Standing Fast

by Maggie K. Black

  Instead, he squared his shoulders and strode through base toward the warehouses. He dialed his former boss. She picked up on the first ring. “Captain Reardon.”

  “Hello, ma’am,” he said. “It’s Chase McLear.”

  She cleared her throat. “Good evening, Airman. I’m afraid it’s not a good time to talk. It’s been a rather tiring day.”

  “I know,” he said, as quickly as he dared without actually cutting her off. “I dropped by the warehouse earlier, hoping I could talk to you about the email from Captain Dennis and accessing Ajay’s video files, but Security Forces were in your office.”

  “I’m really sorry, Airman,” she said. “But I can’t help you. I’ve been questioned three times about my connection to you, as have several members of my team. Multiple reporters have called me. Our entire office and warehouse complex were searched late this afternoon by officers with K-9 dogs...”

  The way Queenie had sounded the alarm when he’d been in the warehouse earlier niggled at the back of his mind. At the time, he’d assumed it was because her training was slipping. What if she’d been trying to tell him something? What if she’d actually smelled something she thought was important?

  “Did they find anything?” he asked.

  “No.” She sounded almost startled by the question. “Of course not.”

  He guessed he shouldn’t have been surprised by the answer. It was hard to imagine anyone stashing a body or illegal explosives in the warehouse. Then again, what if they hadn’t sent an electronic-sniffer dog like Queenie?

  “Anyway, Captain Dennis told me that several of his men in Afghanistan were interrogated over video call today,” Captain Reardon continued, “including Airman Frank Golosky, who is currently mourning the loss of his brother.” He winced, and she continued, “Both Captain Dennis and I have been warned by investigators that very serious charges are expected to be filed very shortly and that anyone associated with you could be forced to testify or even face charges themselves.”

  His breath caught like he’d just been punched in the chest. What charges? How soon would he be arrested? This week? Tomorrow?

  Anyone associated with you could be forced to testify or even face charges themselves...

  Her words echoed in his mind. Was that why Justin had questioned his feelings for Maisy? Because she would be compelled to testify? Because she was at risk of being charged as an accessory after the fact? It was bad enough that Frank Golosky had been put through the wringer within hours of discovering his brother was dead. The idea of Maisy being hurt even further cut somewhere deeper inside him than he’d ever known was possible. He ran his hand over his head and prayed, Oh, Lord, what have I done?

  “I’m so sorry for how you’ve all been impacted by this,” he said, bracing himself for what he was about to ask. “But I was wondering if I could come in to talk to you in person? I don’t know if you’d made any headway in accessing Ajay Joseph’s video files, but maybe I could help look over the data you do have. He’d been concerned about some discrepancies in the transfer logs, and while he’d later assured me it was just a mistake on his end, maybe if I looked at those too, I might see something that would help back up my story. Also, my K-9 dog Queenie started howling when I dropped in to see you earlier. I don’t know why, but maybe she smelled something...”

  His words trailed off. He sounded so ridiculous. He sounded like a desperate man grasping at the flimsiest straws. But what other choice did he have?

  There was a pause, much longer than he liked. He gritted his teeth and prayed.

  “I’ll be leaving my office in the next twenty minutes,” Captain Reardon said, “and then I’ll be locking the warehouses down until morning. If you’re able to get here before I leave, we can talk briefly. But I can’t promise you anything.”

  “I understand!” Fresh hope surged in his heart. “Thank you, ma’am. I’ll be there soon.”

  Thank You, God!

  “Come on, Queenie.” He looked down at her hopeful and intelligent face. “We’re going back to the warehouse.”

  He ended the call and sent Maisy a quick text, telling her that he was finished with the questioning and heading to the warehouses for a meeting with Captain Reardon. Then he broke into a jog. Man and dog ran together, past personnel and vehicles. He appreciated each breath of fresh air that filled his lungs and each step his foot made onto the pavement as if it could be his last as a free man.

