Pecca pressed her eyes closed, and a rogue tear slid between her lashes. She appreciated what they were trying to do, but the SSB had got to her. “Be anxious for nothing.” The Bible verse she’d prayed over Maceo’s crib after his surgery came rushing back. She clung to it then, feeling helpless, but this time she could do something about it. She could protect her son.
“I will talk to Adrian and maybe my sister, Claudia. She lives in Boston. Maybe we could stay there for a while until this all blows over.”
“No.” Colton’s voice echoed against the walls of the conference room, drawing everyone’s attention. His cheeks were a little pink, but it was the fierce look in his eyes that kept Pecca’s attention riveted to the man flexing both of his hands in an attempt at control. “I think Charlie’s right. If you leave, you’ll only be putting yourself and Maceo in danger. Something is keeping you safe, and I think it’s your routine.”
“Safe? We’ve been shot at, and now my family is being targeted.”
“Yes.” Colton hung his head as though the guilt of that fact lay squarely on his shoulders. “But if you go to Boston, you’d be relying on a police force in a city with a population ten times the size of Walton. They won’t know you or your case. You won’t find a team better equipped to keep you and Maceo safe than the one in Walton.”
Charlie nodded. “We can assign an officer to the elementary school. And Colton can continue to escort you between patients and keep an eye on you in between his appointments. Thankfully, you’re surrounded by a group of heroes who I’m willing to bet will protect you and Maceo at all costs. We’ll be able to watch for anything that seems out of the ordinary.”
Pecca’s gaze bounced between Charlie, Colton, and Sheriff Huggins. “Colton isn’t at the Mansion to watch over me. I’m supposed to be helping him. He’s my patient.”
Colton shifted, his hazel eyes bearing down on her. “Can I talk to you alone for a minute?”
Biting the inside of her cheek, she nodded. Sheriff Huggins and Charlie stepped out of the conference room before Colton pulled out the chair next to her and sat. He inhaled deeply, and she could see a battle happening behind his eyes. He was warring with what he was going to say. The feeling she had earlier in her kitchen returned, and she longed to run a hand along his arm—to comfort him.
“Pecca, I’ve dealt with a lot of evil in my career, and if there’s one thing I’ve learned it’s that the enemy wants to get you alone. They want you to feel alone, helpless. Despite what those guys in D-Wing think, every battle won takes a team. You’re not alone here in Walton. Sheriff Huggins and Charlie know who they’re watching for now. They can keep you safe. And if you’ll allow me.” He looked down at his arm. “I know I can’t offer much, but I’d like to help.”
Her heart twinged with a deep ache for the man. Did Colton really believe that about himself? He had to know that his disorder was only a single part of him, and in the last several days even she’d been able to see how much more there was to him.
“Playing ball with Maceo is one of the highlights of my day.” Colton spoke softly. “It gives me something to look forward to when everything else in my life feels like it’s been taken from me. I really hope you’ll stay.”
Looking into his eyes, Pecca could see his request held far more meaning than someone wanting to help. But was it fair to ask that of him? The last thing she wanted to do was put him or anyone else in danger, but leaving Walton suddenly didn’t sound as tempting anymore.
Colton’s jaw ached. He clenched down hard, trying to keep the tremor crawling up his arm from getting worse. He hadn’t had an episode since his first appointment with Chaplain Kelly, but the movements in his arm had grown steadily worse since Pecca discovered the photos.
Earlier that evening, he’d checked out her arrangement of family photos she had displayed around the house and realized it made him feel closer to her somehow. Now, after listening to her identify her family members, the threat against them felt personal and he was ticked.
“I didn’t think she was going to stay,” Charlie said as he and Colton watched Sheriff Huggins leave to drive Pecca back to Lane and Charlie’s home above the café. “What’d you say to her?”
That I needed a chance to do something meaningful again. Colton swallowed the truth. “That I believed she was safer here.” His arm jerked. “I hope I’m not wrong.”
