by T. K. Leigh
“It was a setup?” I asked, staring at my father’s forlorn expression, recalling Charlie’s words from just a few days ago.
Swallowing hard, he didn’t answer. He simply continued with the story I could sense he had been wanting to share with me for years. His gaze was fixed on the bookcase behind me, as if he were watching a movie of what really happened and was simply narrating it for me.
“I remember walking in the front doors of the embassy, immediately halting in my tracks. There were no staff members at the front desk and the reception area was empty. As I made my way through the entry area, I heard a loud voice giving a speech about a circle of trust.” He tore his gaze back to me. “That was something I used to do in the field whenever I had new team members. It was a way to make them remember we had to work as one cohesive unit.”
He shook his head, almost like he was frustrated that he didn’t see the signs of it being a setup. “I stepped toward the source, trying to keep my presence unknown. The voice grew louder, more impassioned, and my heart dropped to the pit of my stomach as I listened to my own words. I physically felt sick and had to fight back the nausea. This guy took what I said verbatim and was repeating it to a huge room full of frightened people.” His lower lip trembled and I could sense he was back in that room on that day.
He avoided my eyes, staring past me once more as the memory washed over him. “The smell of gasoline was overpowering,” he said, his voice soft. “I knew it wasn’t going to end well, but what could I do? It wouldn’t do much good for me to go in shooting. It was twelve against one. The odds were not in my favor. So I did what I thought to be the best tactical decision. I hid my presence in the hopes I could save at least one person, even if it cost me my life.
“As I watched those traitors terrorize their hostages, I mentally began to sort through all the intel I had amassed, wondering what I could have missed. That’s when it hit me this was part of the plan all along. This guy wanted me to find everything. He wanted me to go to my superiors to tell them what I found and ask for leave to come here. Then, when word of my trademark fire spread, they would put two and two together and name me as the culprit to this attack, along with all the arms deals I had been investigating. Hell, one of the first things you look for when trying to find the person responsible for a crime is to see who tries to ingrain themselves in the investigation. I had made myself into the perfect suspect.”
“So you hid? You abandoned your family? You watched as over sixty people were murdered and did nothing?”
“I didn’t do nothing, Serafina!” He ripped off the hat he wore that shielded most of his face. “Do you think this is the result of nothing?!” he bellowed passionately, gesturing to the permanent scars covering the left side of his body. “I tried to save them, but I couldn’t! By the time whoever was responsible made his escape, it was too late! The flames were out of control, bodies were on fire! Their screams and shrieks plague my dreams every night! Have you ever smelled burning flesh?!” he exclaimed, tears welling in his eyes.
I stared in shock, shaking my head.
“It’s scorched in my memory, Fi! Every day, I’m reminded that I failed to protect people from a monster. A real life dragon!” He reached for his glass with shaky hands, the trauma of that day all those years ago still wearing on him.
“I did everything I could,” he continued after sipping his wine. “In the end, the only person I could save was a boy who couldn’t have been more than sixteen or seventeen. Someone must have shielded him from getting doused with the gasoline. His burns were minor but the smoke got into his lungs. He was barely breathing when I pulled him from the building. When I was about to go back and see if I could rescue anyone else, a convoy of Liberian soldiers pulled up. I knew it was probably cowardly of me to run, to hide from them, but I couldn’t risk being detained. At that point, my sole mission was to try to get home to you and your mother. I feared I would be painted as a monster and I couldn’t let you think that of me.”
“Where did you go?” I asked, still trying to wrap my head around his story. It seemed so unreal, so far-fetched, but it complimented Charlie’s version of what happened perfectly. All the puzzle pieces were falling into place.
“I found a church. I didn’t know what else to do. I had burns on over fifty percent of my body and was convinced I wasn’t going to make it.” He reached across the table, squeezing my hand. I took a quick breath at the contact. It had been years since I felt my father’s flesh on mine. His hand was scarred, rough, and warm. I choked out a loud sob at the gesture. It was so simple, yet it brought back memories of my life before it all fell apart.
“I wasn’t thinking clearly, but I knew I would do anything to try and get a message to your mother that I loved you both. I guess I hoped God would listen and give you that message.” Sincerity covered his face as his eyes locked with mine, the turmoil he had been living with over the years evident.
“But he answered my prayers in other ways. The nuns at the church treated my burns as best they could without modern medicine. I kept asking about the boy I pulled from the fire, but I think they thought I was delirious. They drugged me with medication to help with the pain. I half expected to wake up in a detention center, but that never happened. Finally, after several months, they said I was well enough to leave. I had no idea how to repay the debt I owed. These women took me in and cared for me without asking for anything in return. They even lied to the authorities and said they never saw me. I don’t know how they knew I wasn’t responsible for the tragic fire, but they did.”
“How did you get back home?” I asked, engrossed by his story.
“It wasn’t easy. I did some things I wasn’t proud of. I stole to barter for transport, then spent weeks aboard a cargo ship, trying to get back to you. Every day was torture, never knowing if I’d make it to the end of the day. Finally, we pulled into the Port of Miami and the captain smuggled me ashore. Days later, in the middle of the night, I finally arrived home.