  Finally, he reached the warehouse. They stopped outside the cargo bay door. It was open. Queenie whined. He looked down. She sat expectantly at his feet with her head titled to the side and her intelligent brown eyes locked on his face, waiting for his command to search.

  There was something in there she wanted them to find. He knew it with absolute certainty.

  Captain Reardon wasn’t going to be in her office waiting for him indefinitely. He was on thin ice with his former boss as it was. The logical thing to do was to ignore Queenie, go meet with Captain Reardon and then, after they spoke, ask her if it was okay to let Queenie search the expansive warehouse complex before it shut down for the day, and hope and pray she agreed.

  And yet, he couldn’t shake the feeling that Queenie really had smelled something on their last visit. Something Queenie had thought was urgent. But he hadn’t listened to her. He’d been too quick to doubt her and blame himself for the fact that she was sounding off.

  He reached down, ran his hand over her soft fur and scratched her behind the ears. She’d been such a good partner. She’d been loyal and patient, quick to listen and learn, and protective of his daughter, Allie. If this really was his last night as a free man, then maybe he should spend it listening to his partner and trying to decipher what Queenie had been trying to tell him.

  “Show me, Queenie. Go search.”

  She howled and dove through the open doorway with that excited yelp that filled his heart with joy and let him know she was on the scent. He followed her as she weaved and darted through the vehicles, equipment and palettes, heading toward the offices. The warehouse was deserted. But a light still shone from Captain Reardon’s office window. He couldn’t imagine what she could possibly be thinking to hear Queenie’s howls echoing through the warehouses or how it would look if she glanced out her office window to see Chase and Queenie running in circles. But if he found what Queenie smelled and if Captain Reardon could help him clear his name...

  Queenie rounded a corner. He followed. Then stopped.

  A figure in a dark hoodie, bandanna and baseball cap stood in front of him, a gun raised high in their gloved hands. Chase’s hands rose. His feet faltered. But it was too late. The figure fired. A sharp piercing pain caught him in the throat. It was a dart.

  “Queenie!” His voice choked. “Run! Hide!”

  The last thing he remembered before the tranquilizer swept over his body, engulfing him and pulling him down into unconsciousness, was the sound of his partner’s frantic barking.

  THIRTEEN

  Allie and Freddy knew they were up past their bedtime. Maisy could tell by the little grins they shared back and forth, as they sat on the floor and played with Freddy blocks, figures and vehicles. They had an entire town of characters spread out over the carpet. She didn’t know how late Chase would be. He wasn’t answering his phone and Zoe had agreed one late night wouldn’t hurt the kids too much.

  So instead, she sat in an armchair, her feet curled up beside her and a cup of hot cocoa with marshmallows in her hand, and watched them play. Zoe was on the other side of the room, half lying on the couch, reading something on her laptop. A comfortable quiet spread between them, the kind that said conversation was always available but not needed. Maisy deeply appreciated it.

  Her phone buzzed. Her heart leaped and she snapped it to her ear, thankful it still worked even though the screen was so cracked she could barely see who was calling. “Hello? Chase?”
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  “It’s Preston,” the caller said stiffly. “I was calling to ask if you could meet me at the Winged Java for a late coffee tonight. I have some news I want to share with you in person.”

  A late-night coffee date with Preston? She was sure that Zoe would be more than happy to watch Allie for a little bit if she asked, and with Linc and Star home too she had no doubt Allie would be safe. But did she really want to meet Preston for a late-night anything? She took a deep breath. “No, Preston. I won’t meet up with you outside of work or professional duties. If there’s anything you need to tell me, it can wait until morning.”

  “I’m calling to inform you that a warrant is being issued as we speak for Chase McLear’s arrest,” he blurted so quickly his voice was almost petulant. “It’s the end of the line for him. He’s going to be kicked out of the canine program—which is about time, considering some of us have been waiting a whole lot longer than he did to get partnered with a dog. He’s going to spend the rest of his life in jail.”

