by Jo Chambliss
“Normally, I’d agree and help you pack, but I don’t think it’s the best idea in this situation. You would need to be completely off-grid, which is more difficult than people imagine. It would be even harder with a child.”
I pull up short and stare at him. “Tell me then; what am I supposed to do?”
Tossing his hat on the sofa table, he drops his elbows to his knees, clasping his hands together. “I think staying here is working. I believe that the destruction of your house was this guy venting his frustration at not being able to find you. If you go running now, you’ll be doing just what he wants.”
Closing my eyes, I look up at the ceiling. As much as I want to ignore him and run, I recognize that he’s right. I have Nowhere To Run, no one to hide us, and as of right now, no money or car to get us there. For now, it looks like we’re stuck here.
My thoughts shift to Chris, us being in his cabin, and his efforts to provide food and things for us. “Ok, Mike, you win. Just promise me one thing.”
“What’s that?”
“Don’t tell Chris about the break-in.”
He doesn’t say anything for a moment. “It’s a small town. He’s bound to find out eventually, but I give you my word, it won’t come from anyone in my department.”
“Thank you.”
Chris
It’s 1800 the next day when we step off the USS Indianapolis at Fort Story. As much as I would love to jump in my truck and haul ass to Stanardsville, I’ve got things to take care of here. My team has to check and stow our gear, debrief with our Commander, and then we have our tradition of going out for beers to decompress after a mission. Even if I didn’t have to meet with the Commander in the morning, it would be too late to leave tonight. By the time I got home, cleaned up, packed, and left, it’d be too late to make the drive to Lydia in time to get a hotel room.
Besides that, while I could do without the beers this time, I don’t want to break an important team tradition. So, after checking and stowing our gear, I head home for a shower and a change of clothes.
On the way to my house in Whitehurst Landing, I debate calling Mike to check on Willa and Ari. Of course, I could have dialed the number to my own cabin, but I don’t feel right about calling her out of the blue.
Mike answers on the second ring with a placating tone, “How was the mission?”
“What mission?”
“Right. So, is this a social call?”
“Mike, quit fucking around and tell me what I want to know.”
“Since you asked so nicely, your cabin is fine, and your guests are still alive. That’s all I’m obligated or at liberty to tell you. Now, if Willa were to provide you with an update, that would be completely fine. Do you have your own cabin’s number, or shall I call it out to you?”
Smartass. “I should’ve called Michele. Bye, Mike.”
Damn. I was hoping to get more out of him than that. Still, I respect him too much to push him for information he shouldn’t give and would never actually try to circumvent him by calling Michele. Not that she would do anything to jeopardize his position as sheriff, even for me.
Later that night, I meet the team at our favorite bar. My plan is to have two or three rounds and head home early. What I’d really like to do is drive to Lydia in the morning, but there are still reports and shit to wrap up this mission that’ll need to be done tomorrow.
With our first round of the night, the tradition is that each man toasts to what he thought was the best part of the mission. Bandaid lifts his drink and begins with, “No one got shot.” Skin’s toast is about getting to play with a new toy. Wrench drinks to not having to climb Jacob’s ladder. Judge toasts not having to anchor Jacob’s ladder.
I smile and drink with each of my teammates, but for the first time during our post-mission celebrations, I can’t figure out anything to say.
On and on it goes around the table until it’s my turn. Without warning, Devil skips over me and toasts, “To Fish for finding a life beyond the next mission.”
From somewhere around the table, I hear a whispered, “Oh, shit.” Then the whole group goes deathly quiet. Sure, I admitted to them that I haven’t put Willa and Ari out of my mind like I have after other rescues, but Devil is making out like I’ve already married the woman.
Looking down at my drink, I swirl it around in the glass for a moment before lifting it in the air. “To Betty.”
All around me, wide eyes relax, and my team drinks to the toast. Devil, who never did look too worried, is still sporting that nasty grin he’s become so well known for.
I slam the glass down on the table, sloshing some of the brew over the side. Meeting his challenge, I stare at my friend from across the table. “So, Devil, in your mind, you’ve already got me married off, huh?”
“Oh, I’m sure of it.”
“Just for that, we’re going to have a nice, long, run-swim-shoot in the morning.” The rest of the group begins to throw debris at Devil for calling down my wrath. “Get some sleep, ladies. You’re going to need it.”
I throw back the rest of my drink, toss some money on the table, and walk out of the bar.
Very early the next morning, I have a transport take us to the far end of Fort Story. We’ll run four miles down the beach in our wetsuits and enter the forty-nine-degree water for a three-mile swim to the outdoor range on base where we’ll participate in shooting drills. It’s a hell of a way to start the day.
When the exercise is done, I’m pleased by how my team performed… and that no one seems interested in pushing the Willa/Ari thing anymore.
After everyone’s cleaned up, we make our way to HQ to meet with Commander O’Reilly. Not in the regular conference room this time, we’re in an action center where there are computers, TVs, and other communications equipment. No one is using the equipment right now, but the TVs are showing various newscasts from around the world with the sound off.
