Shadowed Secrets

Chapter One

Present Day

You're not listening to me," Angie Grant said. "I can't come back, not ever. Getting me into the Mounties was the best thing you could have done for me, but if I'd known the RCMP would transfer me back to my hometown, I wouldn't have joined."

"You weren't going to be stationed here forever," Rick Mercer insisted.

"It seemed like it." She twiddled the phone cord around her finger, watched it curl away.

"Angie-"

"You like it there. You've got a promotion and you're happy. I understand that and I'm glad. But it's not the same for me. Every nook, every corner, every neighbor, every back road has a memory for me that I don't want to revisit. I've moved on."

"You're right. I do like it here."

Her skin rippled at the low growl of his voice. She'd missed that quiet assurance, the soft thread of caring that permeated his speech. "I wouldn't say I'm happy though, Ang. I miss you too much. I miss our Sunday afternoon football sessions, the Friday night barbeques, and your laugh." When she didn't respond, his sigh drained into silence. Then his tone dropped to that gentle brush of concern she'd longed to hear again. "He's not here anymore. I know it's hard, Angie, but you have to forgive-"

"Hard?" she scoffed, irritated beyond measure that Rick had to bring it up now. "Hard? Mowing the lawn when it's a hundred and ten degrees and you haven't eaten for three days is hard. Trying to stave off creditors so you'll have some place to sleep tonight is hard. Forgiveness? That's impossible."

"But your mother's house and land-"

"Can rot and blow away into oblivion as far as I'm concerned. I won't be there to care." Angie gulped down the memories and wondered who she was trying to convince. "I've moved on, Rick. I'm not who I was, thank God. That weak, sniveling victim finally wised up and learned how to look after herself. Get on with your life, just as I'm getting on with mine. Don't wait for me. Don't look for me. Don't hope I'll come back. I won't."

The chasm of silence forced her to realize how harsh she'd been. Rick was the only one who'd ever cared, and now she'd hurt him. Tears dripped onto the receiver. She wiped them away.

"I wish it could be different. I wish I could repay you for what you did, for helping me, for freeing me. But I can't come back any more than I can maintain some kind of relationship. I can't love anyone.He made sure of that. Anyway, I'm not sure I even believe in love."

Rick couldn't have heard that hiccup in her voice, could he? Angie swallowed, checking her watch to ensure her call couldn't be traced. Time to cut it short and get on with her job.

"It's better to face the truth. I love what I do. CSIS is far beyond anything I ever expected. Security and intelligence work is full of change, never boring. Finally I've found something I'm good at. I feel alive."

"Where are you now?"

"Can't tell you that. Sorry. It's classified." She glanced out the window, saw a car pull into the driveway next door. "Something's going on. I have to go."

She froze, fingers gripping the phone, every nerve on high alert as a man walked to the front door of the safe house and pushed it open. That was odd. The orders were to keep all the doors locked-always. She waited for the rush of security.

Nothing.

Five agents inside that house and none of them had picked up on this guy? A squeak outside sent every instinct prickling.

"Take care of yourself, Rick." The whisper slipped out just before she hung up. "Good-bye."

Thud, thud. Who was banging on her front door? Then she heard a gunshot from next door.

Angie switched off the light, moved to the window, and grabbed her binoculars. In the darkness she could make out two men she recognized from mug shots approaching the house. The third was an unknown. All three had guns. Though she panned every window, she saw none of the agents she was supposed to work with. Angie picked up the phone, dialed a number, and said one word: "Breached."

Another sound, this time at her own back door.

Angie reached under her pant leg, closed her fingertips around the Luger, pulled it up, and aimed. "Freeze!"

"Angel?" The door swung open to reveal a six-year-old with platinum curls framing a face mostly occupied by huge chocolate eyes. Chubby arms clutched a wiggling springer spaniel to her chest.

Angie swung the gun down, hiding it behind her back. Joe was lead agent on Kelly Blair. It didn't make sense that he'd let the kid walk over here.

Unless something was wrong.

"There are some bad men in my house and my daddy is asleep," the little girl whispered. She glanced over one shoulder, shivered, then trained her gaze on Angie once more.

"Sweetheart-"

"Are you my guardian angel?"

