chuckled along with them, her mind immediately latching on to Trevor’s shoe size. The same as the footprints they’d found at his house. But he’d been dead for over a month. Could the footprints have been that old? Impossible—far too much snow had fallen since then. Could their gunman have slipped on a pair of Trevor’s boots to throw them off his trail? It was certainly a possibility.
She was so intrigued by the idea, she didn’t pay attention to what the men were discussing until she heard Tim saying, “As I was just telling Tracie, I’ve been in contact with some of Trevor’s friends.”
“But I thought everyone involved in the diamond smuggling had been caught,” Heath said, his words taking Tracie back to the final showdown on Devil’s Island six weeks before—right after Trevor’s death.
“Everyone involved,” Tim repeated, his eyes darting around the room. He lowered his voice and leaned in closer to the two of them. “You must not realize how deep this thing goes.”
“Why don’t you enlighten me?” Heath’s quiet voice remained casual.
Tim shrugged. “I’m meeting with some guys tonight. I don’t know if I’ll learn anything, but if you guys to stop by my place tomorrow, say around noon, I’ll tell you everything I know.”
“Tomorrow at noon then.” Heath graciously raised his coffee cup to Tim, then took a sip and walked away.
Tracie watched him go, her insides roiling with a mixture of frustration and distrust.
Tim’s words pulled her from her thoughts. “He seems nice.”
“Yes.” Tracie admitted. “He does.” Almost too nice.
Heath called Jonas Goodman as soon as he got back to his apartment.
“Tim Price is talking.”
“Really?” his FBI supervisor actually sounded impressed for once. “And what’s he saying?”
“I don’t know yet. We’re meeting him tomorrow at noon. I’ll call you afterward.”
“Are you sure you’re up to this? I received your medical report last night. Those bruises on your back look ugly.”
“They’re even uglier today, but that’s not going to stop me. This case is cracking, and that gunman yesterday has me convinced whatever’s going down here is big. You don’t pull out an assault rifle unless you’re pretty desperate.”
“Or pretty stupid.” Jonas noted. “Remember, we are working with crooks here.”
“Crooks who successfully imported synthetic diamonds and passed them off as the real thing for over a decade,” Heath reminded his boss. “Hardly the work of a jumpy amateur.”
Jonas let the remark slide. “What about the girl? Got any dirt on her?”
“Tracie?” Heath bristled at his boss’s choice of words. “She’s clean so far.”
“Then dig deeper. She was way too tight with Trevor not to be involved with his business. We need to catch the remaining smugglers who are still out there. She has to know something.”
Heath’s hand tightened on his phone. “How do you know that? Do you have information you haven’t passed on to me?”
“Of course not. But everything points to her.”
Heath wanted to defend Tracie, but he checked his emotions. Why did he feel so strongly about her? He couldn’t give a solid reason. “Okay,” he relented. “I’m on it.”
“Good. If you’re going to crack this case, you’ll need to crack her first. But I don’t think that will be too difficult for you.”
Heath hesitated. “Could you clarify that statement?”
The insinuation in Jonas’s voice carried clearly over the phone. “She’s a young woman working a lonely job. You’re an attractive man.” He cleared his throat. “Don’t worry about fallout. You do what you have to do. We’ll clean up afterward.”
Heath’s throat tightened as he realized what his boss was openly hinting at. He’d always enjoyed working under Jonas Goodman, who had a reputation as a maverick, and whose unorthodox tactics never failed to make his job more interesting. But a sick pit churned in his stomach as he realized how much more complicated his job description now was. He’d killed before. In his line of work, it was a given. But he’d never broken a woman’s heart.
“Heath?” Jonas spoke into the silence. “Do we have an understanding?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Good. I expect a full report tomorrow. And I don’t like disappointment.”
“Yes, sir.” Heath’s throat felt dry. He ended the call and pinched his eyes shut, one single image filling his mind.
Tracie. He’d saved her life the day before, and still felt a lingering need to protect her from harm, to find out what had caused fear to haunt her eyes and to save her from whatever troubled her. And now Jonas wanted him to intentionally hurt her.
Clenching his jaw, Heath stood and paced the room. Tracie was his target. He had to break through her defenses, find out what she knew, and report back to Jonas in less than twenty-four hours. He’d never had an assignment like this one, and he already knew Tracie wouldn’t open up to him easily. Still, he had a sense that getting close to her wouldn’t be the most difficult part of his new mission.
No, the hardest part would be forgiving himself afterward.
TWO
Tracie had her head in the cupboard and was evaluating her dinner choices when the phone rang. She held a box of cereal in one hand and a can of ravioli in the other, and set down the pasta to answer. “Hello?”
Heath’s voice caught her off guard. “Have you had dinner yet?”
She looked at the box of cereal. “Not quite.”
“Care to join me? I’m sorry for the late notice, I just…” he paused. She waited.
“I’ve eaten every meal by myself since I’ve been here, and I thought it might be nice not to have to do that, for a change.”
His words struck a chord, and Tracie felt an emptiness inside that was more than just her stomach growling. She couldn’t remember when she’d last shared a meal with another person. But she didn’t know Heath very well, and memories of her previous partner’s unprofessional behavior toward her set off warning bells. “I make it a personal policy not to fraternize with my coworkers when I’m off duty.” She was glad she’d established that before Trevor had gotten out of hand.
“Oh.” Disappointment resonated over the phone. “You wouldn’t make an exception for my sake?”
She hesitated. The man had saved her life. But her policy had saved her skin before, too. “No exceptions.”
“Right. Sorry to bother you. Goodbye then.”
“’Bye.” Tracie hung up the phone and leaned back against the cupboard. Gunnar, her German shepherd mix, whimpered in concern at her feet, and she realized she was clutching the cereal box so tightly to her chest that she’d crumpled it.
She looked at the box, then down at her dog. “It’s okay. I’m fine.” She forced a smile for Gunnar’s benefit, but he didn’t look any more convinced than she felt. Shaking off her doubts, she nodded resolutely and proceeded to pour herself a bowl of cereal. “That was the right answer. I’m pretty sure it was.”
Tracie pulled up at the Coast Guard station the next morning just as Heath was getting out of his truck. Her insides knotted at the sight of him.
“Medical leave,” she said with a pointed look at the bandage on his arm.
He