The Athena File

by Jennifer Haynie

  He retreated to his room but left the doors between their room open. No way would Bocelli surprise her like he’d done before. David pushed back the covers on the bed. After shucking his T-shirt, he lay down, content this time to let images of Abigail fill his mind. As drowsiness overtook him, all intents of escaping to Burning Tree had completely slipped his mind.

  29

  Canton, North Carolina

  Nicole huddled on one of the double beds in the motel room. She ran a comb through her wet hair. Her cell phone sat on the red-and-green plaid bedspread.

  Please stay silent.

  Thanks to Shepherd and Ward’s sister, they hid at a rundown motel somewhere in the woods outside of Nowheresville, North Carolina. Somehow, Ward had gotten ahold of the wire cutters. Then he’d jumped Frisco and nailed him hard across the face. When they’d dragged Frisco’s sorry butt to Urgent Care to get his nose fixed, they told the doc in a box he’d been in a bar fight. All thanks to Ward. The bastard.

  She hurled the comb at the mirror. It hit with such force that a small crack appeared before the comb bounced onto the sagging dresser. She shrugged. So they’d leave a five to cover the damage.

  Her phone began chiming. That all-too-familiar wolf avatar glowed from the screen as if taunting her.

  The chill of fear dumped its ice onto her anger.

  The ringing ceased, then resumed.

  El Lobo wouldn’t stop until she answered.

  Finally, she lifted it to her ear. “Yes?”

  “Nicole, Nicole, Nicole, what were you thinking?”

  “I—I’m not sure what you mean.” She jumped up and began pacing between the beds.

  “Oh, I know you do. You see, it’s come to my attention that you lost the drive.” A low cuss word reached her. “I had no choice but to return it to where it belonged. And thanks to you, Shamal Khan has severed ties. What do you have to say for yourself?”

  “I’m sorry. I tried to get it back. But Ward and—”

  “You are a fool!” El Lobo barged through her protests with his fine, aristocratic voice. “I will hunt you down, and when I find you, you’ll wish you were dead. You and your lover and friends. Only then will I put you out of your misery. That is what happens to people who can’t do their jobs.”

  “Please!” Nicole slumped onto the bed. “I’m sorry. Give me another chance.”

  Silence answered her.

  The phone slid from her paralyzed fingers. It was as if she’d been pulled into an alternate universe. Through the thin walls, the water splattered onto cheap fiberglass. Roy hummed like he always did when in the shower. From next door where Cal and Frisco stayed came the tinny sounds of the television. Neither man made a peep. Nicole had that odd detachment of an alien observer.

  She shifted and winced as a spring from the old mattress bit into her rump. It brought her back to reality. Her crappy reality.

  “Baby, what happened?” Roy asked. “Are you all right?”

  He gently shook her.

  His image came into focus. “El Lobo called. We’re done. He made that much clear.”

  He sat on the edge of the bed next to her, his hair mussed, water running in droplets from his sideburns. He cocked an eyebrow.

  “He’s going to kill us, and it’s not going to be pretty.”

  “You don’t know—”

  “He told me. And I know what happens to people who double-cross him like we did. He doesn’t just kill them; he cuts them to pieces.” She shuddered.

  “Easy there.” He gathered her close and held her until her shaking subsided.

  “I’m sorry. I know I’m usually strong, but—”

  “It’s okay. Promise.”

  “No, it’s not okay.” She pushed him away, jumped to her feet, and began pacing. “The Army’s got the drive and returned it to the server. And what do we have? We’re on the run. Frisco’s down for the count with a busted nose, and most likely, we’re hours away from getting arrested. And when that happens, El Lobo’s going to know where we are, and—”

  “Listen to me.” He met her on her return trip to the front of the room. He smoothed her damp hair. “While you were in the shower, I had a nice talk with Darius. Seems like he’s found out more about our adversaries, specifically David Shepherd.”

  “I fail to see what that has to with anything. We’re done.”

