The Athena File

by Jennifer Haynie

  David returned to the chair and dropped onto it as if the news had stunned him. He picked up a spoon and turned it over and over in his hands. “You really tried to call me back?”

  “Yeah, I did,” he said. “I’m sorry, bro. Truly I am. Wow… I never knew. Had I known what had happened to you, I would have come looking. No way would I have let you be homeless like that. Can you forgive me for being a jerk?”

  David’s knuckles whitened around the spoon, then he set it on the table so carefully that it didn’t make a sound. He took a deep breath and expelled it on a sigh. “I do.” His gaze flicked upward. “You know something, once I got back to Burning Tree and got clean and sober, I realized I had to take at least some responsibility for my actions. Sure, circumstances dealt me a tough blow, but, well, I had choices I made. Hearing you say that you tried to call me back… That means the world to me.”

  The tightness in Jonathan’s throat denied speech. Instead, he nodded. For a long moment, he stared at the tattoo on his right forearm that peeked from beneath the rolled-up sleeve of his shirt. Sola gratia. “Thank the Lord for the grace that rules our lives. The grace that comes through forgiveness.”

  “By grace alone.”

  In contrast to their somber mood, birds twittered through the open window as they flitted around a bird feeder.

  Jonathan cleared his throat to dispel the emotion that filled the air like a heady aroma. “So, I know there’s a lot to clean up, but I believe that you and I are overdue for a chess match.”

  A slow grin finally crossed David’s features. He shifted his eyes. “Do you think Abigail will notice if we don’t clean up?”

  “Let’s not even go there.” He climbed to his feet. Somehow, his injuries didn’t hurt as much now. “We’ll do one quick game, then clean up.”

  “Or I will. You’re still on the injured-reserved list.”

  “I might could supervise.”

  David chuckled and led the way into the living room.

  Jonathan followed and settled onto his recliner. He’d reconciled with his brother-in-Christ. And between them, once a disagreement was over, it was over.

  31

  Raleigh, North Carolina

  Gotcha. David moved his queen in their third chess game and smirked. “Checkmate.”

  “Aw, c’mon.” Jonathan chuckled, then groaned and clutched his middle. “Sorry. Laughing makes me hurt right now. Well, I’ll be. I’m obviously a bit rusty.”

  “Or they knocked you in the noggin one too many times.”

  “Hah. It’s possible. How ’bout if I claim that?” He grimaced as he pushed himself to his feet. “Well, seeing that we’ve wasted most of the day procrastinating, I guess we’d better get started cleaning up.” He collected the salad plates that held nothing but a few crumbs from the sandwiches and chips they’d had.

  David returned the chessboard to the table in front of the picture window. He straightened.

  On the street, a black Dodge Charger crept past. It moved too slowly for him.

  He opened the front door and lifted the lid of the mailbox, checking out the car from the corner of his eye. Dark windows concealed its occupants.

  Suddenly, the engine revved. Tires chirped, and the Charger sped down the street and out of sight.

  With an uneasy feeling, David pulled out the mail, then strolled to the curb where one of the MPs sat in a white Ford Focus sedan. He tapped on the window.

  It hummed downward, and a young face stared at him. “Sir?”

  “Did you see that car?”

  “Oh, yes sir.” The kid nodded. He probably wasn’t old enough to drink. “I love Chargers.”

  “Well, love it enough to let me know if it comes back. And be sure to let your relief know about it as well.”

  “Wilco, sir.”

  David returned inside.

  Abigail’s throaty voice and gardenia scent floated down the hall to him, bringing a smile to his face.

  “Okay, so Jonathan admitted that y’all didn’t get any work done.” She looped a hanging bag on the knob of one of the upper cabinet doors. “That’s okay. I’ll let him slide. But you, young man.” Her lips twitched upward. “What’s your excuse?”

  “I have none.” He set the mail on the counter. “But if it will make the lady feel better, I’ll carry her packages inside.”

