Path of Secrets

by D. F. Hart

  “About that,” Donny said. “I’ve got something similar brewing, but I’ve also got something else that I need to pick your brain about. Do you have a minute to talk?”

  “Sure. Whatcha got?”

  “Well, it involves a certain woman near and dear to both of us...” Donny began, and read Joe in.

  “Anything you need, you can count on me,” Joe told him sincerely before they ended the call.

  ***

  The woman in question was relaxing in her dorm room after a typically busy day. After being moral support for Jones, Lizzie went to the range to practice, then spent the rest of her day in the onsite library doing research in preparation for the exams coming up the second week of April.

  She glanced at her clock. Almost five, she noted. Donny should be calling around six. I think I’ll head to the shower.

  As she turned on the water, she replayed her conversation with the instructor about trainee Jones. It worried her some to hear the man admit misgivings about whether or not Jones would buckle under pressure.

  Only takes one weak link in the chain to put the whole team at risk, she mused, absentmindedly rubbing her scarred right shoulder. I hope to God Jones is never that link.

  ***

  “Well,” Grant said when they’d returned to Benji’s house, “today was a lot of fun. Thanks for being such an excellent guide.”

  “You’re welcome,” Benji barked back. “When’s the article coming out?”

  “Next week,” Grant assured him. “I can send you a copy of the magazine, if you like.”

  Benji grunted, nodded, and started to get out of the car.

  “One more question,” Grant began, feeling bold. “That waitress at the Waffle House. Who does she remind you of?”

  “Excuse me?” Benji’s demeanor became agitated.

  “Beverly,” Grant clarified. “I saw the way you looked at her. Like she reminds you of someone.”

  He fell silent as Benji’s glare tore through him.

  “Not that it’s any of your business,” Benji finally drawled, “but she resembles my Maggie some.”

  “Maggie?”

  “My wife. Lost her in a car wreck almost twenty years ago,” Benji explained, his tone and expression growing wistful. “Not a day goes by I don’t miss her.”

  “I think you should ask Beverly out,” Grant prodded. “I think you’d be pleasantly surprised.”

  “And I think you should mind your own damn business, sonny,” Benji snapped, and climbed out of Grant’s car.

  Well, I tried, Grant thought to himself as he watched the old man stride toward his front porch. He sighed to himself, put the car in reverse, and backed out of the driveway.

  ***

  The killer laughed out loud when he heard Grant’s romantic advice to Benji as clear as day through the listening device.

  “Gotta hand it to you, Grant, that was brave,” he murmured. “Surprised old Benji didn’t rip your head off for it.”

  He glanced at his watch. “Speaking of good old Benji, I’d better get moving.”

  ***

  “The nerve of that kid,” Benji grumbled as he paced his living room floor. “Where in the hell does he get off sticking his nose in my business like that?”

  But the seed Grant had sown had already taken root. In his mind’s eye Benji could see himself entering the Waffle House, taking Beverly by the hand, and asking her out on a proper date – flowers, dinner, dancing, the works.

  “Not much for dancing, myself,” he observed out loud to an empty room. “But I’d do it for her, if that’s what she wanted.”

  I wonder what kind of flowers Beverly likes? he found himself thinking, and he frowned.

  “Damn that nosy kid,” he muttered under his breath.

  He raked his hands across his face.

  Go have a beer or two at Racine’s. That’ll chase the daydream out of your head, he told himself, and scooped up the keys to his truck.

  That’s what I know. That’s my comfort zone. Not sitting here all churned up over some woman.

  He got in his truck with every intention of driving straight to his favorite local watering hole at the edge of town. So Benji was just as surprised as Beverly was when he walked into the Waffle House.

  ***

  The killer’s jaw hung open.

  “Honestly didn’t think the old man had it in him,” he murmured, watching from his spot across the road.

  The glass walls of the diner allowed for easy reconnaissance, and he was able to see Benji take Beverly’s hand and speak to her. She smiled and nodded at whatever he’d said, and Benji smiled back at her. After a few minutes, Beverly stood on tiptoe and kissed his cheek. Benji stepped back outside, and the spring in his step conveyed his satisfaction with their exchange.

