Holiday Illusion (2 page)

Ella, one of the orphanage staff who'd volunteered to go along as an extra pair of hands, snoozed on the pullout sofa off to the side. The plane cruised smoothly through the clouds at thirty-five thousand feet, due to land at Rocking Wave Beach Airport in approximately one hour. They'd flown all night, the two pilots taking turns sleeping and flying. She'd just had a nap in the queen-size bed at the back of the plane and felt refreshed in spite of what lay ahead.

Lucas looked up and took the glass of lemonade. “Thanks. He's sleeping right now.”

“He's such a special kid. He's been a real trouper. I just hope…” She bit her lip, looking down at the plush carpet.

“Yeah, me, too.” Lucas set the glass on the end table, rising to check Paulo's vitals one more time. “An ambulance will be waiting at the airport for us. I'll get him loaded on then get a rental car while you and Ella ride with him to the hospital. I'll meet you all there.”

“Don't you want to ride with him? I don't mind getting the car.”

“No, I have something I need to take care of. He'll be in good care. My friend Mark Priestly is the heart surgeon on this case. He's going to be in the ambulance waiting on us.”

Anna looked curious about what he needed to take care of, but didn't ask, just nodded.

 

Slightly less than an hour later, they were on the ground, and rolling Paulo into the ambulance. Lucas greeted Mark warmly. “Hey buddy, how are you? I can't tell you how much I appreciate you doing this.”

The tall, slenderly built doctor had a head of shaggy blond curls and smiling hazel eyes. He looked more like a surfer than the top-notch, highly in demand surgeon that he was. He grabbed Lucas in a bear hug. “Man, it's been forever.” Concern touched his eyes. “You back for good?”

Lucas shrugged, ignoring the meaning behind the question. “We'll see.”

“Yeah, and we'll talk, too.”

Lucas motioned to Anna. “This is the lady I was telling you about. Anna Freeman, this is Mark Priestly.”

Mark turned his smile to Anna, holding out a hand graced with slender yet strong fingers. “Nice to meet you. You're as beautiful as Lucas said.”

Anna blushed, which Lucas found extremely charming. He shot his buddy a glance that said
watch it,
then introduced Ella, who smiled shyly and shook the doctor's hand.

Anna, Mark and Ella climbed into the ambulance and Mark turned professional in the blink of an eye, checking Paulo's vitals, reading through his chart and asking a dozen questions. Once he was satisfied he waved Lucas on. “We'll see you there.” Lucas watched the ambulance pull away.

Sighing, he shivered, tugging his leather jacket tighter around himself. Gripping his cell phone, he wondered if he should even bother checking in with his family. After all, it had been close to three years since he'd even spoken to his father. Three years since his father had blamed him for his brother's death. Lucas shook off the thoughts, clipped his phone back into its case and headed for the rental car counter. Four days ago, when he'd called to let his family know he'd be coming home, Ted, the family chauffeur had been thrilled to hear from him and had offered to send a car around to the airport. Lucas had refused because, until he had more time to get a feel for how things were going to go at home and with his father, he didn't want to be without immediate transportation. A rental car would be just fine.

“Excuse me, sir.”

Lucas looked up to see a fresh-faced teen dressed in the popular tradition of faded frayed blue jeans, and a cropped top revealing a pierced navel. Didn't the girl know it was the last week in October and unseasonably cold?

Hiding his thoughts, he asked, “Yes?”

“We're on a mission trip and I just wanted to give you this. You look like you could use a friend.” She handed over the little slip of paper.

A tract. Great, just what he needed. He forced a smile. “Thanks. Good luck with your trip.”

A beautiful smile crossed her lips to mesh with the peace written in her eyes. Eyes that reminded him of Anna even though this girl's eyes were chocolate-brown and Anna's were sky-blue.

“I don't need luck,” she said. “I've got God.”

Well, since I don't have God, I guess I'll have to stick with luck.

Why that thought depressed him, he wasn't sure, but instead of dwelling on it, he crossed to the car rental place to get in line. A dancing reindeer with a red nose greeted him as he approached the counter bobbing in time to “Jingle Bell Rock.” He shook his head. Not even Thanksgiving yet, and Christmas waved to him from every direction.