  “Good, ’cause there’s a bunch. I managed to make it to Greensboro to that place that sells replacement china. They had Mom and Dad’s pattern in enough quantity to completely replace what’s broken. Too bad I couldn’t do the same with the crystal.” She sighed. “So, you can also load up the dishwasher. And while you do that, I’m going to get ready to go out tonight.”

  He cocked his head. “You’re going out?”

  “With you, I assume.” A beguiling smile crossed her kissable lips. She demurely lowered her lashes. “Unless you have other plans.”

  Jonathan snorted with laughter. He groaned. “Sorry.”

  “Is the fact that we’re going out hurting you or something?” Abigail scowled.

  “No, it’s my innards.” He pushed up from the table. “Well, if you don’t mind, I’m going to crash. Oh, and I called Nick. We’re meeting at seven at his favorite hangout.”

  “What? The jail?”

  “No, no, no. A bar. Then I’m headed to Judge MacKenzie’s house. Hey, can you get me up in an hour?”

  “Sure.” She returned her gaze to David. “I’ll be ready in a bit.” She snagged her bag and headed into the living room.

  David nodded. He turned his attention to unloading the Jeep, which was no small feat.

  Abigail had scored. Soon, he had a dishwasher full and running. He finished the dining room so it would be ready to receive the new china and crystal, which he washed by hand.

  Upstairs, the shower turned on, then off. A hair dryer ran. Footsteps made floorboards creak. A door shut.

  He unloaded the dishwasher and started another load before focusing on the china hutch. He returned to the kitchen. From somewhere upstairs, Abigail asked something, and her brother answered. David continued unloading the new pottery and drinking glasses, which would go into the next round of dish washing.

  Heels tapped across hardwood. “So we have reservations in less than an hour.” Abigail’s words reached him. “Please tell me you’re going to clean up.”

  The slinky black dress she wore hugged her figure. Not tightly, but enough to catch his attention. Pearls glimmered against her chest and in her ears. She’d pulled her hair into an elegant twist that rested against the base of her neck. He wanted to step forward, nuzzle her, then kiss her on that beautiful skin revealed by her hairdo.

  He opened his mouth, but no reply came.

  She pursed lips coated in that delightful color of deep red. “Well?”

  “I’ll, uh, um, I’ll go and clean up.” He slipped past her.

  As he did so, her fingers caught his. A dull shock rippled through him.

  She tugged him to a stop and released him. “Thank you.”

  Her perfume filled his nose, again conjuring up thoughts that might get him into trouble with her brother. “For?”

  “For reconciling with Jonathan. It means to the world to me.”

  The look she gave him buoyed his heart. He would hike through hot Afghan desert, climb K2 in Pakistan, and swim the ocean for her. Tonight presented new possibilities he hadn’t even considered, and now, he couldn’t wait for the evening to begin.

  Raleigh, North Carolina

  They dined at one of Raleigh’s oldest restaurants, then had cappuccinos at a nearby coffeehouse. Now, strolling a downtown sidewalk, Abigail didn’t want the evening to end. “This is why I love Raleigh in the spring.”

  “What? The food?”

  “No, silly. The evenings like this. You know. Warm yet cool at the same time. Smells of springtime. New foliage.” She sighed blissfully.

  David chuckled. “I take it spring is your favorite time of the year.”

  “
It is. What about you?” Her bare shoulder brushed the rougher fabric of his sailcloth shirt.

  “Same here. There’s nothing like spring in the desert.” At the wistfulness in his voice, she wondered if he yearned for Burning Tree. “That’s probably the only time of year where there’s so many different colors. Green, of course. Purple, yellow, pure red. Even blue. It lasts for two or three weeks, a month if we’re lucky. You called Raleigh your safe landing place.”

  “Yeah. No matter where I go, it’ll always be home for me.” It had been her haven during those tumultuous months six years before. “That’s part of the reason why Jonathan and I didn’t want to sell the house.” Her mind ticked forward a bit. “Three years ago, I got passed over for major.”

  “Why?”

