“They run the foundation?”
He nodded as they slowed for a truckload of topsoil pulling out of a side driveway. “It’s a family thing. Quinn’s idea, mostly, but Charlie makes it possible.” He grinned again. “It’s nice to have a financial and logistical genius in the family, I guess.”
“Are there more Foxworths?”
“Just them,” Teague said, sounding suddenly solemn. “Their folks were killed in the Lockerbie bombing. Charlie’s a little older than Quinn, and raised him after that. It’s why Quinn started the foundation. He hated feeling so helpless when it happened, even though he was just a little kid. And when they let the guy go, he was so furious he vowed to try to help people who felt like he did, helpless to do anything about whatever injustice had befallen them.”
“He turned his anger to good use.”
“Yes.”
He slowed the car then, and Laney realized she hadn’t been paying much attention to where they were. She felt a little pang of unease. She was putting a lot of faith in his connection to Hayley, and the fact that Cutter clearly liked and trusted him. And now she was out in a remote area she didn’t know well, with a man she’d just met. Her unease grew as he turned into a narrow driveway that wound through thick trees.
It hit her then that perhaps Amber had been the same way. Too trusting. Because her best friend had said a guy seemed nice to her and she should give him a shot.
Guilt flooded her again, and she shivered under the force of it.
There was no getting around it. If Amber was in real trouble, or worse, it was her fault.
Chapter 5
“Laney?”
Teague had noticed her shiver, she thought. He didn’t seem to miss much.
“I don’t expect you to understand, but I really do feel so damned responsible,” she said. “For Amber.”
He said nothing as they reached a wide clearing in the trees where a rather utilitarian, three-story green building stood. There was no sign, not even a street number marking it. It was like many places out here, she guessed. If you belonged, you knew how to find it. Off to one side was a large metal building that looked like a warehouse, with a battered-looking silver sedan parked beside it. And beside that was a large swath of concrete with some odd markings. She was puzzled until she saw the bright orange windsock to one side and realized she was looking at a helicopter landing pad.
Teague pulled to a halt in a graveled parking area beside the green building and a larger, dark blue SUV. He put the car in Park. He turned off the engine. He unfastened his seat belt.
Then he shifted in his seat, turning to look at her.
“I understand perfectly,” he said, his voice holding a grimness she hadn’t heard from him until now. And when he went on, it sounded as if he were digging the words out with a rusty knife.
“My little sister was sixteen when I was first deployed. I was off to the Middle East, excited and afraid at the same time. Dad was stoic, as usual, Mom tight-lipped and silent. Neither of them was happy about what I was doing. Only Terri was proud. Weepy at my leaving, but proud of her big brother in uniform.”
Laney could picture it, and marveled anew at the bravery of people like Teague who served voluntarily. And hated that they weren’t always treated with the respect they deserved.
“Terri was the one who made me promise to write, call and Skype whenever I could. And she kept to her part of the bargain. I know more than once she passed on a date or a night with her friends or a party because that was the only time I’d be able to reach out halfway around the world.”
“She sounds wonderful.”
“She was.” His voice was tight, harsh.
You lost somebody, didn’t you?
My sister. Years ago.
The brief exchange they’d had echoed in her head now.
“What happened?” she asked quietly.
“While I was on my second tour, she vanished. Left for school and never arrived. She was never found. It destroyed what there was left of my family. My father drank himself to death, and my mother is a bitter woman who drives away anyone who tries to get close. Especially me.”
The words came choppily, and she wondered when the last time he’d told anyone this was. That he was telling her now, to help her, moved her a great deal.
“Teague, I’m so sorry. But it wasn’t your fault.”
“No? Tell my mother that. If I’d stayed home, like my parents wanted me to, I might have been able to protect her, or at least find her. So, yeah, I understand. Perfectly.”
Laney sighed. “I guess logic loses when stacked up against enough guilt.”
“Always,” Teague agreed.
Cutter woofed softly, politely, as if to remind them he was still there.
“Sorry, buddy,” Teague said, his tone reverting to normal. He hit a button that opened the back of the SUV. Laney turned to look as the dog jumped out, lifted his dark head, sniffed the air for a moment then confidently trotted toward the green building.
“Look,” Teague said, drawing her attention back, “I can’t promise they’ll take this on. But if they do, even if Amber is really just on some romantic escape, we’ll make sure of it so you can quit feeling guilty.”
“Do they usually take on what you bring them?”
His mouth quirked. “I’ve never brought anything to them before.”
She didn’t know whether to feel honored or worried.
He got out of the car, walked around and opened her door. Manners, she thought. Nice.
And then she was distracted by Cutter’s actions as he rose on his hind legs at the single door she could see, and batted at a large square button with his paw. He hit it, and the door slowly opened.
Teague saw her look. “Quinn’s brainstorm,” he said with that killer grin. “Sort of an oversize doggie door. And handicapped access, should it ever be needed. Took Cutter all of three seconds to figure it out. Now he comes and goes as he pleases.”
“Is that safe for him?”
“Nearly ten acres here and Cutter knows exactly where the boundaries are. He never gets too far from his people anyway.”
“Why is this place so...anonymous?” she asked as they neared the door Cutter had used.
“Sometimes those people who aren’t doing the right thing end up not too happy with us,” he explained. “So we don’t hang out a sign to advertise where we are. And that automatic door has a cutoff and lock switch in just about every room, in case we have to secure the building.”
She
