Page 19 of Waiting for Him
Before they left Jake, he’d told them to return to the car rental place and switch cars, just in case one of the goons had tagged it. Boomer could’ve kicked himself for not thinking of it first. They’d even gone one better and returned the car to one rental place before walking across the street to get a new car from another one. And this time, he used an alias credit card and ID, which he was pissed he hadn’t done with the first rental. They hadn’t thought the Russians would know they were in Virginia less than twenty-four hours after they’d arrived. It was too late to change things now, so he had to pray the goons hadn’t memorized their license plate and traced it.
After driving a mile down the road, he’d pulled over and disabled the GPS tracker most agencies use nowadays to track their vehicles. Once he was sure they didn’t have a tail, he’d gotten on the freeway heading southwest. While sitting in traffic, they’d taken advantage of a truck stop and grabbed dinner to go. It wasn’t great, but it’d been some much-needed nourishment since they’d missed lunch.
Ivan Maier’s childhood home was a one-story ranch on approximately two acres. Trees dotted the property, and it was obvious Irina Maier liked to garden or, at least, hired someone to do it. Fall flowers were in bloom, and their beds were strategically placed around the property, so wherever one looked, there was an array of colors—pinks, reds, yellows, and blues. The brick home was well taken care of, and the white shutters appeared to have recently received a fresh coat of paint.
Taking Kat’s hand, Boomer approached the front door and rang the bell. He could hear the chime go off, but there was no other sound from within. Knocking was met with the same result. Peering in the front window, he saw nothing amiss, but just to make sure, they circled the house.
“Maybe she’s out to dinner with friends.”
Boomer hoped Kat was right and there wasn’t a more nefarious reason for her aunt not being home. They had no idea if Volkov’s people would come here looking for answers to whatever questions they had for Kat. “Come on. Let’s find a room for the night. We can come back in a little while and see if she’s home.”
She sighed. “Okay. I guess we don’t have a choice.”
He opened the passenger door for her and closed it after she swung her legs inside. Skirting the hood, he glanced toward the end of the driveway and noticed a man in his late sixties getting mail at a row of boxes.
Holding up a finger to Kat for her to wait a minute, he jogged down the drive. “Excuse me? Sir?”
The man was eyeing him suspiciously, so he stopped several feet away and lifted his palms to indicate he was no threat. “I’m sorry, sir. My girlfriend is a . . . a distant relative of Ms. Maier. We were passing through and thought we’d stop in and say hi. You don’t happen to know where she might be, do you?”
He didn’t know what Irina’s neighbors knew about her brother’s family, so he didn’t want to mention Kat was her niece.
The man’s gaze shifted beyond Boomer, so he glanced back and saw Kat was out of the car and walking toward them.
“Damn!”
Boomer’s head whipped around again to face the old man. “What’s wrong?”
The neighbor seemed to realize he’d alarmed him. “Oh, nothing to worry about, boy. Any thoughts about you snowballing me with your bullshit story went out the window when I saw your girlfriend there. She looks exactly like Irina . . . well, younger, of course. What did you say your name was?”
“I didn’t, sir, but it’s Ben Michaelson. And this is Kate Zimmerman.”
Again, he didn’t want to tip the man off about Kat’s lineage. He held out his hand, and the man shook it.
“Name’s Harry Bernhard. I live across the street. What branch of the military are you, son?”
Boomer’s eyebrows raised in surprise. “Navy, sir. Retired SEAL, to be exact. How’d you know?”
“Retired from the Marines about twenty years ago. Major. Can always spot someone who has seen combat. It’s the way they carry themselves. Iraq? No, don’t answer. Sometimes I forget you black-ops boys can’t answer that question.”
Boomer’s mouth ticked upwards. “No, sir, I can’t. Let’s just say I’ve been around the block a few times.”
“I hear you. Now, about Irina. She expecting you?”
From his side, Kat answered before Boomer had a chance. “No, she’s not. As a matter of fact, she’s going to be very surprised to see me. I-I haven’t seen her in a very long time.” Boomer gave her a subtle look. Realizing she’d said too much, she tried to cover her ass. “I’ve lived on the West Coast for over ten years and just moved back East. I was hoping to surprise her.”
“Well, I hope you’re not in a hurry because she and a few members of her women’s group took an overnight road trip to Roanoke Rapids. They go every other month to see a show and play some slot machines at the Royal Palace out there.” At Kat’s expression of dismay, Harry added, “Don’t fret, missy. She’ll be back tomorrow by noon.”
Smiling, Boomer put his arm around Kat’s shoulders and squeezed. She got the picture and put on a happy face while he spoke. “That’d be fine, sir. We just got into town and came straight here, so can you recommend a motel nearby?”
Harry scratched his head. “Well, you’re a little out of luck there because Murfreesboro doesn’t have any motels. Nearest one is about twenty miles away in Franklin. But we do have a nice bed and breakfast in town. Always clean and not too expensive. And it’s right across the street from a good place to eat.”
“That’d be great. What’s the name of the B&B?”
“Carmichael’s. Drive straight back into town, and it’s on your left after the first traffic light. Can’t miss it.”
Extending his hand again, Boomer thanked the man. “And I’d appreciate it, sir, if you see Irina before we do, please don’t spoil the surprise.”
“No problem, son. And call me Harry. I might see you both tomorrow anyway. Irina always brings me back a blueberry pie from this great bakery they have out there. Good night, now.”
