The Athena File

by Jennifer Haynie

  “Not true.”

  “Whatever.” Nick dismissed that with a wave of his hand. “He asked for me to keep an eye on Jonathan’s house and to let him know when he showed his face. Then to run the case after they kidnapped him.”

  “And it never crossed your mind to question why they wanted him?”

  “Not when he offered me ten grand for the job, enough to get me out of debt. Hey, money talked louder than morals, okay?” Nick sat back and crossed his arms. “Satisfied?”

  Abigail ran her finger along the rim of her glass before crooking it in a gesture that she knew had always made his blood race. He fell for it again and obeyed. Only this time, she grabbed his tie and drew him closer until their faces were inches apart. To the casual observer, it might have looked like a flirtatious gesture. Not in her mind by any stretch. The tangy smell of the beer teased her nose. “Let me tell you something. Because of what you did, an innocent person could very well die.”

  “What?”

  “You know who David Shepherd is, I presume.”

  He nodded. A dull red began replacing the sickly pallor. A muscle in his jaw twitched.

  “Nicole and her gang have his sister as hostage, and thanks to your double-crossing everyone, she could very well die.”

  “I didn’t know.” His Adam’s apple bobbed. He began shaking his head. “I didn’t think it would come to this. I thought this was between them and Jonathan.”

  “It was until we got that drive.” She released him.

  He pulled back and stared at the table.

  “I should take all of this to IAD right now.”

  “Abigail, please, no!” Nick’s hand shot out and grabbed her arm.

  “What do you mean, no?”

  He glanced around, and she did too. Fortunately, everyone hunched over tables or at the bar as they laughed and talked. No one had turned curious glances in their direction.

  He leaned forward. His words came out low and pleading. “I need this job. Honestly, I do. I like the work. I’ve made a life here for myself.”

  “Then help me out.”

  “What do you want?”

  “Is Cal your contact?”

  “No, a guy named Roy Wildman.”

  “Have you talked to him since we got the drive back?”

  “Once. He wanted information on David.”

  Abigail narrowed her eyes. “Then you have his current number.”

  “I don’t.”

  “What?”

  “He told me they were getting rid of that phone. I’m sorry, but that’s all I’ve got.” He spread out his arms, palms up, as if to confirm his words.

  Abigail lowered her head. So that was that. She switched off the recorder.

  “I’m sorry.”

  “What?” She studied him.

  Regret simmered in his eyes. “I’m sorry. I had no idea it would come to this. If I’d realized it, I would have never gone along with it.”

  “You should have never gone along with it in the first place.” She dropped her phone into her purse and rose.

  He popped to his feet. “Don’t take this to IAD, Abby.”

  She gazed at him for a long moment. “Then give me a good reason why.”

  “I’ll tell them you coerced me.”

  “And when Kyra’s body shows up, you’ll get booked as an accessory for murder.”

  He visibly wilted, something she’d never seen him do before. Softly, almost pleading, he said, “Okay. Okay. I’ll help.”

  Every fiber in her being yearned to make him pay not only for his double-cross but also for the way he’d made her suffer six years before.

  Only this time, greed—or maybe desperation—had been his motive, not maliciousness related to their acrimonious breakup.

  Flashes of her own difficulty flitted through her mind. She understood the need to keep a job. She’d been spared the pain of being forced out of the Army after her suicide attempt.

  She sighed. “Okay. I’ll keep this away from IAD on two conditions. First, you’ll fly straight from now on. Second, if you hear anything—and I mean anything—from Roy Wildman or his pals, you call me. Got it?”

  He nodded. “I’ll do you one better. If he calls, I’ll keep him on the phone long enough to do a trace.”

  “Don’t fail me on this.” Abigail rose. She held his gaze for a moment before turning away. She stepped into the cooling night. She’d ratted out the source of the leak. So what? It didn’t get her any closer to discovering where Nicole and her gang held Kyra.

  She passed through the mouth of the alley. Beyond her, the street was deserted in the direction she was headed. The scraping of shoes on the pavement made her turn her head.