Angel? Her? Angie almost laughed, but those eyes snagged her heart and tugged just as someone struck her front door with a resounding thud.

She made up her mind in that instant. "That's exactly what I am, Kelly. Your guardian angel in person. My name is Angie. And now it's time for us to fly out of here."

She seized the dog in one hand, her bag and the child's hand in the other, then headed out the breezeway toward the garage. It took two minutes to belt Kelly in, squeeze the dog beside her, push the key into the ignition. Thirty seconds stretched to eternity as the garage door slid open.

Angie gunned the engine, pulled onto the street, and raced into the night, knowing another agent would show up at the house to get the details. All she had to figure out now was where to hide. Three safe houses in three days, all of them discovered-hiding wasn't going to be easy. Presumably Joe and Zach were out of the picture. So it was up to Angie. This time she'd tell no one where they were going.

Except-she didn't know herself.

Rick's reminder returned to haunt her. The house was still there, empty and silent. Full of memories.

No! She couldn't go back. Never back to that hell. Shame, degradation, despair-all of it waited there to drag her down into a bottomless abyss where life was endured, not lived.

Thanks to Rick she was free of it. And she intended to stay that way. In the meantime she had to find another home for the child. Just until someone else took over.

Angie drove into the night. In spite of her resolve, the memories rushed back to haunt her. Her neck tautened; her fingers gripped the steering wheel as the cloak of dark shadows from the past waited to pounce.

Not this time. She pushed them away, caught the sheen of a single headlight in her rearview mirror, and knew she was being followed. "Time to go." Pressing the accelerator, she took the corner too fast and fought to recover control.

"Angel?"

It took a minute to realize Kelly's moniker was going to stick. "Yes?" She'd thought the tyke asleep, hoped she'd miss out on this part of the night.

"Are we going to crash?"

"No way, sweetheart. We're going to be just fine." Angie didn't have time to check how her response went down. She was too busy threading her way through the city.

"I think I should pray. Daddy says whenever you're afraid, you should pray." From the backseat the soft whisper of the Lord's Prayer began.

Angie sped around a traffic circle, cutting off other cars, ignoring rights-of-way, but she could not lose the biker. Through some perverse twist of city planning, she finally ended up in a cul-de-sac, with nowhere to go. She cut her lights and engine . waiting.

Seconds later the Harley roared up behind. Angie twisted the key, but her engine stalled. She tried again and again, her eyes on the rearview mirror.

A foot hit the pavement.

She had to go-now! The engine finally roared to life. But it was too late.

A car pulled up in front of her, blocking her exit.

She'd failed. Again. Angie slapped her hands against the steering wheel. "I'm sorry, sweetheart. I tried."

"It's okay. God will help us. I know He will."

"You hold on to that thought." Angie pulled out her gun as the shadowed figure approached. Please don't let a stray bullet hit Kelly.

Her door was yanked open.

"I'm praying, Angel!"

"Good, sweetie." Angie offered the words without hope. She didn't have any illusions about God.

He was never there when she needed Him.

* * *

"Aw, come on! It's not even nine o'clock yet."

Sergeant Rick Mercer pulled the pillow over his head, trying to pretend he couldn't hear the shrill summons of his bedside phone. To no avail.

"This better be good," he growled into the receiver.

"Happy New Year to you too, Rick."

The laughing voice made him sit up straight, brought the clarity of the morning into startling focus, even though he'd been on duty at 3 a.m. closing down an out-of-control New Year's party.

"Angie? Is that you?"

"Who else? I suppose you worked a double shift last night." It wasn't a question. "Still playing the Good Samaritan?"

"Just doing my job."

"Yeah. Sure. Goody Two-shoes in a uniform."

He ignored the teasing gibe, content to revel in the sweet resonance of her voice. But after a minute his brain kicked in. Something was wrong or she wouldn't have called. "Where are you, Ang?"

"You know I can't say. I need a favor."

"Name it." Angie Grant was asking him for help? Things must be really bad.

"It's just . I got to thinking about the house. You were right to remind me. Can you check it out and make sure everything's okay? I thought about renting it out, but I haven't had time."

He frowned. Angie hated her former home, and he didn't blame her. Her father, Syd Grant, was a crook. The fact that he was now in jail probably hadn't helped Angie forget the stigma his actions had attached to her. But none of that explained why she was suddenly so worried about a place she once couldn't wait to get away from.

