A Year Later
Claire Kos lived in a world of darkness -- a world she’d been trying to adjust to since that fatal day when she’d lost her child.
Feeling her way to her desk, she slid into the chair, adjusted the microphone, and tried to banish thoughts of her own personal problems. So far, Calling Claire, as her radio talk show had been dubbed, had been a major hit in Savannah. Her callers consisted of people who wanted to discuss love relationships gone awry, divorces, depression, family and parental issues.
Ironic that she should be offering advice on families when her own had self destructed.
She heard noise on the other side of the glass window and sensed the producer, Drew Myers, gearing up for the show. Drew handled a hundred things at once, all deftly, as well as screening incoming calls. The station had worked out a system so he could signal her with a buzzer.
As a concession to Claire’s concern for talk radio and the potential liability threats for herself and the show, and in concern for the callers, she and the station manager had agreed to keep the topics on a fairly light note, hoping to avoid any slanderous issues which Claire thought might need a more thorough professional assessment.
She checked her braille watch, then lay her hand over the buzzer. The familiar ding alerted her to begin the show.
The first caller complained of a cheating husband which prompted several callers to voice their own spouse’s extramarital affairs. The last caller hit a nerve -- her husband had abandoned her and their infant son.
She thought of Mark.
Not that Mark had really abandoned her. He’d gone off to war, while she’d fought her own one at home.
Sometimes she wondered if she should have informed him of her accident. Other times, she assured herself she’d been right not to burden him with her problems. Besides, it wasn’t exactly as if he’d contacted her after he’d left.
A signal alerted her to the next caller. “Hello, this is Claire, how can I help you?”
“I... I can’t s...ee,” a woman cried. “It’s so dark. P...please help me.”
Claire froze, the desperation in the high pitched woman’s voice sending a chill down her spine. She couldn’t see? Was she hurt? Blindfolded?
“Tell me your name,” she said softly. “Where are you?”
Instead of the women’s voice, a muffled voice began to sing, “Blinded by the light...”
A chill skated up Claire’s spine. “Who is this? Is this some kind of sick joke?” She jerked her head up, wishing she could see Drew’s reaction, then motioned for him to trace the call, another stipulation she’d insisted upon before signing on with the program. Liability was great. She had no intention of offering free advice to spike ratings in lieu of true professional care.
“She was a bad girl, a very bad girl, Claire,” the muffled voice whispered. “Do you know what happens to bad girls?”
Claire struggled to detect the sounds in the background, anything which might offer her a clue as to the woman’s location. The wind howled. Some kind of bird cawed. She heard the ocean waves crashing against the shore. The man was outside, using a cell phone.
It would be harder to trace.
“Tell me who this is,” she whispered, “Let me speak to the woman again.”
“It’s too late for her,” the dark voice murmured. “But save yourself, Claire. Good bye.”
Then the phone went dead, the woman’s cry for help fading into an eerie silence. Panic bolted through Claire.
Had she just been talking to a killer?
****
A week later
Mark Steele had once lived for the military.
Unfortunately, his last mission had gone awry, and five of his men had been killed. Although Mark had lived, he’d been injured and had spent time in an enemy prison camp. But not before he’d shot the traitor who’d revealed his men’s location.
He’d thought that bit of justice might assuage the guilt that had eaten at him ever since, but it hadn’t even nibbled at the edges. Blinking against the blinding noon day sun, he entered the Atlanta Federal office building. Since he’d accepted a medical discharge, he’d been wading through every day, searching for a reason to get up every morning. This new job, tracking down criminals, even if they were civilians, might give him a renewed purpose in life. God knows he needed it.
A fair headed man in a dark suit and tie greeted him, although the normally arrogant attitude he’d always associated with the feds was absent, a dark soulless look haunting the man’s eyes. Mark instantly connected. He’d witnessed the same desolation in soldier’s eyes just before they died.
“Luke Devlin,” the man said without preamble. He gestured toward two other agents seated at the table and introduced them.
“It’s nice to have you on board, Mr. Steele.”
Mark nodded, still adjusting to civilian life. “Thanks. I’m anxious for an assignment.” Anything to take his mind off the lost men. His lost career.
His lost love, Claire.
“We’re organizing a special Task Force to investigate certain aspects of government intelligence as well as the Coastal Island Research Park’s work on Nighthawk Island. Are you familiar with the research center?”
“I’ve read about the facility. It’s in Savannah?”
“Right.” Devlin moved to the wall, gestured toward a detailed map of the research islands, then quickly reviewed recent events at the center.
“There’s been trouble there, unethical research taking place. And Arnold Hughes, the first director and founder of the research center, actually had a scientist killed because he discovered Hughes wanted to sell his research to the highest bidder,” Devlin said. “Hughes escaped our first attempt to catch him, then returned with a new identity, but the local police have recently arrested him.”
Mark nodded.
“The new director, Ian Hall, appears to be trying to change the center’s reputation, but we have reason to believe there are some high level secret projects taking place. Some have government clearance, others...we’d like to see stopped.”
“Interesting. Go on.”
“In conjunction with Ian Hall’s good faith publicity, a psychologist named Dr. Claire Kos recently began hosting a radio talk show in Savannah. You know Dr. Kos, don’t you?”