  “I started filing applications at different police departments, including Raleigh.”

  “Even with Nick here?”

  “Even with him here. They offered me a job, but after Sal came, I got promoted to major thanks to his recommendations.”

  “You admire him a lot.”

  “I do. Without him, I’d be out of the Army.”

  “Not such a bad thing, sometimes.”

  “I know, but…well, I’d like to finish out my career under his command. I owe him that much.” Suddenly, the heel of her shoe caught in a crack in the pavement. She stumbled.

  David’s strong hands caught her under the elbows.

  “Easy there.” He set her on her feet.

  “Thanks.”

  “I never imagined I’d see you in heels.”

  “Why?”

  “Because you chase down crooks all of the time. It’s impossible to run in those things.”

  “You have experience in that?”

  He laughed. “Can’t say I do, but I watched Kyra chase after Little Bit when she was smaller. Kind of awkward.”

  “I may like to knock heads together, but I also like my girlie things. Jewelry, scarves, high heels. Besides,” —she cast a look at him— “I haven’t heard you complaining.”

  “Nope. No complaining on this end.” He kept his hand at the small of her back.

  She slid closer to him as they crossed the street and arrived at the state capitol building.

  A mournful tune in a minor key wafted through the cooling air like an intriguing aroma she had to follow. She cocked her head. “Do you hear that?”

  “I do.” He stopped.

  Someone stood on the steps on the southern side of the building and played a saxophone under the glow of a lamp.

  David steered her along the walkway that meandered through the carefully tended green grass of the capitol grounds. As they drew closer, Abigail noted a backpack and a duffel against a column. The saxophone’s case sat open before the musician in a silent request for tips. Only a few bills littered the interior.

  The saxophonist, with his sunken cheeks and tattered clothes, was homeless.

  David touched her hand. “Do you mind if I speak with him alone for a few minutes?”

  “Not at all. I’ll wait over here.” She walked over to a nearby bench beneath a light and settled on it.

  He approached the saxophonist. The notes ceased, and the two of them began conversing in tones so low, she couldn’t hear anything. They sat down on the steps.

  The conversation between the boy and David intensified. The boy wiped his cheeks. David raised his phone to his ear, maybe to summon help for the kid. Her heart filled. When he put his hand on the boy’s shoulder and bowed his head as if praying, she did the same.

  Finally, the boy laid his saxophone in its case, closed it, and hefted one of the packs. David took the other, and they shuffled toward the south entrance to the grounds.

  Abigail remained where she was and watched. A movement out of the corner of her eye caught her attention. She turned her head a fraction to the right. Did someone stand in the gloom near one of the ancient oaks that dotted the grounds? She couldn’t be sure, and thanks to her position under a streetlight, she couldn’t turn her head to confirm without her observer noticing.

  “Abigail?” David called softly.

  “Hey.” She took a deep breath to tamp down the sudden hammering of her heart.

  “I’m sorry about that.” He extended his hands in a silent invitation to help her rise.

  She took him up on it.

  He cast a long glance toward the steps. “He’s only seventeen. His parents abandoned him. Social Services put him in foster care. They mistreated him, so he ran away. He’s been on the streets for a month. I had to get him some help. I…I didn’t want him to wind up where I did.” His fingers tightened around hers. “The rescue mission people just picked him up to take him to their shelter. I’m sorry for ruining our evening.”

  “David, no. You didn’t do that at all. That’s one of the things I like about you. I love your compassion for others.”

  He brought her fingers to his lips and kissed them.

  Her breath hitched. She took the tiniest of steps closer to him.

  He curled his arm around her waist and slid his hand behind her neck. His thumb skimmed the skin of her cheekbone. His breath whispered across her cheek.

  She closed her eyes.

  Something snapped behind her.

  She whipped around just in time to see someone dart into the shadows.

  “Abigail?”

  “I’m sorry.” She hated herself for the broken moment, one she most likely wouldn’t get back. Okay. Change that. “I’d noticed someone watching earlier. I swear whoever it was had eyes only for us.”