“I know it’s late, but if you’ve got time I’d like to talk through how we’re going to make sure you’re not wrong.”
Colton nodded, taking note of the time on his watch. Barely past ten and the day already felt much longer. As he followed Charlie back into the station’s conference room, the image of Felix Garcia came to mind. He couldn’t forget the tattoos inking the Spider’s face and stretching over his shaved head, but it was the hatred emanating from the man’s eyes that had Colton unnerved. He looked dangerous. “We need more information on Javier’s cousin.”
“When I spoke with Adrian, I got the indication he’s doing his best, but he’s gotta be careful. Too much interest in the SSB and Javier is going to draw attention, and that’ll put his career—and possibly his life—in danger.”
“What about Pecca and Maceo?”
“He knows what’s at stake.” Charlie sat. “The only way we’re going to get insider information is if he keeps his cover.”
Sitting in the chair once occupied by Pecca, Colton blew out a breath. “It’s not the only way.”
Charlie turned, eyebrows raised as he folded his arms over his chest. “How long before you called someone after the shooting?”
A ping of guilt radiated in Colton’s chest, but the years he’d spent gathering and analyzing intelligence told him that good information in the wrong hands was just as dangerous as bad information in the right hands. He had to be sure he had good information before passing it on, and right now the only thing he was sure of was that he didn’t have enough.
A cold memory—the faces of the soldiers from the 401st—sent a painful shiver over his shoulders. Their deaths would’ve been on his shoulders. Gritting his teeth, he took a measured breath. The last thing he needed was to let his past take his focus off what was happening right now.
“Colton, we both want the same thing—to keep Pecca and Maceo safe. I know integrity matters in the intelligence field, and I’m not asking you to divulge your sources, but the best way we can keep our promise to Pecca is to work together.”
“Every battle won takes a team.”
Even if his earlier words to Pecca weren’t enough, Charlie’s reminder of the promise was. Colton had convinced Pecca to stay in Walton not only because he believed it was in the best interest of their safety but also because it meant a level of control that made him feel as though he had a purpose again.
“The information I have is shallow at best.” Colton thought back on his conversation with Kekoa. “Besides the aggravated assault, Javier doesn’t have the kind of criminal history one would expect from a gang member, much less a leader, which kind of confirms what Pecca said about him.”
It was still hard to picture Pecca being involved with a gang member. What had she seen in him in the first place? She was smart and sweet and just not the kind of woman he could see getting caught up with a man like Javier Torres.
“Which makes it hard to understand why he would do this to her.”
“None of this makes sense.” Colton shifted, the muscles in his arm throbbing. “If the SSB wanted Pecca to testify on Javier’s behalf, why would they shoot at her? Leave photos at her house threatening her family? If they really wanted to get to her, the opportunity was there. Why didn’t they take it?”
Charlie nodded. “Unless they’re trying to intimidate her into testifying.”
“Yes, but how would she know that? The only reason Pecca knows that now is because of her brother’s information. Take that away and you’re left with threats.”
“And why would someone be threatening Pecca?”
“To
get to Javier.”
“What do you mean? He’s the one behind this.”
“Unless he’s not.” Colton shook his head as the pieces of his theory began to fall into place. “Adrian told you the South Side Barrio lost some of their control when Javier went to prison. I’ve learned the DEA has connected them to cartels outside the country. What if Javier doesn’t want to come out of prison on early release? Maybe that’s the motive behind the threats. Get to Pecca, get to Javier.”
A grim expression lined Charlie’s face. “That might explain why Javier’s cousin is missing.”
Apprehension rolled through Colton. If that was the explanation behind Felix’s disappearance, it meant the threat against Pecca was far more serious. If the SSB was behind the shooting and the photos, the message was clear—they could get to her.
