“You did?” Her brows lifted in delicate arches over sparkly eyes.
“Uh, huh. It was black and white.” He spread both arms wide. “And it was this big.”
“Was that what all the noise was about?”
“Ah huh.” Raymond nodded emphatically. “Cuz I did see a bear. I really, really did.”
“Did you say it was black and white? Maybe this big?” She held her hands a foot apart.
He couldn’t resist the smile on her lips, so he confessed, “Ah huh, and it looked at me. Don’t tell no one but it really did. I seen its eyes. It was looking right at me.”
“Did it have a bushy tail with white stripes?” she whispered back.
“Did you see it too?” His bushy eyebrows lowered. She knew exactly what the bear looked like. Wow.
“Raymond, you saw an animal more dangerous than a bear. You saw a skunk. Everything in the forest is afraid of skunks.”
“Really? Wow.” He was convinced. She was very smart.
Alex took the long way back to his office, scrutinizing his neighborhood for any sign of the Ford pickup. It was a futile search at best and only made him more aggravated by the time he parked in The TEAM’s parking garage. What made him think he could find her that easily? Mark and Zack had barely returned from Judy’s apartment, spun up and angry themselves.
“The FBI just arrested Judy,” Mark blurted out before Alex shut his truck door. “They took her in cuffs to D.C. Wouldn’t let us talk to her.”
“They what?”
“They claim Harley is the sniper and she’s his accomplice,” Zack answered.
“What’s their proof?”
Mark shook his head. “They weren’t saying. Just shoved her in the back of their van and took off.”
Alex rolled his shoulder like that would possibly alleviate one iota of stress. This day just kept getting better and better.
“How’d it go at the police department?” Mark asked.
“They’re no help, but I found three photographs of Kelsey stuck in my back door. Got some fingerprints too.”
“They leave a ransom note?” Zack asked.
“Just Polaroids.” Alex pulled his briefcase out of the back seat.
“What the hell do they want?” Mark asked.
Alex couldn’t answer. He’d already jumped to all the worst case scenarios. If she looked dead in this first batch, what would she look like in the next? And the ones after that? His mind provided answer after ugly answer. There were so many things worse than death.
“What do you need, Boss?” Mark asked quietly. “Zack and I have already decided on a search grid. We’ll find Harley while Mother and Ember run the prints. Then we’ll find Kelsey.”
“He’s hurt.” Alex cringed at the useless information he’d offered two of his best.
“Understood,” Mark reassured him. “I’m not sure why he thought he needed to go home for his weapons, but we’ll approach him with caution. I’m just worried he’s holed up somewhere and bleeding to death.”
“Yes, but there’s more.” Alex rolled his shoulder again, not wanting to break his friend’s confidence.
Mark cocked his head not understanding. “We’ll find him before the FBI, but I’d like to use your dogs. Whisper and Smoke can track him easy.”
Alex took a deep breath and spilled. “Harley ever tell you how he got hurt in Iraq?”
“Sure. An IED took out his Humvee. He suffered a traumatic brain injury, a TBI. Spent three months in a coma.”
“That’s right. He survived an IED, but he still gets confused. Told Kelsey once I was in Baghdad during the first Gulf War. Told her that’s where Jed’s son got hurt. It wasn’t. No Marines were in Baghdad back then. I sure wasn’t. Neither was Brady McCormack. All that happened later.”
None of this information was earth shattering. Mark and Zack stood waiting.
“He wasn’t alone that day,” Alex said. “He doesn’t know everyone in his squad was killed.”
Mark let out a small breath. “But it’s all in the after action report.”
“You’re right. I’ve read it, but Harley has not.”
“So you’re telling us he doesn’t remember any of it?” Mark asked.
“I’m telling you he doesn’t remember his men. None of them. He knows he was injured in an IED, but that’s all. For some reason, his brain buried everything else. His doctors thought it would be better if he remembered it on his own.”
“He might be thinking he’s back in Iraq,” Zack said. “That’s why he went for his weapons.”
“Makes sense,” Mark agreed. “Or one of his operations.”
