Out of Sight (Project Athena) Read online

  Out of Sight

  Trish Milburn

  Published by Trish Milburn at Amazon.com

  Copyright 2011 Trish Milburn

  Kindle Edition, License Notes

  This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be resold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Amazon.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  ***~~~***

  CHAPTER ONE

  If you stand in enough lines at the bank, you’ll eventually be there at the same time as a guy with a gun and no desire to actually work for a living. Looked like today was that day.

  A shiver skittered down Jenna McCay’s neck. Gasps and screams erupted behind her. The young teller’s eyes widened.Hell. Why now, when she was off duty and didn’t have her gun?

  Jenna turned her head. Anger bloomed bright and ferocious at the sight a few feet away.

  A guy with a hosiery leg over his face pressed a gun to the head of a woman who looked like she might deliver a baby before she got out of the bank. White showed all around the irises of her eyes.

  The guy shoved the pregnant woman forward. Jenna feared the pretty brunette might collapse. If she only had her gun, or could maneuver behind the guy, she could disarm him.

  The robber tossed a small, green duffel bag onto the counter in front of the teller. “Fill it up. Full!” When the young woman didn’t immediately comply, the guy shifted the gun from the pregnant woman’s temple to the teller’s forehead. “Move!”

  Visibly shaking, the teller stuffed the bag with money from her drawer, then hurried to the next teller window where one of her frightened colleagues did the same.

  Options. Rush the guy and risk gunfire casualties. Do nothing and hope he didn’t hurt anyone and didn’t take a hostage with him. Too risky, both of them.

  Jenna scanned the bank’s lobby, spotted the surveillance camera. How much of the lobby did it cover? She eyed the nearest office. Too far away.

  A child whimpered. “Shut her up!” An edge of desperate impatience filled the gunman’s demand.

  Jenna took a few silent steps backward.

  The gunman spun toward her with a crazed look in his eyes. He leveled the gun at her chest. “Do you want to die?”

  She swallowed against the dryness invading her throat and shook her head. She’d faced scared and drugged gunmen before but never without body armor and a gun of her own. Her stomach churned and her heart raced.

  He stared at her for interminable seconds before turning back toward the tellers. “Move faster, damn it!”

  Time slowed to a crawl. Jenna forced her breathing to calm. She didn’t dare move. When the gunman turned, she glanced at the surveillance camera and took a couple of quick steps backward to move out of its range.

  Please God, don’t let him notice.

  She hated the way her heart nearly beat out of her chest.

  Sirens wailed in the distance. The man jerked his gun from one teller to the next. “Which of you tripped the alarm? Which one!?” He pressed the gun into the pregnant woman’s temple so hard she cried out and clutched her stomach.

  Jenna closed her eyes. No time left. No other options. She blocked out the sounds around her, concentrated on gathering all her energy in her center. When the familiar vibration began, she shifted the energy to different parts of her body, beginning with her fingers and toes and moving inward. She hoped no one noticed a bit more of her disappearing with each moment. It only took seconds to change, but it always felt like an eternity because of the fear of being caught and the intense concentration it took.

  Her transition complete, she opened her eyes and scanned the lobby. Nothing indicated her metamorphosis had been seen.

  The gunman turned toward the sound of the approaching sirens. Anger contorted his face. He slid the gun away from the pregnant woman’s head and again pointed it toward the tellers. He squeezed the trigger. The glass partition between two tellers shattered, sending shards over the screaming young women. The shock broke Jenna’s concentration, and her invisibility faltered. Heart thudding, she refocused her energy and disappeared again.

  This ended now. She rushed forward, dodging unsuspecting bank customers. If they were bumped by an invisible woman, the commotion might cause the gunman to fire again.

  She clamped the brachial nerve between his neck and shoulder with all her strength.

  He crumpled to the floor, and she kicked the gun across the lobby tile, making it appear as if he’d lost hold of it as he fell. She couldn’t very well pick it up, not with at least twenty people who’d report they saw a gun floating in midair. Invisibility didn’t work that way — only things she was holding when she transformed disappeared as well.

  The pregnant woman’s knees buckled, but a man who’d been standing in line caught her and led her to a chair. Near pandemonium broke out as those in the lobby backed away from the inert gunman. Some cried in relief. Others shouted orders over the cacophony. “Don’t run out the door. The police might shoot. Go out slowly with your hands up until they know who you are.” This from a big man in a suit who might as well have had Bank Vice President emblazoned across his wide chest. Jenna noticed the nervous sweat on his forehead from across the lobby.

  In the confusion, it was difficult not to bump someone, but Jenna maneuvered toward an empty side office. When she reached it, she exhaled and let the harnessed energy drain away, making her visible again. She wiped the sweat from her own forehead, sank into a leather chair and took several deep breaths to calm her thundering heart. She’d never been forced to change under such stressful conditions, and she didn’t care for it. And she’d faltered, proving one of her fears. Invisibility was a fickle bitch that might abandon her at the worst possible moment.

