Proving Ground

by Stanalei Fletcher

  “The mountain air couldn’t hurt. But it’s not going to be all that peaceful. There’ll be a whole lot of bikers. It’s a national rally.”

  She took a sip of her coffee, grateful Jack didn’t push harder about seeing her father. “Your email mentioned that several chapters from all over the United States are riding in.”

  “Got most of the locals in quite a stir.”

  She grinned. “I can imagine. When I rode around with you, it used to scare my old English teacher, Mrs. Kelter.”

  Jack laughed. “Your old man, too.”

  Caitlin chuckled. “Yeah, Dad would have preferred I found another ride to my senior prom than on the back of your bike.”

  Jack’s mustache tilted downward in disapproval. “You didn’t have a choice when your date dumped you.”

  “Pete wasn’t really my date, just part of the prom committee, like me. He found a date at the last minute and I still had to be there, stag or not.”

  “Stupid kid. Didn’t know what he was missing.” Jack growled in her defense.

  Caitlin hadn’t really minded that Pete found another date. She’d been hoping Mac would show up to take her, even though he was four years out of high school himself. She’d wanted him to see her just that once, dressed up like a woman, instead of the tomboyish sister she’d been to him. He never came.

  “Remember the look on Principal Anderson’s face when we rode up?” Jack’s eyes twinkled with mirth as he broke into her thoughts. “He thought I was your date, not just your ride. Looked like he was going to drop a load right on the front steps of the high school. You know, that was the best present anyone could’ve given me for my first day out of the joint.”

  Caitlin’s smile grew as she picked up her cup and took another sip of coffee. That night had been good for Uncle Jack. It was also the reason Mac hadn’t shown his face. Swallowing the hot brew, she pushed the past aside. For the moment, her ego was intact. She’d humiliate herself later when she had to confess the screw-up that nearly killed her partner. But right now, reminiscing with Jack felt almost normal.

  Chapter Four

  Martin Dunn paced beside his truck, watching two young mothers stroll with their babies along the Rockton Community Park sidewalk.

  Someday, he thought. Someday soon, he and Lacey would start planning their family. He wanted a son to carry on his name, and a daughter as sweet and lovely as her mother. Above all else, he wanted his wife back by his side, in their home, singing and laughing like she used to right after they were married.

  A car drove past, but it didn’t turn into the parking lot. Martin knew he was early, but how much longer would he have to wait? His stomach clenched at the prospect of the upcoming meeting. Nerves and excitement tangled with anxiety. After today, everything would be different. Right or wrong, the ball had been set in motion and he couldn’t stop it, even if he wanted.

  Six months ago, Martin’s world spun out of control when they received the diagnosis of Lacey’s inoperable brain tumor. Six months of tests, of hope, of disappointments that had sucked dry their life’s savings until finally the doctors admitted there was nothing more they could do.

  Lacey had only weeks left to live, if that.

  Then Martin read on the internet about experimental drugs in Oklahoma and Utah, specifically formulated to reduce the tumor size. The local doctors insisted it was too late. The cancer had progressed too far. But Martin refused to give up. With the house already mortgaged to the hilt, he’d pleaded with the bank on four different occasions to lend more money with no success. The manager was sympathetic, but could do nothing.

  That was when Mr. Smith approached him.

  A dark silver Lexus slid into the parking spot next to Martin’s truck. He checked his watch. Right on time.

  Mr. Smith, probably not his real name, climbed out of the car and smoothed a hand over his neatly buzzed blond hair.

  Martin instinctively brushed his beard, realizing that he hadn’t trimmed it in almost a month. Not that it mattered. Lacey had started to go blind. She said she didn’t care what he looked like. She just wanted to hear his voice.

  “Do you have the money?” Martin asked.

  Mr. Smith reached inside his suit jacket, ridiculous on such a warm autumn day, and pulled out a thick white envelope. He held up the packet, but didn’t pass it over.

