by Cindy Dees
“Whatever happened up there is quite a mess. FBI’s involved on it. Homeland Security shut down the news coverage and made everyone in town sign NDAs.”
“What the hell?” he blurted.
“I got a rather terse call from an assistant secretary of the Navy this morning telling me to keep my perky little nose out of it,” she added bitterly.
Spencer stared, shocked. What the hell had Gunner wandered into the middle of? “So you can’t tell me anything?”
“I didn’t say that.” She smiled archly.
“What have you got?”
“Close the door, will you?” she said to Drago.
He reached out and pushed the panel closed without leaving his seat.
“Four cops were killed by automatic weapons fire. Five civilians dead. Four of them in a house, one—a woman—dead outside the house next door. Presumably she fled the scene of the house shooting and died from wounds sustained.”
“And the shooters?” Spencer asked tersely.
“They drove at least two blacked-out SUVs, possibly three. Unknown number of occupants. Armed with assault weapons and body armor. Surveillance cameras inside the police station show the police firing multiple shots at the assailants at close range using weapons as big as .45 without seeming to injure any of the bad guys. So… we’re likely looking at high-end body armor. Military grade.”
“If there’s film of them, do we have any IDs on the shooters?”
“They all wore ski masks and gloves. Proficient with the weaponry. Knew how to control field of fire.”
“They’re military?” Spencer blurted.
“Not necessarily. But they’ve had military-style training.”
“Anything else?”
“Their license plates were covered with tape, so it was a premeditated attack.”
“Have you got anything on the occupants of the house who died?”
“Nope. FBI’s got that information locked down tight. Sorry.”
“What about the kid?”
“I haven’t seen any reports about a missing child. That’s the sort of thing that would get broadcast wide across multiple law enforcement agencies.”
Spencer and Drago exchanged frowns at that.
Dray piped up, “Any missing persons reports floating around the system for Asian female children?”
“Lemme check.” She typed for a few seconds and read information scrolling across her monitor for several minutes.
“There are hundreds of missing Asian girls worldwide, but none with any link to Misty Falls, New Hampshire,” Penelope answered. Then she added, “I’ll put a request in to the State Department to contact all the Asian embassies and ask them specifically about a missing toddler. I’ll let you know if I get any hits.”
“Have you got anything else for us?” Spencer asked.
“No. But I’ll keep poking around. Nobody in the government can keep their mouth shut for long. Information will start to leak out soon enough.”
Spencer and Drago both snorted at that.
Then Spencer stood up. “Thanks for your help.”
“It’s good to see you again, Spencer. Any chance I can convince you to come work for me here? You’d make a hell of an intel specialist for the teams.”
“Not only am I retired, but I’m done with the military. They tossed me out on my all-American ear.”
“What will you do now?” she asked.
“Dray and I are looking into starting a security company. Small outfit to begin with.”
“Cool. If I hear of anyone who needs your kind of help, I’ll send them your way.”
“Thanks, Pen. I guess I owe you another one.”
She laughed. “I’ll keep that in mind. It’s always good to know an ex-SEAL who I can call in a pinch.”
“Anytime. You’re good people. And if you ever need a job, give us a call, eh?”
She nodded thoughtfully as he passed her a business card with his personal cell phone number on it.
They left the base, and Drago looked over at Spencer from the passenger seat. “What has your guy gotten mixed up in?”
“No freaking clue. But my gut says there’s more to it than meets the eye.”
“Yeah, my gut’s in total agreement with yours.”
Spencer glanced over at Drago grimly. “Now we try your contacts.”
“To Langley it is, then.”
Chapter Five
GUNNER SPOKE while keeping his eyes on the winding road. “My contact—my old boss, actually—can’t get any information out of anybody. And that is weird as hell. It tells me you’re tangled up in something bigger than a simple domestic violence incident.”
“You call a bunch of dead people an ‘incident’?” Chas replied. “It was more like a massacre.”