“I sought Father Slattery out and he told me what happened after the attack. How an investigation had been conducted, naming me as the mastermind behind everything, but they didn’t pursue any course of action because it was presumed I had died in the fire. Before my trip over there, I had a bad feeling, so I had gone to him and made him promise if anything suspicious happened, he’d do everything to keep you safe until the threat passed. He assured me he had done what I asked, made arrangements for new identities for you both, and that you were well-protected and in hiding. And that was when I had to make the hardest decision of my life.”
“What was that?”
“I told him to have your mother tell you I was dead.”
“Why?”
“You were only a little girl. I had agents, some specialized in intelligence training, who couldn’t always keep a secret. To protect you, I needed you to believe I was dead. I needed you to forget the life you once had. It was the most difficult decision I ever had to make, but my saving grace was the possibility that, one day, I would find out who was responsible for everything and finally come out of hiding.”
“Charlie,” I said softly.
He looked at me, a confused expression on his face.
“The boy you pulled from the fire was Charlie.”
“Charlie?” he asked. “Your Charlie?”
I nodded slowly.
“How do you know?”
I knew I couldn’t avoid this forever, although reliving those two weeks in March was the last thing I wanted to do. But my father had shared what was arguably one of the most difficult times in his life with me. I needed to do the same.
“Full disclosure,” I murmured.
“Yes, Serafina. Full disclosure.”
“Well, I suppose I should start at the beginning.”
A smile on his face, he said, “That’s usually a pretty good place.”
I grinned, a feeling of hope washing over me as I shared a moment with my father. This was what a father-daughter re
lationship was supposed to be like. Sharing our troubles, our triumphs. After sixteen years, I finally had that. So, instead of closing up, I shared a piece of my soul with my father, telling him all about Tyler, the break-ins, Charlie’s reappearance, Whitman’s murder, Charlie’s disappearance, and the day I found out the truth of who Tyler really was.
When I was done, I expected him to want to know more about Charlie, but I was mistaken.
“It’s clear you love him very much,” he commented.
“Who? Charlie?”
“No, Serafina,” he responded quickly. “Tyler.”
“I don’t love him,” I lied. “I was just an asset, nothing more. He used me to find out your location. That’s all I was to him.”
He spread his arms. “And, yet, I’m still here.”
“The fact you’re still here doesn’t change that.”
“I think it does, Serafina,” he contested. “I think it proves that, at some point, you switched from being an asset to being something so much more.”
I avoided his eyes, trying to ignore the same argument I had made to myself over the past few days. “That still doesn’t mean I love him.”
“It’s normal to be defensive about your feelings. I can imagine how confusing it must be for you. Your mother fought her feelings for me, too, because I was much older than she was, but you can’t always control who you fall in love with.” He glanced at me with a twinkle in his eye. “You look so much like her. Every time I see you, I see more and more of her in you.”
“Do you miss her?” I asked softly.
“Every minute of every day, Serafina,” he choked out, his words barely audible.
“How do you get through it? How do you go on breathing when that love has been ripped from you?”
“You go on,” he replied, placing his hand over mine, caressing my knuckles. “It’s not easy. It’s never easy. Love isn’t easy. But you carry the memory of those happy times with you and those moments remind you of the beauty of life. And you just hope to find that beauty once more. I beg you, Serafina. Don’t let your stubbornness deprive yourself of something you deserve.”
“And what’s that?”
“Love, Serafina. You deserve to feel love.”
Mackenzie
“SO,” I SAID, TAKING the keys to Brayden’s SUV from Wyatt as we stood just outside the same gas station as yesterday. “Did it work?”
He paused for a beat before he nodded. “Yes. He followed me.”
“Who?”
“His name is Clinton Evers and he is an FBI agent.”
“So he is a fed,” I replied. “What did he want with me? The same as everyone else? To find my father who, according to most of the world, is actually dead?”
“Not exactly, ma’am,” he said and I raised my eyebrows.
“Really?”
“Yes. I drove Mr. Weller’s car out to Austin and Agent Evers showed up approximately five hours later. I confronted him and asked what he wanted with you. He showed me his badge and indicated he was working a case.”
I sighed. “So he was after my father.”
“No, ma’am. I got him to tell me what he was working on. He said it was off the record. Unofficial. Just him and another agent. One of their colleagues took a leave of absence several months ago and hasn’t been heard from since. They believe something’s happened to him, that someone’s abducted him and are using him for his…unique skills.”
“Which would be?”
“Apparently,” Wyatt began, eyeing me, “he’s one of the most skilled hackers out there. The knowledge he has, in addition to his skills, makes him a powerful weapon in the wrong hands.”
“Who is this guy?” I asked, my mind spinning.
He studied me, almost as if gauging whether or not he should tell me. After a protracted pause, he said, “His name is Damian Mills and, if I’m not mistaken, he grew up next door to you when you lived in Fayetteville.”
