by Jo Chambliss
I’m worried that he won’t be able to handle roughing it, that he’ll hate it and be a grouch the whole time. If that happens, we’ll all be miserable.
The bigger problem is that I can’t think of a single alternative.
From the back seat, Ari’s sad voice calls out. “Mama, my fish has a hole in it.”
“Let me see.” She passes the stuffed toy for me to inspect. A small section of one of the seams has come unstitched. “I can’t fix it right now. Just don’t pull any of the strings or pick at it, and it should be ok for a while.”
“Do you think Fish would get me a new one?”
Jonathan, who’s been unusually quiet, finally speaks up. “Who’s Fish?”
“He’s the guy that saved me. I rode his mo-tor-cy-cle.”
“The same guy that owns the cabin and brought you to me?”
“Yes.” Please don’t ask about him.
His voice has cooled a little when he asks, “What do you know about him?”
“Just that he’s in the Navy.” I hold my breath, hoping Ari hasn’t forgotten that we can’t discuss what Chris does in the Navy.
My answer must satisfy Jonathan’s curiosity as he turns his attention back to the road. Thankfully, Ari kept quiet.
Late afternoon, we finally arrive at the horse farm. Looking around the valley, I take in the sights and smells and smile to myself. It’s absolutely beautiful here. Jonathan parks outside the office and leaves the Mercedes running. “I’ll go check things out; you two keep warm in here.”
An hour later, we’re ready to go with two riding horses, every single bit of camping gear that the ranch hand suggested to Jonathan, and probably a bunch more.
The camping gear is loaded onto the horses, Jonathan locks up the SUV, and we’re ready to roll. I double-check the saddles, and we mount the horses, ready to hit the trail. Just before we set out, I have another moment of wondering if this is a mistake, but I shrug it off. As hard as I had tried, I couldn’t come up with a better idea.
Ultimately, I concede that this is the best thing we could have done and that Jonathan’s just going to have to adjust. Even if I don’t know how to fight a bad guy, I do know how to camp. And no one would ever think to look for Jonathan on a mountain. Glancing at where Ari is riding in my lap, something else occurs to me; even in the midst of this nightmare, I’m glad to be able to share something I love with my daughter.
We’re ready to set off now, and since I have the experience, Jonathan puts me in the lead. Given our late start, we won’t get very far today.
A few minutes into the ride, I nudge Ari. “What do you think so far?”
She reaches out and pets the animal’s flowing mane. “I love the horse. What’s his name again?”
“Star Lord.” She leans forward and pats the horse’s neck. “Good boy, Star Lord.”
I look back to Jonathan to see that he’s riding without too much trouble. It’s not surprising, though. These ranch horses have done this enough that they automatically follow the lead horse. Jonathan could be sitting there reading a book, and the horse wouldn’t wander off the trail
An hour before sunset, we stop at a prepared clearing to set up camp for the night. We dismount the horses, and I have to laugh at Jonathan. He’s standing there awkwardly, obviously having a bad case of saddle soreness. His first time on a horse wasn’t friendly to him. “Why don’t you look like this?” he pouts.
“I have a whole lot more experience riding than you do. We’ll take it a little slower tomorrow. The best thing to do is to walk it off.”
Since this is one of the planned campsites, there’s a pump for water and a safety fire pit. “Tell you guys what, I’ll put up the tent if you’ll gather firewood. Ari, you pick up some little sticks, but stay in this clearing.”
Just as the sun sets, the tent is up, and there’s a nice fire burning in the raised pit. Ari is sitting on a concrete bench wrapped in a blanket watching the fire, while her father is avoiding sitting at all.
Hiding my chuckle at the city slicker’s discomfort, I pull out the cooking gear and make a pot of chili over the fire.
After dinner, Jonathan leans back and says, “You know, this isn’t bad. Certainly not the nightmare I was expecting.”
“I’m glad.” With a wink at Ari, I tell her, “Now you and your daddy can wash the dishes.”