  A figure stopped, its shape mostly blackened into a silhouette thanks to the shadows. But the shape was feminine, and the dim light glinted off the barrel of a gun she held.

  Nabeelah.

  Abigail stood her ground. She wouldn’t let herself be intimidated. Not this time.

  Then Bart the buzz-cut blond and one of his pals stepped onto the sidewalk.

  Nabeelah turned and fled.

  “Man, Bocelli said you were a firecracker. He wasn’t kidding.” Bart chuckled. “You look kind of upset. Want to join us?”

  Abigail managed a smile. “I’ll be fine. But…would you mind walking with me back to my street? I think someone was following me.”

  They nodded.

  As she turned her steps toward home, Abigail knew that time and options slowly trickled away.

  37

  Burning Tree, Utah

  Saturday night, Little Bit’s heartrending sobs tore at David as he sat on the edge of her bed. He stroked her hair, but she only cried harder. He didn’t how how to help her, how to ease her pain, and his ineptitude only increased his rage against those who took her mother.

  “I…I…I want…Mommy!” Little Bit began hiccupping.

  “I’ll take this,” Abigail murmured. She sat on the other side and held the little girl close.

  Leaving his niece in Abigail’s more capable hands, David wandered to the kitchen and found Jonathan, Sal and Marti, Abigail’s sergeant, poring over maps and aerials of the area. The jump drive, which at that point was worth more than all of the gold in Fort Knox, sat in a decorative bowl on the middle. On it resided the key to getting Kyra back alive.

  He joined Jonathan at the kitchen island. “Any luck?”

  “None. Utah’s too big a place.” He sighed and shook his head. “Unless Nick comes through, we’re kind of stuck.”

  “I could have my men comb the area for signs of them,” Sal said. His dark eyes focused on David. “As much as we need, until we find them.”

  David shook his head. “We can’t take that risk.” He cast a glance at Jonathan.

  His friend looked like he were about to argue.

  “I want Mommy!” Little Bit’s shriek made them all glance toward the hall.

  “I’ll help Abigail,” Marti murmured.

  “We can’t, understand?” David emphasized his point with a rap of his knuckles against the island, then strode from the room.

  Once on his deck upstairs, he collapsed onto an Adirondack chair. A stiff breeze had begun, and the scent of dampness rode upon it. Clouds drifted in the silver light of the waxing moon. From over the mesa came the lonely howl of a coyote. Another answered with a wail of its own. Then another started up. Normally, he enjoyed their music. Now, it sounded like a funeral dirge. He clamped his hands over his ears.

  “God, no. Please. I can’t take this anymore. Let her live. Please! If You do, I’ll do whatever You want me to do. Just don’t let Kyra die. I—I don’t think I could live if she did.”

  Finally, he lowered his hands and opened his eyes. Silence reigned.

  “It’s hard.” Abigail’s husky voice came from his left. She stood at the top of the stairs, her hand on the railing. “I know what it’s like. We bargain with God, tell Him we’ll do anything He wants just as long as He changes our circums
tances.”

  She sat on the arm of his chair. “The problem is, God doesn’t want bargaining. He wants our trust.”

  “It’s too hard,” he rasped.

  She wrapped her arms around him.

  He curled his hand around her forearm and held on.

  “I know. I did the same thing after my suicide attempt. I bargained with God, told Him that if He brought me back complete, I’d do anything He wanted me to do. Jonathan and I talked about that over the summer when we studied the Bible together. God spoke to me through my brother. He told me not to bargain with Him but to trust Him, that He’d provide for me and take care of me no matter what, even if it’d meant leaving the Army.”

  “I don’t know what I’d do without Kyra.”

  “I know. I think…God wants us to trust Him no matter what. Jonathan told me to look at the ways He had provided for me in the past, how He’d brought me through difficulties.”

  God had called David nearly twenty years before, and He’d watched over him throughout his time in the Army, even through his injury and losing so many friends. When he’d been destitute on the streets, He’d sent Kyra to find him.

