“Why are you talking about all of this?”
“I truly feared for your life, but I had no idea where you were. For all I knew, you could have been…” She took his hand and continued, “When you got knifed, the hospital got enough from you to contact the VA, who finally got around to calling me since I was next of kin. By the time I got to Raleigh, you’d already checked out of the hospital and vanished. I worried that I’d not find you alive but you as an unclaimed body in a morgue. I can understand what Abigail’s feeling. She’s scared. She loves her brother, and she doesn’t want to lose him. But it’s worse for her. She doesn’t have any other family. She’s alone in this.” She released his hands and picked up a picture of Jonathan and him at a party they’d had at their apartment. A small smile crossed her lips. “This is Jonathan?”
“Yeah.” He rested his elbows on his knees. He’d forgotten that Abigail and Jonathan were all that remained of the Ward clan. Maybe he’d been too hard on Abigail. No, he’d suffered thanks to her brother.
“I can see the resemblance between him and Abigail.” She set it on the table. Softly, she continued, “Look. I’m not asking that you go with her. That’s between God and you and her. All I’m asking is that you hear her out. Don’t think of her right now as a major in the Army. Think of her as a sister who’s terrified of losing her brother. I’ve made reservations for you and her at the restaurant at six. She’ll be waiting for you downstairs. I’ll even let this one be on the house.”
“But I’ve got to watch the kids—”
She raised her hand to stop his protest. “Taken care of. I took them to Daisy’s and Rod’s for supper, and they’ll keep them until I get home.”
He shook his head. “I don’t want to rehash the past, to feel that kind of pain again. And I’m not sure I can help her anyway. Not when—”
He stopped. How could he say that he felt like a total failure for losing his friends?
Kyra took his hand. “God will provide you with the tools that you need, with the courage as well. You know He will.” She nodded toward the citations and awards. “You’ve got twenty years of proof right there. And you know what? I think God has brought you to this moment for a reason.”
His gaze landed on the picture of the Mighty Men. From its stillness, they beckoned him.
Continue the mission. Be a warrior. Save those in danger.
“Okay. We’ll be there at six.”
She leaned forward and kissed him on the cheek. “That’s all I ask. I’ll see you tonight.”
She rose. With one last smile, she stepped through the door. As her heels clicked on the stairs, he resumed his contemplation of the pictures. He came to one of three people. Jonathan, David, and a girl. Her headscarf couldn’t hide the sparkle of her eyes or the grin a mile wide. She’d been in her element that day.
Now Abigail swore she lived.
He doubted it.
With one sweep of his hand, he pushed the ribbons and pictures into the bandanna that had held them during his homelessness. He thumped into his bedroom and yanked open the closet door. In the back corner of the closet was the crate he’d used during his homeless stint. In the crate was the backpack that had held every material thing he’d owned when he’d lived on the streets. He dumped the bandanna into it and shut the door.
Then, he stepped onto the balcony overlooking the highway. Below, Kyra strolled toward the restaurant.
He turned away.
He’d honor her request, but that was it.
20
Burning Tree, Utah
Abigail dropped her fleece onto the couch as her phone began ringing. Nick. For a fourth time since she’d left Raleigh. Six o’clock had arrived, and David had yet to make an appearance. Right then, she should have been driving to Salt Lake City, not waiting on a man who obviously wanted nothing to do with her.
Except that Kyra had gotten involved.
“I made you two reservations at six,” his sister had told Abigail an hour earlier while she’d huddled on her bed in the guest room. Lilly had found her and slept beside her. “The kids are taken care of. Maybe he’ll be more willing to hear you out now.”
I doubt that, Abigail almost blurted, but Kyra had faith in her brother. Apparently a whole lot more than he had in himself.
The sound of footsteps on the porch made her cease her pacing. David must have gone around front for some reason. She flung the door open.
A man in a brown uniform stood on the porch, his finger extended to the doorbell. He jumped. “Whoa! I didn’t expect anyone to be here.”
“I’m sorry about startling you.” Abigail offered what she hoped was her best disarming smile. “Do I need to sign for this?”
“Nope. But I was hoping that Shepherd was around.”
“David?”
“You two know each other? I thought you might be Kyra’s friend.”
“Yeah, we just—”
“Patterson, hey.” David’s voice boomed into the kitchen. He dropped his jacket onto the couch and joined them. “I see you and Abigail have met.”
“Not officially. Mitch Patterson.” The deliveryman extended his hand.
“Abigail Ward.” She shook it. “And I take it that you two know each other.”
“We bike together. And Burning Tree is on my usual route. Hey, speaking of which, here’s a package for Kyra.” Mitch extended a cardboard box. “And I also wanted to see if you’d be up for fishing sometime soon. I mean, after company leaves.” He turned to Abigail. “How do you know this big lug?”
She managed a smile as if she and David were best buddies. “He and my brother, Jonathan, are best friends.” Try and deny that, David Shepherd.
“Cool. Well, I’m off. Got to get down to Cedar City. Later.” Mitch bumped fists with his buddy before trotting down the front walk and to his truck.
“It’s a small world,” Abigail muttered before she realized it.