They both look at me, somewhat panic-stricken. Jonathan for having to wash dishes, and Ari for having to work closely with him.
Somehow, Ari and her father survive the task and having to work side by side. At one point, he even says something to make her giggle. All in all, it’s not been a bad start to our run-and-hide.
When it’s time to put Ari to bed, I take two of the sleeping bags and zip them to each other, making one queen-sized bag. I decide to bed down early with her as work starts early when you’re camping.
Jonathan stays up for a while, but the large tent has two compartments, so it’s unlikely that he’ll disturb us when he turns in.
My last thoughts before drifting off to sleep are of Chris. I hope he’s safe, and I hope he comes back soon.
At daybreak, I exit the tent quietly to gather some wood and get the fire started. Watching the fire dance, I can almost see the same scene with my mom and dad years ago. We had our own horses and gear and made monthly trips just like this one. That ritual lasted even through high school.
I didn’t go with them anymore once I started college. After I graduated, we were planning a last, big trip, but a car accident happened before we got the chance. The crash took my mother. My dad survived but wasn’t the same, physically or emotionally.
In the years since his injuries, his health has been in steady decline. Then, just before my divorce, he had a stroke and has been in a nursing facility ever since.
It’s been hard watching him wither away, even harder than losing my mom. At least, she didn’t suffer.
I close my eyes and think about the last good times I had with my father. He loved holding baby Ari, tickling under her chin to make her coo at him. Before his health got too bad, we’d go visit, and he’d hold the baby while I showed him my pictures.
It was my work as a photographer that introduced me to Jonathan. During my senior year of college, I was working on a project documenting the underground student life. Not the best topic, I’ll admit.
Leaving a coed party where I was doing my research, some jerk spilled a beer on me, barely missing my camera.
I walked away from the scene in an angry huff, not really watching where I was going. That’s when I walked right into the back of someone. He turned around to say something but smiled instead when his gaze landed on me.
Jonathan helped me to my car and offered to buy me a cup of coffee. Since I was still wet with beer, I declined. “My loss, I’m sure,” he said. “If you change your mind, I’ll be at the Starbucks on the quad.”
I’m not sure why I changed my mind. Maybe it was meeting a nice guy after being subjected to a bunch of assholes the entire weekend. Whatever it was, I went home, changed into a clean shirt, and ended up drinking iced espressos with Jonathan Westbrook that night.
Shaking my head at the memories, I still wonder from time to time what happened to the sweet, charming boy he used to be. Some people change… and not always for the better. I suppose I’ve changed too, even if I don’t see it.
By the time I hear Ari or Jonathan stirring, I’ve already got the coffee made and breakfast cooking. Ari bounces out of the tent, not bothered at all by sleeping on the ground. Jonathan’s a little slower, straightening up and stretching stiff muscles.
After we’ve all eaten, I put those two on dish duty again as I start to break camp.
Pretty soon, we’re ready to resume the trail ride again. Pulling out the map, I study the path that Jonathan and the ranch hand decided on. It’s a little rougher than I would have chosen for a first-time rider, but it’ll have some spectacular views.
I smother a chuckle when Jonath
an lands in the saddle. He groans slightly. “You a little sore in the saddle?” He cuts his eyes at me and smiles. It almost hurts to see, as that was the same smile that he first gave me all those years ago. Not just that, he looks the same in his blue jeans, flannel shirt, and ruffled hair.
Despite the chill of the February air, it turns out to be a beautiful day’s ride. Along the trail, we take several breaks to visit the numerous caves and waterfalls with me capturing hundreds of images with my new camera.
Somehow, holding the piece of equipment makes me miss Chris even more. That reminds me that I need to get a message to Mike, so he’ll know where I am. Chris will be worried when he gets back, and we’re not in Bethesda.