  “I’m so scared she’ll die.”

  Abigail’s arms tightened around him. “God is with her. I promise.”

  “I’m not sure I can trust Him.”

  The barest traces of a sigh reached him. Or was it the wind? Abigail wove her fingers through his hair and smoothed it. Her lips brushed his head. “I know. I’m sorry this is so difficult.”

  He wanted to ask her to stay with him, to let him wrap his arms around her for the night as if she could provide the security only God could give. He shook his head as if his heart struggled with what she said.

  God, I’m not sure about this. I’m truly not sure. I’m so scared to make myself vulnerable like that, to put my trust in You.

  “Come down when you’re ready.” Her fingers touched his cheek. Then she was gone, her footsteps receding down the wood.

  38

  Cedar City, Utah

  Mitch Patterson stood in the cool darkness of his daughter’s bedroom and gazed at the sweet face of his sleeping Vespa. His five-year-old snuggled under the down comforter to ward off the chilly night air seeping through the cracked window. All that was visible were the head and ears of her stuffed horse and the top of her head. Now that a couple of weeks passed since her last chemo treatment, a fine brown fuzz coated her scalp.

  They’d done her room in all pinks and purples and plastered pictures of ponies everywhere. As many stuffed horses as possible were piled on the foot of her bed. She wanted to take riding lessons when she turned six. Now maybe that was possible. Balloons hovered above the bedposts, remnants of that evening’s party to celebrate the good news they’d received the day before from her oncologists. All of those months of enduring side effects of the chemo had paid off. She was in remission. If things held, she’d be pronounced cured a year from now.

  Let it be so, he thought.

  His phone began vibrating.

  He checked the number and winced. His light mood vanished. Who had so generously offered to pay for those treatments his insurance wouldn’t cover? El Lobo. In exchange for his services, of course.

  Mitch slipped into the hallway and made his way through the quiet, darkened house to the patio outside. “Hello?”

  “Mitch, I heard you received good news on Friday.”

  “How did you know?”

  “I have my ways. Congratulations. I hope that a year from now, you receive even better news.” El Lobo puffed on his interminable cigar. “But you know that nothing is ever free, eh?”

  Mitch closed his eyes. “What do you want? I told you that Shepherd left Burning Tree with his girl.”

  “Ah, but that’s where you err. He’s returned.”

  “How do you—Wait! You’re here?”

  “In Utah, yes. You see, four people who I thought were trustworthy have made an utter mess of things. They’ve kidnapped David Shepherd’s sister.”

  “Kyra? What? Are you sure?”

  “As sure as the rock is red where I am. You hunt, yes? From what I remember in Kandahar, you were quite a shot with a scoped rifle. They are not to be arrested by Abigail Ward, do you understand?”

  Mitch leaned against the rock wall surrounding the patio and rubbed his forehead. “I can’t do that. I was a soldier and shot only under orders. You know I—”

  “I know how much you love your family. Then I would hate for another tragedy to befall you.” The threat came out almost as a hiss. “Do you understand?”

  Nausea rose inside of him. “I do.”

  “Then you will take care of this problem. They meet on Tuesday. I’ve just sent you the coordinates and pictures. Do this, and if little Vespa sickens again, she will receive the treatment she needs.” Silence reigned.

  His phone pinged. He pulled up the message and stared at the faces of his four targets. He squeezed his eyes shut. “I…I can’t do this.”

  “Mitch?” His wife stood in the doorway, her robe tied around her, sleep holding her eyes half closed.

  “Hey. What are you doing up? It’s past midnight.”

  “Shouldn’t I be asking you that question? You hadn’t come to bed, and I was worried.”

  He tried a smile despite the magnitude of his orders from El Lobo. “Sorry. I was too hopped up from the party tonight to come to bed.”

  She approached him, eyeing his cell phone. “Who were you calling?”

  He scrambled for a lie she’d believe. “Harry just called. They’ve got a big job coming out of Salt Lake where they need extra hands on deck.”

