No Options

by Jennifer Haynie

  “And you’ll take care of this yourself.” Enrique lowered his voice. “You have always left me and Los Jaguares to take care of your messes while you continued the role of the pristine Army officer. No more.”

  “I never would ask you to do this. I’ll take care of it, but you need to be on standby.”

  “I will be. Call me when you have a plan.” The phone clicked in his ear.

  Sal swept his hands through his hair. He had to plan this one right because if he missed anything, everything could collapse. What would be enough of a reason to get Abigail to a good location for an ambush? He closed his eyes and thought through all that she’d told him.

  Jonathan remembered everything related to the ambush itself. And David Shepherd? He remembered nothing, and Abigail never filed the results of her interview with him before she traveled to the glass house.

  He thought back through those last days in Kandahar before the Mighty Men had deployed to the village. That last night, he confronted Jessie Delaney, told him to communicate intelligence related to the Mighty Men’s positions, strengths, and weaknesses via the secure channel they’d agreed upon. Jessie had argued, objected. At least until Sal reminded him that if he didn’t, his wife Tina would die slowly and painfully. Jessie capitulated. He had no choice, really.

  Ah. He faced the concession stand. Maybe his confrontation with Jessie would work to his advantage now. What if someone had seen his face? A slight smile quirked his lips. Who else had been out there who was in his service but Mitch Patterson, former member of Sal’s battalion? Perfect. He called him.

  “Patterson.”

  Sal forced a commanding smile onto his face, and it showed in his voice. “Mitch, it is good to talk with you.”

  Mitch snorted at the obvious lie. “I told you I was done.”

  “How is Vespa? It’s been a year, right? Is she still in remission?”

  No intake of breath. No nothing.

  “That’s what I thought. You know as well as I that each year is a gift. I would hate for something to happen to her, like having a bike accident, after battling back from cancer.”

  “What do you want?”

  Sal leaned a hip against the Bimmer’s fender. “You were in Kandahar with me in 2009. It was a January night, shortly after we returned from leave. You were walking back to your quarters when you heard two people arguing.”

  “I never—”

  “Oh, but you did. Understand?”

  A grunt answered him. Then a muttered word. “Okay. Okay. I get it.”

  “You hung back in the shadows. Two men left. You saw both of their faces though they didn’t see yours. And one of them was me. Now I want you to call Abigail Ward with that story.” He provided her number. “If she asks you where you got it, tell her Kyra Martin gave it to you since you know they’re friends. Give her enough information for her to take the bait. If she’s reluctant, you tell her you were able to take pictures with your cell phone camera. You’ll hand over the files only in person. Arrange to meet tomorrow at five at the observation deck in Goblin Valley State Park. It should be pretty deserted at that point in the weekend,”

  “That’s isolated. And Abigail’s never going to go for the fact I called Kyra to get her number.”

  “You do this, and Vespa lives.”

  “Sal.”

  “And don’t ever say my name over an open line.” With that, Sal lowered his phone. He breathed hard as if he’d run a sprint rather than paced in the parking lot. In the distance, the ref’s whistle blew. He started. He’d completely forgotten about getting drinks. After sliding his burner phone into its hiding place, he hurried toward the refreshment stand.

  26

  Saturday, April 22, 2017, 1550 hours MDT, outside of Burning Tree, UT

  Mitch was stuck. No options.

  He squared his shoulders as he thought about his master’s request. A call would be too direct. A text would toss out the bait. Most likely, Abigail would seize it. He tapped out his message. I have information about what happened to that Special Forces unit in Ghazni Province eight years ago.

  He waited for her response.

  His phone pinged. He noted her reply and grinned. Who are you?

  He thumbed another message. An eyewitness to something that might be important to a case you’re working.

  Her text flashed across the screen. How do I know you’re legit?

  How about call me? This number. I’ll be on for the next five minutes. You call later, I don’t answer.

  That should get her moving.

  His phone chimed. He lifted it to his ear.

  “This is Major Ward,” a husky female voice said. “You were the one calling me?”

