“Did they say something?”
“No. Just a feeling.”
“Okay. I’ll deal with it. Thanks for the heads-up.”
A suffocating silence hovered in the room as Bunker stared at Daisy and she at him. There was another topic he needed to cover with her, but he wasn’t sure if this was the right time.
Daisy spoke before he could decide. “All right, then. I guess my job here is done.” She turned and walking away.
“Hey Daisy?” he asked in a delicate tone.
She stopped and turned in an instant, her eyes filled with anticipation.
“There’s one more thing I need to say.”
“Okay, shoot.”
He cleared his throat, waiting for the words to line up on his tongue. “Thanks for believing in me. I know we’ve had our moments, but your trust in me means more than you’ll ever know. I won’t let you down.”
She smiled, her tone turning confident as her face flushed red. “I know you won’t. Otherwise, I’d have to hunt you until the end of time, Bulldog.”
He sent back a smile, appreciating her not making this goodbye any more difficult than it already was. They both knew the mission was dangerous and some words were best left unsaid.
* * *
“Where’s Victor?” Sheriff Apollo asked Dicky when he arrived at the guard station at the end of Old Mill Road.
Dicky pointed in the direction of Martha Rainey’s house. “He went inside a while ago. Should be back anytime. Hopefully, he’ll remember the water.”
“Ah, no. He’s not inside.”
“What do you mean?”
“His mother sent me here to check on him.”
“Shit,” Dicky said, looking down at the empty spot of dirt formerly occupied by Rusty’s bike.
Apollo shook his head, not wanting to ask the next question. “Tell me he didn’t take off?”
Dicky shrugged, then pointed at the oak tree designated for the sniper hide. “I was over there taking a whiz when the kid told me he was heading back inside to check on his mom. I thought that’s where he went.”
“Jesus, Dicky. How could you let this happen? I assigned him to this spot so you could keep an eye on him.”
Dicky dropped his head. “Sorry, Sheriff. I fucked up.”
Apollo thought about continuing the reprimand, but chose not to because it wouldn’t change anything. Besides, this failure was his for trusting Victor and leaving the flight-risk kid with a volunteer deputy. “Do you have any idea where he went?”
“No sir. Just what he told me. I thought he rode the bike back to the house to check on his mom.”
Apollo paused, putting on his detective hat. A set of tire tracks angled around the barricade and led to the bridge. “What were you two talking about right before he took off?”
“Nothing really. He was feeling down after you refused to give him a gun. I know he thinks that nobody trusts him, so I put him in charge of this station when I went to take a leak. I thought it might cheer him up.”
“Anything else?”
“That’s about it.”
“When was this exactly?”
“Right after you left earlier.”
Apollo ran through the conversation with the kid, replaying the words exchanged. “I laid into him pretty good, didn’t I?”
“He needed to hear it, boss. Otherwise, he’ll never grow up.”
“Yeah, maybe so. But I didn’t need to be so harsh.”
“At least he admitted to the break-in. That’s a start.”
“I suppose it is. But if he thinks none of us trusts him, then there’s no telling why he took off.”
“I’m sure he’s just trying to find a way to prove himself. I was like that back in the day, always trying to figure out where I belonged.”
Apollo agreed. “It’s not easy at that age, especially when you don’t have a father figure around.”
“Down deep, I think he’s a good kid.”
Apollo felt a knot form in his stomach as he peered over his shoulder, his eyes landing on the Rainey homestead. If Victor took off because of what Apollo had said, then whatever happened to the boy was his fault.
He let out a slow breath, his mind a whirl. “I better go have a chat with Allison.”
“I can go explain it to her, Sheriff. You shouldn’t have to. This was my bad.”
“No, this one’s on me.”
“Are you sure? Because I don’t mind taking the heat. I was in charge and he skipped out on my watch.”