  Huh. Half tempted to wait, shadow them on their date. Everyone should have one last good time before they go...

  Then again, maybe not, he decided as he trailed Benji’s truck to Racine’s and watched the old man walk inside.

  “Flip for it,” he said aloud, holding a quarter in his hand. “Heads it’s tonight, tails it’s after their date.”

  When the coin came up heads, he grinned.

  “Sorry, Benji. Game rules, you know.”

  He moved his car into an empty lot a half-block down, put the transmission in park, and waited for twenty minutes while the sun finished its descent for the day.

  Finally satisfied that he wouldn’t be seen, he grabbed his rifle and made his way to the rooftop of the vacant building he’d previously scouted out. From his vantage point he had an unobstructed view of the bar’s entrance.

  He loaded his rifle, sighted in the front door to Racine’s, and waited.

  ***

  “I was surprised he asked my opinion, to be honest,” Lizzie told Donny on their nightly call.

  “Well, you’ve been on the job a long time, Liz. And you’ve been in tough situations before, too. I’m not surprised at all that the instructor asked for your take on the kid.”

  ***

  Grant’s drive back to Pantego was uneventful and he set his overnight bag down in his living room just after nine p.m.

  I know I should try to get some sleep, but I’m just too wound up, he acknowledged. There’s just so many cool details I need to add into my story. This one’s going to be the best article yet in my series.

  Resolutely, he moved to the kitchen to brew some coffee. Once he’d poured himself a cup, Grant settled in at his desk and booted up his computer. He fired off a short email to Timothy Overton, the point of contact he needed to interview for Fort Belknap. Then he retrieved his tiny recorder and prepared to make alterations to his current article as he listened to Benji speak.

  ***

  When Benji walked in whistling, Mack’s eyebrows shot up.

  “You’re awfully chipper,” the owner of Racine’s observed as he set a mug of beer in front of his most regular customer. “What’s up?”

  Benji confided in Mack about his upcoming date with Beverly. Although the two men traded barbs regularly, a deep friendship existed between them.

  “Really? That’s great, man!” Mack exclaimed, slinging his bar towel across his shoulder. “I just don’t know why it took some kid from out of town mentioning it for you to get off your duff and actually do it. I’ve been telling you the same thing for months now.”

  Benji grunted, then explained, “Well, I figured there must be something to it if I had two people riding me about it.”

  A long pause, and then the men drifted toward their usual topics – work, fishing, cars.

  “I don’t miss work,” Benji relayed. “I’m happy as hell being retired.”

  Mack sighed. “I’ll get there someday, if I can ever find someone else to run this place. My kid has no interest at all.”

  ***

  Grant paused the playback to skim what he’d typed in so far, frowned, and began to rearrange chunks of text to improve the April article’s flow.

&n
bsp; Around ten-thirty he skimmed the piece in its entirety again and nodded with satisfaction.

  “Much better,” he said to himself.

  Grant stood and stretched, poured himself another cup of coffee, then pressed ‘play’ on the pocket-size recorder to continue adding details from his tours with Benji Patterson into the existing framework of his article.

  ***

  Benji finished the last drops of his second beer and announced, “I’m headed out, I guess.”

  “It’s about time, too, you ornery old cuss,” Mack answered with a grin. “Good luck on your date.”

  “Thanks, Mack. See you later,” Benji called out and walked out the door.

  Mack began to wipe down the bar, starting at the far end. But a loud cracking sound from outside caught his attention, and he whipped his head toward his bar’s front door.

  I know that sound. I spent way too much time in the Army not to. That was a gunshot...

  Mack grabbed the hunting rifle that he kept behind the bar for protection and hurried outside, scanning the area.

  Five steps out the door he found Benji lying in a heap on the ground, bleeding profusely from a bullet wound to the chest. He also noticed moonlight reflecting against steel on the vacant building’s rooftop across the street and down half a block. That was definitely not usual, and that was enough for him to sight in and take a shot of his own.