When we’re all seated, O’Reilly smirks at me. “How are your girls, Lieutenant?” In response to his question, several members of my team groan after what Devil’s comment brought on them. “Don’t ask him that,” begs Skin.
Their reaction brings a smile to my face. It’s not as if I was just torturing them. I had to run, swim, and shoot right alongside them. Still, I don’t expect to get any ribbing from them on the subject anymore.
“Commander, as I stated before, they’re not…” Something on one of the screens catches my attention. Fuck no! My eyes are now glued to the TV closest to the door.
“Lieutenant? Is something wrong?”
Ignoring the men in the room, I pull out my phone, open the YouTube TV app, and find the local newscast that’s playing on one of the action room TVs. Willa’s picture is on the screen, and they’re talking about her abduction. “…still no leads on the identity of Willa Castle’s kidnapper. Evidence collected has led investigators to believe that Castle and her daughter were intentionally targeted. Authorities believe she is still in danger of…”
“Lieutenant.”
My mind is racing. Who was it that leaked this shit? Was it the doc, one of the hospital staff, or could it have been one of Mike’s people?
“LIEUTENANT HILL!”
I look up from my phone’s screen at the sharp call of Commander O’Reilly. “You care to explain this sudden breakdown of basic human function?”
I point to the screen where Willa’s picture is still prominently displayed. “That’s her, Willa, Ari’s mother.” All sets of eyes swivel in that direction.
Failing to see my concern, O’Reilly asks, “So? Won’t more people be looking for this sick ass now that they know her story?”
“Sir, they were put into protective custody for the sole purpose of keeping them hidden because they were targeted. Someone must have leaked the mother’s identity to the media. Only a few people in this small community even know her name. Since her name was leaked, it’s only a matter of time that my involvement will be as well. If my name is tied to her, fin
ding her won’t be a problem since I’m well known in the community.”
“Then I’m sure the proper authorities will relocate her. Problem solved. Especially since you say these aren’t your girls.”
Despite my earlier claims of indifference to my commander, I have a sudden and desperate need to go to Willa and Ari. Whoever leaked this has made them vulnerable, and I need to get them someplace safe. My team was right; these are my girls, and I’ll be damned if I let someone hurt them again.
“But, sir…” Looking directly in the Commander’s eyes, I realize I’ve been played. The corners of his lips turn up, and he winks. “Now that the Lieutenant is no longer in denial, I have some news. Since we caught the Vlastvuy sooner than anticipated, I am granting your squad the full leave that was cut short.”
His face turns serious. “Lieutenant, don’t let whoever’s after her take you out.” With a smile, he points to Devil and adds, “If you get killed, I’ll have to promote and deal with this asshole.”
“Yes, sir.”
“All right, get out of here, all of you.”
After exiting the building, I take off toward my truck, and Devil jogs to catch up. “You call if you end up in deep shit.”
“I will. Thanks, man.”
Thirty minutes later, I’ve packed a bag and, I’m on my way to the Blue Ridge Mountains again.
Chapter 9
Chris
After about two hours’ worth of driving, I’ve cooled off enough to be able to call Mike without going nuclear. Using my steering wheel controls, I call my friend.
“Yell at me one time, and I’m hanging up,” Mike says by way of greeting.
“Then tell me who the fuck I can yell at. Dammit, man. How did this happen? Besides the doc and me, there aren’t ten people that know about Willa.”
“Not true. Outside of my men, there’re the EMT responders, hospital staff… the list goes on.”
“Does she know?”
Mike doesn’t answer, and it makes me even angrier. “Mike.”
“She knows, Ok?”
“And?”
“And nothing.” He sniffs. Dammit!
“You forget, I know your tells, Mike. What are you hiding?”
“Listen to me, Chris. Officially, I’m going to tell you that beyond the use of your cabin, which we all appreciate, this does not concern you. Unofficially, I’ll say that I don’t need this shit. This whole situation has turned into one big cluster fuck. The asshole that took Willa and Ari is a ghost, and the leak in the news has brought the attention of another asshole to my office.”
“What asshole?”
“Willa’s ex-husband.”
“Tell me you didn’t give up her location.”
“I haven’t done anything. He called and demanded to speak with her. When I told him no, he said he was on his way here.”
“Do not give her up, Mike.”
“What do you think this is? Amateur hour? I’m not going to hand them over to him on a silver platter. I can’t stop the man from coming here, but I won’t give him your address. One thing you need to think about, though. Ari is his kid. If he has custody rights, not me or Willa can deny him visitation with his child.”
She’s never been his, I think angrily.
“When he gets here, I’ll have to contact Willa and let her talk to him. No, I don’t want to do it, but I have to. If I try to keep him from them, it will only have him running to his lawyers. I don’t understand what the problem is. What’s it to you, anyway?”
“The man hasn’t seen his child in two years. Call it healthy skepticism.”
“You can call it whatever you want; it has no bearing on what happens. Now, was there another point to this call, or can I get back to working this case?”
“Last question, when did Mr. Westbrook call you?”
“Why do you want to know that?”
“Just curious.”
“I doubt it. You aren’t planning to interfere, are you?”
“Who, me?”
“Shit,” he grumbles before hanging up on me.