  “Man or woman?”

  “I don’t know.” She huffed out a frustrated sigh. “C’mon. Let’s go home.”

  “You want this evening to end?”

  That caught her up short. “Not really.”

  “I’m still up for taking the longest possible distance back.”

  Pleasant tingling worked its way up her arm. “I’m all in.” With her fingers thoroughly entwined in his, they resumed their walk, this time heading southward along Fayetteville Street, one of the main streets of downtown Raleigh. They strolled to the convention center in comfortable silence, then turned around and continued north. The whole time, he didn’t let go of her, a good sign in her book.

  As they finally turned their steps toward home and passed the capitol again, her thoughts returned to their unseen observer and the reason why David now walked beside her. The Athena file.

  “It doesn’t make sense,” she blurted.

  “What?”

  “Why there were op plans and AARs related to the Mighty Men on that drive along with the Athena file.”

  His hand tightened around hers. “I thought the case was closed. And aren’t you on vacation?”

  “I am. But I’m not very good at leaving things alone. I mean, Nabeelah started showing up in our lives when the drive did.”

  “And we haven’t seen her since we left Burning Tree, right?”

  “True.” She stopped. Something wasn’t right.

  He took her other hand. With a teasing smile, he cocked his head. “Can’t think and walk?”

  She chuckled. “Sometimes. Or it’s more like when I’m thinking hard, I lose situational awareness at times. One time I ran into a street sign.”

  He laughed.

  “But seriously. I feel like there’s a link between the Mighty Men and the Athena file. Not to mention, Nabeelah’s name was redacted from the profile I wrote up. It’s almost like someone doesn’t want anyone to know she exists.” Then suddenly, it snapped into place. “Wait! I think I might have figured it out.”

  “How so?”

  Excitement coursed through her. “What do you know about the goddess Athena?”

  David scratched his head. “Not much, to be honest. Jonathan told me about her once.”

  “In Greek mythology, she was the goddess of wisdom and military victory. She was also a warrior, but she would only fight if her homeland was under attack, and she’d fight fiercely to save it.
So my conclusion is that the Athena file has to do with her. Not that we’ll find out what’s in it.”

  “Can Sal tell you anything?”

  “No.” A few days before—had it really been less than two weeks?—she’d approached him about what Jonathan had found in Afghanistan. “When I mentioned that Jonathan had found a drive with the Athena file on it, he acted…oddly. Like shame on me for even bringing it up. He even threatened to write me up for insubordination.”

  “That is strange. He seemed nice enough when he met with us a few days ago.”

  “I agree.”

  He stepped closer. The smoldering look in his eye indicated he’d lost interest in talking about business.

  Her pulse skipped. Just a little more. Please.

  He nuzzled her neck and whispered, “Let it go.”

  Every nerve went on alert, and she wanted to pull him into a kiss right then and there.

  He offered a mysterious smile and tugged her into motion.

  The house came into view. Abigail’s heart thumped a little as she considered ways to avoid ending their evening early.

  A woman with long, flowing black hair came toward them and stopped a mere ten feet away. Nabeelah

  Abigail tried to call out to her, but her cry remained locked in the back of her throat.

  Nabeelah’s jaw dropped.

  David beat her to it. “Little sister! I’m so happy to see you.”

  Abigail rushed toward her.

  Nabeelah reached out, not for a hug, but to shove her into the street.

  Abigail stumbled. The heel of her shoe snapped. She lost her balance and fell. Burning flashed across her shoulder, her knees, and her hands as she hit and rolled.

  Headlights blinded her.

  An engine roared.

  Tires squealed.

  She closed her eyes and braced herself for the impact of a car.

  “Abigail!” David grabbed her and tumbled with her to the edge of the street. “Abigail!”

  She hadn’t been hit. Instead, she lay sandwiched between David and the wheel of another car. Her face was planted securely against the sailcloth of David’s shirt. She squirmed. “Can’t…breathe.”