  After a quick glance into the lobby, she slipped into the rush of people heading through the entrance with their hands up.

  “Jenna?” Frank Roe straightened slightly behind his cruiser, revealing only the graying head on his stout frame.

  “Yeah,” she said, glad to be free of the bank’s confines. “Come on in. The guy’s out cold.”

  A flood of uniforms flowed past her, but Jenna waited for Frank, the closest thing she’d had to a dad since she was fourteen.

  “You okay?” Frank asked.

  She must look as wiped as she felt. “Fine. Not exactly how I’d planned to spend my day off though.”

  The outside air helped settle her nerves, so after a few moments she was able to follow Frank and the rest of Nashville’s finest back into the bank lobby. The gunman had already been unmasked, but he still lay unconscious.

  “How’d you get the jump on him?” Frank asked.

  “Wasn’t me. I was way back here. He just conked out. Maybe he had a heart attack. You know, robbing banks is a stressful profession.”

  Frank snorted, then stared at the robber with that expression cops get that says they don’t like coincidences.

  “What happened?”

  She recited the particulars, minus her involvement.

  “You going to help us do all these witness interviews?”

  Jenna watched as the officers checked the robber’s vitals and tossed out theories for why he’d passed out. Time for her to get out of Dodge. She lifted an eyebrow. “Do you see a uniform on me anywhere?”

  “What, you got something more interesting to do?”

  “I do have a life, you know.”

  Frank laughed. “Got a hot date with a German shepherd? Or mayb
e you’re going sailing with a beagle.”

  “Very funny. How does Diane put up with you anyway?”

  “I’m lovable.”

  This time, Jenna snorted. “You guys have fun. I’ll watch for your fifteen seconds of fame on the news.”

  One last glance revealed two sets of paramedics attending to both the pregnant woman and the gunman. Things were under control, and she did have a date — with several large bags of dog and cat food weighing down the back of her truck.

  As she approached her truck, movement caught her attention out of the corner of her eye. A small red sports car sat across the parking lot. The driver with a cell phone attached to his ear stared at her. His unwavering gaze tripped an internal alarm. Who was he? Couldn’t be the robber’s getaway driver — too nice of a car. And with all the police swarming the bank, a getaway driver would be long gone. A reporter maybe, though the car seemed extravagant on a reporter’s salary too. She walked toward him.

  Without pausing in his conversation or taking his eyes from her, he started the engine. Jenna picked up her pace, but the car zipped out of the parking space with well-engineered speed. She had only enough time to glimpse the tag number before the red blur disappeared.

  She jogged back toward the bank and slipped into Frank’s patrol car to radio dispatch for a tag check. Seconds stretched while she waited for some feedback. She fidgeted, gut instinct telling her something wasn’t right.

  The radio crackled. “Please repeat that tag number.”

  “DBA 538.”

  Again, the radio squawked to life. A ball of tension formed in Jenna’s stomach.

  “That tag number doesn’t exist.”

  ****

  For the rest of the day, Jenna continued to create explanations for the car with fake tags, but none of them made sense. She must have seen the tag number incorrectly. Probably a lawyer or a reporter. Maybe an adrenaline junkie who listened to police scanners so he could “check out the action.”

  When she reached her house, she focused instead on feeding the menagerie of stray animals that now called her little slice of the country home. The guys she worked with liked to tease her about them.

  “Word has gotten out in the stray community. ‘Are you a puppy, kitten or bunny without a home? Head on over to Jenna McCay’s.’”

  “At least that’s one thing that proves she’s a girl.”

  Okay, that one had stung a little. Sure, she was a tomboy, had been since she’d discovered she’d rather ride motorcycles with her dad than go shopping with her mother. Ava McCay had nearly expired when Jenna announced her intention to enter the police academy.

  But she was a flesh and blood woman whether the guys knew it or not. It just wasn’t conducive to a comfortable work environment to comment on the attributes of any attractive men she spotted while on patrol.

  The sun had already disappeared behind the trees lining her property when gravel popped under the tires of a vehicle coming up the driveway. By the time she stepped out of the laundry room, someone was knocking on the front door. She glanced out the window but didn’t recognize the back of the man standing on the porch. Maybe he had a stray or maybe he was lost. Lord, don’t let him be here to try to save my soul. He didn’t look the part, too casually dressed.

  She glanced beyond him to the red car parked in front of her house, and her heart rate spiked. The guy from the bank. What was he doing here? And how did he know where she lived? Not sure what she was about to face but determined to get some answers, she shoved her Glock into the waistband at the back of her jeans. She waited until he stepped to the edge of the porch before she opened the door.

