by Ronie Kendig
Trace Weston had been one impenetrable rock since the first day he walked onto the training field after Selection. His sandy-blond hair in an almost buzz cut, his tanned skin, and his green eyes softened the chiseled-from-stone personality that embodied the solider she admired and who made her want to be better and stronger.
And here she was, ready to defy him. She wanted David back. She wanted Grossmammi and the farm, the simple, nonviolent life of the Amish back. She wanted peace. “I don’t want this,” she managed, her throat constricting. “I was glad for the safety of my grandmother’s community.”
Trace studied her for several long seconds. “But you never felt you deserved it.”
Téya swallowed. How did he know that?
“You protect them by staying away.”
“How can you say that? He’s been shot! She’s missing. She can’t even get around without”—Téya gasped and took a step back, suddenly remembering—“her cane!”
Trace frowned.
“I can find her.”
He frowned. “With her cane?”
“She was having memory problems and got lost a few times, so I put a tracking chip in her cane.”
Trace
Bleak Pond, Pennsylvania
4 May – 1000 Hours
Driving through the quiet, quaint town, Trace saw farmers drilling oat or grain seeds with horse-drawn planters. While he could appreciate the simplicity of their lifestyle, he didn’t envy them. He didn’t want to be out day after day doing chores and the same ol’ thing. He liked the adrenaline rush and the adventure of new missions.
Then again, unlike him, these farmers and their families were relatively safe.
Except David Augsburger.
Trace couldn’t pretend a small amount of curiosity about the man. He’d gotten under Téya’s skin, and that was no small feat. She was a driven, hard-hitting woman.
“Sure can’t imagine living in a place like this,” said Martin Hill, the tech Trace borrowed from INSCOM to get a facial recognition workup of the man who’d hit David.
Off East Frederick, Trace turned into the parking garage of Lancaster General Hospital. “Let’s just get what we need and get out.” The longer they were here, the bigger the target on their heads.
They made their way to the main postoperative unit on the second floor. According to their records, David had surgery yesterday for a fractured fibula and to remove a bullet. They stepped out of the elevator and saw an elderly Amish couple exiting a room.
“Guess we’re in the right place,” Martin muttered as he hitched his gear pack on his shoulder.
Trace kept his eyes straight, not making contact with the couple. He waited till they went into the elevator, then he entered the room.
In a hospital gown and strung up to an IV tower, David Augsburger looked like an average Joe. A brace over his bed kept his leg elevated. Weights provided a counterbalance to keep his leg up, and the pulleys provided traction. Trace knew that pain all too well.
“I already talked to the police.”
Trace entered the room, stuffing his hands in his pants pockets. “We’re not with the police.”
Suspicion crowded the man’s expression, seeming to darken the bruise around his left eye.
Trace wanted to put him at ease, but he had little information he could dish out. “I’m with a special branch investigating your incident and that of Mrs. Gerig and—”
“Katie.” The way he said her name showed his affection for Téya/Katie. “They’re both missing. Please—you have to find them.”
“Yes, sir. We plan to, but we need your help.” Trace indicated to Martin. “My friend here works in a criminology lab.” Not quite the truth, but close enough. “He’s an expert on reconstructing faces from descriptions.”
David nodded, but the suspicion hadn’t yet left his face. “You want me to tell you about the man who did this to me.”
Trace nodded.
“Look,” David said, glancing to the window where medical staff and patients moved up and down the corridor. “I’m not sure—”
Trace leaned in, placing a hand on the man’s pillow and forcing him to look up. “You care about Katie, right, David?”
He swallowed.
“So, I need your help. Tell him what you saw. Give us something to go after whoever did this. Whoever took Mrs. Gerig and Katie.” He hated deceiving the guy, but he could not know what happened to Téya. She had to remain permanently MIA.
“Okay,” David said with a shaky voice.
Martin swung the bag onto the food tray and unzipped it. “Okay, this will be pretty painless.”