“A massacre is a whole village wiped out.” Gunner knew. He’d seen a few of those, and they sickened a man all the way to his soul. “Nine people died last night in Misty Falls. Four cops, the lady on your porch, and four more inside her house.”
“Four in her house? Leah lived alone. She was quite the hermit, in fact. Her son never came to visit her. It was almost as if—” Chas broke off.
Gunner prompted, “Finish that thought. Intuitions are right more often than they’re wrong.”
“As if she was living in hiding. She rarely came outside, and it was only for quick trips to the grocery store or to run an errand, and then she ducked back indoors. And she always kept her curtains closed.”
“Interesting. Who could she be hiding from?”
Chas shrugged. “My guess would be her son. She sounded afraid of him the one time she ever mentioned him to me.”
Gunner passed his phone to Chas. “Text Spencer Newman what you just told me. And the name of your neighbor’s son, if you know it.”
Chas sent the text and then got distracted entertaining Poppy for a while. They managed to drive for about two hours before she had a total meltdown. Who knew a child that tiny could make so much noise in an enclosed space, and at that particular earsplitting pitch?
“We’re gonna have to pull over,” Chas announced. “Poppy needs out of her car seat, and she may be finally releasing some of the stress from last night. This could go on for a while.”
“Say it isn’t so,” Gunner muttered under his breath, deeply regretting having not bought a bunch of earplugs while they were at a store.
He slowed the car and turned off onto a dirt road that didn’t appear to lead to anywhere. It did feel good to get out and stretch. His body was sore and stiff from the accident.
The air was crisp and cool, the trees around them arrayed in their full fall glory. Yellows, oranges, reds, maroons, and even purples cloaked the margins of the rolling field they’d parked beside.
Poppy took off running the second Chas set her down, and Gunner grinned as Chas had to dart after her. The pair got busy picking up leaves, and the little coos she made when she found a particularly big and bright leaf were kind of adorable.
When they finally returned to the car a half hour later, Chas and Poppy’s cheeks were rosy, and they both had big grins on their faces. Gunner was staggered by the wave of warmth that rolled through his gut at the sight of them laughing and talking. Well, Chas talked. Poppy responded in her own private language of baby gibberish. But it was good to see her interacting with Chas and not totally shut down in terror like she’d been last night.
“Did you tire her out?” Gunner asked Chas over her head.
“You’re hilarious. All I did was run off the worst of her frustration. She’ll go like the Energizer Bunny for several hours before she crashes.”
“We can’t sit here for several hours.”
Chas waxed thoughtful for a minute. “If you’ll give me your phone, I ought to be able to download some TV shows she’ll watch. It might buy you an hour or so of quiet from her.”
Gunner stared at her like the alien creature she was to him. “Better than nothing, I suppose,” he mumbled.
“Next stop, you get to change her diaper and entertain her.”
“Oh, hell no.”
“No swearing, dude.”
Gunner huffed. “I can’t swear at all now?”
“Not in earshot of Poppy.”
“She’s not my kid. I don’t care if she learns how to swear like a sailor.”
Chas shot him a silent, waiting look that challenged him to think about what he’d just done and how guilty he should be feeling.
“You do that accusing-teacher-glare thing pretty well.”
“Thank you,” Chas replied, magnanimous in victory.
“Let’s hit the road. I want to put more distance between us and Misty Falls.”
Chas took a lace out of a tiny pink tennis shoe and tied Gunner’s cell phone to the back of his head rest, hanging it in front of Poppy but safely out of her reach. Entertainment for the tiny velociraptor procured, they got back on the road. Before long they crossed into the eastern edge of New York state.
The kid seemed happy, and Chas turned around to face front. “So, what have you been up to the past few years, Gunner?”
“A little of this, a little of that.”
“Is that SEAL speak for ‘don’t ask me questions about my missions’?”
“Pretty much.”
“Anything you can tell me about?”