“Yes.” His heart pounded. An image of Claire Kos’s beautiful honey-blond hair floated through his mind like a summer breeze. God, he’d been in love with her.
But she hadn’t even bothered to come to the airport to tell him goodbye. He’d waited like a fool until the last minute, hoping she’d show and accept his proposal.
Two weeks later, he’d received his engagement ring in the mail. Still, he’d hoped she’d changed her mind.
But six months passed and not a word, then six more. She had obviously moved on with her life. Not that he could blame her. After all, she must have decided she couldn’t handle a military life just as his own mother had.
He glanced down at the floor and in his mind, saw the bloody corpses of his fellow soldiers.
Better she had moved on.
She hadn’t understood his compulsion to do his job. To live up to the standards of his military father, a war hero in his own right. What would the Colonel say if he could see him today?
“You don’t suspect Claire of being involved in an unethical project?”
Devlin shrugged. “There is talk about research using hypnosis as well as mind-altering drugs that have been used before to brainwash people. By cozying up to Dr. Kos, we’re hoping you can explore that issue, among others.”
He stiffened. So that’s the reason they were assigning him to this mission. They wanted him to use Claire? “I can assure you Claire isn’t involved. She’s one of the most noble, dedicated doctors I’ve ever known.” Besides being the most beautiful and loving. But his time for Claire had passed. After all he’d seen in the past few years, he was too empty inside to have anything to offer a woman. And he couldn’t forgive her for not showing up when he needed her most.
She wouldn’t be very proud of the man he was now either.
“But she can help you gain access to the center,” Devlin said.
Mark opened his mouth to protest, then clamped it shut. He’d never allowed personal feelings to interfere with his job. He wouldn’t now either.
Devlin cleared his throat. “There’s a new development though that takes precedence. In the past two weeks Dr. Kos has received phone calls from two different woman who were abducted. Later, police found both women’s bodies.”
“They were murdered?”
“Yes. The locals suspect a serial killer, so they’ve officially called us in.” Devlin punched a recording, and Mark went completely cold inside as he listened to the chilling calls.
Save yourself, Claire.
What the hell had the killer meant? Was he threatening Claire?
****
Claire’s hands trembled as she headed to the door. It would probably be the police again with more questions. Questions she didn’t have the answers to.
She massaged her neck, rubbing away the tension. After that horrifying phone call the night before, she hadn’t slept a wink. She’d also rescheduled her patient load for the day.
How could she help others when she’d failed the women who’d phoned in needing her help? Even though she wasn’t directly responsible, their deaths pricked at Claire’s conscience.
She bumped into the wall, the sharp edge digging into her hip as she reached for the doorknob. Measuring her steps always grew more difficult when her emotions were involved, or if she was tired. She pressed the call button. “Who’s there?”
“FBI, Dr. Kos, Special Agent Luke Devlin and Agent Steele, we need to ask you some questions.”
Steele? No, it couldn’t be. Mark was overseas, not FBI.
And what could she tell them that she hadn’t told the cops?
“Just a moment.” She unlocked the door, leaving the chain intact. “Do you have identification?”
Clothing rustled as the man removed something from his pocket. She accepted the ID through the crack in the door. Holding the badge in front of her as if she could still see it, she slid her fingers over the edges, studying it for authenticity, well aware how limited she’d become without her sight. How could she determine if it was a forgery?
Vaguely satisfied the man was who he claimed to be, she unchained the door and stepped aside.
“Thank you, Dr. Kos.” Luke Devlin’s voice sounded strained, tired, like a man doing an unpleasant job.
Then a whiff of a dark masculine scent mingled with a woodsy smell wafted upward and she froze. No, it couldn’t be...
****
“Hello, Claire.”
Panic jammed the words in her throat. “Mark? What are you doing here?”
“I work for the government now,” he said in a husky voice.
But why? Mark had been so committed to the military.
“Dr. Kos, do you mind if we come in and sit down?” Agent Devlin asked.
Claire was so shaken her body temporarily went into lockdown. Her first instinct was to tell them to leave, to take Mark and his intoxicating scent and his big masculine presence away. But her voice refused to work, and her legs threatened to collapse beneath her, so she gestured toward the living area.
“Certainly.” She turned and stumbled, then paused to reorient herself. Agent Devlin’s hard soles clattered on the wooden floor as he stepped inside, but Mark remained in the doorway as if he didn’t want to reenter the graveyard of their shattered relationship.
“Claire.” His throaty voice echoed with emotions she couldn’t quite name. Shock. Anger. Bewilderment.
“Come in.” She forced herself not to react to his voice, but he caught her arm and swung her around. Cupping her face in his hands, he tilted her head toward him. She released a shaky breath, and blinked to focus, aching to see him. She imagined his strong jaw covered in five o’clock shadow, his neatly clipped black hair, the small cleft in his chin, his broad nose, and that tight military look. And then those big hands all over her, touching her, exploring, making her his, his guarded look fading, his eyes darkening with passion...
He ran his hands over her face, and she blinked, forcing back tears.
“Jesus, Claire,” he croaked, “what the hell happened to you?”
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