“Out here, you’d better believe it.” David picked up his jacket. “You ready to go?”
“We’re going to walk?”
“It’s not like Burning Tree’s a metropolis. We’ll be there in less than five minutes.”
She followed him outside. Once on the sidewalk, they crossed the river and turned right into the town proper. “I can’t believe how small Burning Tree is.”
“Two thousand people. Back when I was growing up here, it was half that size. Too small for me at the time, but now, I like it.”
How can you like being in a town this small? She bit back her question because it’d come out as patronizing. They made a right turn toward the river and passed the hotel and resort his parents owned. An adobe structure boasted the words Kyra Lane Cafe and Restaurant stenciled in gold cursive on a navy background. “This is the place? But I thought Kyra’s last name was Martin.”
“It is. Her partner is Lisa Lane, so they combined the two. It had always been Kyra’s dream to start the restaurant when the kids were older. After Michael died, she sold the house in Park City and used the proceeds from that and the life insurance money to build a house here and open the restaurant with Lisa. They just passed their sixth anniversary.”
So now he was Mr. Chatterbox. Like maybe Kyra had busted his chops for acting like a jerk.
“Your sister is amazing.”
“Don’t I know it.” He opened the entry door for her.
The hostess greeted him by name and led them to the patio through the interior filled with glass-topped tables, glass walls, bolts of tulle draped over the exposed rafters, and glimmering candles. Strings of lights hanging from an overarching pergola twinkled overhead. The same types of tables were outside. Each held a lit candle and a rose. All in all, a truly romantic atmosphere.
Except that she wasn’t there for romance—at least not that night and not with him. But he was built, all right. The David Shepherd she’d seen this afternoon, all dirty and sweaty, showed off toned muscles on his shirtless torso. Great abs. Solid pecs. He was definitely built.
He pulled out a chair across from her. “Anything’s good, but save room for the chocolate silk pie. Her chef makes the best I’ve ever had.”
Abigail seated herself and glanced at him. “Is that your gold standard?”
“Something like that.”
The entrees listed on the menu, from the fillet mignon to the bison to the wild trout, made her mouth water. Her stomach even rumbled.
She flicked a glance at David. “How long have you and Mitch known each other?”
“About two years or so.” A smile played about his lips, as if he’d been the one watching her.
“I would have thought from Army days.”
“Why do you say that?”
“He has that watchful look that never goes away.”
He shrugged. “Yeah, he was an MP. I thought that invoking Jonathan’s name would make him realize you and I were just friends.”
“Invoking. You make it sound like Jonathan’s some sort of evil spirit.”
“Sorry, wrong choice of words, I guess.” He glanced up as the waitress approached.
With a bright smile, she announced the specials for the night.
Abigail ignored her as she sat there and fumed. He wasn’t remotely sorry. She ordered a Merlot, and David stayed with the water the waitress had brought. Finally, she could stand it no longer and leaned forward. “What is it between you two?”
David’s expression hardened. “Do you know what it’s like to be brought so low, so far down that you have no options left?”
“Actually, yes, I do.”
“Then you’ll understand. In 2011, if your brother had answered when I called him, we might not be sitting here today.”
Her breath caught. What, exactly what had happened to him? Between him and Jonathan? She didn’t dare ask. Not when she needed his help. “If whatever happened to you stemmed out of his abrupt retirement and return to Raleigh, I’m sorry. You can blame me if you want.”
“I’m not following.”
“He retired because of me.” She focused on the menu.
He raised an eyebrow. “Why is that?”
“Why should I be so forthcoming when you’re certainly not?” With a sigh, she snapped her menu closed. After forcing a smile to her face for the waitress’s benefit, she ordered the bison. Once they’d placed their orders, she leaned forward. “Look. Can we let bygones be bygones about what happened this afternoon?”
He leaned back, his left elbow on the arm of the chair, his chin resting in his hand, and studied her with an intense gaze.
She’d been a fool for even coming out here.
She busied herself with tasting her wine. Most excellent. Maybe burying her head in the whole bottle would make her forget her foolishness for even thinking David Shepherd cared about her brother.
“Her name is Nabeelah. Nabeelah Khan. Niece of Shamal Khan.”
She straightened. “What?”
“Her name is—”
“No, no. I got that part. She’s the niece of Shamal Khan?”
“How much do you know about him?”
“Not much.” Abigail tried to recall what she’d read. “He’s a poppy farmer of large proportions. Like whole villages and their crops are under his control.”
“There were three brothers in the Khan clan, who ruled the village where we were camped. Nabeelah’s father was the oldest son and therefore chieftain. Shamal was the middle son. The youngest acted as the chief law officer. When Kabul fell to the Taliban, they kept their heads down. They had to. The chieftain and his youngest brother taught their daughters quietly since they couldn’t attend school. Shamal hated that, but he had no say.”
“The middle brother. Too old for the attention like the youngest and too young for the responsibility required of the oldest.” Memories bubbled to the surface, those of when she’d met Nabeelah. The girl had sobbed so hard at first that she couldn’t speak until Jonathan calmed her down.