  Oh, did he remember that voice from the diner the week before “I was. Mitch Patterson here. David’s friend. I talked with him last week at the diner when I saw you all, and he mentioned you’d come to see him about what happened in Ghazni. I served in the MPs in Kandahar at the same time he did. That’s how we got acquainted here in Burning Tree.” He hoped that wasn’t too much detail for her to recognize a setup. “Tough times no matter how you slice it.”

  “I get that. Why did you text me?”

  Here goes nothing. “It was so good to see you all last week. After you left, something jarred in my memory. David said you were insinuating that what happened was a setup.”

  “Insinuate is a rather strong word.” Steel edged her voice.

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to imply anything.” He took a deep breath. “I don’t know if you know this, but I was in the MP battalion providing security to the SF guys.” Before she could speak, he rushed on, “Man, I still remember that day. We heard about the hit right after it happened. Horrible all the way around.”

  “It was.” Quiet, as if she remembered the dead.

  Mitch cleared his throat. “Do you think it might have been more than a simple ambush?”

  She drawled, “Something like that.”

  He surveyed the area around the restrooms. Good. No one around. Lowering his voice, he said, “I think I saw something that might pertain to it.”

  “When?” Immediate. He’d gotten her attention.

  His mind began spinning. “I think it was the night before their team headed to that village. All I remember was that it was really cold.” He began calling up the details Sal had given him. He’d toss those to her to get her to come out to Utah. “It was late. I should have been in bed, but I headed to the mess hall to get some coffee. I overheard two men arguing near the barracks where the SF guys were staying.”

  “Could you hear words?”

  “A little. Something about one of them didn’t want to pass along information, but the other saying he had no choice.” Okay, so he ad-libbed a bit there, but Sal deserved it. And it fit his own situation so well. “The thing is, I saw them.”

  “You didn’t get pictures, did you?”

  “No. But I saw one of them. He was my CO, Sal Torres. Look.” He leaned forward and rested his forearms on the handlebars. “I want to talk to you further but in a way that doesn’t tip him off that I saw him arguing with one of the SF guys. Can you meet me out here in Utah?”

  “Sure.” Deadly calm now, like a lioness stalking her prey. “Tell me where and when, and I can make it happen.”

  “Seventeen hundred hours tomorrow at the main observation deck of Goblin Valley State Park. You know where that is, right?”

  “I do. David and I went there over Christmas.”

  “Then I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  “Yeah. Thanks, Mitch. See you then.”

  With that, she clicked off.

  He’d done it. Done his deed. This is the last time I’m going to do something for Sal. The urge to use the restroom hit. He climbed from his bike and laid it on its side.

  “Mitch, hey.”

  Mitch whipped around to find Kyra Martin pushing her mountain bike around the corner of the small bathroom building. His breath caught. Had she overheard his conversa
tion? “Uh, hey. I didn’t expect to see you out here.”

  Lines etched her brow, and if he looked close enough, weariness dulled her eyes. She took a sip from her water bottle. “Mom and Dad took the kids for their monthly junket to the ranch.” A smile crossed her face and faded. “I needed to—I’m not working until tomorrow, so I decided to take the afternoon to go mountain biking by myself.” Her smile seemed too brittle.

  He peered closer at her. “Are you okay?”

  “I’ll be fine.” She laid her bike on its side and headed to a bench. “It’s been a long time since I did a trail like that. I’ll sleep good tonight.”

  Heart pounding, Mitch tried to figure a way to find out if she’d overheard his conversation. “Hey, are you headed out?”

  She put her foot on the back of the bench and leaned over to touch her toes. “Yep. In just a few after I stretch. What about you?”

  “Coming.” He hoped she didn’t notice the sweat patches on his shirt. “Just a short one since I got a late start today.”

  She straightened and arched her back. “Whew. That feels good. Have a great ride. Tell Lilly and the kids I said hey.”