"I'm sure Camp Hope would love to rent it from time to time," Rick said. "They've been looking for housing for the camp speakers who bring their families. Something a little isolated from regular activities so they'll have privacy but near enough to still be involved. Since your land abuts theirs, your place would be perfect."

"Whatever. I just want to make sure nobody breaks in and falls through the floor or hurts themselves on something and sues me. You know?"

He didn't. But if it meant keeping her on the phone, listening to her low soft voice a little longer, he'd agree to almost anything.

"I'll send you some money. You should get it soon. Use it for whatever repairs you find. I'll send more when I can." "Uh . okay." He paused, waited. "Angie?"

"Yeah?"

"When are you going to come home for a visit?"

Silence hung between them.

When she spoke, her voice barely carried across the line. "I don't know. I miss you, but going back to that house-" She fell silent.

Angie had called Rick exactly twice since she'd left a year ago, just before Christmas. This was the only time she'd even hinted that she missed him.

Rick swallowed the huge lump in his throat and prayed for her silently. "I wish I were there, so I could help you. Are you okay, Ang? Is anything wrong?"

She laughed, but it wasn't her usual chuckle. "Wrong? You could say that. But don't worry. I'll figure it out." Her voice changed to a soft soothing tone and moved away from the phone. "It's okay, sweetheart. I'll clean that up right away. Don't worry. Nothing's ruined."

She was with someone? Jealousy burst in his heart hotter than the New Year's fireworks those kids had set off in the park last night. "Angie?"

"I have to go. It was good speaking with you again, Rick. Take care of yourself. Oh, and Happy New Year."

"Happy New Year to-" The phone clicked in his ear. She was gone. "You too," he muttered, his heart squeezing tight with regret. He replaced the phone, then lay back down, wondering where she was, what she was doing. Funny how one year without her seemed like ten.

Well, Lord, that's an interesting way to start this morning. I wonder what You've got in store for the rest of the year.

Rick rolled over, shut his eyes. But despite his efforts, sleep eluded him. Instead he pictured auburn hair flashing in the sunshine, tumbled curls half hiding hazel eyes that could melt like mint chocolate chips or spit sparks of green and gold, depending on her mood.

Angie was still searching for excitement to help her forget the past. It was time he accepted that it would take her a while. Her bitterness against God and her father wouldn't dissipate in one short year-not without a miracle. That didn't stop Rick from praying for her before he rose.

The odd note he'd caught in her voice still gnawed at him-until he realized what he was doing and called himself an idiot. She was strong, tough, resilient. Probably just needed a friend to talk to-other than the one she was with.

Okay. If a friend was what Angie needed, that's what he'd be. As always.

Once he'd showered, shaved, and dressed, Rick considered the day before him while he made himself breakfast. The first day of a new year and he was off duty. He'd stop in and see his friends at Camp Hope later, but first maybe he'd run out to Angie's old place to be sure everything was all right.

He made a face. Always the responsible one. He could almost hear Angie's mocking chuckle above the gurgle of the coffeepot. Goody Two-shoes in a uniform, she'd called him. He liked that she thought it of him.

The road into the Grant place was almost buried. Fortunately his four-wheel drive had no problem handling the drifts that blew over the tree-lined road, but the Grant driveway was totally socked in. It needed a good cleaning.

Rick found a decrepit snow blower in a teetering granary that was so flimsy it would never need air-conditioning. After fiddling with the machine for an hour, it finally coughed to life. Eventually it also consented to chew up the snow and blow it away.

He had no idea of time's passage. Rick only knew he was ready for a break as he shoved the recalcitrant red beast back into the granary.

"I thought I heard a lot of racket coming from here. What are you doing up so early?" Rick whirled around, grinned at his best friend, Kent Anderson, who was also the director of Camp Hope.

"Early? Ha! To a layabout like you, maybe." He slapped Kent on the shoulder. "Happy New Year! I was gonna stop by later to see you. Figured you'd be sleeping in after the church social last night, so I came over here. Angie called this morning and asked me to check out the place."

Kent stared at him in disbelief. "Angie Grant called you?"

"Yeah." Rick could hardly believe it himself.

Continues.