The trash can to his right caught his attention while the tract burned a hole in the palm of his hand. Curling his fingers around the paper, he started to slam-dunk it when, from the corner of his eye, he caught sight of a blue-jean-clad leg jiggling in time to the music in the girl's head. She was still watching him. Instead of scoring a two-pointer, he slid the paper into the front pocket of his jacket. He'd toss it later when she wasn't around. No use in hurting her feelings even if she was deluded into thinking God cared about anything she did.

Finally, keys in hand, he headed for his car, tugging his phone from the clip on his side as he walked, his other hand pulling his rolling suitcase along behind him. Anna's and Ella's things would be shipped to the hospital within the hour.

Frigid air greeted him as he stepped outside, nearly sucking every last drop of oxygen from his shocked lungs. He'd forgotten how cold it could get even in the South. Used to eighty-plus-degree weather year-round, the fifty-two degrees he was now shivering in seemed to make his blood freeze mid-flow.

Fingers trembling, he pressed the remote unlock for his compact little car and climbed in. The heater finally going full blast, he pulled out of the parking garage and stopped at the stop sign. Tapping his fingers on the wheel, he finally decided it was now or never to ask the question he'd been wondering for the past three years.

Pulling out his phone, he dialed his father's number.

“Hello?” The voice sounded weaker, not quite containing the strength it had had three years ago.

“Hello, Father, it's me, Lucas.”

Silence.

“Father?”

A throat clearing was his only clue that the line hadn't been disconnected.

“Lucas. Well, I must say, son, you've taken me quite by surprise.” The voice was stronger now, although Lucas heard the shock in the words. “May I ask the purpose of your call?” The British accent had never faded from his father's voice in all the time he'd been in the United States. The formal stiffness the man injected into his tone was enough to intimidate the most stalwart. Fortunately, Lucas was immune.

“Yes sir, I've had a question that's been bothering me for the last three years or so, and I've finally decided to ask it.”

“Very well. What is it?” Typical. Straight to the point. No, how are you? Where've you been? What have you been doing with your life since you've been gone? Old hurt and new anger shot through him.

“Did you really mean it when you said it should have been me that died in the fire instead of Lance?”

A
nna sat by the bedside of the sick boy, praying like she'd never prayed before. For Paulo, for herself, for Lucas. And for the strength to face her fear. She would
not
think about the past right now. Ella would be back in a few minutes. She'd taken a short break to run a few personal errands before ensconcing herself by Paulo's side.

Reaching for the backpack Anna carried in lieu of a purse, she grabbed her Bible and turned to the verse that had become her mantra over the last four years.
God has not given us the spirit of fear, but of power, and of love, and of a sound mind.
She whispered the verse to herself, praying,
God, I know the time has come to face the past, but I've got to be honest with You. I'm scared. Really, really scared…and I don't want to be. Don't let the fear handicap me. Could You please keep Your hand of protection on whatever it is I'm getting myself back into?

“Hey.”

She looked up to see Lucas standing in the door looking rumpled and wonderful, his reddish-blond hair windblown…or maybe it was messy from the number of times he'd shoved his fingers through it. No matter. He still looked good, safe, a comfort zone. She wondered what he'd do if she ran to him and threw her arms around him. Better not find out. Instead, she cleared her throat and asked, “Hey, yourself. Did you get your errand run?”

When his jaw started twitching, she figured that was the wrong question to ask.

“Something like that,” he muttered. “More like an overdue phone call.”

“Ah.” She refused to press. He'd tell her eventually; he always did. At least he used to. “What did Mark say?”

“He agrees we need to change two of Paulo's meds. There are newer, more effective ones on the market now. I didn't even know about them until two weeks ago.” He shook his head. “I've been out of touch too long.”

“Lucas, you can't blame yourself. Paulo arrived on our doorstep as sick as any child I've ever seen. But he seemed perfectly healthy after recovering from that virus. There's no way any of us could have known it affected his heart.”

“Mentally, I know that. I did the best I could. But still…” He trailed off, shaking his head. “I can't help wondering if I missed something, should have suggested bringing him to the U. S. sooner.”

“Brazil is so far behind in health care. If you hadn't acted as you did, Paulo would be gone by now. Unfortunately, he's a product of his country…and very, very blessed that you were there when he needed you.”

Lucas slipped an arm around her shoulders for a squeeze then let her go. “Thanks. You always know the right thing to say.”

Anna blinked. Not that she and Lucas hadn't shared a friendly hug or two, but it always surprised her. He wasn't normally the most demonstrative person. Growing up in a strict British household, he'd told her affectionate moments were few and far between.