  “I will.” He climbed back on his bike and forced a wave as he made like he was once more headed toward the same trail from which he’d come. He rounded a bend where a jumble of rocks hid him. I don’t want to do this! But what if she’d really heard something? He twisted his wedding band on his finger, then rubbed his arms as if freezing. If she’d heard his calls, he was in just as much trouble as Sal was.

  Laying his bike down, he crept toward the bathrooms. He pressed himself against the stucco structure and inched along the wall.

  Gravel crunched. Was that her? He listened.

  “Answer, answer!” Urgency filled Kyra’s voice.

  Oh, no. Too late. She’d overheard his conversations with Sal and Abigail.

  “Dang it.” She muttered something. “David, hey. I wish I hadn’t missed you. I ran into Mitch Patterson while mountain biking. Before I saw him, I overheard—Oomph!”

  He batted the phone from her hand. They crashed to the ground.

  She pushed against him. “Mitch, what on—”

  His slap stole her words.

  She shoved him.

  Off balance, he fell on his side.

  She began crawling away and got a knee under herself.

  He pounced and flattened her to the gravel. The breath wheezed out of her. He wrapped his arms around her neck and chest and squeezed.

  Kyra struggled and thrashed. She weakened until finally, she sagged against him.

  Mitch loosened his grip and eased her onto the red soil. He fumbled for her pulse. Good. She was still alive. Weakness surged over him, and he began shaking.

  He had to do something with her, Sal would kill her without a second’s hesitation. But Mitch wasn’t Sal. He wouldn’t do that. He’d leave her somewhere. Whether she survived a desert night remained to be seen. Though the trail was isolated, he couldn’t count on leaving her visible. What to do?

  He whipped off the bandannas from around his head and neck and tied her ankles and wrists. What about a gag? He undid her helmet. Luck smiled on him because a bandanna covered her curls. He stuffed it into her mouth and tied it behind her head.

  Where to put her? He hefted her limp form over his shoulders. Man, she was so petite, so light compared to other people he’d carried. An easy lift after his years in the Army. There! The land sloped toward a gully. Out of sight and out of mind. His feet slipped as he made his way down the steep slope. Near the bottom, he tucked her behind some rocks.

  She moaned as he straightened. Her eyes flickered open.

  Tears welled in them. Of pain, hurt, or anger, he didn’t know.

  A lump filled his throat. “I’m sorry, Kyra. Truly, I am.”

  With that, he darted up the slope to the trailhead.

  He found her cell phone lying on the ground. Without hesitation, he raised his foot. The hard sole of his cycling shoe shattered the delicate electronics.

  What to do with her bike? He tossed it into the bed of his truck. On the way home, he’d dispose of it. Once he had his own bicycle secured on its rack, he blasted out of the parking lot. As his truck ate up the miles toward Cedar City, his stomach churned. Like it or not, he was way deep in this. Too deep to get out of it, especially since Kyra would finger him—if she survived the night.

  Saturday, April 22, 2017, 1800 hours EDT (1600 hours MDT), Raleigh, NC

  “Breakthrough!” Abigail wanted to do a little jig. She set her phone on Nick’s kitchen island.

  Gabe, who hunched over his computer, raised his eyebrows. He blinked as if he’d stared at the screen for too long.

  “A guy named Mitch Patterson called. He’s one of David’s buddies in Utah.” She outlined what he’d told her.

  Gabe didn’t respond. He returned his focus to the screen and tapped some keys on his computer. He rested his chin on his hand and closed his eyes as he shook his head.

  She glowered at him. “Wow. That’s a great response to a bona fide break in the case.”

  He rubbed the back of his neck as he rocked slightly. “I think Nate’s involved.”

  Huh? How on earth had he figured that out? Abigail straightened. “In what way?”

  “I’ve spent the entire afternoon tracing the guy who set up the tripwires. It took time. Lots of time.” His shoulders twitched.

  She stepped behind him and rubbed them. Yow. Muscles bunched beneath his T-shirt. “I’m scared to ask.”

  He covered one of her hands with his. “Yeah. Just call me the king of denial right now, but I finally traced the source of those tripwires to an e-mail address he set up. That got me to thinking. Did he and Katrina Miller know each other? His last posting was Fort Huachuca, after all.”

