He climbed from the car and shut the door. Hurt throbbed beneath Halina’s ribs as she helped Alyssa unbuckle Brady’s car seat and lift it out of the car, then helped Kat down to the ground. Mitch met Nelson and the three other guards from the other SUV at the driver’s door and they pointed around the property, thickly covered in deciduous trees bare after dropping their leaves over the fall months.
Dex jumped to the ground beside Halina. She looked at Teague and asked, “How is Owen Young involved in this?”
“Young was working under Jocelyn Dargan at DARPA before she was killed,” Teague said. “Jocelyn was Schaeffer’s right hand and tagged Young to do some of her dirty work. When Jocelyn died, Schaeffer blackmailed Young into her position. He’s not happy about it. Knows we’re out to shut Schaeffer down, so he helps where he can.”
Halina grabbed three duffel bags as they were unloaded from the vehicles and carried them toward the front door.
It opened before she reached it and Quaid stepped out. He’d driven the other SUV back from the airport. When they’d met them at the plane, he’d mentioned they’d found and taken the box without any problem, but nothing more.
“Hey,” she greeted him. “Have you looked in the box?”
“Just glanced in to make sure there were files. I’ve been doing other important stuff, like grocery shopping. It’s in the family room at the back of the house.”
She nodded and started past him.
“Hey,” he said, “where did you live in Russia when you were a kid?”
Discomfort niggled along the back of her neck. “I . . . was born in St. Petersburg, but moved to Chechnya to live with my uncle when I was nine. Why?”
“Just curious. I’ve spent some time in different parts of Russia. I thought it might help my memory if we talked about different locations.”
Not on her preferred list of things to do, but . . . “Sure.”
The house was so massive it was overwhelming. Like a monster waiting to swallow her. She’d never been in a house this big. This grand. And it didn’t appeal to her. The ceilings went on forever. Dark marble floors gleamed in the light streaming through the windows.
Halina continued slowly down the hall, Dex’s nails clicking on the marble beside her and echoing off the hard surfaces. A formal dining room sat to the right, complete with chandelier that probably cost five, maybe six figures. A formal living room followed, with fireplace and furniture that looked far too uncomfortable to sit in. Large, historical paintings covered walls painted in rich, dark colors. She passed an office, a lounge, a library.
Her shoulders were nearly up around her ears by the time she reached the kitchen. There she relaxed. Even took a breath of amazement. The space was huge and open. Wood cabinets stained with a light country wash. Polished granite counters in a contrasting dark caramel and black, covered in the groceries Quaid had bought. A wall of windows that looked out on a sculpted yard and the Potomac beyond.
In an area across from the kitchen a large whitewashed country table filled a bay window with eight matching chairs. Halina recognized the setting immediately—the one she’d seen in her last vision. The good side in her last glimpse of Mitch’s future. A relieved smile turned her lips. She was still making the right decisions—even if they were killing her.
Halina turned away from the windows toward a huge family room that sat off the kitchen. The windows continued into this room, giving it a nice view. It held plush furnishings and another fireplace.
The box sat alongside the hearth, and the sight made a sharp pulsing pain beat beneath her ribs. She dropped the duffels in a corner and stared at the smashed top, bent sides, and dusty, aged cardboard. A cold wave of memories crashed over her. Vivid images filled her mind—down on her knees in the kitchen, the loose planks scattered around her as she forced the box into that space. Sweating, shaking, heart pounding.
Such a mistake.
Or had it been? If she could turn back time, pull the box out, meet Mitch at the door, shake him and insist he listen . . . would she?
Her gaze blurred over the cardboard. Fist lifted to her chest where her heart hammered as hard now as it had then.
She didn’t have an answer. She couldn’t think. Couldn’t feel anything but this blinding, splitting failure. And loss. God, she couldn’t bear it anymore.
She knelt in front of the box. The shredded top looked like it had spent too much time with rodents. The thought made shivers crawl over her arms. She closed her eyes until they passed and rubbed at the gooseflesh left behind.
“If I find something dead in here,” she barely whispered, “I’m going to scream.”
As she lifted the box top, the front door opened and voices flooded the house. Followed by Kat and Mateo’s little running feet. Halina closed her eyes and moaned. She couldn’t face anyone now. She needed to be alone.
While everyone was milling through the front rooms, Halina flicked through the folder tabs. She’d only glanced inside the box that one night to make sure it held the Classified files and didn’t really know what it contained. When nothing jumped out at her, she grabbed two handfuls of files and pulled them from the box. A soft thud drew her gaze back to the empty space. Something small and blue tumbled around the bottom. Not a mouse—thank God. She reached in and picked it up. As soon as she drew it into the light, her stomach dropped to her feet.
It was a box. A signature Caribbean blue Tiffany’s box. The air whooshed out of Halina’s lungs and a flood of tears rushed her eyes from nowhere.
“Shit,” she whispered, wiping the streaks away, too aware of the others so close. “Not now.”
She sniffled and looked out the windows, holding the box tight. When Mitch had bought her jewelry, it had always been from Tiffany’s. And he used to come home with something new for her at least twice a month. Bracelets, earrings, necklaces, charms, watches. The way his eyes glittered as he watched her open gifts, it was as if he was the one getting a present. He’d loved to give. Especially to Halina. The man had the biggest heart of anyone she’d ever known.
She huffed a humorless laugh. “At least he used to.”
She looked back at the box, turning it end over end in her fingers. He must have hidden this gift in the file box, planning to give it to her at the right moment. Her heart sank.
Throw it back in, one voice said.
Open it, another argued.
She slowly lifted the blue top and peeked inside. Instead of something shiny laid out on a bed of shimmering satin, a black velvet jeweler’s box filled the Tiffany’s cardboard square.
Her chest squeezed. Her breath caught. She darted glances at the doorway and around the kitchen as if she expected someone to be watching her.
The box was the size and shape of a ring box. She couldn’t pretend she didn’t know that. But nor could she pretend that only meant one kind of ring. Or that it had been meant for her. It could have been a gift for Alyssa.
This was stupid. She had to know. No matter what it turned out to be, it wouldn’t change anything about the present.
With one more glance at the door, she reached in and pulled the hinged top back.
The shock of sparkle made her gasp. A strangled sound came from her throat and she stopped breathing, unable to tear her gaze away.
It wasn’t a gift for Alyssa.
It was an engagement ring.
An amazing combination of diamonds, one large and centered, several others reducing in size as they flared down the band in a simple but stunning and elegant design.