the eye from the wonder of nature. A blanket of fresh snow from the most recent March snowstorm covered the ground and coated the trees, illuminating the area around his sister’s rustic bed-and-breakfast with a peaceful glow. A perfect, secluded area to recover in.
His sister, Kayla, had welcomed him with open arms. Things were quiet here, she didn’t do as much business during the long winter months.
The muscles in his right forearm seized up, the intense agony making him gasp. The foam ball fell from his numb fingers and he clutched above his wrist with his left hand, massaging the injured muscles into relaxing again. Every time he exercised his damaged arm, the same thing happened. The muscles would spasm painfully, forcing him to abandon his exercise regimen.
Helplessly, Alex stared down at the numerous surgical scars that crisscrossed his right arm from wrist to elbow. He didn’t want to admit the plastic surgeon who’d spent long hours reconstructing his damaged muscles and tendons might be right. That his gun hand might never return to one-hundred percent. He should be grateful that he hadn’t lost the arm completely, yet it was difficult to remain appreciative when his career, his reason for living, teetered on the brink of collapse.
The muscles in his arm loosened and he breathed a sigh of relief. Bending down, he picked up the foam ball and this time, kept it in his left hand. To strengthen the muscles, he opened and closed his fingers, squeezing tight. If he couldn’t use his right arm, he’d build up his left. Anything to get him off medical leave and back on duty.
He needed to finish the case that continued to haunt him. For personal reasons of his own, he’d dedicated his life to being a DEA agent. For this case, they’d joined forces with the coast guard, in an effort to identify the mastermind behind the drug trafficking from Canada through the Great Lakes down to Chicago. Working undercover, he knew he was close the cracking the case before he’d been jumped by two men with knives. During his attempt to get away, they’d slashed his arm to ribbons and it had been too late to replace him. His coast guard partner, Rafe DeSilva, was doing his best to pick up the thread of the investigation.
Five years of work might be lost forever if he couldn’t get back in the field soon.
He desperately needed to bring the brain behind the drug smuggling operation to justice. To do that, he needed to train the muscles in his left hand to become his dominant one. He didn’t want to sacrifice his career for nothing.
His private secure cell phone rang. Startled, he dropped his foam ball in his haste to reach for the phone. Gritting his teeth, he forced himself to use his left hand as he warily answered. “Hello?”
“Is this Alex McCade?”
The female voice didn’t sound quite right, considering the number indicated the call was from Trina Kirkland, his contact within the Jacobson Marina and shipping business. “Who’s this? Who gave you this phone?”
“Trina gave it to me. I’m supposed to tell you it’s been twelve nights since she saw Alex last. She also said Alex would help us—me.” There was a brief pause and he heard the woman’s voice break as if she were struggling to hold back tears. “Please tell me you’re Alex McCade.”
“Yes, this is Alex.” Whoever this woman was, she knew the code phrase he had always used with Trina. What had happened? What had gone wrong?
“I need your help. It’s a matter of life and death.”
Life and death? His gut tightened with anticipation. Followed by a wave of guilt. He was currently on medical leave. If she was legit, he’d need this woman to talk to Rafe. He shoved the helplessness aside. “I’m going to put you in touch with Rafe, he’s with the coast guard.”
“No!” Her voice rose to a hysterical pitch. “Trina told me to call you. Only you. No one else. There was a man with a gun. I need your help, please!”
Alex blew out his breath, sensing the woman was teetering on the edge and one wrong word would send her tumbling over. His gut also told him she wasn’t involved in the criminal activity surrounding the shipyard. He couldn’t deny the possibility of a setup, but too much caution could be dangerous. Trina must have given her phone and the code phrase to this woman because her life was in jeopardy. The panic in this woman’s tone was too good to be faked.
“What’s your name?” he asked.
There was a brief hesitation. “Shelby.”
“Where are you right now?”
“Near a town called Shawano.”
Shawano was almost two hours away. Perfect. He’d have plenty of time to arrange a backup plan in case this woman wasn’t who she claimed to be. “Okay, I’ll give you directions to a truck stop in another town. From there, call me again to get further instructions.”
He rattled off the directions, satisfied when she repeated them back correctly.
“So you’ll meet us—me at the truck stop?” she asked.
“Not exactly.” He knew if he mentioned his plan to have Rafe check her out first, she’d get upset again. Rafe would be discreet. She’d never know he was there. “I need to make sure you’re not followed.”
“Oh. Okay.”
“Trust me, we’ll be in touch soon.” He hung up and immediately called Rafe.
“Yeah?” His partner sounded half-awake.
“I need backup. Can you be here in an hour?”
“What’s up?” Rafe sleepy voice disappeared.
“Something has happened to Trina.”
“Trina?”
Rafe’s voice had sharpened and Alex knew his partner was finally awake. “Give me a few minutes and I’ll call you back.”
Alex picked up his foam ball and squeezed rhythmically with his left hand as he waited for Rafe to return his call. What had happened to Trina? He hoped she was all right. He couldn’t help feeling that he should have been there with her. He hated being on the outside of the case, instead of working it from center stage. It was already mid-March and the ships would hit the water the first of April. He only had two weeks to get his left arm in shape to be his dominant hand.
For now, once he’d determined the woman, Shelby, was legit, he’d have no choice but to turn her over to Rafe.
Driving on the highway toward the truck stop with a clear destination in mind helped Shelby keep her rioting emotions under control. She could do this, one step at a time.
While Cody slept, Shelby battled grief as her thoughts dwelled on Trina. She knew, with gut wrenching certainty, that her vibrant, live-life-on-the-edge sister was dead. When they were younger, opposite personalities kept them from being close. Shelby was Christian and had never embraced her sister’s freewheeling lifestyle, but in the past five years Cody had managed to bring them together.
Shelby was grateful for that time when they’d been closer, but the truth was she hadn’t really known Trina, and now she never would.
Their father would be devastated by the loss. He thought the sun rose and set in Trina. He’d always ignored her mistakes, the bad choices that had time and again landed