Téya
Somewhere along the Maryland-Pennsylvania border
4 May – 1345 Hours
“In position.”
The coms report of Nuala brought Téya’s head up from the live feed she’d been focusing on. Listening to. Hearing David’s voice pressed against her composure. Anger and hurt churned through her. Too many things angered her right now: being forbidden from seeing David; making sure he was okay; someone going after those she loved; and her own stupidity putting Grossmammi in danger in the first place.
Pushing back the tears proved harder with each minute she spent sitting in Boone’s oversized truck. Téya looked toward the three-story building a quarter mile away where Nuala had taken up her position on the roof.
“There are three—nope. Four—five!” Houston went silent for a second, and Téya glanced back at him. “Yes, five tangos. Make that four. I think the fifth—lying down—is most likely the old lady.”
Téya glowered at the tech geek.
Boone glanced at Annie then Téya. “Ready?”
After a curt nod, Téya slid on the hat and did a press check on her Glock. She adjusted the bulletproof vest before climbing out of the truck. They used the shadows and patches of grass to conceal their movement.
“Looking good,” Houston spoke through the coms, watching them from one of his drones.
Boone led her up the side of the building, lowering himself to a hunch-run. Téya followed his lead, and Annie trailed, watching their six.
“I have joy,” Nuala said, indicating she had a line of sight on one of their targets. “He is alone and outside.”
“Take the shot,” came the deep, husky voice of Boone.
Hustling up to the side steps, Téya felt her heart skip a beat. Irrational as it was, she wondered what would happen if her grandmother got mistaken for a target.
A firm pat came to her shoulder as Annie said, “She’ll be fine.”
Téya drew in a steadying breath, grateful for the friendship and familiarity with Annie. They’d been able to read each other’s thoughts and predict moves since they joined the team.
“Tango down,” Nuala called.
They stacked up on the door, ready to breach. “Going in,” Boone said, his gray eyes hitting Téya then moving past her to Annie. He held up a gloved finger. One. Then another. Two. And a final one. Three.
He stood and rammed his heel into the door.
The steel flung open.
Téya pushed upward, weapon at the ready, and entered. She swung right, tracing the wall and scanning. Behind her, she heard Annie moving away from her. Boone stepped in as Téya flanked left and pied-out. Their beams crossed.
Téya spotted the paneled-off area and indicated that direction with two fingers. The others followed as she swept into what turned out to be a narrow corridor. So much for one big open space. Houston needed to update his description skills.
She moved decisively but cautiously. Down about twenty paces, a doorway gaped, begging for them to enter its ambush. At least, that’s how it felt.
Annie’s pulse sped. Her grandmother was in there. In who knows what kind of pain.
They’d need to draw out at least one more of the targets. Téya lifted a fist and stopped. Bending down, she lifted a crumpled soda can. She tossed it down the hall. It clanked and thunked noisily.
Téya shifted to t
he right wall, pressing her shoulder against it. Waiting. Listening. No cheesy dialogue. Just the soft crunch of boots. Whoever had taken her grandmother expected them to come after her.
A gun slid into view, held steady by two hands.
The next second seemed to take forever as Téya anticipated neutralizing this guy.
Boone slid past her, dwarfing her.
Like lightning, he grabbed the guy’s weapon. Wrapped a beefy arm around his neck. Clapped his large hand over his mouth. Pressed against the back of his head. And dragged him out of sight.
The guy went limp in Boone’s arms. He laid him against the wall and strapped on plastic cuffs. Boone gave a nod.
Téya eased up to the doorway, Glock up and ready.
A pat came to her shoulder. She pushed into the doorway.
Tsing! Tink! Tsing!
She dove to the side as more shots rang out. On the ground, she searched for the shooter.
“Taking fire!” Annie spoke through the coms.
“No joy,” Nuala said. “I have no joy.”
Téya’s stomach tightened—the shooter had her grandmother and Nuala couldn’t get a line of sight on him. It’s up to me.