“I appreciate the offer, Dicky, but I got this. It’s my job as Sheriff,” Apollo said, the pain in his abdomen intensifying. “Stand watch until I send Daisy here to relieve you. Won’t be long. She’s helping Bunker get geared up.”
“You got it, boss. Again, I’m sorry.”
CHAPTER 19
Apollo took Allison Rainey by the crux of the arm and led her away from the other members of the compound who were standing around the dining room table in Martha Rainey’s house. The area maps were spread out across the surface and ready for Bunker, but he hadn’t arrived yet from Tuttle’s place.
“Where’s my son?” Allison asked, her tone tense and suspicious. The depth of concern in her eyes was obvious, almost painful.
Apollo needed to soften the news and find a way to explain his complete and total failure. The last thing he wanted was to inflict undue emotional trauma on the woman he’d been planning to ask out on a date ever since she landed in town. He swallowed hard, then licked his lips in a stall maneuver until he found the proper words. “That’s what I wanted to talk to you about...”
“Is he hurt?”
“No, no, no,” he stammered. “That’s not it.”
The volume in her voice shot up a level. “Then what is it, Sheriff? Is he dead? Oh my God, he’s dead, isn’t he?”
Martha Rainey joined the conversation an instant later, touching her daughter’s forearm with a soft hand. “What’s wrong? Is it Victor?”
Allison nodded, looking at her mother with fright in her eyes. “Yeah, something’s terribly wrong. I can sense it. But I can’t get the Sheriff to tell me anything.” Her eyes swung to Apollo. “Why won’t you tell me?”
Apollo opened his mouth to answer, but Martha beat him to it, not letting a millisecond of silence drift by. “You need to tell us, Gus. Right now. This very instant!”
“I’m trying to—” Apollo said, wishing they’d let him respond before their mounting hysteria ran them over. “Victor took—”
“Damn it, he stole something again!” Allison snapped, throwing up her hands. She shook her head at her mother. “I told you he’d do it again. I told you. It just never stops with that boy.”
Martha’s eyes softened, compressing some of the wrinkles along her temples. “It’ll be okay, honey. It’s not your fault. You’re a good mother.”
Allison stuck out her chin and pinched her lips before she answered, her breathing more exaggerated. “If I’m such a good mother, why does he keep doing this?” She paced a bit, her feet moving in a circle, tears beginning to show on her cheeks. “I thought we were making progress. He promised me.”
Apollo brought his arms up to stop the woman’s trek, but Martha got in the way when she wrapped her arms around Allison’s neck and spoke into her ear. “Trust me, Allison. You’ve done everything you can. None of this is your fault.”
Allison’s arms were hanging limp, not returning the embrace. “Yes, it is my fault. I’m his mother and I’m responsible for everything he does. I just wish I could get through to him, Mom, but he’s just like his father—stubborn, and he doesn’t listen to anyone. I don’t know what I’m going to do with him.”
The hug ended before Allison shifted her focus to Apollo. “He’s going to jail, isn’t he?”
“Hang on a minute. I never said that,” Apollo answered, trying to break through the madness running amok.
“But he stole something, didn’t he?”
“Yes, as a matter of fact,” Apo
llo said, taking a step closer to Allison. He needed to penetrate the panic surrounding her and explain, “but you need to listen to me—”
Martha put out an arm, pressing her palm on Apollo’s chest before he could finish his sentence. “We appreciate your concern, Sheriff, but this is a family matter now—a private family matter. You need to step back and let me deal with this.”
Apollo pushed her hand away. “All right, just stop. Both of you! You’re getting way ahead of yourselves here.”
Martha’s lips ran quiet and her eyes shot wide.
Apollo continued while there was a moment of silence in the room. “Both of you need to shut the hell up and let me talk.”
Allison looked stunned.
Martha folded her arms across her chest and stood more erect than before. “I suppose that’s an order?”
“If it has to be an order to get the two of you to listen, then it’s an order. But for heaven’s sake, let me talk for a minute.”
