There was a darkness in his eyes again.
Sarah nodded, then he released her.
After she exited the cottage and reached the street, her heart rate slowly returned to normal.
After returning home, Sarah immediately sat down before the computer, typing Jake’s name into the internet browser. The search returned only a few results.
The first few were local news snippets concerning Jake’s performance on a high school football team in Fayetteville, Iowa, which is where he appeared to have grown up. Then an article about him enlisting in the Navy after graduation. Sarah felt relieved, learning that he had served in the U.S. Navy, which must have been how he received the bullet wounds.
There was nothing more on Jake until sixteen years ago: an engagement photo in the local Fayetteville newspaper, with Jake beside an attractive woman. Then another gap until a few months ago, when he was mentioned in an obituary for his wife, Angeline. There was no mention, however, of how she had died.
Sarah pondered the newfound information, convinced she had solved the mystery of Jake Edward Harrison — a military veteran hiding out in Medina Falls as he dealt with the tragic loss of his beloved wife.
Her heart went out to him.
20
LANGLEY, VIRGINIA
“We got a hit.”
It was almost quitting time when Tracey McFarland, the CIA’s deputy director for analysis, stopped by Christine O’Connor’s seventh-floor office, delivering the news.
“Someone did an internet search for Jake Edward Harrison this afternoon.”
“From where?” Christine asked, looking up from her desk.
“A small town in southern Arkansas. Medina Falls.”
“Who did the search?”
Tracey pulled a sheet from a folder in her hand, providing it to Christine as she explained.
“Someone at the residence of George Greenwood. The options are George, his wife Irina, or daughter Sarah. All three work at a restaurant in Medina Falls called Irina’s Diner. Looks like Jake stopped by for a bite to eat and left enough of an impression to spark someone’s curiosity.”
Christine’s eyes narrowed. “Something’s not right. There’s no way Jake would provide his full name to someone after dropping off the grid, and he certainly isn’t stupid enough to let someone see a credit card or ID with his name on it.” After pondering the issue, she asked, “Do you have anything else on these Greenwoods and Medina Falls?”
Tracey smiled as she handed the folder to Christine. “The top sheet has photos of the Greenwoods. The rest is pretty dry stuff about their backgrounds and the town.”
As Christine perused the information, Tracey provided the highlights.
“The Greenwoods own a family diner. Dad’s the cook and the mom and daughter serve the customers. The town’s population is nine hundred twelve. Russian ethnicity thirty-two percent, with first generation immigrants comprising fifteen percent.”
Christine looked up as Tracey added, “I thought you’d find the town statistics interesting, given that you and Jake are from a small town in Iowa about the same size as Medina Falls, also with a sizeable ethnic Russian population.”
“He’s not passing through the town,” Christine concluded. “He’s hiding out there. Feels like home.”
Tracey agreed. “That’s my assessment as well. Should I send someone to present our employment offer?”
After considering the suggestion, Christine decided otherwise. “I’ll go. There are a few things that Jake and I need to iron out before he’ll agree to return to the agency. Can you have Support make travel arrangements? I’ll clear my calendar and depart tomorrow morning.”
Tracey grinned. “I’ve already got Becky working on it. When it comes to Jake, you’re far too predictable.”
Christine leaned back in her chair, assessing Tracey’s observation.
“Yeah, I suppose you’re right.”
21
LANHAM, MARYLAND
As Lonnie Mixell stepped from the hotel room shower, his cell phone on the desk vibrated. He unlocked the screen, and a notification appeared, informing him he had received an encrypted message. After drying off with a towel and pulling on underwear and a pair of shorts, Mixell launched the application and read the message:
The package you’re interested in has been located.
Mixell typed his response. “Where?”
Medina Falls, Arkansas.
Mixell smiled. After Angie’s funeral, Mixell had decided that Harrison had suffered enough and it was time to put him out of his misery. But Harrison had disappeared the next day, seemingly knowing that Mixell was coming for him.
Making oneself disappear was a challenging endeavor, and Mixell had been confident that it would only be a matter of time before Harrison surfaced somewhere. One of Mixell’s former business partners had the necessary capabilities, and for a modest cost, Mixell had arranged for the surveillance of every transportation hub and internet post, searching for the face or name of his former best friend. Mixell was surprised, however, that Harrison had slipped up so soon, only a few weeks after disappearing following Angie’s funeral.
Mixell had been there, watching the funeral from under a tree across the street, wearing a gray overcoat and wide-brimmed hat, his eyes fixed on Harrison as Angie was lowered into her grave.
He had paid Harrison back for killing Trish.
Even now, Mixell could clearly remember the night he killed Angie. The look of utter despair and helplessness on Harrison’s face had been priceless. As satisfying as that had been, the best part had been the way Angie had trembled in his grasp like a frightened rabbit, the way her body had stiffened in shock and horror when the knife sliced into her neck…
Mixell looked up, catching his reflection in the wall mirror, and noticed he was smiling. The smile faded, but the memory remained.
Trish had been avenged, but there were still two more debts to collect: from Harrison, for the betrayal that had put him in prison for eight years, and from Christine, for aligning with Jake and thwarting his recent plans, costing him fifty million dollars in unpaid fees, since he had not completed the assigned task. Taking care of Harrison would be a straightforward task once he was located. Being the CIA director, Christine was more problematic, but Mixell was confident that an opportunity for revenge would eventually present itself.
Mixell’s thoughts returned to Angie’s funeral, where he had spotted Christine off to the side instead of near Harrison as he had expected. The two had been inseparable in high school. Even when Christine left for college and Harrison joined the Navy, they managed to return home at the same time and were rarely seen apart. There had been no doubt in Mixell’s mind that they would end up together.
He now felt obliged to arrange it; not in marriage, but together in a shallow grave.
22
MEDINA FALLS, ARKANSAS
It was just after ten in the morning, during the lull between breakfast and lunch, as Sarah Greenwood finished rolling the last few sets of silverware inside their napkins. As she placed the utensils in their bin in preparation for lunch, a shiny black SUV stopped outside the diner. A man wearing a black suit emerged from the front passenger seat and opened the rear passenger door.
An attractive woman in her forties stepped onto the sidewalk, carrying a brown leather satchel. She wore a business suit — a dark blue jacket and skirt, tailored to accent her figure, paired with a light blue blouse. The woman looked around for a moment, studying the storefronts along the street, then entered the diner, accompanied by the man who had opened the car door for her. She stopped just inside the restaurant, waiting a moment while her companion’s eyes scoured the diner, then walked toward Sarah.