Chapter 10
Cedar Marina looked every bit the touristy marina it was; boats bobbed gently against the docks.
Sabrina tugged her baseball cap lower over her eyes, grateful for even this simple disguise. She glanced at Walker beside her, his posture relaxed to casual observers but unmistakably vigilant.
The way his eyes constantly scanned their surroundings, cataloging threats and exits with military precision, made her feel both protected and tense.
She wanted desperately to reach for his hand, to feel the reassuring warmth of his fingers laced with hers, but she resisted. This was a mission, not a romantic outing. Lives depended on their focus.
"Slip forty-two should be on the north dock," she said, her voice steadier than she felt.
The familiar setting produced a strange dissonance—this place that had once been part of happy family outings now transformed into a location for clandestine evidence retrieval.
Sabrina walked slightly ahead of Walker as they moved along the weathered wooden planks, feeling his presence behind her like a shield.
The weight of his protection settled around her shoulders, comforting despite the danger.
She tried to match his casual demeanor, just two more visitors enjoying the pleasant weather, but her heart pounded with every step.
When the small storage building at the end of the dock came into view, Sabrina's steps faltered.
She recognized her father's distinctive handwriting on one of the locker doors—the familiar, precise lettering that had once signed her birthday cards and permission slips now marked the hiding place for secrets that had gotten him killed.
Walker moved closer, his shoulder brushing against hers. "You okay?" he asked quietly.
The brief contact sent a rush of warmth through her body, anchoring her when memories threatened to pull her under. She nodded, squaring her shoulders and pushing aside the wave of grief. "Just... memories."
Her fingers trembled slightly as she fitted the key from her father's desk into the simple padlock. It gave way easily, as if it had been waiting for her all this time.
Inside sat a waterproof case, organized with her father's characteristic meticulousness. Emotion surged through her—grief for the father she'd lost, determination to uncover the truth, and a flicker of vindication that they were finally getting closer to answers.
"We need to get this somewhere safe," Walker said, closing the case before she could examine its contents.
"I had a feeling you'd show up here."
The familiar voice froze Sabrina's blood.
She turned to see Henry, the man who had been like a second father to her for as long as she could remember. The man who might have betrayed her father. Suddenly, she couldn't breathe.
Walker stepped protectively in front of her, but Sabrina moved to stand beside him. She wouldn't hide. She needed to face this—to face Henry—directly.
"Henry," Walker acknowledged, his stance deceptively casual while Sabrina could feel the tension radiating from him.
"No coincidence, Walker." Henry's voice sounded tired, his weathered face revealing none of his thoughts. "I've been watching this place since Frank died. Waiting for someone to show up. And, with everything that happened, I hoped Sabrina would show up."
"What? You've been waiting for us?" Sabrina asked, confusion and suspicion warring within her. Part of her wanted to trust this man who had been such a constant in her life, while another part recalled the photographs in her father's files, showing Henry with arms dealers.
He nodded toward the case Walker held. "Your father told me he'd hidden evidence. He didn't say where, but I suspected this locker."
"And why were you waiting?" Walker asked. "To destroy it?"
Sabrina tensed, holding her breath as she waited for Henry's answer. If he had betrayed her father, betrayed her...
Henry's eyes narrowed. "To protect it. That's why I never uncovered it myself. I wanted to protect whatever was here—and Sabrina."
Anger surged through her, hot and sudden. "Like you protected my father?" she demanded, her voice sharp with betrayal. How dare he claim to be protecting her when her father was dead?
Pain flashed across Henry's face—genuine pain, not the calculated response of a liar. It caught Sabrina off guard.
"I tried," he said quietly. "By the time I realized what was happening, it was too late."
"So you're not the Shepherd," Walker stated.
"The Shepherd?" Henry looked genuinely confused.
Sabrina exchanged a quick glance with Walker.
Either Henry was an exceptional actor, or he truly didn't know everything. She wanted to believe him, wanted to trust the man who had watched over her family for decades, but the evidence in her father's files...
"If you're not involved," she pressed, "why did my father have photos of you meeting with arms dealers?"
"Because I was following orders." Henry gestured slightly, and Sabrina noticed for the first time that he wasn't alone. Thomas, her morning security guard, stood at a discreet distance. Another complication, another potential threat.