A scream coming from Ari interrupts my thoughts and has me running in her direction. My heart is threatening to jump out of my chest until I lay eyes on her. She’s sitting on a log looking absolutely terrified at the ginormous, black beetle crawling on her leg. Fighting off laughter, I pick up a stick off the ground and place it in front of the bug for it to climb on. Once it’s onboard, I gently lay the stick on the ground, all thoughts of Mike or Chris forgotten.
At camp that evening, Ari is bushed and goes to bed early. After tucking her in, I take advantage of the opportunity and the elevation to capture some stunning images of the sunset and night sky. It really is beautiful here. Oh, dad, I wish you could see this.
A little later, I’m sitting by the fire looking through my pictures when Jonathan comes to sit beside me. “Besides being scared half-to-death of Jack the Ripper, this trip has been nice. It’s cold, and my ass hurts, but I’ve enjoyed it. It’s almost enough to forget what chased us out here.”
“I know what you mean.”
Jonathan pokes a stick into the fire absently. “Willa, have you ever… thought about us? What happened, I mean?”
I shrug my shoulders. “Well, sure, I have. Mostly, I wondered why you never had any interest in Ari or me after she was born.”
“I was stupid. Things are different now. I don’t like what my life has become. Maybe all this is happening to give us another chance.”
“Jonathan… I don’t know what to say.” I choose my words carefully before speaking again. “I’m glad that you’re showing an interest in your daughter, but honestly, I haven’t given any thought to us trying again.”
“Not yet, maybe, but what do you think? We’ve worked and communicated well together on this trip. A trip that you know is way out of my comfort zone.”
“I just don’t think it’s a good idea. And not just because we’re in this life-or-death situation.”
“It seems as though I messed up too bad to fix,” he says sadly. Looking hurt, he stands and pours us both a cup of coffee, handing one to me. I wrap my hands around the warm mug and sip on the hot liquid. “Let’s just take things one day at a time. Take some time to get to know Ari. Ok?”
“You’re right. I guess I do have a lot of catching up to do with her.”
Chris
It’s eleven pm local time when our plane lands on base. As much as I want to jump in my truck and drive the four hours to Bethesda, it’s too late to do so.
Commander O’Reilly meets us for a quick debrief at HQ. “You boys have been too busy lately. I’m taking you off rotation for three weeks. I’ll expect to see your asses up and down the beach for PT, but no callouts until after then. Go home and get some sleep. Lieutenant, I’ll expect your report by nine am tomorrow.”
“Yes, sir.” Well, that’s one thing I can get out of the way tonight.
After taking care of my gear, I say goodbye to the guys and head home. They all said they understood that I wouldn’t be around for post-mission beers tomorrow. Traditions have to break sometime.
At home, I prepare my operational report for the Commander and hit the bed around one.
Sometime later, the shrill ringing of my phone wakes me. Like the harbinger of bad news, it’s Mike calling.
“Mike, what is it?”
“I called your commander to get a message to you, but he said you just got back. While you were gone, your guy Omen gave me enough to find Willa’s attacker. His name is Bryan Webber. I had state police check out his place, but he hasn’t been there in a while. We found him an hour ago.”
Wide awake now, I sit up in bed. “Shit! That’s great!”
“Not so great; we found him with a bullet in his brain when a patrol ran across his van.”
“Wait… what does that mean?”
“It could mean he wasn’t working alone, or that he was working for someone.”
I just got a bad feeling in the pit of my stomach. “Mike, I’ve got to go. I’ll call you back.”
“Chris! Wait…”
I disconnect and look at the time. Four-thirty am. I hate to do it, but I call Omen. I hear his phone connect, but he doesn’t say anything until I hear the click of a door.”
“What’s up, Fish?”
“Webber’s dead, executed.”
“That’s not good news. I’ll get Cle and Squid on it right now. I’ll call you back in five minutes.”
Jumping out of bed, I take a three-minute shower and throw on some clothes. I’m pulling on socks when my phone rings again. “Hill.”
“Tell me everything.”
“I don’t know much. Mike just told me about finding him. He thinks that maybe Webber wasn’t alone in this. I need you to find out if and who he’s working with.”