  “We’re not done.” A smile flickered across his face. “My theory is he has a burr under his saddle because Shepherd’s with Ward’s sister. He told me Shepherd’s got a sister in a place called Burning Tree, Utah. She’s a widow with three kids.”

  For the first time since they’d fled the beach, hope pushed its way through the soil of defeatism. “Are you saying we’re not finished?”

  He smirked. “We take Kyra Martin and her children. Then it’s the drive for them.”

  “And Ward. I want him to pay for putting us on the run.”

  “And Ward.” He held her at arm’s length. “I’ll go rouse the guys while you find us a route to Burning Tree. We get rid of our phones, which will also stop any calls from El Lobo. We’ll get burner phones once we’re safely out of the area.”

  As Roy stepped from the room, Nicole tapped into the Internet and located Burning Tree, Utah. It would take thirty-one hours of hard driving. That was okay. They had three drivers, maybe four if Frisco recovered enough. They could do it.

  Once they had Ward back in their hands, she’d make him pay dearly for sending them on the run.

  For that, she couldn’t wait.

  30

  Raleigh, North Carolina

  Voices brought Jonathan into the real world. For a few minutes, he remained still as one by one, his senses came online. He opened his eyes. Above him, a blurry circle hovered, but a few blinks brought the blades of a ceiling fan into focus. His brain finally made the connection. He lay on his bed at his house in Raleigh. A light blanket covered him. How he’d gotten there, he had no clue.

  Gradually, the past few days gelled in his mind. He remembered arriving home from the hospital and making some remark about the house’s disheveled condition, then popping a pill and falling into bed. Reality returned briefly as pain raged. Another pill sent him into blackness. The cycle repeated itself a few more times.

  Until now.

  Free of the last vestiges of the painkiller, he sat up.

  Instantly, his ribs protested. A groan escaped his lips. Grasping one of the posts of the four-poster bed, he hauled himself upright and stood there for a few moments. He took in the room in a long, sweeping look. No lampshades sat on the two lamps on the nightstand or on the one on the dresser. Someone had rearranged his pictures. He ticked through his memory to see what explained the changes. Abigail had said she cleaned up his room the day before while he’d slept under the influence.

  He swayed. “Lord, have mercy.”

  He remained standing. That was progress. Could he wear a T-shirt? Forget that. At the moment, he cringed at the idea of pulling something over his head. He settled for reaching for the button-down shirt he must have tossed over the post before crashing into bed the night before.

  He glanced at the picture of Christine and him that his mentor, Judge MacKenzie, had taken at one of Raleigh’s finest restaurants. A crack in the glass ran between Christine and him as if parting them. He hung his head as his new circumstances slammed into him. Would he ever look at pictures of them together without feeling that searing ache of loneliness etched into his soul?

  In the other room, a man and woman bickered, their voice growing loud enough for Jonathan to recognize them.

  “Nick,” he muttered under his breath. Only Abigail’s ex-husband could drive his sister to yelling.

  “I told you he’s asleep. The doctor’s orders were to let him sleep to heal. And he gave him pain pills to help.”

  “Why do I think you’re lying to me? Again?”

  “Nick, he’s on heavy-duty painkillers—”

  “I don’t care if he’s smoking
weed. I need to talk with him.” Nick’s voice hit rock concert levels.

  “And Jonathan needs his rest.” She matched his volume. “Why can’t you get that through your thick skull?”

  An expletive flew. Then Nick growled, “You know something? I’m done with this. You tell your dear brother the second he pokes his head out that bedroom door, I want to talk with him. Got it?”

  “Whatever.”

  “Abigail!”

  “Okay, okay. I will.”

  “Then I’ll talk to you later.” The front door slammed.

  “What a jerk,” she muttered. Her footsteps receded as she retreated to the kitchen.

  Jonathan waited a long moment before stepping into the hall. He hobbled into the family room. Abigail had cleaned it up, returning to the table the dining room chair where Nicole and her gang had trussed him up. All his books now resided on their shelves in the glass-fronted cabinets. Two stacks of pictures sat on the rich wood of his coffee table, those that needed completely new frames and those requiring only glass. A few intact survivors occupied the shelves. His beloved chess set sat unharmed in its place under the picture window.

