sorts, in case Craig found a loophole. Letting Andy push the buttons on the automated kiosk machine in the lobby, she breathed a little better when he sent the envelope into the chute.
Whatever happened next, now she could be sure someone else knew the truth about Craig and his involvement in her life.
“Are you mad?” Andy asked, taking her hand as they returned to the car.
“Not with you.” She was definitely mad, but more than the anger, she felt a consuming, unfamiliar terror. All her life she’d known what to do and when to do it. There had been nerves and mistakes, sadness and joy along the way, but overall, she’d had a dream, created a plan and worked tirelessly to make it all a reality for her and her son.
“Then who’re you mad at?”
She considered her answer as he boosted himself back up into the car. “Myself,” she replied honestly. “I made a big mistake.”
“Is that why we’re on this summer adventure?”
Occasionally her son was too perceptive for her comfort. “Partly,” she said with a smile. “But summer is the perfect time for a big adventure.”
“We won’t be in the car the whole time, will we?”
“Already asked and answered, young man,” she said with a laugh. “I promise the real adventure will begin soon.” She thought of the frogs and birds, the still, reflective black water and tall cypress trees where they were headed. He would love it all, so different from any camp or field trip he’d experienced. “You’re going to have all kinds of fun.”
“Promise?”
“Have I ever let you down?”
He actually gave it some thought before he replied, “No.”
“Well, I don’t plan to start now.”
His grin, full of eagerness and love, was too reminiscent of his father. It had her heart aching for what might have been as they got back on the road. Since losing Drew before Andy’s birth, she’d made a practice of focusing on the present. Of course she’d told her son bits and pieces about his real dad as he’d been able to understand them, but with no living relatives in the Bryant family, it seemed best for both of them not to dwell on what couldn’t be changed.
Long after the dinner stop, as she crossed the state line into Louisiana, the news hit the radio. Federal authorities had arrested Craig at his posh home in San Francisco. Addison didn’t breathe easy until the reporter finished the explanation with no mention of her name.
Understanding what he’d done, the scope of his crimes and that the FBI probably already knew she’d turned him in, she knew her anonymity wouldn’t last long, but she intended to make the most of her temporary advantage.
Washington, DC
Wednesday, July 2, 9:15 a.m.
Andrew “Drew” Bryant remained in his seat, his back straight, palms relaxed on his thighs, gaze straight ahead. Maintaining a calm facade in all circumstances had been emphasized during his time with the Special Forces, but he’d mastered the skill as a prisoner of war. He’d memorized and evaluated every detail of his surroundings. The sleek, understated decor of the lobby, the expensive black leather seating and the polished chrome and glass accents might be found in any number of office buildings around the world, but the distinct lack of nameplates and office logos on the doors told him more than anyone behind those doors wanted him to know. At one time in his life he might’ve paced the marble-floored lobby impatiently, but not anymore. These days, he let the world come to him.
He was more than a little relieved the men in dark suits who’d picked him up twelve hours ago hadn’t put a bag over his head. It could still happen, and if it did, it would test his fitful control. He took a deep breath. Calm was key. In every situation. No sense proving the army docs right about his uncertain mental state.
They’d left him alone and unrestrained, but he’d seen the escort lock the elevator. If they wanted him to sit here, here was where he’d sit. He was in a high-rent office building, but the view from the window wasn’t helpful, with no visible skyline beyond tall trees. The artwork on the walls and in the elevator was most likely original. In his assessment, that meant this place didn’t get a lot of foot traffic.
Drew felt his heart rate tick up as another minute passed. He couldn’t help recalling the last time he’d been snatched away from a normal day. Except that day hadn’t been normal at all. It had been his wedding day.
On that occasion he’d been ordered to duty in the middle of the night and it had required half a pot of coffee to burn away the fuzzy aftertaste of his bachelor party. He’d left a note—unauthorized but nonnegotiable—for his bride. The woman who’d eventually given up on him. Not that he blamed her.
He kept his eyes forward, even as the sound of feminine high heels clicked across the marble floor on the other side of the door. Closer, closer, then fading away.
Had his bride chosen heels or flats? He recalled overhearing the debate with her maid of honor, but he’d never known the final decision.
The last time he’d been uprooted on the precipice of a major life event his commanding officer had insisted there’d been no time for even a cursory marriage ceremony. This time, someone with serious money and authority had pulled him away from a major basketball game between the top two teams in the Detroit recreational league. The score tied, less than five minutes left, he’d been forced away. Unable to stem the curiosity, Drew gave in and glanced at his watch. The game had ended hours ago and without his phone, he still didn’t know who won.
It pissed him off. Bragging rights were riding on that game, and these days that was all the stress he wanted, but life rarely cooperated with his wants.
Drew snorted as another minute clicked by on the wall clock. The kids he worked with in Detroit kept him from wallowing in self-pity after the army had shown him the door with an early retirement for medical reasons. Retired at thirty-six years old. Unbelievable. That hadn’t been part of the plan. He rarely let it bother him, but today when something from his past was clearly interrupting his present, he couldn’t shake off the irritation.
He knew this drill, knew someone from the alphabet soup of government agencies had pulled strings to drag him out of Detroit last night. But if it was so important it couldn’t wait until the end of the game, why was he parked in limbo here?
The high heels approached once more and Drew shifted his face, his entire body into neutral. The heels stopped and the glass door opened with an understated whoosh.
“Mr. Bryant?”
“Yes.” He stood, facing the woman who remained in the doorway. She was slender, her sleek navy blue dress making a professional and feminine statement. Noting the long legs and high heels, he pegged her as a dancer by training. Watching her approach, he knew she was an expert in martial arts, as well. If a woman like this was merely a receptionist in this place, he might be in more trouble than he could handle.
“Our apologies for the delay,” she said with a polite smile. “I’ve been told you might appreciate this video while you wait. It shouldn’t be much longer.” She handed him a tablet and returned to her side of the glass doors.
He looked at the screen, baffled as he recognized the basketball court and uniforms of the players. It couldn’t be... He sank back into his chair and, touching the icon, put the video into motion. “I’ll be damned,” he muttered, watching the last minutes of the basketball game.
Immersed in the video action, he forgot where he was, forgot to wonder why, and just enjoyed watching his team take the win in a nail-biting last-second shot. “Yes!” He pumped his fist and watched as one of the more headstrong kids from the neighborhood enjoyed a hero’s celebration.
Drew took