington. We will find her and we will bring her back. It’s just going to take some time. I don’t want anyone going off the reservation.” He looked directly at Dagger.

  He pushed off from the desk and went to his office to start making phone calls, first about Thorne and then about getting the window fixed and some new furniture. But the message Luke had left stalled him.

  It had been bad enough trying to not to think about Thorne in the hands of that sick little prick. He wondered how much worse the bad dreams would be now that he shared in the guilt.

  But on top of that, there was Dagger to worry about. Luke had further confirmed his suspicions about Dagger’s relationship with Thorne. The whole team wanted to rescue her. How was he going to stop Dagger from running off and doing something that could send him to prison for the rest of his life?

  * * * *

  Paul’s leaving hadn’t stopped the men from continuing to talk about Thorne. When they told Dagger what she’d said, that she was sorry, he had to close his eyes against the emotion. She was sorry?

  Farley, who couldn’t seem to shut up to save his life, said, “She sure fooled me.”

  With some satisfaction, Markham said, “Not me. I told you her hands were too small.”

  Hawks didn’t say anything. He was looking at Dagger.

  Farley, the fucking idiot, went on, “And damn, she is real cute, though, isn’t she? But then I think you knew that, didn’t you, Dagger? No wonder you’ve been coming to work whistling, wearing a smile and acting almost happy-like. Or did I get it wrong?”

  The whole room looked at Dagger. “What’s between Grace, ah, Thorne, and I is none of any of your damn business.”

  “Well, then,” Farley probed, “you won’t mind if we take turns driving her home once we get her back. You know, give the rest of us a chance to get in her good graces.”

  Farley laughed at his pun, right until he could no longer breathe because Dagger’s fingers were tightening around his windpipe.

  “No. You. Won’t. And neither will any of you other bastards. Don’t even think about it and don’t make me think about it.” Dagger ended the statement with a growl and shook Farley like a big rag doll.

  Mills jumped up and said, “Aw, Dagger, let him go. Farley’s just pushin’ your buttons. We all knew somethin’ was up. And Farley’s right, when you’re not bein’ a total ass, you’re walkin’ around all dreamy. It’s fuckin’ scary as hell, Dagger. Remember that li’l talk we had in L.A.?”

  Farley was turning blue. Dagger slowly released him and looked around the room. Everyone was nodding.

  Between panted breaths, Farley said, “Why didn’t you just say so, Dagger? I can’t be the only one who noticed how close you two arrived every morning last week. You coming in the front, Thorne coming up the back steps wasn’t exactly spy-like. Had me wondering, I’ll tell you, cause I really did have Thorne for gay and you…”

  Dagger was looking at him through narrowed eyes.

  Farley breathed fast and talked faster. “Never mind, a whole lotta shit makes sense now—the way you’ve been acting lately, Thorne being so…So what are we gonna do to get her back?”

  * * * *

  “I understand. Of course. Thank you for letting me know.” Paul slammed the phone down and yelled, “Dagger!” loud enough to be heard in the big office, maybe even the next block.

  The big shadow that filled his doorway a long minute later wore a face equally lightless. “More bad news?”

  “You could say that, yeah. I’ve been busting my ass for four days now, trying to get something, anything, on Thorne or Darmfelder. It’s the damn holidays. General Ross took off for parts unknown with his family, Katherine can’t even find him. DC is a big ghost town and the Pentagon’s on a skeleton crew. I’m trying to work with the contacts of contacts twice removed. And then I get this phone call.” He slammed both hands onto his desk and pushed himself up. “Goddamn it, Dagger.”

  “What.” It hadn’t even been spoken like a question. Dagger’s face was blank, but there was a hint of defiance sparking his almost-black eyes.

  “You know damn well what. You’ve been doing exactly what I asked you not to do and it’s making things a hell of a lot harder.” Paul let out a sigh of deep frustration and sat back down. “Look, I know you think you’re just—”

  “All I did was lean on a couple of guys a little bit, Paul.”

  “Exactly. Only your idea of leaning might be considered life-threatening to someone who didn’t know you very well.” Paul’s eye was twitching again. “Scratch that last part. You know as well as I do how intimidating you are, even when you’re not trying, when you’re not emotionally—”

  “You can’t expect me to just sit around here and do nothing while that bastard has her.”

  “That’s exactly what I expect you to do. You’re closing doors, Dagger, not opening them. Please, let me handle this. I don’t want to have to bail two of you out of this mess.”

  When he looked up again, the doorway was empty.

  * * * *

  The days before Christmas dragged on. Every morning Dagger would come in and ask for news about Thorne. Every morning, Paul had to tell him about hitting another brick wall or two. Every evening, it was the same.
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  Every day Dagger seemed wound just a little tighter, just a little more volatile—and, conversely, more lethargic and withdrawn. Paul was losing him.

  Part of the problem was that, while Dagger seemed to have accepted him allowing Darmfelder to take Thorne, he clearly blamed himself for not being there.

  Paul had no problem admitting he was glad Dagger hadn’t been there that morning. There were no good endings to any story with Dagger in that scene.

  * * * *

  Dagger was pretty sure he was losing his mind. Paul was right, of course—damn him anyway—so he hadn’t taken any action since their discussion. But it was killing him. He knew Paul was worried about him, but not as worried as he was about himself.

  He missed Grace more every day and even more every night. He was having trouble sleeping again, like he had before he’d shared her bed. Only now it was worse. He tossed and turned and when he did sleep, he dreamed about her; his imagination working overtime for once in his life.

  He wanted to break everything he saw into tiny pieces, but couldn’t even find the energy to lift a bottle of Jack to his lips.

  Oddly, it was Jefferson who distracted him best. He tended the old man faithfully, but didn’t tell him what had happened to Grace, only that she was out of town. There was no point in stirring the crazy pot. Not that he was fooling Jefferson completely, though. Jefferson had said only yesterday that he’d seen livelier corpses floating in Vietnamese rice paddies.

  Dagger didn’t need Jefferson to tell him he looked like death warmed over. He felt like it, too. Hell, all of Blackridge had a pall over it. The place was too damn quiet, for one thing, and even though almost everyone was around these days, it seemed empty, too.

  Three days before Christmas, he went into Grace’s office. The window was fixed, the chair replaced. It still felt like a goddamn war zone after the fact.

  He flipped the stereo on and stared out the window. The music throbbed to the rhythm of the driving sheets of sleet. Right at him, it seemed. At least the sun wasn’t shining and there weren’t any birds singing—none of that bullshit. No, this was just about right.