“Nope.”
“Talking with you is like bouncing a ball off a wall,” Chas muttered. “It just comes back and smacks me in the face.”
“Sorry, bro. Tell me about you.” The easiest way to avoid talking about himself was to get other people talking about themselves.
“Not much to tell. I went to UMass. Partied hard. Got a teaching degree. Moved back home to teach kindergarten.”
“Why back to Misty Falls?”
“My mom worked in the superintendent’s office. She got me a job interview, and having an in with the school district helped.”
“But you stayed. I thought you wanted out of there.”
Chas frowned and stared straight ahead. Hit a nerve, had he? Gunner waited out Chas’s silence.
Finally Chas replied, “I did a little traveling after college. Turned out the big city and bright lights weren’t all they were cracked up to be. Perfect Gaylandia doesn’t exist. There are assholes everywhere and tolerant folks everywhere.”
“Maybe. But there are more tolerant people in some places than others.”
“Whoa. That sounded bitter,” Chas commented. “Care to elaborate?”
“Nope.”
“It had to be hard juggling being gay and a SEAL.”
“Thanks for that observation, Einstein,” Gunner replied dryly. “I would never have figured that out on my own.”
“Jerk.”
“Double jerk,” he responded automatically with the insult they’d used all the time as kids.
Chas smiled fondly.
God, it felt good to be back with someone who’d known him forever. Someone with whom he didn’t have to pretend to be or not be anything. He could just relax and be himself for a change.
They drove on and off for the next several hours, taking breaks to let Poppy out of the car seat, change her diaper, feed her or themselves, and to refresh her entertainment options. He had to give Chas credit. The guy was creative and good at guessing what would occupy her.
But by about four in the afternoon, Poppy and his aches and pains were simultaneously about done with cars. He would love to cross over into Canada, but without any ID for Poppy, he wasn’t willing to risk it. Instead, he found a small town in the middle of the Adirondack Mountains and snagged a room at a national hotel chain. The clerk at the counter went on at length about how lucky they were to get a room, but there’d been a cancellation. With the fall colors peaking, everything was booked, apparently.
The only room they could get had a single king bed, so Gunner reluctantly asked for a crib. They ate at the buffet-style restaurant next door, but Gunner was glad to get back to the room. Far too many people had taken note of the two men and a baby eating together for his comfort.
Once back in the room, though, Chas announced, “You’re up, Daddy Number One.”
“Me? Up?” he echoed in alarm.
“It’s your turn to give her a bath and get her ready for bed.”
“I have no idea what to do—”
“And you won’t until you try it. Just dive in and give it a go. Encourage her to play and move around in the tub. It’ll tire her out. Help her go to sleep. You’re in the Navy, right? You can do water.”
Scowling darkly, he took Poppy under her armpits and carried her into the bathroom at arm’s length in front of him. She seemed to think it was a game and kicked her feet joyfully. Which, as it turned out, made putting her down and taking off her shoes an ordeal in its own right.
“What temperature should the water be?” he called out.
“Warm but not hot,” Chas called back. “Comfortable for you will be comfortable for her. She’s a human being, after all.”
Gunner heard the TV go on in the other room. The bastard was enjoying abandoning him with Poppy. Fine. He could do this. How hard could it be to give a little kid a bath?
After chasing her around the bathroom a couple of times before getting her out of her clothes, he finally scooped her up and plopped her the tub. She settled in and played with a couple of floaty toys he now understood Chas buying. Gunner sat on the toilet and watched her play. Okay. This wasn’t so bad—
Whoosh.
The little squirt had swung her arm across the surface and sent a sheet of water arcing all over him. She giggled tentatively, as if unsure of his reaction. Remembering Chas laughing last night at the antic, he forced a smile onto his face.