  In the dining room through the rectangular archway, pieces of china and crystal littered the rug. Only a few plates had survived. Drawers hung open, and not a shelf in the hutch had anything on it. It figured that they would have completely destroyed everything that he’d loved. At least they hadn’t gotten their hooks into Abigail. He had his friend to thank for that.

  In the kitchen, David knelt and tossed pieces of broken pottery into a pile. Abigail leaned against the granite counter top and stared at a list. She jotted something down before chewing on the pencil’s eraser.

  She glanced up, and a wide smile crossed her face. “Well, look who’s finally up. Welcome back to the real world.”

  “Good morning, y’all.” Jonathan grimaced at the way his reality had skewed. “What time is it?”

  “Thursday morning, 0900 hours.” She crossed the kitchen and gently hugged him. “Sorry about getting into your room while you slept. I figured you wouldn’t notice.”

  “I didn’t.” He glanced at David. Clad in a pair of cargo shorts and a T-shirt, his friend now swept. Shards scraped across the tile floor.

  “Hey, good news. The insurance adjuster came yesterday morning. Do you remember any of that?”

  Jonathan tried. He scratched his head. “I think I talked with him before I passed out in my recliner.”

  “Right. You said enough to give me permission to run things for you, which I did. He called late yesterday afternoon and said they’ll deposit the check on Monday. That means I can go shopping.” She grinned as if the idea positively excited her.

  “For how much?”

  She quoted him the figure, and his eyes bugged a little. “Oh, wow. Try not to spend it all on clothes.”

  She stuck her tongue out at him.

  David, who years before would have laughed at such antics, remained still as if he watched some strange display of animal affection.

  “Well, let me run my errands. You don’t mind if I take the Cherokee, do you?”

  “It’s not like I can drive right now.” Jonathan forced a smile to his face. “Run along now before I send David as your escort.”

  David scowled, turned his back on them, and resumed sweeping as if to get every speck of dust and flour that had escaped into the corners.

  Why was he acting so standoffish? “Oh, by the way, I heard your conversation with Nick.”

  “The jerk.” Her eyes narrowed.

  “I’ll call him back, if anything, to get him off your case.”

  “I appreciate it.” She kissed him on the cheek. “I’ll be back mid-afternoon or so. I’m glad you’re feeling better.”

  “Yeah, me too.” I only wish Christine were here. A lump filled his throat, and he shut down thoughts of her before emotion could strangle him. “Be gone with you. We’ll hang here.”

  As the back screened door slapped shut, Jonathan stood in middle of the kitchen.

  Nearby, David stilled once more. His gaze remained where Abigail had stood. He resumed his work.

  Jonathan opened the refrigerator. His ribs punished him for picking up the orange juice container. “Hey, are there any cups remaining?”

  “Just plastic ones.” David made no move to help him.

  “Thanks, bro.” He pulled a NC State Wolfpack cup from the lowest shelf. He sucked in a breath at a stab of pain. Once it eased, he poured himself a glass.

  David swept broken pottery into a pile.

  Jonathan leaned against the counter and sipped his juice. “Thanks for helping Abigail find me.”

  “I did what was needed.” David hauled the trash bag full of debris over to the pile.

  “I sense you’re angry at me.”

  David dumped the dustpan full of shards into the black plastic.

  “If you’re so angry, why are you still here?”

  His knuckles whitening where he gripped the trash bag, David glared at him with such ferocity that Jonathan inwardly cringed.

  David dropped the bag, snagged another one from the box on the counter, and stalked into the dining room and out of sight, crunching crystal under his feet.

  Jonathan shuffled after him.

  David set a plate on the table, then pulled out a chair and reached underneath.

  “I’m trying to understand. That’s all.” Jonathan propped himself against the opening.