  “A warrant? For what?” She stood. Zoe’s eyes met hers. Maisy mouthed the word Preston. Then she stepped across the room to the window. “What are you talking about?”

  “New irrefutable evidence has come to light that proves Chase McLear has been helping Boyd Sullivan,” Preston said. “Photos turned up on a security camera that showed him talking with Boyd Sullivan and Drew Golosky at a gas station near the ravine. What’s worse is his daughter was in the back of his truck, watching the whole thing.”

  “That can’t be possible,” she said. Yet, it fit all the facts of the case as she knew it, from why Allie was babbling about a “bad man,” to why someone had reported seeing Boyd Sullivan at Chase’s home, to why Boyd, or another accomplice, might try to kidnap Allie.

  But it didn’t match the heart of the man she saw in Chase’s eyes.

  “Well, it’s true,” Preston said. He sounded disappointed. Sulky, even. Like a child who was watching his balloon float away or who had dropped his ice-cream cone on the ground. No, more like a preschool child who’d suddenly decided he wanted the toy some other child was playing with to be his. “I thought you’d be happy that I caught Boyd Sullivan’s accomplice! I did it! Me! Because I knew he was guilty all along. I knew it when he was chosen to work with that electronic-sniffing dog over me. I knew it when I asked Yvette if you were seeing anyone, weeks ago, and she told me she thought you had a crush on him. You never saw him for what he was. Nobody did anything to stop him. Nobody tried to protect you from him. So I stepped up and made it happen.”

  “Made it happen?” she said. “How? That’s not how this works, Preston. You don’t suspect someone’s guilty and prove it. You follow the evidence.”

  “Trust me. The evidence will prove he’s guilty!”

  Foreboding filled her heart. What had Preston done?

  “Bad man!” Allie yelped, pushing away the toy that Freddy was trying to put in his small parade of figures. “Bad man, no!”

  What did that mean? Why did it matter so much to Allie that her chin was quivering?

  “No!” Freddy said. “He’s good man! Like my new daddy, Linc!”

  “I’m sorry, Preston,” Maisy said. “I don’t want to talk to you any further about this. I’ll get my updates on the case from Captain Blackwood. I’ve got to go.”

  He was still sputtering as she hung up. She dropped down on her knees beside the children on the carpet and gently pulled the toy airman from where it was trapped between Allie’s and Freddy’s hands.

  “Why is this a bad man, Allie?” Maisy asked gently.

  Allie’s eyes welled with tears.

  Help me, Lord. I can’t save Chase. I can’t find Boyd Sullivan, the lost dogs or stop false charges from being laid. But with Your help, maybe I can break through to this frightened little girl’s heart.

  “Let’s tell a story about the bad man, okay, Allie?” she asked, keeping her voice cheerful and upbeat, in her usual teacher storytelling voice. “We can work together to tell the story about the bad man, okay? It’ll be safe, because we’ll be in charge of how the story goes, okay?”

  Allie paused for a long moment. Maisy’s heart ached and prayed. Then Allie nodded. “Bad man hurt man.”

  Oh, honey, I know that means so very much to you. Help me understand and why it makes you shake and cry.

  “Well, then,” Maisy said, “we need to find somebody to play the hurt man.” She picked another airman from the pile of toys. “How about him? Can he be the hurt man?”

  Allie shook her head. “No.”

  “Okay, how about the pilot?”

  “No.” Her tiny forehead wrinkled and then she turned and searched through the toys with the kind of meticulous care that took forever. Finally, she pulled out a bearded shepherd that Maisy guessed was from a nativity set.

  “This!” she said proudly. “This is hurt man!”

  Allie took the “bad man” from Maisy’s hand, looked around for a moment and then ran over to Zoe’s laptop. She made the tiny figure of the “hurt man” jump up and down in front of Zoe’s laptop screen. Then bringing her small hands together quickly, the “bad man” hit the “hurt man” with a force so loudly the sound of plastic against plastic seemed to shake the room. The “hurt man” fell onto the floor.

  Zoe’s eyes met Maisy’s, filled with worry.