Whoosh. A bigger wave smacked him. Resigned to getting soaked, he reached into the water and threw a little water back at her. That earned him a squeal of laughter. He did it again. Her joy was contagious, and before long he was sitting beside the tub, his arm hanging over the edge, making balloons of washcloths, submerging them, and blowing all the air out of them in cascades of tickly bubbles under Poppy’s feet. She howled with laughter.
Chas eventually called in, “You’d better let her wind down a little or you’ll never get her down to sleep. My kindergarteners never go down for nap time right after recess. Try shampooing her hair. That knocked her out last night.”
Shampoo. Right. He grabbed the bottle of baby wash and dumped out a big handful of it. Suds went everywhere. Which, of course, Poppy thought was fantastic. It took him several minutes of emptying the tub and running more water to corral the suds, but eventually, he got the mess under control, the kid rinsed off, and the tub emptied.
He picked her up—who knew a human being could be so slippery?—and got her wrapped in a towel without dropping her on her head. He mimicked Chas’s drying her hair last night and stepped out into the bedroom.
Chas held out a white rectangle without saying a word. Diaper.
Oh God.
He took it without comment, laid Poppy on the floor, and unfolded the bath towel. She flipped over and took off crawling like a shot, and he had to dive after her. He happened to glance up and caught the unholy amusement on Chas’s face.
“Not a word,” he bit out.
Chas made a zipping motion across his lips and threw away an imaginary key.
Scowling, Gunner unfolded the diaper, chased down Poppy again, and eventually got the thing taped around her lower torso. Whether it was on backward or not, he had no idea.
A hand appeared in front of his face with the bunny onesie dangling from it. He snatched the thing out of Chas’s hand and wrestled it onto Poppy, who, to her credit, was relatively cooperative with his awkward efforts. She was so tiny and soft. And she felt so breakable. He snapped the last snap and scooped her up in his arms as an odd burst of protectiveness filled his gut. He just wanted to wrap her up and keep her safe from harm.
He glanced up and was shocked at the warmth glowing in Chas’s ey
es.
“Parenthood looks good on you, Gunner.”
Gunner snorted inelegantly.
Chas handed him a bottle already made up with warm water and formula. Frowning in concentration, Gunner carefully tipped her onto her back in his right arm and poked the bottle at her mouth with his left hand. Poppy reached up and guided it into her mouth, bless her.
Her dark eyes drifted closed as she sucked on the bottle. She was so warm and relaxed in his arms, it started to rub off on him. He sat down gently in an armchair and propped up the bottle as she started to fall asleep. Sucking lazily, she mostly finished the bottle before she passed out.
Gunner rescued the bottle from falling and looked up at Chas. He mouthed, “What do I do now?”
Chas answered quietly, “I’d hold her for a few minutes to let her get good and asleep. Then, very gently, I’d lay her down in the crib.”
Gunner nodded and settled in with Poppy. Even in sleep, she moved a little bit. So alive, she was, and so vulnerable and trusting. He’d never felt anything remotely as peaceful as it was to hold her. And he had to admit, it was kind of magical.
He ended up sitting with her in his arms for close to an hour before he was willing to risk putting her down in her crib. At least that was his excuse, and he was sticking to it. Holding her for that long had nothing to do with the sense of calm that came over him as he stared down at her tiny, perfect face and watched her sleep.
When he finally turned away from the crib, Chas was holding out something else without comment—this time a glass with ice and what looked like whiskey from the refrigerator’s stock.
Gunner sipped at it as he sat down on the bed beside Chas and put up his feet. “Yep. I’m definitely Daddy Number One,” he said with relish.
Chas grinned. “I’ll hold you to that when she’s screaming her head off in a massive tantrum and refusing to stop.”
“Poppy? Never. She’s a sweet princess.”
Chas’s grin widened. “I work with kids all day, remember? Even the most angelic child has demonic moments.”
“Kind of like adults?” he asked cynically.
“Yeah.”
Chas had on a news channel, and Gunner asked him, “Any mention of Misty Falls?”