“Sure,” she gulped. “You're welcome.”

Lucas leaned over Paulo one more time while Anna stepped to the side, eyeing the phone on the nightstand by the bed. She took a deep breath, wondering if she should call Justin and just…check in. Let him know she was back in the States; get an update on de Chastelain. The old adage keep your friends close, keep your enemies closer ran through her mind.

“What's going on in that head of yours, Anna?”

Lucas's insightful question startled her. Chewing her lip, she debated how much she could tell him. She could just shrug the question off, but found herself wanting him to know. Wanting to confide in him. Open up to him. Carrying her burden alone had become so tiresome. “I was just thinking about how I ended up in Brazil. I told you a little about it.”

“You just said you had to get away from home for a while. That you'd witnessed a crime and didn't feel safe.”

“Right, well, it's a little more in-depth than that.”

“Okay.” He held out his hand. “Why don't we walk down to the cafeteria and get a bite to eat. You can explain over our savory hospital food.”

Anna was about to agree when the door opened. Dr. Mark Priestly entered, followed by an orderly pushing a gurney. “I thought Paulo might like a roommate. Sometimes it can get awfully lonely when you can't get out of bed. The television will probably get old fast.”

A boy about Paulo's age lay on the gurney. Wide green eyes took in his new surroundings. A shock of red hair stood on end and the freckles on his pasty white cheeks appeared three-dimensional. The portable heart monitor rode in front of him, the oxygen tube blended into his face. A worried mother, the last to enter the room, was in her early thirties and the feminine version of her son.

Mark spoke up. “Missy, I'd like to introduce you to some friends of mine. This is Anna Freeman and Lucas Bennett. They're here with Paulo who's over there sleeping.” He gestured toward the newcomers. “This is Missy and Andy Spears. Andy's waiting on a new heart, too. He's ten.”

Anna shook the woman's hand. “I wish it were under other circumstances, but it's nice to meet you.”

Giving a wan smile, Missy shrugged. “I'm just glad Andy will have someone to talk to…when he feels like talking. He seems to be getting weaker all the time.” Tears appeared but didn't fall. Just as quickly, they were gone. Anna suspected Missy probably went through this many times during her days—and nights.

“I know Paulo will appreciate it. I'm sure the two of them will hit it right off, although Paulo is very weak, too. I don't know how much talking he'll do.”

“It doesn't matter.” Missy stroked her son's red hair. “As long as he's willing to listen, my Andy will keep the conversation going.”

“Okay guys,” Mark said from the door. “I'm off to check on other patients, but let me know if there's anything else you need. I'll be back this afternoon.”

“Thanks, Dr. Priestly,” Missy all but whispered, and sat on the bed beside her son who was fumbling with the remote.

Lucas waved to Missy and stepped outside to speak privately with Mark. Anna turned to Missy. “We were just going down to grab a bite to eat. Would you like to join us?” Although she really needed to talk to Lucas alone, she felt sorry for the sad-eyed mom.

“No, we're fine. I'll stay here with Andy. Thanks, though.”

“Anytime. I'm sure I'll see you later.”

Stepping from the room, she was just in time to watch Mark disappear around the corner at the end of the hall. Turning to Lucas, she said, “Ready now?”

“Ready.”

 

Anna took a bite of her chicken salad sandwich eyeing Lucas while she chewed. How much should she tell him? What would he think about her when he found out? She dropped her focus to her plate.

Lucas set his cheeseburger aside and raised a red-tinged golden brow. “So?”

“All right, here goes. I'm an
ex
-FBI agent. I quit four years ago, signed my resignation and never looked back.”
At least not any more than I could help.

Shock seemed to hold Lucas captive. She went on before he could ask the questions she saw gathering on his lips. “A little over four years ago, I was working undercover as an au pair for a wealthy, big-name family here in Rocking Wave Beach. It was supposed to be a routine sting operation. I was there to get information about this guy who was involved in all kinds of bad stuff. It was a well-known fact that he worked from home, and our main target was his office computer. Anyway, I waited until my ‘employer' left for a business meeting in India. I got on his computer and went to work.” Talking about Chastelain was hard for her.

“I think you left a few details out of the many talks we had in Brazil.” He cleared his throat. “So what did you find?”

“Nothing.”