  Then Mack Racine, a six-foot-seven mountain of a man, scooped up his friend as easily as if Benji was a paper doll and hustled him out of the line of fire. Once they were back inside the bar, Mack pulled out his cell phone and called 9-1-1 as he grabbed fresh towels to press to Benji’s wound.

  ***

  The killer made his way down from the rooftop, rifle slung across his back, clutching a handkerchief to his upper left arm where he’d been hit by Mack’s bullet. He’d worn his armored vest purely out of habit but hadn’t really expected any resistance. When he’d tried to shoot Mack, his stolen rifle had chosen that precise moment to misfire, so he was unable to take his adversary down.

  The only option left, he realized sourly, is to run for it.

  The bar owner caught me by surprise. That won’t ever happen again. Lessons learned? Expect blowback - and bring a backup weapon.

  His mouth set in a grimace as he moved quickly back to his rental car, climbed in, and sped away.

  ***

  As soon as there was enough daylight to properly work the scene, two Abilene detectives and a crime scene crew descended on the vacant building. Several fingerprints were recovered. A spent .44/40 cartridge was found, photographed, and bagged for evidence, as were several swabs of the blood trail leading all the way from the rooftop to the parking lot. Multiple shoeprints were also catalogued as evidence in the case.

  But despite their best efforts, the Abilene detectives also came up short on solid leads. As the end of April approached, the Benji Patterson shooting investigation remained open and unsolved.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  The diamond earrings her father had given her as a police academy graduation gift were the last pieces Lizzie added to her ensemble. She’d pulled her long brown hair up into an elegant knot, and the tailored black pantsuit she’d decided on complemented her physique, with understated makeup enhancing both the wardrobe choice and her hazel eyes. She slipped on stacked heels, added just a touch of lipstick, and checked the overall effect in the mirror. Nodding in satisfaction, she left her dorm room to travel to the main hall for the ceremony on a warm late spring morning.

  As Lizzie filed into the room with the others in her graduating class of agents, she was grateful to see some familiar faces in the crowd.

  Seated next to Donny was Faith and Rick. They had been joined by Nathan, Bella and Charlie – and to her shock and delight, she realized that Joe and Trish had also made the weekend trip to Quantico to watch her receive her FBI badge.

  She smiled, waving stealthily before taking her seat. Within twenty minutes, she found herself standing in front of the entire crowd to accept her badge from the FBI director personally, shake his hand, and pose for a picture.

  With the commemorative photograph captured for posterity, she moved swiftly out of the way as the next agent stepped up behind her. Lizzie gave a thumbs-up to her tribe that beamed at her from the audience as she walked back to her seat, then stopped dead in her tracks. Her old partner, Tank, was standing at the back of the room, pride shining from his features as he winked at her. She winked back and sat down.

  The ceremony was completed after another ten minutes, with everyone encouraged by the Director to stay for cake and punch.

  Donny was the first to reach her, and he wrapped his arms around her, smiling warmly.

  “I’m so proud of you,” he murmured in her ear, then turned her loose so the others could greet her as well.

  “Congratulations, kiddo,” Joe exclaimed as he bear-hugged her. “Your dad would be so proud right now.”

  The sentiment made her misty. “Thanks, Joe,” she managed, and kissed his cheek.

  Next came Faith, who squealed with excitement. “You’re gonna make the best agent ever!” she enthused as she hugged her best friend tightly.

  Rick followed with another hug, as did Bella and Trish. Nathan, her new boss, opted for a friendly fist bump.

  Then she pivoted, and Tank was standing there.

  “Hey there, skinny white girl,” he boomed, and chuckled as she flung herself into his open arms.

  “I’ve missed the hell outta you, Tank,” she told him as her eyes welled up. “How’s Renee?”

  “Sorry she couldn’t be here. She said to tell you she loves you and congratulations.”

  Something in Tank’s tone had her pulling back to scrutinize his face.