  Martin stared at the envelope, a trickle of sweat dampening his collar. The thick pay-off packet held more money than he could make in five years working as a security guard at Unified Biotech Laboratories. The money in that envelope would pay for all of his wife’s care. Astoundingly, it was only the deposit. The rest would come after the job was complete. All he had to do was lend his access key card to Mr. Smith. The rest would be out of his hands.

  Mr. Smith had approached Martin after the bank turned down his fourth request for a loan to pay the mounting medical bills. At first, he’d thought Smith was running some sort of scam. He had difficulty believing Smith could deliver on his promise of the money.

  Then Mr. Smith made the outrageous request. Martin realized that to pull off such a task, there must be plenty of cash to make it happen. If Martin didn’t do it, Mr. Smith would find someone else who would. Regardless of Mr. Smith’s appearance—a slight build and light-colored skin, which defied Martin’s preconceptions of how a terrorist should look, he had little doubt that Smith would dispose of Martin and move on to the next schmuck in need of some ready cash. Then who would save Lacey?

  Martin despised the man, who appeared to be an American, like himself. And he didn’t want to know the details of Smith’s plans, either. Martin wasn’t a saint. It was enough to know that they were breaking so many laws that, if caught, they’d never see daylight again. Besides, he didn’t have to guess what Mr. Smith wanted from the lab. Nor did he have to stretch his imagination about what Smith would do after he got his hands on the pathogens. Just thinking about the invisible bugs his employer housed at the lab gave him the willies. The fact that he’d been assured none of the stuff was going to stay in the country wasn’t the only reason Dunn agreed to Mr. Smith’s terms, but it certainly tipped the scales.

  Martin looked at the envelope in Smith’s hand again. Gauged the substantial weight. Measured the risk against the reward. His wife would receive the help she needed. They’d find a doctor who’d cure her. Pay for the special treatment and medicines denied them by the stingy insurance companies.

  Lacey would live.

  “Do we have a deal?” Mr. Smith’s voice was level.

  Dunn swallowed. “Sure. We have a deal.” He held out his hand.

  Mr. Smith hesitated then placed the envelope in Martin’s hand. “Good. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  “Uh, that’s where we’re going to have a problem.” That trickle of sweat started to feel like river rolling down the side of Martin’s neck.

  “Problem?” Mr. Smith’s glacial stare sent a ripple of dread through Martin. “Are you changing our agreement?”

  “Well, uh. Yeah.” Martin cleared his throat and scratched the growth on his jaw. “You see, there’s this biker rally tomorrow. I have to be there to cover for the Sergeant of Arms. I’m not going to the lab. I took the day off.” He licked his lips. “And to do what you need, I have to be at the lab. My access card won’t read if I don’t check in. If I show up on my day off, the boss will start asking questions. We’ll have to do this next week.” Martin squared his shoulders and looked the other man in the eyes. “Besides, law enforcement is crawling out from under every rock to be near the rally. It’ll be too hard to make a clean get-away.”

  “I see,” Mr. Smith blinked rapidly, as though avoiding dust in his eyes, except the breeze barely ruffled the park’s trees.

  Martin shifted uneasily, waiting for the other man to say more. They could do the job next week instead of tomorrow. What were a few more days?

  Except for the whisper of leaves above them, and a school bell ringing in the distance, silence marked each passing seco
nd. Sweat from Martin’s palms stained the corners of the envelope. He stuffed it inside his back pocket, afraid Mr. Smith might change his mind and take away his only hope of saving Lacey. He swallowed again, and forced himself to stand still under Smith’s penetrating gaze.

  “No change in plans.” Mr. Smith’s voice was rigid and stern.

  “But…”

  “We’ll adapt.” Smith cut off his objection harshly. “The plan is good. No one would expect such a job right under the noses of the authorities.”

  “But…I already told you. I won’t be at work tomorrow.”

  “You won’t have to be. I’ve heard about the rally. It’s being held at one of the campgrounds in the national forest, correct?”