SEVENTEEN
“LET’S DO IT AGAIN.” Colton took a swig from his water bottle, emptying a third of it in a single gulp. The lights inside Chaplain Kelly’s office had been dimmed, the shades on the window turned to subdue the sun’s afternoon rays. It was supposed to infuse the space with a sense of calm to help Colton’s brain relax, but at the moment he was feeling anything but relaxed. He eyed Chaplain Kelly sitting next to him, concern in his eyes. “We have time. Let’s do it again.”
“I think we should take a break.”
“No,” Colton said, almost shouting. Then he took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. “I want to do it again.”
Chaplain Kelly pressed his lips together but nodded and tapped a button. The computer screen in front of Colton lit up. 178. 176. 177. He took another long breath, trying to bring the numbers down. 177. 179. 178. Why wasn’t it working?
“Colton—”
“I can do this.” 180. 183. Come on! Colton wanted to scream, but an outburst wasn’t going to bring his numbers down. Sweat soaked his shirt, his breathing becoming shallow. 188.
“That’s enough for today.” The screen in front of Colton went blank, and Chaplain Kelly put the remote on his desk. “You did well.”
“I can do it again.” But the tremor in his arm said otherwise. “Maybe I can come back in for another session? After my pool therapy with Pecca.”
“Colton, is everything okay?”
The events from the night before came hurtling back into his mind, twisting Colton’s stomach into a knot. He pushed his chair back from the machine. What was keeping whoever was behind the shooting and photos from harming Pecca and Maceo? And what about next time? Frustration nipped at his nerves. Colton needed information. Without it, he felt helpless, out of control. So he focused on the one thing he currently had access to—his strength.
By the time the sun had crested the horizon that morning, he was out the door for his morning run. Then he’d gotten to the gym early and was stretching by the time Pecca came in. During their session he’d noticed her mood had shifted. Her motivation lacked its usual cheerfulness, which only pushed Colton to work harder. He’d been so focused that Pecca had to put herself in front of the equipment to get him to stop.
“I’m fine,” Colton said, slipping the wires off his fingers and holding them out to the chaplain. “I thought I was doing well. Didn’t want to quit while I was on a roll.”
“There’s definitely improvement. You were able to control the numbers, which is good, but we have to be mindful not to push too hard. It can make the movements worse.” Chaplain Kelly smiled and looked over his notes. “Now, you should be off your medications completely. Have you noticed any changes?”
Colton fixed his eyes on the ground. “I haven’t noticed any changes.”
“It’ll take some time, but eventually your body will flush the medicine out.”
He glanced up. “Are you sure the medicine won’t help me? Why would the doctors prescribe it if it won’t help?”
“I’ve spoken with your doctors and Dr. Bruno here, and all agree that the medications you were on acted more like a bandage. A short-term fix but potentially problematic in the long-term.”
“Problematic how?”
“Dependency. At some point the dosage you’re on won’t be enough and the symptoms will come back, maybe worse than before. It’ll require upping the prescription, and since your disorder isn’t organic, it’s unlikely the medicine is helping. Trust me, the sooner we can get it out of your system, the better.”
A chill took hold of Colton’s damp skin. He cast his eyes down at his hand, willed himself to make a fist. His fingers curled but didn’t close completely. Had the medicine stopped working? Was he becoming dependent? He thought about the pill bottles upstairs in his room and guilt punched him in the gut.
“Tell me how physical therapy is going.”
“Wha—” Colton’s whole body jerked, his mind whirling with the ramifications of being dependent on his meds. “Um, yeah. Good. We started pool therapy. My arm doesn’t jerk as much in the water. Pecca said it’s because my brain is responding naturally to keep me from drowning.”
“That’s true.” Chaplain Kelly set his pen on the desk and leaned back in his chair. “That’s the goal here too. Using cognitive therapy, we’re trying to retrain your brain to signal your nervous system without you thinking about it.”
“Like when Pecca threw tennis balls at my head.” Colton snickered. “I caught most of those.”
Chaplain Kelly chuckled. “The flag football team seems to be really taking off. It’s been a pleasure to see the kids out there playing.”
“I think they’re having fun.”