  “What aren’t you telling me?” she demanded, and the entire group waited expectantly.

  “Well,” Tank’s lips curved into the megawatt smile that was his trademark, “she was worried about being able to handle the plane ride. On account of the morning sickness.”

  “You’re gonna be a dad? Tank! That is awesome!” Lizzie laughed as she hugged him again.

  She stepped back, cleared her throat, and with effort regained her composure.

  “Who’s up for cake and punch?” she asked.

  Charlie leaned forward from his place on Nathan’s lap and reached out for her.

  “Cake,” he said, once he was balanced on Lizzie’s hip. “Cake.”

  “I agree completely, little man,” she told him. “Let’s go get some.”

  ***

  As they all filed out to head to the reception for cake, Donny slowed his pace to walk beside Tank at the tail end of the group.

  “Hi, I’m Donny. It’s nice to meet you, finally,” he began. “Lizzie’s told me a lot about you. She adores you, you know. You’re like a brother to her.”

  Tank stuck out his hand. “Nice to meet you too, Donny. I’ve heard a lot about you also. You got yourself one special woman there.”

  “Yep,” Donny agreed. “She’s one in a million, for sure.”

  Tank cocked his head and sized Donny up, then lowered his voice. “I know that look...you’re gonna ask her, aren’t you?”

  Donny looked around quickly to make sure Lizzie was out of earshot. “We have a surprise birthday party planned for her next weekend. The only reason you don’t already know about it is because I didn’t know how to get in touch with you – and I wasn’t about to go through her phone to get your number.”

  Tank grinned. “It’s all good, man. And we’ve love to come. Renee does okay with car rides, so, we’ll be there.”

  “Great!” Donny grinned back. “I can’t wait to see her face. She’s gonna be so surprised.”

  “But all that still doesn’t answer my question. So, when you gonna ask her?” Tank’s deep baritone sank down into a whisper.

  “At some point during the party,” came the whispered reply. “You think that will be too much?”

  Tank conside
red. “She’ll be surprised, but not embarrassed, if that’s what you’re worried about. Just make sure you don’t, like, stop the entire party and have everyone watching when you ask her. That stuff is personal. That, she will be embarrassed about. Zim’s not comfortable being the center of attention for very long. You feel me?”

  “Gotcha,” Donny acknowledged. “Thanks for the tip, man.”

  “Hey! You two coming?” Lizzie called out to them from the reception hall doorway.

  “Yes, ma’am, Agent Zimmerman,” Tank hollered back, and winked at Donny.

  ***

  It’s settled, then. I’ll meet you in the town square at two p.m. Tuesday, Grant typed in his email reply to Timothy Overton, and pressed ‘send’ before he returned to answering more fan mail.

  As he suspected, the April article had been the biggest hit with his readers so far. And he planned to build on that momentum so that his following would be at a peak when his six-month follow-up talk with Stella was published.

  Maximize the curve, he told himself with satisfaction, and opened the next new email.

  ***

  It had been a long month of recovery for Benji. His unknown assailant’s bullet had caused quite a bit of damage. Fortunately, Mack had been trained in battlefield triage, and his quick actions improved Benji’s chances a great deal by the time the ambulance crew had arrived.

  He’d been taken to the nearest emergency room, then whisked into surgery. The ambulance team lost Benji’s pulse once in transit but brought him back, and he coded twice more during surgery, but he’d pulled through.

  His first week in the intensive care unit had been pretty much a blur. On Tuesday of the following week, he’d come to consciousness and realized someone was holding his hand. He looked down at it, then slowly lifted his eyes to see Beverly’s face, eyes brimming with happy tears, as she gazed back at him.

  “Hi there,” she said softly, and smiled. “I’ve been worried sick about you, Benji.”

  He’d squeezed her hand and rasped, “Have you now?”

  She nodded, tears spilling over, and he’d carefully extricated his hand from hers so he could reach up and gently wipe her cheek.

  “It’s all right, darlin, I’m not going anywhere just yet,” he’d whispered. “I promised you dinner and dancing.”