and Dayton’s desire to shift focus. She hadn’t even shared that with Mrs. Renault, who had a soft spot for the commander. For that reason alone, Madison prayed the man was innocent of killing Pace and Beth Crane.
“You’re going to the St. Valentine’s ball together tonight, right?”
Madison nodded.
“Well, one question to answer before you decide. Is your hesitation because you don’t trust him on the security breach, or because you don’t trust him with your heart?”
Madison didn’t dare answer—not even to herself.
Mrs. Renault clearly didn’t expect her to. She continued, “Either way, it’s a step forward. And it’s time you took one.”
Madison hadn’t dared to trust a man since escaping from Afghanistan. She’d wanted to, tried to, but she just couldn’t do it. At times she wondered if she’d ever trust a man again. Since one she’d put her trust in had been responsible for her capture, she couldn’t fault herself for that, though her pastor insisted that God wouldn’t approve of deeming all men responsible for the sins of one. She wasn’t trying to do that. It wasn’t them but her own judgment she doubted. Her pastor insisting she was not trusting God shocked her. Was he right?
Unsure, Madison looked at Mrs. Renault. She was right about one thing. If Madison didn’t try to step forward, change wouldn’t be possible. And maybe her pastor was right, too. Maybe she did need to trust God to put a worthy man in her path.
Grant’s image filled Madison’s mind—the promise of what could be. Foolish or wise, she didn’t know, but this proposal was for one night. She could leap that far, to trust and give him a real chance.
“All right,” she told Mrs. Renault. “I’ll try.”
What could it hurt?
Me. Madison swallowed hard. God, help me. I’m leaping. Please don’t let me regret it.
* * *
A brash young lieutenant with a red nose, bruised knuckles and a name tag that read Blake escorted Grant into the commander’s windowless inner sanctum.
Commander Talbot sat behind his gleaming desk. Vice Commander Dayton perched on the left of two deep blue leather visitor’s chairs. Grant saluted.
“Major Deaver.” Talbot returned the salute. “Come in.”
Not invited to sit, Grant stood at ease before the desk. “You wanted to see me, sir?”
“Yes.” The commander leaned back in his chair, his thinning pate catching the light from the overhead. “How are things going at Lost, Inc.?”
“They’re tense, sir.” Dayton hadn’t said a word. He looked almost bored, though Grant had been in Intel too long to be fooled by that facade. The man wasn’t missing a thing. Dressed in combat gear instead of his blues—why? Everyone Grant had come across, from the gate guards to headquarters’ security, had been dressed in blues or their regular uniforms today.
“Tense?” The commander stopped rocking his chair.
“Yes, sir.” Grant debated over his approach, and decided Talbot had always been reasonable, so he’d just talk straight. “Madison McKay still doesn’t trust me.”
Dayton guffawed. “Lost your touch with the ladies, eh?”
Caustic, but Grant didn’t take it personally. Dayton had made it an art form. “She’s a former operative,” Grant said. “She knows the tactics. You either come at her from a genuine place, or you don’t get near her at all.”
Talbot rubbed at his jaw. “Madison has always had good instincts. They made her an excellent analyst and operative.”
“Working with Renée Renault has sharpened them,” Dayton said. “You can bank on that.”
“Renée is gifted.” Talbot drummed his fingers on his desktop and sighed. “Sorry we lost Madison. I hoped she’d change her mind and rejoin us after being home for a while.”
Grant had never heard such respect in Dayton’s tone as when he’d spoken of Mrs. Renault, and never had anyone other than Commander Talbot called her by her first name. No doubt her military family missed her. But the remark about Madison irked Grant. If they hadn’t sacrificed her, maybe they wouldn’t have lost her, but the bottom line was Grant didn’t want to repeat the mistake and lose her, and the longer this deception went on, the greater the odds were that he would.
Determined to try to do something about that, he shifted the conversation to a place he was more than eager to go. “Crawford accepted responsibility for the security breach. The case is closed.” No reaction, so he went on. “How much longer do I have to stay at Lost, Inc., and—?”
Talbot frowned. “Indefinitely.”
Grant’s heart sank. His stomach knotted. “May I ask why, sir?”
Dayton piped up. “If the commander wanted you to know, he’d tell you. You have your orders, Major.”
Grant clamped his jaw. “Yes, sir.”
“Ease up, Jeremy,” Talbot told Dayton, then swerved his gaze to Grant. “You’re absolutely convinced that no one at Lost, Inc., has in any way been involved in the Nest security breach?”
“I am, sir.” Silently he prayed no questions came that required him to disclose Madison’s jaunt into the Nest’s perimeter woods last night.
Dayton, lean and compact with thick muscles, stood up. “Need I remind you that every single individual in that agency is, shall we say, disenchanted with the military?”
“No, sir. I haven’t forgotten,” Grant said. “They are disenchanted—for just cause.”
“In your opinion.” Talbot’s eyes narrowed. “Doesn’t that send up a red flag in your mind that any of them could have breached security, and leaked word of the Nest to the media? Or maybe even to Crawford?”
“Yes, sir. But after a thorough investigation, in my opinion, none did. There’s no connection between any of them and Crawford, or to the Nest, beyond their assignments to it during their active-duty days. Crawford, working for Homeland Security, had direct access. He didn’t require a leak to know about the Nest. He was briefed on it regularly and personally visited the facility a dozen times.”
Worry creased the commander’s skin between his eyebrows. “What if I told you that Crawford’s access was even more restricted than your own?”
“That changes nothing, sir. He’s proven resourceful in the killings we’ve verified he’s done. I’ve no doubt he could be equally resourceful in gaining access to restricted areas, particularly from the inside.” Grant didn’t want a long conversation diversion into Gary Crawford. He’d claimed responsibility for the security breach and for the murders. That was that. “I’m convinced that Madison and her staff are innocent, sir.”
“Including Renée Renault?”
Grant nodded at the commander.
His eyes narrowed,
