Her Forgotten Betrayal(17)

She was still too lost to her nightmares. She didn’t recognize him. Yet she was remembering fire, which meant that some things must be coming back to her, if still subconsciously. And she’d asked him to stay. Dawson wouldn’t be thrilled. There was still the chance that Cole could further damage her memory. Then again, his presence might trigger her to recall everything the government needed in order to hand down the first indictments in the Cassidy Global investigation. Hopefully not directed at Shaw.

From the task force’s standpoint, it would be seen as progress if someone actually had taken a shot at her tonight. Possibly from long range or with a silencer, because she hadn’t mentioned hearing gunfire. The bad news was, Cole couldn’t be certain what had truly happened. She might have imagined the whole damn episode. He didn’t have the right equipment in the cabin for a detailed site incursion analysis. And his orders were clear: if confronted, no one was to know his true purpose for being on High Lake.

It would take a forensics team to determine if it were even possible to isolate the trajectory of the bullet when it pierced the wall. Or how someone might actually have bypassed his obstacle course of sensors spanning the grounds, to come within a hair’s breadth of hurting or killing Shaw. But until those things could be determined, for all Cole knew, the hole had come from a hunter, months, possibly years ago.

“I’ll check the doors and windows,” he agreed, “and meet you down here.”

He’d double and triple-check them. While he did, he’d use the secure satellite phone he’d brought with him to call in the possible attack, own up to his breach of protocol, and get the all clear to move forward, ensuring that his ass would remain stuck in the mansion for the foreseeable future.

With a nod toward Shaw and her exotic-looking pet, he shut and securely locked the back door and struck off toward the front of the house. He cased the first floor, all while double-checking the portable device he’d brought with him which was remotely linked to his equipment at the cabin. With it, he confirmed there’d been no unexplained activity in the woods surrounding the house since he’d carried her home. Mounting the back steps two at a time, he stopped at the landing halfway to the second floor and placed the call he couldn’t put off any longer.

He’d learned the key to career longevity was to own up to any rule-breaking from the start. Then each deviation he successfully executed became perceived as a calculated risk instead of carelessness. Delivering the desired outcome however he had to was then perceived as resourcefulness rather than a screwup that had somehow managed not to hit the skids.

“This is Marinos,” he said when the connection completed. “We have a problem.”

“Code?” was the emotionless response that sounded the same on each of his daily check-ins.

Rattling off the series of numbers and letters that would confirm he was who he said he was, he walked the rest of the way up the stairs.

“Go,” the deep voice said.

“Attempt on principal.” Every window and door he checked was locked. Many of them looked as if they’d been painted shut for years. He found no indication that any of the entry points to the Cassidy mansion had been breached. “Location confirmed secure from the inside.”

A pause followed. “Repeat?”

“I’m inside the house, and there’s no evidence the perimeter’s been challenged. But I have identified a single bullet hole, advanced from a weapon fired on the grounds.”

The officer taking his report responded with another stretch of silence. Cole could only imagine the frenzy of activity his alert had set off in Atlanta.

“Repeating,” the voice finally replied. “Perimeter and principal secure. One shot fired toward target area. Breach of protocol. Marshal on the scene engaged with principal.”

“Confirmed.”

“Advise that unless situation further escalates,” the voice said, “next contact at scheduled time.”

“Confirmed.” Cole flipped the cell shut and accepted that his subsequent check-in might not go as smoothly. If the task force thought the case was compromised, Dawson might very well decide to yank Shaw into formal custody.

Before that could happen, Cole had to help her remember more about her shooting, something that would buy her time. Even if it meant manipulating the hell out of her tenuous trust in him. And he had to find a way to do his job and keep her calm amidst the craziness of her here-and-now world, without reminding her of their disastrous history together. His hand clenched at the memory of discovering the gold charm hanging from her cat’s collar.