  “Yeah…”

  Mr. Smith nodded. “Good. The proximity of the rally to the lab will work to our advantage. You must get me into the rally.” He paused. “Unless you’d rather retrieve the vials yourself.”

  “No way.” Martin shuddered.

  “Then?”

  “I don’t know, man. The club will know you’re an outsider.”

  “You’ll tell them I’m family.” Before Martin could point out that Smith would never pass as one of his brothers, the man continued, “On your wife’s side.”

  Martin raised an eyebrow. “That just might work.” No one around Rockton knew Lacey’s family. She’d moved from California just a couple of years ago. “Others are bringing their old ladies or hang-arounds.” Martin warmed up to the idea. “Yeah. We could say you’re here to visit Lacey and you wanted to see some real badasses.”

  “There you are.” Smith inclined his head. “As you say. Real badasses.”

  “Meet me at Sammy’s Café tomorrow. Nine a.m. sharp. We’ll ride up together. That is if you don’t mind ridin’ on the back of my bike. I can’t drive my truck to the rally.”

  “I will be there.” With that, Mr. Smith turned and climbed into his Lexus. Golden leaves from the surrounding trees reflected on the car’s dark polished paint. The crunch of gravel under the tires masked the quiet motor as the expensive sedan drove away.

  Martin swallowed his doubt. It would all work out. It had to. With the thick envelope of money in his possession, failure was the last thing he could afford.

  ****

  Nothing was going as planned. The sporting goods store hadn’t carried the boots Caitlin wanted for hiking the trails, which meant she’d have to make do with her old boots. Jack was serious when he’d said she’d be on the back of his bike. His other bike was in the shop and she’d have to double up with him on the ride into the mountains. So much for having her own set of wheels for the weekend. To cap it off, she’d no sooner driven up to the house before Mac came striding out and climbed in the passenger side of her SUV.

  “We’re going to the hospital to see Sean.” He slammed the door closed. “Whether you like it or not.”

  Caitlin threw him a mutinous scowl. Without a word, she reversed the SUV and headed toward the hospital at the other end of town.

  Three minutes into the drive, Mac finally spoke again. “Aren’t you going to argue with me?”

  She glanced at him. “Would it do me any good?”

  “No.”

  Caitlin’s lips thinned. Of course, it wouldn’t. She’d known the minute he stepped out of the house he’d have his way, regardless of the trouble he put her through. She’d learned years ago that these situations were easier to ride out than to fight. Besides, she’d already promised Uncle Jack she’d at least try to see her father today. It would keep Mac from hounding her and make her feel less guilty about attending the rally.

  That compromise was Grandma Mac’s influence. Some days, Caitlin wished she didn’t have a conscience. She gunned the engine harder than necessary and took the turn onto Main Street.

  Mac gripped the armrest. “What is your problem, Caitlin?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “It won’t kill you to see him. He’s your father, for heaven’s sake.”

  “I know that, Mac.”

  “So why are you acting like a spoiled brat whose favorite TV show was cancelled?”

  She eased up on the gas pedal. “I’m driving there, aren’t I?”

  “Under duress.”

  “You didn’t twist my arm.”

  Mac’s burst of laughter was without humor. “Someone must have, because you didn’t even blink when I climbed in the car.”

  Caitlin gripped the steering wheel tighter, until her knuckles turned white. She wouldn’t let Mac get to her. Nor was she willing to confess that Jack refused to take her to the rally unless she’d visited the hospital. “I can admit when I’m wrong, okay?”

  This time Mac’s hearty laughter sounded genuine. “Did we take a wrong turn into The Twilight Zone?” He leaned back in his seat and grinned. “I can see the headlines now. ‘Signs that the END is near: Caitlin Malone acknowledges she’s wrong.’”

  In spite of her frustration, Caitlin felt her lips curl upward.

  Without trying, Mac dispelled her dark mood as though it was simple chalk dust.

  “I hate it when you do that, you know.” What she didn’t hate was the way his laugh reminded her of all the good times she and Mac had enjoyed back when things were less complicated between them.