“D-Wing fellas are too.”
Colton smiled, his mood lightening. “I think they’re rowdier than the parents.”
“I used to think mealtimes were the highlight of their day, but I’m beginning to think those practices are what’s getting them through their therapy sessions with Pecca. How’s Maceo coming along?”
“Good. The kid’s got a great arm and so much heart. He has to work a little harder than the other kids, but he’s not willing to back down. I love that about him.” Colton’s shoulders slumped and his arm twitched. “Look at me. Here I am complaining about how difficult my life is and then there’s Maceo. A seven-year-old kid with as much courage as guys I’ve seen take the battlefield. I have no right to complain.”
“Why not?” Chaplain Kelly said. “What’s happening to you doesn’t feel fair. And what Maceo faces isn’t fair either, but this is your journey. Your feelings are valid. What’s the point in pretending they don’t exist?”
Colton eyed the man behind the desk. “What’s the point in whining about it?”
“There’s a difference between whining about them and acknowledging them.”
If that were true, Colton wasn’t sure he knew the difference.
“Have you ever considered what you were going to do outside of the military?” Chaplain Kelly said. “I’ve read your file and you were on the path for a long career, but all soldiers eventually retire. Did you have plans?”
“Well, retire for one.” Colton exhaled, the tension returning. “Then I wanted to move back to Texas and run my grandfather’s ranch.”
Chaplain Kelly shifted, his chair squeaking. “And now you don’t want to?”
“And now I can barely brush my teeth or eat without making a mess. I couldn’t even sign my name on a check to pay for the property much less take care of the land and house.”
“I have a homework assignment for you.” The groan escaped Colton’s lips before he could stop it, and Chaplain Kelly smiled. “I promise it won’t be too difficult. I want you to begin imagining what your future’s going to look like once you leave here. Will you go back to Texas? Buy your grandparents’ ranch? Or do something else?”
“No offense, sir, but I can’t even plan what my day is going to be like with these movements, much less a future.”
“I didn’t ask you to plan your future. I said imagine. ‘The heart of man plans his way, but the Lord establishes his steps.’ Consider how God is establishing your future.”
God? The only thing Colton considered regarding God was why this was happening to him. Was he being punished? Had he committed some horrible sin? And how could he make up for it? Living back at home with his parents, listening to them pray and talk about staying faithful to God, trusting his plans—Colton couldn’t take it. He’d been faithful. Went to chapel. Prayed. Even read the Bible verses his mom sent him, yet somehow none of it was enough. If God would just tell him what he’d done to deserve this, he would change. Fix it. Repent. Whatever it took to get his life back.
Walking out of Chaplain Kelly’s office, Colton wasn’t sure he’d be able to complete his homework. How was he supposed to imagine a future when he didn’t even know what the rest of the day would bring?
He paused by a window overlooking the manicured lawn. The grass had been mowed that morning, leaving a checkered pattern in the blades. He spotted Gunny, cane in hand, hobbling along the path. The veterans in D-Wing never stopped talking about their service in the military. Most had served long careers, but for some, like Sarge, whose leg was destroyed in war, their future probably wasn’t what they’d imagined it to be, yet they were happy.
Could he be happy too? Colton glanced over his shoulder to the gym. His heart turned over. He might not be able to plan his future, but no one was going to stop him from his plan to keep Pecca and Maceo safe.
Pecca stared at her cell phone, trying not to cry. She had another missed call from her sister, and when she called back the phone call went straight to Claudia’s voicemail. After everything that had happened last night, Pecca still wasn’t sure going up to Boston was a bad idea. But that would mean leaving Walton—and Colton.
“Great catch, Maceo.”
“Thanks, Coach.”
Maceo beamed up at Colton, and Pecca’s heart skipped a beat. She really ought to stop thinking of him in that way. Putting her phone away, she wrapped her arms around herself. The temperatures had dipped with a cold front, but the chills on her skin weren’t because of the brisk October day.
Silent Shadows Page 14