“Huh?”

“Nothing terribly incriminating. Not for the big stuff we were after. There were a lot of e-mails containing numbers. Written almost in something like code.”

“What did that mean?”

“I wasn't sure, but I had a gut feeling it had to do with money. I needed one of our analysts to go over them, so I forwarded them to her, then erased my ‘footprints.' I just had to take the chance he wouldn't realize someone had been on his computer. Later, we figured out the numbers were the ones entered into a set of books. Doctored books.”

“And that's how you guys were able to arrest him? For illegal books?”

“Yes, but I wanted more. I
knew
there was more. He was reportedly into all kinds of things. Thanks to another agent, we had pictures of de Chastelain meeting with a member of one of the top crime families in South Carolina. Anyway, I finally cracked his safe open and found the books. There were two sets. One was a record of income from the legitimate side of his import/export business, the second set of books held doctored numbers. That's the income that was reported to the IRS. The other one kept up with what they really brought in. Anyway, by the end of the investigation, the only thing he was able to be charged with was tax evasion.” She shook her head, took a sip of her soda. “I had a small microphone planted in his office, but he never mentioned murder, gun running, or the transporting of illegal aliens from Mexico to Texas, then on to South Carolina—at least not in a way that we could pin a charge on him. But he did brag about stealing the IRS blind.”

Lucas looked a little green. She placed a hand over his. “Are you all right?”

“I'm not sure. Is there more?”

“Yes.”

“How much?”

“Dr. Lucas!”

They turned as one to see the nurse rushing toward them.

Anna's heart stopped. Paulo.

Nurse Lindsey, the woman assigned to Paulo, said breathlessly, “Paulo's in cardiac arrest. They're working on him now.”

Anna and Lucas bolted from the cafeteria and took off down the corridor.

 

Arriving at Paulo's room, they found him surrounded by medical staff but still alive. Machines whirred, Mark barked orders, nurses jumped…and Paulo fought like a trouper.

Anna felt tears clog her throat. How did she pray? If she prayed for a heart for Paulo, she was praying for someone else to die. Shutting her eyes, she told the Lord,
It's in Your hands, God, whatever You decide is best.

For the next hour, she and Lucas paced and she prayed. Finally, Mark came out to tell them that Paulo was bouncing back and would be in good hands for now but said in all seriousness, “I hope he gets a heart soon. He doesn't have much longer without it.” Lucas followed Mark back into the room, leaving Anna to wilt against the wall.

Relief battled grief. Relief that the little boy had pulled through this setback and grief that another person would have to die for Paulo to live.

Then she realized something. And the sudden glaring insight into her character slugged her in the gut, leaving her breathless, nearly gasping out loud. She stumbled to a chair and dropped into it, staring into space, seeing nothing but the past four years of her life.

Then in crystal clarity she saw how hard Paulo fought, pushing through his fear, battling the odds that were against him, conquering one obstacle after another—with faith and courage—and sheer bulldog stubbornness. She'd often thought how brave he was, been amazed at his willingness to never give up, been brought to her knees at his incredible, unconditional love for the God who created him.

But she had never realized what a coward she'd become.

Until now.

And with that same discerning eye, she now saw what she had to do if she ever wanted to be free of the fear that held her captive.

Oh Lord, tell me no. And yet, how can I say I have faith when I live in fear?

One way or another she was going to have to find that evidence. The evidence that she knew was there, somewhere in de Chastelain's house. That was why she was here. And, she blew out a breath in disbelief, God had used a sick little boy and a caring doctor, to get her here.

Still stunned at her self-realization and what God was asking her to do, she sat there in a fog of thought trying to decide what she should do first. Where should she start?

The little rush of excitement took her by surprise. Oh, it didn't overpower the all-consuming fear, but it was there—that feeling she used to get before venturing out on a new case. For the next thirty minutes, she sat in the hospital waiting room, praying, formulating a plan. She was going to catch a murderer. After four years, she was going to complete her case.

De Chastelain.

A short phone call later to Justin Michaels, her former supervisor, informed him of her impending arrival. He'd been blown away to hear that she was actually right here in his city and was definitely anxious to talk to her.

Slipping from the room, she planned to catch a cab to the FBI headquarters branch office downtown. Part of her dreaded returning to that place, yet another part of her was anxious to see if revisiting the location where she'd been shot would enable her to put the nightmare to rest.