  He reached over and tugged her braid. “That’s why I do it. You’ve been too uptight since you came home. Care to talk about it?”

  “Not now.” She shook her head.

  He shrugged. “Both my ears are yours. I’m happy to listen, you know.”

  She nodded. “I know.” His ears were hers, but not his heart. She pushed the thought away and gave him a smile that almost reached her eyes. “Thanks, but not right now. ’Kay?”

  “On your own time.”

  With those words, a quiet truce settled inside the vehicle. Caitlin had always loved Mac’s company. Something about being with him felt right. Complete. Their recent past still carried unresolved issues, but they had too much history together for familiarity not to affect their relationship. For the moment, the tension from last night scuttled away and allowed her to relax.

  The sign for the hospital entrance appeared at the side of the road sooner than she was ready. Caitlin tried to enjoy the last few moments, but the closer they got, the more apprehensive she became. By the time she parked the SUV, her palms were damp and her heart raced.

  Although she’d sent her father Christmas and birthday cards, two years was a long time without seeing him.

  Mac climbed out and waited for her to join him. She stared at the building as though it was a monster waiting to swallow her whole. Yesterday, she’d been resigned to confessing her failure as a Northstar agent. Now, she didn’t have to. At least not yet. In fact, she wanted to hide the truth from her father to spare him more worry. He had enough on his plate without adding her woes.

  “Are you going to sit there all day?” Mac raised a brow.

  Caitlin shook herself. Might as well get the visit over with. She climbed out and followed Mac through the hospital doors. “What kind of tests are they running?”

  “You’ll have to ask Sean,” Mac answered. “He was the one who insisted on coming here instead of St. Anthony’s. He’s sure it’s just the flu.”

  “But you think differently.” Caitlin wasn’t asking a question.

  Mac’s expression told her everything she needed to know. “You’ll know too, when you see him.”

  Mac led her down the hallway until they came to room 23. The small hospital didn’t boast many beds, and most were used for hospice care instead of actual hospital rooms, forcing Rockton’s residents to either drive to LaGrand or Pendleton if they needed more than basic care. The fact that her father had chosen to come here, instead of a larger hospital, proved to Caitlin he was in denial about his condition.

  Mac knocked on the partially open door and pushed it wider. “Hi, Sean.”

  “I heard from Caitlin this morning.” Sean bellowed above the blare of the television
mounted to the wall. “I thought I made it clear not to call my daughter!”

  “Don’t yell at Mac. It’s not his fault.” Caitlin’s words were out before she got a good look at her father. She peeked around Mac’s broad back.

  Her father’s pinched face looked too pale under a head of flaming red hair streaked with gray. Lines etched deeply along his mouth, as though gritting his teeth was the only way to hold back the pain. He was sitting in a large chair by the window, but she could tell his stature had lessened. His shoulders were rounded instead of broad and straight. His spine curled as though warding off some unseen demon. Could the bullet have done this kind of damage in so short a time or was there something more? She’d never seen her father look so old.

  Shrewd blue eyes narrowed at her, belying his condition. “You gonna stand there and deny Mac didn’t drive you over here?”

  Squaring her shoulders, she stepped in front of Mac. “Yes.”

  “Ha!” Regardless of his appearance, his belligerent attitude hadn’t changed.

  Caitlin gasped. “Excuse me,” she nearly shouted at her father. “Are you calling me a liar?”

  A nurse pushed into the room past Caitlin and Mac. She stood between them and Sean. “For goodness sake. Everyone can hear you clear down the hall.” She gave Caitlin and Mac a frosty glare. “If you can’t keep your conversation contained to this room, you’ll have to leave.”

  “Fine by me,” Sean answered. “I’ll just leave with them.”

  The nurse wheeled around pointed a bony finger at Sean. “I wasn’t talking to you, Sean Malone.” She turned to scold Mac and Caitlin. “There’re regulations that visitors are expected to follow. Understand?”