Well, I don’t have any more information about the father than I had before. Looking at the clock on the dash, I’ve got another two hours before I get to Lydia.
Rolling through Stanardsville later that afternoon, I get a call from Mike. “Please tell me I didn’t just see you in my town.”
“Ok. You didn’t just see me in your town.”
“Dammit, Chris. What are you doing?”
“I’m driving to my cabin. I have guests to check on.”
“Don’t do it, man.”
“Mike, you’re my best friend. You know I respect you and your badge, but you can’t order me to stay away from my own home.”
“Shit, Chris, Westbrook showed up over an hour ago, demanding to see Willa and Ari. In a private room, I called Willa to let her know he was here and wanted to see them. I told her pretty much the same thing I told you, that denying him would make things worse.”
“Please tell me you didn’t take him to my cabin.”
“I’m sorry to disappoint you, but bringing them here would have carried too much of a risk of exposure. So, yes, he was escorted to your cabin.”
“I hope I don’t have to kick your ass over this, Mike.”
“I’ll just shoot you in self-defense.”
Now it’s my turn to hang up on him.
Ten minutes later, I’ve pulled in my driveway next to a late model BMW convertible. Rolling my eyes, it seems as I’ve already made up my mind about Willa’s ex-husband. Despite only knowing his last name, I can already tell this guy’s a pretentious prick who’s only here because he’s a media whore.
Grabbing the bag of groceries I picked up in town, I walk toward the front porch and hear a man’s angry, raised voice. Oh, hell no. I’m sick of this shitbag already.
I waltz in the front door like I own the place… what a fucking coincidence, I do. No sooner than I get the door closed, Ari calls my name and comes racing toward me. I barely place the grocery bags on the table before she jumps into my arms. Her obvious fear pisses me off and makes me want to throw that bastard out for scaring her.
Still, before I can handle him, I need to calm Ari down. “Hey, settle down there, Tadpole. What seems to be the trouble?”
I don’t expect an answer from the tiny girl and don’t get one. She’s too preoccupied with holding on to me for dear life.
With Ari glued to my chest, I approach Willa and her ex. Ari’s father doesn’t seem to care for my intrusion, and Willa is just standing there looking shell-shocked. “Who the hell are you, and what are you doing barging in here like this?”
“Well, it just so happens that I own this cabin. Now… who might you be, and why are you in here yelling at Willa?” That last part was said with a little bite.
The man seems to deflate in the presence of someone that looks willing to kick his ass. When he speaks again, he’s more controlled. “I’m merely upset to learn that my daughter was in grave danger over a newscast instead of being informed by my wife.”
“Ex-wife, no?”
“Yes, whatever.”
“I don’t know what you saw on TV, but her story wasn’t supposed to be on the news at all. I can tell you that her instructions were to contact no one. For her safety, of course. If you’re upset about that, you need to take it up with the sheriff.” Sorry, Mike.
Westbrook sighs loudly and sits heavily on the sofa. “I’m sorry, Willa. I guess I overreacted. I was in a conference in California when I got a call from my assistant this morning. She told me what she saw on the news, and I panicked. I caught the first flight to Richmond and drove straight to the sheriff’s office after landing.
“He told me that you guys were targeted and that they haven’t caught the guy. I asked if you would be safe under his protection, and the only thing he could promise was that he would do his best. When I got here, I just let the stress of everything get to me.”
He runs a frustrated hand t
hrough his hair, messing up his perfectly coiffed locks. “I know I’ve been a lousy father, but I can’t just stand by and do nothing if the two of you are in danger.”
Willa shoves her hands in her pockets. “We’re not in any danger right now. The sheriff has us living off-grid while he looks for the guy.” Gesturing to me, she adds, “and Chris here is letting us use his cabin for that same reason.”
“Letting you use the cabin… you mean you guys aren’t…?”
“No. He’s a friend of the sheriff.”
“Oh.” His expression is one that I don’t particularly like. “Well, I’d feel better if you weren’t hiding out ten seconds from where you were kidnapped. I have that big house in Bethesda. Why don’t you two come out there? You’d be out of reach for whatever backwoods sicko took you.”
I can tell by looking at Willa’s face that she’s trying to figure out how to answer so she doesn’t make him mad enough to bring lawyers into the situation. “Jonathan, I appreciate the offer, but we’re ok. If something does happen that makes me nervous, or if it takes too long for them to find this guy, you’ll be the first person I call, Ok?”
He seems to consider her words for a moment and eventually nods. “Ok, Willa.” Westbrook stands and moves toward the door, not even glancing at his daughter, who’s still clinging to me with her face buried in my neck.
“You two be safe. I made sure the sheriff knows how to get in touch with me.”
“Thank you for coming to check on us, Jonathan.”
“Of course. That’s my daughter,” he says. Then, he’s walking out the door.
No one speaks again until we hear the fading sound of his sports car leaving. Loosening Ari’s arms from around my neck, I pull her away from me enough to look at her face. “What’s the matter with you, Tadpole?”
“I don’t like him.”
“Ari!” Willa chides.
Setting the girl on her feet, I say, “Ari, go play in one of the back rooms while I talk to your mom for a minute.”