  “Is this something you saw on the television?” Zoe asked softly.

  Allie shook her head. “On Daddy’s computer.”

  “Was your daddy there when you watched it?” Maisy asked.

  Allie shook her head. “Hurt man said, ‘Hi, I’m Daddy’s friend. Who are you?’ And I said, ‘Allie.’ And he said, ‘I’m...’”

  Her forehead crinkled. Maisy’s heart shuddered.

  “Was it Drew?” Zoe asked. Allie shook her head. “Was it Boyd?” Allie shook her head again.

  Maisy took in a breath and guessed. “Was it Ajay?”

  Tears filled Allie’s eyes. Maisy clutched her to her chest and held her tightly.

  “You did a very good job telling your story, Allie. You’re a very brave girl.” She looked up and met Zoe’s gaze over Allie’s head. “Ajay is an Afghan local and Chase’s alibi for the morning that Boyd broke onto base. I need to talk to Chase. He’s been trying to reach him for weeks. And if Allie’s story is true...”

  Her voice trailed off. Zoe nodded slowly. She knew without Maisy saying the words. Then Chase’s alibi had been dead for months and Allie had witnessed the murder.

  “I think it’s time to make s’mores,” Zoe said brightly. “I think Linc would like to help us make a fire. Would you like that, Allie?”

  “S’mores!” Freddy jumped to his feet.

  Allie nodded. “I like marshmallows.”

  “So do I,” Zoe said. She set her laptop down and reached for Allie with one hand and Freddy with another. Then she glanced at Maisy. “I’ll be in either the kitchen or the backyard if you need me.”

  Zoe led the two children into the kitchen. Maisy dialed Chase’s number. It rang. What did it mean that the man who Chase considered his alibi had been killed? Would it make any difference to the fact that Chase was going to be arrested tonight?

  The phone call went through to his voice mail. She tried again and got voice mail a second time. Did that mean he’d already been arrested? Or did he have his phone off while he was meeting with Captain Reardon?

  Help me, Lord, what do I do? If Preston’s right, Chase is going to be arrested tonight. But if this is one piece of evidence that could help him or save him in any way...

  She opened her eyes, grabbed her purse and her keys. The warehouse complex was less than a ten-minute drive away. She could get there, tell Chase and be back before the s’mores were even finished. If all went well, she’d catch him before he was arrested.

  “I’ll be back soon,” she called. “I’m just g
oing to go talk to Chase.”

  She ran for the door. Nine minutes later, she’d reached the warehouse. The door was open. The warehouse was dark. She pulled her phone out and turned on the flashlight.

  “Chase?” She stepped in. Darkness and shadows of vehicles and palettes of equipment loomed around her. Her footsteps echoed in the darkness. “Chase? Are you in here?”

  Nothing but silence filled her ears.

  Where had he gone? Was she too late?

  Then she heard a faint sound of whimpering. She ran toward it. “Queenie!”

  The whimpering turned into a howl, then she felt a small furry body launch itself against her. Maisy dropped to her knees, brushed her hand over the small dog’s soft fur and felt the gentle tip of Queenie’s tongue touch her fingers. “Queenie, where’s Chase? Find Chase.”

  * * *

  Darkness filled Chase’s gaze. He tried to move, but he seemed to be wedged sideways in something very dark with his long limbs cramped around him. He groaned. Cloth filled his mouth. He’d been gagged, his hands were tied behind his back and his legs were bent beneath him at an odd angle. The tranquilizer was wearing off slowly, leaving behind a horrible grogginess that filled his mouth with a vile taste and made his limbs feel like wet cement. He tried to sit up and smacked his head on something metal.

  He was in the trunk of a car, a small one by the feel of it. He felt around. No tools. No latch he could easily access, either. But at least the vehicle didn’t seem to be moving. Not for now, anyway.

  He closed his eyes and prayed. God, I need Your help. All this time he’d felt like he was just one step ahead of the people who wanted to lock him away. Now he was well and truly trapped.