  She paused. “He started at CCU when?”

  “Yeesh. I think in 2013.”

  Abigail eased onto one of the chairs beside him. “Then he and Katrina overlapped by a couple of years.”

  He tucked his hands in his armpits. “It was more than that. She was his CO.”

  Abigail stilled. Her mouth dropped open. With effort, she closed it. “Oh, crap.”

  At that news, Marti’s fingers paused over the keyboard where she drafted an update of their report on the Mighty Men case.

  In the family room, an old grandfather clock that had been Nick’s grandmother’s ticked away.

  After a moment, Gabe cleared his throat. “What do you think?”

  Abigail rubbed her chin. “Sal needed to access the servers where the Athena File was kept, right?”

  “Oh, yeah. I know he’s a smart guy, but you have to be really savvy to swipe something like that.”

  “And he’s admitted he’s not the savvy type when it comes to computers.” The realization of Gabe’s discovery slammed into her. Her stomach turned on her snack of fruit from a little earlier. “Yag. I hate this! Nate’s more than a coworker.”

  Marti rested her elbows on the granite. “He’s a friend. But from the sounds of it, this warrants having a chat with him, possibly even arrest since those tripwires weren’t exactly legal. But a question, at least after talking with Tina Delaney. Does Sal have a hook in Nate?”

  Hmmm. Something Abigail hadn’t considered. She rubbed her chin as she tried to remember everything she knew about the CCU’s master sergeant. Nate was quiet. Bright. But not one to share everything with her, especially due to their difference in rank. “You probably know him better than I do. Has he had issues where he’d need help?”

  Gabe turned his gaze toward the ceiling. His brow knitted as once more, he rocked back and forth. “Not that I can think of... Except for one thing. Or person.”

  “Who?”

  He focused on her. “Jillian.”

  “His wife?” Marti asked.

  “Yeah.” Gabe wiped his hands on his jeans. “I always wondered if something was off with her. Do you remember the Christmas party a couple of years ago?” />
  “2015?” Abigail asked.

  “Yeah. It was the one for the entire battalion. I think Sal always wanted officers and noncoms to mingle, so he held it off post at a country club.”

  She smiled. “We took up the whole place. I had a blast.”

  He reached for her hand. “I did too. But Jillian seemed high or something. And she threw herself at Sal, remember?”

  “Oh, yeah.” Abigail winced at the ensuing scene. Jillian Francis had leaned in too close to Sal and tried to kiss him—in front of everyone. Sal had stepped back as if trying to get out of the line of fire. But Rita? She’d inserted herself between her husband and Nate’s wife and quite loudly told her that she didn’t take too kindly to women who hit on her husband. “It was after that when his kids were sick and he was out a lot.”

  He lowered the laptop’s lid. “Yep. Makes you wonder if he was out a lot because Jillian was in rehab or something. I remember asking after her during performance reviews, and he always deflected.”

  “So,” Marti ran her fingers along the smooth countertop, “you’re theorizing that Sal graciously offered to pay for rehab for Jillian.”

  Abigail stared at the counter. “I imagine that’s not cheap, especially if it’s in-patient. And that would have made him susceptible to Sal’s blackmail because, face it, non-commissioned officers don’t make that much.” She blew out a deep sigh as her shoulders drooped. “This is awful.”

  The thought of arresting Nate made her sick to her stomach.

  “We need to know.” That quiet call to action came from Marti.

  Abigail shifted her gaze to the woods beyond the French doors. Boy, did she want to run away and get lost in the trees right then. “Yeah, we need to know.”

  “What do you want us to do?” Gabe asked. “I mean, sounds like you’ve got a good lead as well.”

  Oh, that. She’d completely forgotten about it. “I think we need to divide and conquer. We have enough to pursue the Athena file case legitimately now. We also need to bring Nate in for questioning. Listen. I’ll get the paperwork started on a warrant for Nate’s arrest. Gabe, can you handle that?”