Apollo peered at the others by the table. Each of them was staring at him, their faces covered with shock. “Everything is okay, folks. No need to be concerned. Just a little situation, but we’ve got it under control.”
He took a moment to make sure Allison and Martha were listening before he continued. “What I was trying to tell you is that Victor borrowed Rusty’s bike and went for a ride.”
“A ride?” Martha asked before pointing toward the front of her home. “Now? With everything that’s going on out there?”
“Yes, he took off and we’re not sure why. But there’s no reason to start a panic, ladies.”
“When did he leave?” Martha asked.
“A while ago.”
“And you’re just telling us now?”
“I would have told you earlier, but I just found out myself.”
“You need to go look for him, Sheriff,” Allison said, grabbing him by the hands with a tender wrap. Her fingers squeezed his, grabbing his attention. “He shouldn’t be out there all alone. It’s too dangerous.”
Her skin was smooth and supple, just like he’d imagined. Her touch was a distraction to be sure, but he managed to push through it and regain his focus. “I plan to. But first, I wanted to let you know that he’s missing. But we’ll find him, you have my word.”
* * *
Bunker opened the front door to Martha’s house and waited for Daisy to enter first. When he stepped inside, he found Apollo standing to the left with Martha and Allison. The Sheriff’s hands were holding onto Allison’s, all three of their faces flushed red.
Jeffrey, Stephanie, Rusty, Burt, Albert, and Dustin stood to the right, holding position near the dining room table. Their faces looked numb. So did Megan’s, her butt planted in the same dining room chair as before.
Bunker looked at Apollo, the tension in the room thick and palpable. “What did we miss?”
“I need to go take care of something, then I’ll get right on it,” Apollo told Allison, ignoring Bunker’s query.
She nodded, then let go of his hands.
Martha wrapped an arm around Allison and pulled her close.
When Apollo arrived at Bunker’s position, he said, “There’s been a development.”
“The Russians?” Daisy asked.
“No, it’s Allison’s son,” Apollo said, the volume in his voice less than before.
“Did he get hurt?” Bunker asked, lowering his voice to match the Sheriff’s.
“No. He took off with Rusty’s bike while Dicky’s back was turned. I had them both on guard duty.”
Daisy took a step closer, leaning in close to Apollo. “Did he run away?”
“Not sure. But we’re going to need to send out a search party.”
“How long ago was this?” she asked.
“Too long, unfortunately. I just found out when I went out there to check on things.”
“Why didn’t Dicky say something?”
“He didn’t know, apparently. Victor waited until he was behind a tree doing his business, then pretended he was taking the bike back to the house to check on his mom. That’s when he took off. Tracks head across the bridge.”
“Why would he do that?”
Apollo took in a slow breath, then let it out. “I think it has something to do with a little chat he and I had with about him stepping up and taking responsibility.”
“Franklin’s 1911?” Bunker asked.
“That, and other things. I might have been a bit too rough on the kid.”
“So the boy got pissed and just took off?” Daisy asked.
“I’m afraid so.”
“It’s possible he might come back on his own, Sheriff,” Bunker said. “I’m not sure sending out a search party is the right move. Not with me leaving.”
“He might, but I promised his mother we’d look for him. We got a kid out there who needs our help.”
Bunker nodded. “Then we’d better hurry before it gets dark.”
“Dicky and I will handle it, Bunker. You need to get moving as planned.”
“What about me?” Daisy asked.
“I need you to relieve Dicky.”
“10-4.”
Apollo looked at Bunker. “Burt and I have outlined some waypoints for you. The map’s on the table.”
“Okay, show me what you got.”
CHAPTER 20
“Excuse me, General,” Colonel Sergei Orlov said in Russian after knocking, waiting for clearance to enter the newly acquired office of his commanding officer.