Remembering the layout, where they’d seen the tangos and her grandmother on the thermal scan from the drone, she made her way to the opposite wall that was perpendicular to where the tango held her grandmother. When she made it to the corner, she squinted through the dim light available but had no better view. In fact, a four-foot wall a few feet from the tango concealed him.
Téya crouch-ran along the wall.
“Téya,” came a whispered warning from Boone. “Easy.”
She stretched out along the half wall, her knees digging into the dirt as she held herself out of sight.
“Why don’t you come out?” Boone’s deep voice echoed through the large space. “Save everyone some work and pain.”
“Not happening.”
The man’s voice sounded close—closer than Téya imagined. Must be on the other side of this wall. Téya traced the plywood structure. She couldn’t just fire through it since she didn’t know where her grandmother lay. A stray shot could kill her grandmother or just anger the guy.
She knew what she had to do. Téya used every stealth skill she had and turned onto her butt. Boots touching the wall, she gently tested them against the steel. Held her weapon in a cradle grip.
Blew out a breath. Closed her eyes. Imagined the setting. Imagined success. God, help me. She thrust herself backward. Landed on her back. Eyes took a split-second to adjust. She saw the man. Fired twice.
He slumped to the ground.
Téya hopped to her feet, weapon still trained on the guy.
Behind her, Boone and Annie ran toward them.
After verifying the guy was dead, Téya went to the corner where her grandmother lay in the corner, whimpering. “Grossmammi.”
Wizened eyes widened. “Katie?” came her whispered disbelief.
She gathered her grandmother into her arms, holding the eighty-two-year-old trembling frame close. “You’re okay now.”
Slightly gnarled fingers gripped her shoulders. “You are a soldier?” Fear. Disgust. Shock. They all tumbled through the face Téya loved. Soldiering, violence, war were all the antithesis to the Amish community. To what her grandmother believed in.
“Let’s move,” Boone ordered.
Annie was at her side, and together they helped her grandmother to her feet. They started for the door. Boone went ahead, still sweeping with his weapon as they crossed the open area. At the corner, he found the guy he’d knocked out. Only now he bore two bullet holes to the head.
Boone cursed. But started moving again. “Nuala, we have a shooter. He killed the hostage.”
“Roger, shooter spotted.” Nuala’s calm seemed preternatural. Scary calm, and her skills never failed. If someone met the Barbie-like girl on the street, they’d never know she was a top-notch sniper. “Target acquired. Rooftop.”
An explosion of glass erupted inside the building they’d just left, followed by a heavy, sickening thud.
“Shooter down.”
“Literally,” snickered Houston through the coms.
“Quiet,” Boone snapped then turned to Téya and Annie. “Let’s move.” Once in the truck, Boone pealed away, the rear tires fishtailing as they did. “Stay down!”
Bending over her grandmother, who curled into Téya’s lap, Téya protected her. Prayed they could get out of here safe. They remained down for several long minutes. “Clear,” Boone said ten minutes later.
Téya turned to her grandmother. “Are you okay?”
“Yes,” Grossmammi said, her voice strained.
It’s because of me. Because she knows the truth now. Téya placed her hands on her grandmother’s. They rode in silence for the next thirty minutes until Boone pulled into a mall parking lot. He eased alongside a Pennsylvania State Trooper’s vehicle.
Téya shifted on the seat. “Grossmammi, nobody can know you saw me today. Do you understand?”
Green eyes so like her own stared back. Studied. Tracked down to the tactical vest. The weapon holstered at her right hip.
“I know you don’t understand,” Téya said, the guilt strangling her. “And I’m sorry. But—my life is in danger. The men who took you, want me. Do you understand that?”
Her grandmother nodded.
Téya looked out the heavily tinted windows to Boone talking with the officer. “That trooper is the one who found you—that’s what you must tell anyone who asks.”
Concern—no doubt over having to lie—creased the wrinkled face.
“I’m so sorry I put you in danger, to ask this of you. But it’s very important. For both of us. For David. For everyone in Bleak Pond.”