At seven, I’m half-way to Bethesda when I decide to call Mike. “I need Westbrook’s address. I’m going after Willa.”
“I was just about to call you. I’ve been trying to reach him since six, but he doesn’t answer. I just got the number to his residence and called, but his butler says that he hasn’t seen any of them since Sunday morning, his day off.”
I slam on the breaks, skidding my truck to a stop on the side of the road. “Mike, start over. What happened while I was gone?”
“Willa’s house blew in the early morning hours Sunday. There was another message aimed at the ex. I called to inform Willa. They must have disappeared after that.”
“Fucking hell, Mike. Can you get a trace on his phone?”
“It wouldn’t do any good. The butler said his phone was left on the kitchen counter. Listen, don’t freak out yet. They’re probably just doing what you did when you took them to Virginia Beach.”
“The difference being that Westbrook can’t protect them from an overzealous mosquito.”
Hanging up on Mike, I immediately call Omen again. “They’re gone.”
“What do you mean?”
“Mike informed Willa that her house blew early Sunday morning, and they disappeared with Westbrook after that.” I thump my hand against the steering wheel in fear and frustration. “Listen, Omen, I want you to check out the ex.”
“You got something on your mind?”
“Just a bad feeling is all.”
“Where are you?”
“Just outside Richmond.”
“Get back to Lydia, where all this started. I’m sending Hyper and Shark to you. If you’ve got a place to land a chopper, they’ll be there in less than five hours.”
Omen sending his team makes me think of my own. Part of me is afraid that I’m overreacting, but I can’t shake this feeling that something’s really fucking wrong here.
Before I can talk myself out of it, I’m calling Devil. “What’s up?”
“They’re gone, and I need your help, all of you.”
“We’re on our way. Text me a location.”
Four hours later, I’m pacing in the sheriff’s office when I hear incoming rotor blades. I run outside and watch as the bird puts down in the back of the police lot. As I start in that direction, three vehicles pull in and park.
The seven members of my team get out, and we move as a group toward the helo. Once the bird is secure, Hyper and Shark step out and extend their hands. “Sorry for the delay, we stopped to refuel at Albemarle in case the Bell’s needed again.�
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“I hope it isn’t, but it’s not a bad idea.”
We turn to enter the station, and Judge asks, “What have you heard?”
“Not much. Webber was killed sometime Saturday night with a twenty-two. Let’s go inside and check in with Omen.”
We meet up with Mike inside, and he points us to the conference room, joining us before closing the door. As I’m pulling out my phone to call Omen, he’s calling me. I answer the device on speaker and lay it on the table. “Everyone’s here, Omen. What have you got?”
It isn’t the leader that speaks, but Cle. “Six months ago, Webber made five deposits of four thousand dollars that don’t match up with any legit job. I checked Westbrook like you asked but didn’t find any corresponding payments from his accounts. Trusting your gut, I kept looking. His charitable foundation has some fishy account activity, but I’ve yet to find anything in seventy-five percent of the numerous accounts he… hold on.”
The room goes completely silent except for the sound of Cle’s keyboard clicking furiously.
“Squid, look.”
Come on, guys.
“Let me… there.”
“Shit. It is Westbrook,” Omen says.
“Explain,” Mike demands.
Cle obeys the order, “There was one well-hidden account for Westbrook’s deceased father. It shows five cash withdrawals matching the dates from Webber’s deposits.”
“Son of a fucking bitch! It’s been two damn years. Why now? Has he been planning this the whole damn time? Cle, you’ve got to find him. Where would he go?”
Squid comes on the line and gives his report on that, “Since you called, I’ve looked for any properties belonging to Westbrook or his family, but nothing’s popping.”
The room goes quiet after that. I’m sure my desperation can be heard loud and clear when I speak again. “I… I need a lead. I need something.”
“Sheriff,” Omen’s solemn voice calls out.
“Yeah?”
“I need you to leave the room.”
