Page 11 of Covert Past

She allowed herself a smile. “I do. And thank you.”

Boone slowly turned on his heel and headed back to his truck, his shoulders hunched as if doubting his decision to leave her.

He got in and turned the truck around before slowly driving away, his headlights moving down the beachfront road.

She bent over and retrieved the Ruger she’d tucked into her boot and eased closer tothe opening.

The men she’d seen earlier in town. There was no doubt in her mind they were Syrian assassins. Teams of them had been searching for her since Daniel’s death. The only question was why?

As far as her former agency was concerned, Ellie killed Daniel to cover up her involvement with the Syrians. There would be no help coming from them. She was on her own.

The door squeaked slightly as she opened it enough to enter. Ellie froze. If they were waiting inside, she’d just alerted the intruders to her presence.

She stepped into the living area and set her bag, and the polo shirt Hank gave her to wear with the coffeehouse logo displayed across the top left of the shirt. Ellie listened. The only noise came from the waves crashing against the ocean. Without turning on lights, she moved through the small space searching each room. All were empty. The back door remained locked as she’d left it.

Relief weakened her limbs. She clicked on the kitchen light and looked around. Nothing appeared out of place. Same in the rest of the house. Had she left the door unlocked? The thought was ludicrous. Her safety routine was the one thing that never faltered.

If they had come inside, there would be nothing here to confirm her identity. She’d made sure of it. Through the years, Ellie had gotten good at traveling light. She had everything she needed about Daniel’s death memorized. She kept the engagement ring tucked into her jeans pocket in a small jeweler’s bag and the Ruger hidden away.

Myron had moved to Florida for the warmer weather several years back. He’d told her he rarely came back to Hope Island. On occasion one of the family members would come by to check on things, but the house hadn’t truly been lived in for years. Besides, Myron would have warned her someone would be stopping by to check on the place.

There were family photos scattered around the house. Ellie had memorized each one’s location. How many there were. And what position they were placed in.

That’s when she saw it. A picture of Myron and all his kids,grandkids, and great grandkids in the living room was just a quarter of an inch askew. Enough to confirm her fears.

Someone had been inside the home.

Syrian Intelligence? Her people? A new threat she wouldn’t see coming?

When she’d gone to Gideon for help, he’d told her Daniel’s death had been confirmed and she was their prime suspect. As director, he’d have no choice but to dispatch all Mossad’s resources into bringing her in. He’d pulled a weapon and tried to call for assistance. Somehow, Ellie managed to overpower Gideon and tie him up. She’d bought herself time but knew they’d keep coming after her. Mossad agents wouldn’t stop until they found her . . . or confirmed she was dead by the enemy’s hand.

She’d kept out of sight while quietly doing what she could to investigate Daniel’s murder. Ellie understood why her people wanted her captured, but why the enemy? What could she possibly know that would cause them to spend seven years seeking to silence her?

Over the years on the run, she’d racked her brain, searching for the missing piece that would explain why “that night” had happened. She’d gone over every single second of the night Daniel died as well as the days before and the few details she knew about the contact within Syrian Intelligence. Nothing made sense.

A noise at the rear of the house jolted her back to the moment. Had they returned?

She swung toward the sound, weapon drawn and ready to shoot. Over her accelerated heartbeat, nothing but quiet could be heard. Yet she hadn’t imagined the sound. Her hearing had become attuned to anything out of place. A habit from her days with Mossad she couldn’t break. A breath later she heard it again. Something rustling around near the garage set her nerves on edge.

Ellie eased through the front opening without making a sound, each footstep carefully placed. At the edge of the house, she flattened herself against the structure and pulled in a breath before peeking around.

Nothing moved in the shadows. The rustlingsound was joined by a snort of some type.

Ellie continued to move forward until she reached the garage. She zeroed in on the location of the noise. Near the front of the garage facing the ocean. Ellie covered the space between the house and garage in two steps. Reaching the front, the sound of snorting was joined by what sounded like digging. Digging?

She counted to three and charged into the open. The sight of a potbelly pig rutting near the place where she kept her garbage can was so unexpected it took several seconds to register. A spotted piglet. Here. As she approached, the animal spared her a glance before continuing its rutting, confirming the animal wasn’t afraid of people. A pet perhaps?

“What are you doing out here?” As she reached the pig, it became clear it was young. The animal was muddy and unkempt. So, maybe not a pet. “Are you hungry?”

The pig snorted and bobbed its head as if to say yes.

Ellie holstered her weapon, the threat inside taking back place to an animal in need.

“Come with me.” She started for the back of the house. After she’d taken a few steps, Ellie glanced behind to see the pig following. This was about as unexpected as her getting a job at a coffeehouse.

She opened the back door and waited for the pig. Once inside, Ellie relocked it and then did the same to the front. Before she had time to return to the kitchen, the female pig had shadowed her into the living room.

Ellie had no idea what pigs ate but she’d brought some artisan bread at the bakery recently. She tore off a couple of pieces and placed them on the floor. The pig sniffed then gobbled them up.

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