“When we took down the Taliban in 2001, the clan made it clear that the village would side with us, save for Shamal. He picked the Taliban, and the clan disowned him. He was dead to them. When we arrived in 2008, we became, by extension, part of the village.”
She digested that one in silence. Her mind darted back to her interview with the frightened, traumatized girl who’d been with Jonathan. “The Taliban were intent on annihilating anyone who’d had a hand in disowning Shamal.”
“I don’t know. You tell me.” He glanced up and thanked the waitress, who had arrived with the tray of their steaming entrees. He dug into his. “Tell me something.”
“What’s that?” Abigail sampled the mashed potatoes. She sighed in delight. “These are delicious.”
“How did you get that drive? Or how did Jonathan get it?”
“The gunrunners apparently had it, and he found it when he went searching for the guns. You know he works for SecureLink in Ghazni Province, right?”
“I saw the press conference after the convoy was hit. But we haven’t spoken in close to six years.”
Abigail let that one slide. “He was COO over there. My former sergeant worked for him, and through his investigation, both he and Jonathan concluded the hit was a cover for Christine’s murder.”
She pressed ahead before she lost him. “The investigation broke open a gunrunning ring with weapons going to Shamal Khan. All I know is that Jonathan found the drive. He slipped out a day early and told me to hang tight for a couple of weeks before joining him in Raleigh. The night he arrived home, he was kidnapped. He’d hidden something in his safe and then stashed the key.”
“This drive you keep talking about?”
“No. I found another safe key and a drive with his notes and the operational files.”
“Wait. You said you found it. How did you?”
That hated blush returned. “I, um, had to break into the house we share to get to it.”
“Why?”
“Because the cops haven’t exactly been forthcoming.” She stuffed a bite of bison into her mouth to avoid blurting out that her ex-husband was the detective on the case.
David remained silent. As she ate, his appraising gaze unnerved her. It was almost like he could see into her soul or something. “You, Abigail Ward, are a piece of work.”
“I’ll take that as a compliment.” Bold, even for her.
They fell silent as they finished their entrees. When the waitress cleared their dishes, David leaned forward. “So why me? Why ask me to help you when you have all of CID at your disposal?”
“Because this is not officially my case. It’s personal right now. And when detectives work a case, they work it in pairs. Not just to have each other’s backs but to bounce ideas off each other. Right now, I’m flying solo on this and really need someone who’s smart and capable. Look.” Abigail blotted her lips and set her napkin on her lap. “Jonathan always spoke so highly of you. You two hung tight together. You survived. Now, I want to get Nabeelah to safety. I want to find Jonathan, and I want to know why he was kidnapped and if all three of you are targeted. What better a person than someone who fought side by side with him?”
He glowered at her over his water glass.
She was losing him. “David, please. I need you to have my back on this. Honestly, I’ve got no one else—”
“I’m not your man.”
“Please.” Desperation began seeping through the cracks of her composure. How could she make him understand? “You’re a hero. A survivor. You fought one of the toughest battles ever and survived.”
“That man ceased to exist the moment I woke up in Germany seven years ago.”
“But I need you as my wingman to be my eyes and ears and to—”
“No, you don’t. You need another detective, not me. What about that police detective working the case?”
No way, no how. Uh-uh. She’d never work with Nick. Ever. “They’ve cut me out of the inv
estigation.”
“I’m sorry, Abigail, but I’m not your guy for this. I don’t have the brains or brawn you need.”
She’d lost him. So much for all of her time, money, and effort spent. What had it come to? Nothing. She wanted to lie on the floor and cry as she flailed in frustration. “Then I’m really out of options.” She jumped up. “I’m sorry. I need to be alone.”
To avoid melting down like a toddler in public and being put in time out, she rushed outside.
Burning Tree, Utah
Mitch Patterson dropped his last package off at Burning Tree’s only bar and grill before pausing at the western end of town to gas up his truck. As diesel ran into the tank, he stared east as if he could see the Martin house. Someone had shown up out of the blue, and that didn’t bode well for him. It wouldn’t matter that it had absolutely nothing to do with his relationship with Shepherd. He’d get dragged into it anyway. He had to make a call. Now.
He returned the nozzle to the tank before climbing behind the wheel and starting the engine. He drove his delivery truck onto the highway and headed east, passing the Martin house. He glanced at the windows. Dark, just as he expected. By now, Shepherd had gone to supper with his girl. Beyond the town limits, Mitch parked on the side of the road and dialed a number on his cell phone.
“What is it?” El Lobo’s voice, laced with the faintest of accents, came across clearly as if he were right beside him.
“We have a problem,” Mitch said. His gaze shifted down the highway toward town a mile away.
“That would be?”
“David Shepherd had a visitor today. A woman by the name of Abigail Ward.”
“Interesting.”
“She said she’s the sister of Shepherd’s best friend.” Mitch hopped from the truck and paced to the edge of the asphalt. When the silence grew from seconds to a minute, he rushed on, “Honestly, that’s the only thing that’s happened this year. I don’t think it’s important, but you told me if anything—”
“You let me decide what is important.” After a few seconds of nothing but air, El Lobo added, “I need you to do something for me. No, two things.”
The Athena File Page 17