  Her gaze took in his appearance. Six foot three. Brown hair. Trim. Mid thirties.

  “Jenna McCay?”

  She didn’t confirm. “Can I help you?”

  He smiled as if he could read her thoughts and found them amusing. “That remains to be seen.”

  Oh, he thought he was cute, did he? How cute would he act if he knew she could disable him in three seconds flat?

  The scruffy, blond, mixed breed puppy standing at the edge of the porch barked.

  “Hush, Pegram.”

  “Pegram. Interesting name.”

  Okay, some small talk. Give a little, see where it leads.

  “You have thirty animals and you begin to run out of names.” She pointed at her favorite canine companion. “He earned his because I found him sitting under the interstate exit sign to Pegram.”

  “Guess it’s a good thing he wasn’t at the Bucksnort exit.”

  Jenna cracked a small smile but didn’t laugh.

  She eyed the stranger more closely. “You were at the bank earlier. Do I know you?”

  “No, but I believe we might have some common interests.”

  “And those would be?”

  “Seeing justice done, no matter what it takes.”

  “Oh?” She adjusted her stance to better protect herself in case this guy wasn’t as harmless as he seemed on the outside.

  “You had an eventful trip to the bank today. I’m here because of your unique ability.”

  Jenna’s heart tripped, then froze. There was no way he could know. No one did except her mother, and that was one topic they never broached.

  “Who are you?”

  “Daniel Webster.”

  “Nice try.”

  He shrugged. “What can I say? My parents had a warped sense of humor.”

  Webster showed none of the outward signs of lying — no averted eyes, no fidgeting.

  “Well, Daniel Webster, what do you do for a living?”

  “Let’s just say I’m in intelligence gathering.”

  Jenna’s skin chilled. A government man. “Funny, you don’t look like a spook.”

  “And just what do ‘spooks’ look like?”

  “You know, black suit, short hair, dark glasses, no sense of humor.”

  “You’ve been watching too many bad movies.”

  She stared at him, demanding answers without uttering a word.

  He looked her straight in the eye. “You didn’t get out of the camera’s frame.”

  The chill on her skin sank all the way to her center.

  “What camera?”

  He smiled that knowing smile again. “You know exactly what I’m talking about.”

  “No, I’m afraid I don’t.”

  “Curious how that robber passed out for no reason.”

  Her insides pulled tight. “Like I told one of the officers on the scene, maybe the stress got to him and he had a heart attack. Stranger things have happened.”

  “Yes, they have. Like people disappearing into thin air.”

  Jenna had all she could do to keep from reaching for the door with shaking hands and slamming it in his face. But knowing that doing so would only confirm his suspicions, she held her ground.

  Her mother’s voice echoed in her head. “You’re a freak. Don’t tell anyone if you don’t want to be a lab rat for the rest of your life. They’ll cut you open and study you like an alien from another planet.”

  More than twenty years had passed since her mother had spat those words at her, and they remained as frightening today as they’d been when she was a little girl. A little girl who gave a whole new meaning to hide-and-seek.

  “Good thing people disappearing into thin air doesn’t happen.”

  “Doesn’t it?”

  “Not this side of cartoons.”

  “I saw the surveillance tape. You tried to back out of the frame, but you were a step shy of reaching your goal. Not to mention the second after the gunman fired.”

  “I don’t know who you are or who sent you here, but you’d better retrace your steps.”

  “I’m here to offer you an opportunity.”

  No doubt that opportunity involved bright lights, painful probes and endless questions in a windowless room.

  “I’m not interested in anything you could offer.”

  “Not even your father?”

&n
bsp; The question robbed her of breath. She stared at Webster and tried to absorb the idea that he might hold answers she desperately wanted.

  “What about my father?” she asked through clenched teeth. Her hand itched to latch onto the Glock and force him to tell her what he knew.

  “No answers until we have an agreement.”

  To hell with that. As desperately as she wanted to know what had happened to her father, she wasn’t stupid.

  “Get off my porch. Get off my property.” She enunciated each word.

  Webster shrugged. “I see this is a shock, and you’re not ready to talk sensibly.”

  Her anger swelled, and she reached behind her for the gun.

  “Not a good idea.” He said it with the conviction of a man with the power of hundreds of government goons behind him. “I’m going to reach into my pocket for a card.”

  “Keep it. I won’t be needing it.”

  He grinned. “Humor me.”

  “Fine.” She’d take the card if it meant he’d leave. She could always burn it later. When he held out the card, she said nothing, simply stared at him.

  He placed it on the edge of her porch. “It doesn’t matter if you call. We’ll see each other again.” He stared at her to emphasize the inevitability, then turned and walked back to his red convertible.