“What’s wrong?” she asked softly. “For a minute you looked ….”
“I’m fine,” he interrupted harshly.
She blinked, stung by his abrupt harshness, and stepped back figuratively and literally.
“Tell me more about this terrorist,” she ordered curtly.
He studied her for a moment then shrugged. “Nathaniel Crawford is a physicist and weapons technology specialist. He disappeared several years ago. We got a lead on him when he showed up in some photos taken by agents in Mexico. He’s smuggling weapons technology out of the country.”
Skeptical, Laurie watched him through narrowed eyes. “What makes you think he’s related to me? Crawford is a fairly common name.”
“Standard procedure,” Damien replied, sitting on the edge of the sofa bed. “Paper trail—
birth certificates, court records, medical records—everything was pretty extensive considering he had a top secret security clearance.”
“Why would he suddenly take up with terrorists?”
“No one knows. His record was impeccable up until the day he disappeared.”
“Hmm,” she murmured, but she did not want to believe any of it. She did not want her previously comfortable life stripped from her. She peered directly into Damien’s implacable eyes. “I want proof, Damien, not just words and speculation.”
He nodded sharply. “Understandable. I probably would not believe it either if our situations were reversed. I have a file that might help.”
He dug into his duffel bag, withdrew a file folder, and opened it. He removed several pages and handed her the file. “These are classified,” he explained, putting the pages in his duffel. “But you can look at the rest.”
Laurie took the file in suddenly trembling hands and sat at the table. She hesitated, filled with trepidation, and lifted the cover. An eight-by-ten glossy color photograph lay on top. It showed several men coming out of an old building. One face was circled in black marker. He had gray hair and a full mustache. The other men appeared distinctly Latin American. All were hard, rough-looking men. The next item was a blow-up of the white man. It was a grainy, black and white picture.
She squinted, studied the man’s features. The face was not familiar. She shrugged. He might be anybody. As she continued to peruse the contents of the file, her eyes narrowed in ALWAYS A WARRIOR Patricia Bruening
15
fierce concentration. A duplicate driver’s license and a government employee identification card established the man’s identity: Nathaniel Crawford, born in Tucson, Arizona.
“That doesn’t mean anything,” she muttered to herself, but her heart skipped a beat as she flipped pages. Her fingers trembled.
His relationships were also clearly documented—a marriage license and birth certificates.
He had married Marjorie Crawford in the late sixties. Four birth certificates—Crawford, Marjorie, Laurie’s, and Stacy’s—confirmed definite family connections. Stunned, Laurie slammed the file closed and shoved it across the table.
“He’s not dead!” she exclaimed in disbelief. “She lied—for years!”
On a surge of rage, she pounded her fist on the table and ignored the pain. Standing, she knocked the chair back. It crashed to the floor. She righted it with a quick jerk.
“How could she?” Laurie demanded of no one in particular as she paced the wooden floor in long, angry strides. “She lied to me! He didn’t die. He left. Or did she leave?”
She clenched her hands into fists and forced herself to calm down. She had to shove emotional reactions aside until she sorted through and dealt with the implications of her discoveries. She drew in a deep shuddering breath and faced Damien, who eyed her impersonally.
“My mother has a lot of explaining to do,” she declared forcefully. “So does my father when I find him. He’s supposed to be dead!”
“Wait a minute,” Damien interrupted harshly and stopped her cold. “You won’t get near him. He’s a criminal—a traitor. He’ll be tried, convicted, and punished. It has nothing to do with you.”
“Nothing to do with me?” she echoed, staring at him as though he’d suddenly grown a purple head. “It has everything to do with me! We’re in this mess because of him!”
Her heart pounded fiercely. Her pulse raced. She held onto the rage so she would not wail in anguish.
“It doesn’t matter,” Damien insisted coldly. “All that matters is that we catch him.”
“It matters to me!” Laurie shot back. She clenched her fists even tighter and glared at him. “He betrayed us. I’m entitled to know why. Damn it!”