General Yuri Zhukov was not a patient man by any stretch, but Orlov hoped today might be the exception. Then again, maybe the General would deny this unscheduled meeting, one Sergei preferred not to have with the ruthless leader.
Usually Sergei stood in the corner of the General’s office in silence, waiting for orders. It happened recently when the guards dragged the Mayor in for a light interrogation. Then again when the Silver King Mine owner tried to negotiate his way out of the occupation.
It was degrading for an officer who had achieved the rank of Colonel to stand at attention for hours on end, but it was an honor to serve Mother Russia in whatever capacity she needed. And right now, she needed him to suck it up and support the narcissistic, overconfident General during Operation Gospodstvo.
It was the single most important mission in Russian history, one that drew his full attention the instant he learned it involved taming the American beast on American soil.
What kept him moving forward in this demeaning role was the knowledge that once their battalion had acquired what it needed, they’d return home with the spoils of a victorious mission. His name, and the names of his junior officers, would live on in the history books for all those who came after.
Sergei tried hailing his commander again, this time raising his voice and knocking four times instead of three. “General Zhukov. I have important information.”
“Enter,” Zhukov said in Russian, his voice thready. His words sounded painful.
Sergei adjusted his uniform, making sure every crease was perfect before he stepped through. When his feet landed inside the threshold, his eyes found a naked man lying face-down on a massage table. A white terrycloth towel covered the man’s midsection, leaving his upper back and sandy-white calves exposed to the Colorado air.
A rail-thin American woman in an all-white outfit chopped at the man’s back with the downward edge of her hands. The reddish glow in the blonde’s cheeks intensified as she worked the area just above the towel in a rapid-fire motion, pounding the stress away.
Sergei wasn’t sure how the narrow-hipped resident could work her hands with such speed and precision, but the woman was obviously a professional.
Typical, Sergei thought to himself, having witnessed the General’s taste for blonde women and massages before. Russian Foreign Intelligence had developed detailed files on every Clearwater resident and he was certain the General used the SVR-gathered information to select this woman as his personal masseuse.
Sergei h
ad his share of body hair, but nothing close to that of the General’s. It looked like the masseuse was pounding at a Persian rug instead of someone’s spine.
He cleared his throat, keeping the conversation in Russian, not only due to its classified nature, but because the General despised English. He couldn’t blame his boss. He wasn’t fond of it either, but like he preached to his men, it was part of their duty.
Technically, learning to speak English was an order that came from the highest levels of the Kremlin—one every officer in this command had accepted without question. It wasn’t easy preparing for this most prestigious mission, not when a year of endless language sessions was involved. “General, sir. Sorry to interrupt.”
The masseuse stopped her hands when the General raised his head and brought his eyes to Sergei.
Sergei felt the eyes of the woman on him. He turned to confirm, seeing her tuck two unruly strands of hair behind her ears, exposing more of her face.
She was attractive, but much too thin for his taste. He preferred women with wide hips and a little meat on their bones. Yet he knew she was just the type of woman the General preferred, having witnessed the man’s selection process before. The man loved to sample the local cuisine. Both with his lips and other body parts.
“Can’t you see I’m busy?” the General snarled.
“Sorry, sir. But this can’t wait.”
“Make it quick, Colonel.”
“Sir, the information I carry is classified.” Sergei could have provided more information to his commander, but decided against it. Their pre-mission briefing had been explicit and clear—a small percentage of Americans speak Russian. He wasn’t to assume his conversation was secure when speaking his native language.
Zhukov waved at the masseuse to leave the room. The woman didn’t hesitate, backing away and taking one of the hand towels from a stack next to her. She folded the towel in half, then used it to dab the beads of sweat on her brow as she walked to the office door and disappeared outside.
The General rolled to his side and sat up. The towel fell from his lap when he stood up and strolled behind his desk, never bothering to cover up.
The leather chair squeaked when Zhukov’s naked backside slid across the upholstery. He flashed a scowl. “I don’t have all day, Orlov.”
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