Grossmammi patted her hand firmly.
The door swung open. “Time,” Boone said as he held out a hand. “Ready, Mrs. Gerig?”
Annie
Lucketts, Virginia
5 May – 0915 Hours
Annie wasn’t sure which was worse—the immediate aftermath of Misrata or right now. She’d never forget the instant they discovered what really happened at their hands. The devastation. The deaths. Trace believed Jessie would crack, and by the evidence spread out before them—the contents of her apartment—he was right. Really, it was a miracle that they hadn’t all lost it.
Even now, bile rose to her throat as images of those bodies—the small, frail bodies burned in her mind’s eye.
“Okay, listen up,” Trace said as he and Boone hauled in several boxes and set them on the operations table. “We all know the mind Jessie had—she was a strategist. An analyst.”
“And an obsessive one at that,” Annie put in as she left the couch she’d been sitting on and joined him.
“Right. So, it’d be no surprise that she disobeyed orders and tried to find out who was behind Misrata. And since she was hit first, I’d wager my career she found something.” Trace’s jaw muscle twitched as he waited for Téya and Nuala to join them.
“How’d she die?” Téya asked, her stony facade thicker than ever.
Trace studied them, and Annie could see his thoughts, could see him working out if that information would be beneficial or diversionary. “Sniper shot.”
Nuala straightened. “So, she died instantly.”
Trace nodded. “If you feel anything that I’m feeling right now, then you’ll want to dig through these boxes. They’re from her apartment. I have to get back to INSCOM for a meeting, but I’ll be back tonight. Let’s find some answers.”
Swallowing, Annie shook off the dread. Going through her friend’s things was as creepy as seeing her body in a casket—which, thank God, they hadn’t done. Jessie would be buried quietly and anonymously—since they were, according to government records, already dead. It grated on her nerves that Jessie and Candi wouldn’t have full rights burials. They’d earned it.
But then again, they’d earned the anonymity when they attacked a warehous
e full of ammunition. What they didn’t know was on the other side of that warehouse, twenty-two orphans and caretakers were waiting out the night for their new residence.
Awkward silence rang through the operations center as she, Nuala, and Téya pored over the boxes, files, every scrap of paper found in Jessie’s Las Vegas apartment. Things had changed. They had changed. A lot. Nuala had always been quiet and reserved but uncannily focused. Téya and Annie, however, had been close and raucous. Livewires, Boone had called them.
Téya seemed even more reclusive since the mission with her grandmother and boyfriend. Though Annie wanted to comfort her, the words—even in her head—sounded shallow. Sorry didn’t quite make up for the harm caused to someone you loved.
“What’s he like?” Annie asked, pretending less interest than she felt.
Riffling through a stack of papers, Téya hesitated then resumed her perusal.
Okay then. “Words are cheap, but—”
“You’re right. They’re cheap.” Téya tossed the file down and moved to another box farther away from Annie.
“You’re not the only one who lost in this attack,” Annie said softly. Not to be confrontational, but they needed perspective. Had to remember the greater mission.
Téya didn’t respond. She squatted at a box and thumbed through some items.
“What about you?” Nuala said, her eyes curious. “Did you find someone since…?”
Sam’s handsome mug leapt into her visual cortex and forced a smile. “Yeah.” She laughed. “I have a knack for trouble—he’s a Navy SEAL.”
Nuala’s eyebrows raised. “Seriously? How’d you meet him?”
“I worked at a great place called the Green Dot Sub Shop. Sam’s friends with the owner.” She dug through a box of clothes. Slinky, sparkly clothes. “Please tell me she used this to blend in,” Annie said, holding up a skirt. “This looks more like a tourniquet than a miniskirt.”
“Um,” Nuala said, lifting something out of a bin. She held out her hand.
Annie stared at the syringes and elastic bands.
“Did she get into drugs?”
“Jessie struggled after Misrata.” Boone appeared out of nowhere, his expression stiff. “She couldn’t keep it together or cope with what she’d done.”