  “This late? He couldn’t have called on Monday or even tomorrow?”

  He shrugged. “You know Harry. He can be a bit of a workaholic, and he said this was a rush that starts Monday first thing. So I’m going to need to go up tomorrow night.”

  “When will you be back?”

  “Tuesday night,” he replied. Bile rose in his throat.

  Her gaze searched his as if she sensed his lie. Then she stood on tiptoes and kissed him. “All right. Tell Harry that next time, I’d appreciate it if work could wait until Monday. Well, don’t stay up too much longer.”

  She wandered into the house and shut the door behind her.

  Mitch turned and scanned the horizon. In the distance, the light from the waxing moon painted the surrounding mountains in a silvery glow. All so peaceful. A far cry from what churned in his gut. He dialed another number.

  When Harry’s voicemail picked up, he said, “Hey, Harry, this is Mitch. Sorry to be calling so late, but something popped up. I’m going to be out of town on Monday and Tuesday and should be back at work on Wednesday.”

  39

  South of Burning Tree, Utah

  “This is crazy,” Jonathan muttered Tuesday morning as he drove toward his fate.

  All around him, the ruddy buttes and mesas stood out in bright contrast against the blue sky. For miles around, no houses existed. Or businesses. Certainly not any cops. He squinted in the bright morning light at the red rock and scrubby ranch land. The isolation was so total that he doubted even the Army would have been able to help had David allowed them to assist.

  He slowed and stopped as he glanced at the directions he’d scrawled on the sheet of paper he held in his hand. The name on the tattered sign standing by the side of the road matched the one Nicole had dictated to him. Red Death Road. He turned Kyra’s Forester to the right and bumped down the steep slope. It descended toward a dry creek bed at the southern toe of the mesa’s slope.

  The small SUV bounced along crumbling asphalt. He slowed. To his right above him was the highway, and the mesa rose to his left. It split to allow the passage of the creek and the road. A sharp turn revealed the rickety bridge the trio had discovered during their reconnaissance on Sunday.

  “We go in and recon,” Abigail had told them once she’d warmed up and recovered from her tussle in the river Saturday night. />
  Jonathan studied the map. “We can’t let them see us.”

  “But if we don’t know what we face, we can’t plan.”

  He couldn’t argue with her, not when she was right.

  Now, he clattered over the rusting steel trestle, and the asphalt shifted to dirt.

  In five minutes, his actions would determine whether he lived or died.

  Kyra too.

  He gripped the steering wheel tighter.

  Lord, I need Your help here. I really do. If this doesn’t work, I’ll be seeing You really soon.

  He glanced to his left. Unlike the creek he’d crossed, this one was devoid of water from the weekend storm. Abigail and David had used it to infiltrate the enemy camp the night before.

  He stopped the SUV, heart thumping against his ribcage. His fear struggled to dominate. Maybe they should have let Sal handle this.

  No.

  They were responsible. If anyone, he was responsible for getting Kyra into this mess. He’d get her out of it with David’s and Abigail’s help.

  “God, it’s You and me,” he murmured. He took his foot off the brake and searched for the small bit of survey tape that David or Abigail had hung. It marked a quarter mile from the sight line of the double-wide trailer where they held Kyra. More than that, the marker lay slightly inside a disturbed area of road that showed where someone had installed a land mine.

  “Nicole’s going to double-cross us,” Jonathan had warned as they planned their mission. “She doesn’t want me to escape alive. The same with Kyra. She’ll try anything she can to have no witnesses. Look for signs they’ve installed land mines.”

  During their reconnaissance, David, the ordnance expert, had carefully dug around the mine. He’d reported, “This isn’t homemade. It’s set to activate with a remote so that you can check in, but you can’t check out. Problem is, clipping a wire might be detrimental to our health.” They’d had no choice but to back away and do a work-around.

  That had sealed it in Jonathan’s mind. Nicole intended for no one to survive.

  He slowed to fifteen miles per hour and timed the last quarter mile. One minute exactly.