My jaw dropped, not expecting to hear that name. “They think I have something to do with his disappearance?” I asked, confused about why they would follow me and put a tracker on my car.
“They do not believe you’re responsible. Apparently, they were two of the agents who had arrested Mr. Mills nearly a decade ago when he hacked into the FBI computer system trying to find the location of one Serafina Galloway.”
“He was arrested?” Despite my shock at that news, my heart warmed a bit with the knowledge Damian had never forgotten about our friendship, just as I never did.
“It appears so. I’ve looked into his story and it all checks out. Mr. Mills was given a choice. He could either go to prison or work for the FBI. He chose the latter and has been there for almost a decade. Agent Evers said he and Damian had grown close over the years. He talked about you, your childhood, stuff like that. Then, just a day before he took his mysterious leave of absence, Damian made Evers promise to do everything he could to find you and keep an eye on you if anything ever happened to him. I checked the timeline and this coincides to around the time Mr. Montgomery was named as the man behind all those murders. After months went by, Evers couldn’t help but think something is wrong, especially with Damian’s mother’s recent death.”
I absorbed his story. “So they weren’t tracking my car to get to my father.”
“No, ma’am. They were tracking you to keep an eye on you, as Evers promised Damian he would.”
I nodded.
“But I’ve assured him I have that under control. He won’t be bothering you anymore.”
I couldn’t help but feel slightly deflated at the thought. Agent Evers knew Damian, had worked with him. He may have been the only link I had to him. I wished I had confronted this agent myself. Maybe he would have told me what he was doing and I could ask all the questions I had about the person Damian had grown up to be.
“I’m sorry, Miss Delano. Even though I checked out his story, it’s still too risky to have him tailing you. You understand that, right? I’ve been tasked with your safety, and it’s a job I take very seriously. My decisions may be extreme, but I’d rather be safe than sorry…at least until we can neutralize the threat to you.”
“Fine,” I hissed, feeling as if Wyatt was trying to decide what was best for me without my input. It was like dealing with my father all over again. How many more people would I have to convince I didn’t need them to decide what was best for me?
I spun around and jumped into the SUV, trying to focus on my upcoming doctor’s appointment instead of the idea that Damian could be in trouble.
~~~~~~~~~~
WHITE WALLS SURROUNDED ME as I surveyed the waiting room, children running around playing or fighting with each other. I felt bad for their mothers, who were trying to wrangle not only the infant in their arms, but two or three older kids, as well. By the look of things, some of these women barely gave their uteruses a break between popping out kids. And this was what women wanted? I didn’t get it. I guess I never had that maternal instinct. I never saw myself wanting children, but here I was, forced into a situation I never expected.
My eyes shifted to the far corner and I spied a woman with beautiful red hair who couldn’t have been much older than I. I was captivated, watching her cradle a newborn swaddled in a blue blanket, rocking him gently. Something about it spoke to me in a way the other puking, screaming, mauling rugrats running carelessly around the waiting room didn’t. I saw something strange between the mother and child. I saw a bond. It wasn’t just one-way, either. The baby was no more than a month old, but was staring into his mother’s eyes as she hummed a song, swaying him.
I placed my hand over my own stomach, excited and nervous about meeting the little person growing inside me. Regardless of this baby’s connection to what I still considered to be one of my biggest mistakes, I wanted that same bond with my baby and my heart warmed.
“Mackenzie?” a sweet voice called. I tore my eyes from the young mother and saw a woman dressed in scrubs standing in the doorway leading to th
e exam rooms. “We’re ready for you.”
I raised myself from the chair, wondering how much longer it would be until that became difficult, and made my way across the waiting area, dodging toys that had been left on the floor. The nurse gave me a comforting smile as I approached her, but I knew what she was thinking. The first few appointments, they had asked if my husband was going to join me. They stopped asking at my last appointment. Part of me was happy I no longer had to answer that question. The other part of me felt pathetic, stupid…and ashamed.
I went through the usual routine of getting weighed, giving them a urine sample, and having an ultrasound. Every time I looked at that machine, I didn’t see my baby. I saw overdue bills. I saw sleepless nights. I saw my world falling apart around me. I knew it was only a matter of time until the bottom dropped.
“Do you want to know the gender?” the ultrasound technician asked enthusiastically, cutting through my growing unease. I snapped my head to her and looked into her vibrant brown eyes. “You’re eighteen weeks along, so I can tell you the gender with certainty.”
Tearing my eyes from her warm face to the screen, the sound of the little heartbeat echoing in the room, I nodded. “Yes.”
She smiled at me. “Congratulations, Mama. It’s a boy.”
I sighed, letting out a breath. “Brayden will be happy. He’s been convinced it’s a boy.”
“Is that your husband?” she asked, pressing a few buttons on the machine and producing yet another printout to add to my collection.
Shaking my head, I swallowed hard. “No. He’s just a friend.”
After being assured my baby was developing well and my health was on track, despite their concerns that I hadn’t gained as much weight as they would have liked to see, I grabbed my things and proceeded to the desk.