"So both of you were in this?" she asked, feeling increasingly surrounded.
Henry shook his head. "Thomas? No. He's just helping me. Your father and I were both recruited for this operation twenty years ago. He provided the transport network. I provided security."
"Then who turned on him?" Walker demanded, asking the question that burned in Sabrina's mind.
"That's what I've been trying to figure out," Henry replied, his expression hardening. "Someone high up in the operation started diverting shipments three years ago." He turned to Sabrina. "Your father noticed discrepancies in the manifests. When he started asking questions, things got dangerous."
The story aligned with what they'd pieced together from her father's files, but Sabrina remained wary. Could she trust him? Should she?
"Convenient explanation," Walker said coolly, clearly sharing her doubts.
Henry straightened, meeting Walker's gaze directly. "Check the files. Frank documented everything. You'll find the surveillance photos from the week before he died—photos of me meeting with his contact at Langley."
"CIA?" Walker's voice sharpened with interest.
"This operation has always been government-sanctioned," Henry confirmed. "Until someone started skimming. The question is who."
Sabrina stepped forward, her arm brushing Walker's. She drew strength from his solid presence as she faced the man who might hold the answers she'd been seeking for a year. "If you're telling the truth, why didn't you come to me after he died?"
"Because I didn't know who to trust," Henry said simply. "And because your father's last order to me was to protect you, not burden you with dangerous knowledge."
"Yet here we are," Walker commented dryly.
Henry's expression softened as he looked at Sabrina, and she saw in his eyes the man who had taught her to ride a bike, who had attended her college graduation, who had stood beside her at her father's funeral.
"I always knew this day would come. Your father did too. That's why he made contingency plans."
"What plans?" Sabrina asked, hope rising within her despite her best efforts to remain skeptical.
"Insurance," Henry replied. "And the means to identify the Shepherd."
Walker shifted his position slightly, maintaining visual contact with both Henry and Thomas. "Why should we trust you?"
"Because he trusted me enough to specify you by name in his final instructions," Henry said, looking directly at Walker. "Your father knew someday you'd be protecting Sabrina. He wanted me to help you when that day came."
The revelation hit Sabrina like a physical blow. Both their fathers had orchestrated their separation and potential reunion. The implications—that her father had deliberately kept them apart, only to plan for their eventual reunion if things went wrong—left her reeling.
"Ohmygosh," she whispered, feeling the world tilt beneath her feet.
Walker reached out, his hand warm and steady on her shoulder. "You okay?"
She looked up into his blue eyes, seeing concern mixed with his own shock at the revelation. "Are you?"
He didn't answer, turning back to Henry instead. "Tell us all of it."
"Not here." Henry looked back to Thomas, who beckoned them toward the parking lot.
"We need to go," Thomas urged.
Henry held out his hand. "Come with us. There's a safe house where we can review these files properly."
Her instincts said to believe him, but her rational mind urged caution.
"Walker," she said softly, placing her hand on his forearm. She could feel the tension in his muscles, coiled and ready. "I'm asking you to trust me. I believe Henry."
For a moment, she thought he would refuse. Then something in his expression shifted, his eyes softening as they met hers. His free hand came up to cover hers where it rested on his arm, the touch sending warmth spiraling through her.
"If this is a trap," he said to Henry, his eyes never leaving Sabrina's, "remember I've been trained to kill in eighteen different ways."
Henry's weathered face smiled. "Your father would be proud."
They followed Henry and Thomas to a nondescript SUV parked at the marina entrance.
As they drove away, Sabrina found herself seated beside Walker, the case containing her father's evidence between them. Doubt crept back in, overriding her initial certainty.
"Are we making a mistake?" she whispered to Walker, needing reassurance that they weren't walking into a trap.
Walker's eyes remained vigilant, scanning their surroundings as the vehicle moved through traffic. "Maybe. But if war zones have taught me anything it's that sometimes faith is all we have." His hand found hers on the seat between them, giving it a quick, reassuring squeeze.
Sabrina fought the urge to intertwine her fingers with his, to hold on and never let go. Despite everything that had happened—the lies, the danger, the years apart—this connection felt real.