  “How can you? You didn’t suffer like I did.” Those words came out like a cat’s low, angry growl.

  Suddenly, it clicked in Jonathan’s mind. “You’re talking about six years ago, aren’t you?”

  David tossed a silver spoon onto the table.

  “How about if I make you a deal?” Jonathan pulled out the chair at the head of the table and eased onto it. “We talk. We clear the air. If you’re still angry after that, I’ll personally drive you to the airport, even though I shouldn’t drive right now. Can you do that?”

  David poked his head above the table. His glare told him to get lost, but he didn’t move.

  “Please, hear me out. That’s all I ask,” Jonathan softly added.

  Finally, he sank onto a chair perpendicular to Jonathan’s and folded his arms across his chest.

  Jonathan had only one shot at this. He remained quiet for a moment and tried to phrase his thoughts. “When we got hit, I entered my Hell Year. Or years, depending on how you look at it. Losing ten friends and nearly losing you impacted me greatly.”

  “Abigail told me she was there when the choppers arrived.”

  “She was. Some might call it coincidence, but not me. And coming home… Man, that was one of the best things ever. I needed to bunk with you.”

  “Even as messed up as I was?” David studied him.

  “Absolutely.” Jonathan sighed and scooted his cup around in little circles. “Abigail separated from Nick later that year. Then she hurt her back in an accident that following January.”

  David frowned. “What caused it?”

  “Ice. She’d moved down to Quantico after they separated and was on her way back from DC after seeing friends. Then—” Jonathan clamped his eyes shut against the pain of losing his parents. Six years later, their deaths still pierced his heart.. “Mom and Dad died in that crash. And not a month later, Abigail…”

  “What?”

  Abigail viewed her fall with shame. It wasn’t his story to tell. “She needed me, and I mean more than just an emergency leave or leave of absence. That’s why I retired. She lived here from May until November.”

  David’s eyes narrowed at his reticence. He stared at his right forearm—at the tattoo that had bonded them as brothers so many years before.

  Now a long scar tattered it.

  When David met his gaze again, anger simmered. “Do you know how much it hurt when I called you in August to tell you I was retiring? And I got the speech about no room in the inn?” He jumped up and paced to the window
. “Then when I called you again—six months later like you told me—you never called me back. Do you know what happened?”

  “I’m scared to ask.”

  “I lived on the streets for over two years. All because you” —he whipped around and jabbed his finger at Jonathan— “my supposedly loyal friend, couldn’t even find the time to return a call.”

  He shoved his hands into the back pockets of his shorts and once more turned his back as he stared outside.

  What months was he talking about? Abigail had improved and moved out by November. By then, he’d begun working at SecureLink full time while at the same time pursuing in MBA in a one-year period.

  “You called in March.”

  “So you remember.”

  “I do.” Jonathan leaned forward on his elbows. With hands clasped, he squeezed his eyes closed and pressed his lips together keep his emotions from showing. His mind roved over those dark days. “You’ve got to understand something.”

  “And what’s that?”

  Jonathan opened his eyes and found his friend leaning with his back against the window frame. “With everything going on, I was barely holding it together late that summer. Abigail was here, and she was still in a delicate spot. I was grieving over lots of loss. And handling Mom’s and Dad’s estate. I truly…” He shook his head. “I worried. I knew you were having problems.”

  David muttered under his breath something unflattering about Jonathan.

  “At the time, I just, well, I couldn’t handle it. Maybe I should have thought about it more. I don’t know.” Jonathan sighed. “And yes, I did get your call in March. I was probably studying. Goodness knows if I wasn’t studying, I was working or sleeping. And I did try to call you back the next night.”

  “They disconnected my phone due to non-payment.”

  “And I called for five nights beyond that.”

  David shifted from the window and stared at him. “Come again?”

  “For six nights, I tried to call you back. Nothing. No voicemail, just a message saying your phone had been disconnected.” He shrugged. “I figured you’d said sayonara and moved away. If I’d known where to find you, I would have gone looking.”