“Hell, that could take him anywhere from South America to Afghanistan,” Alex said. “We won’t know until you two catch up with him. Just be careful. Don’t hurt him.”
“Maybe we’re way off base,” Zack muttered. “He was into drugs. What if he’s looking to score?”
Alex stopped the downward spiral they seemed to be on. “Listen. The important thing is you find him before the FBI does. Get my dogs. Check the derelict buildings on the other side of the freeway from his apartment. Think like the soldiers you once were. When you find him, be whoever he needs you to be. If he thinks he’s under hostile fire, back him up. If he’s looking for cover, make it happen. Understand?”
“And if he’s looking for drugs?” Zack asked.
“Hell, I don’t know.” Alex raked a hand over his head. “Play along with whatever he thinks is going on. Improvise. Call in a sitrep every hour on the hour.”
Mark and Zack headed back to their vehicle.
“And guys,” Alex called to them.
“Yes, Boss?” they answered in unison, both with one foot in their SUV.
“For God’s sake, be safe.”
“A skunk looks really cute, but it’s very dangerous,” Kelsey emphasized as dramatically as she could without smiling too much. Poor Raymond. He looked so baffled.
She’d never seen anyone so big. When he’d lifted the tarp, her first inclination had been to scream. Raymond could literally block the sun, but the moment he opened his mouth, her panic subsided. The poor guy had the mental capacity of a five or six-year-old. Maybe.
Whoever’d beaten him last night used something with a rounded edge. Half-moon shaped cuts and bruises mottled his cheek and forehead. His right eye was puffy and purple. He was nothing more than a kid, a really big kid in dirty sweatpants and a tent-like flannel shirt.
“Wow. Do you think it will eat me?” He scuffed his big feet together. “And I get a scared of the dark especially when I sees dangerous bears, umm, I mean skunks, and the old woman won’t even let me sleep in her tent.”
“You’re safer in the truck. When a skunk gets scared, he sprays his very own poisonous gas.”
“Why’s he gotta go and do something like that?”
“That’s how skunks protect themselves. He was smaller than you, wasn’t he?”
“Ah, huh.”
“He probably thought you were going to eat him. Did you ever think of that?”
Raymond stopped scuffing. “But I ain’t a animal, and I would never hurt nothing, not even a very dangerous skunk with poisonous gas cuz I don’t be mean to no one.”
“I believe you. You’re not the one I need to worry about either.” Kelsey glanced around at the thought of the real monster in the woods. “Let’s see your blood blister. Does it hurt?”
His magnificent unibrow furrowed into a deep V. “No, not so much. I guess.”
“That’s a good sign.” It didn’t take much to befriend this lost and very talkative child. “Blisters need a couple days to reabsorb the blood. You’ll be fine.”
“Huh?” Despite the layer of grime, a crimson flush painted his cheeks. Raymond was embarrassed and easily distracted, his soft blue eyes dazed but definitely smiling.
“How about you point me to a big tree? Then we’ll talk some more.”
He waved toward a set of tire tracks in the tall grass. “There’
s some really good trees over there. See ’em?”
“I do. Thanks. I’ll be right back. Don’t go anywhere.” She waved and followed the tire tracks. Out of his sight, she pulled the napkins from her pocket and quickly took care of business.
“Is you coming back?” he called through the brush.
“Be right there.” She didn’t want to lie, but Kelsey was ready to run, her heart pounding at the prospect of escape. There was no going back. Her love for Alex pulled her away. Now was her chance. She’d find a road and someone to help. They’d call the authorities. She’d be home by dark, and Raymond would be someone else’s problem.
“Ah, Kelsey?” The tremulous question drifted through the trees. “Is you out there?”
That innocent voice pricked her conscience. Raymond had no business being left alone in the wild outdoors. Had he been left to die too? It seemed logical. There weren’t many bottles of water left in that bag. He’d be dead in a week.
“I owe Alex, not this stranger,” she argued with herself.
“Kel—sey. Oh, Kel—sey.” His words grew quieter and more tentative as he circled the camp. The poor guy didn’t have a sense of direction much less a memory. He’d already forgotten which way she’d gone. “I can’t see you no more. Is you lost?”
“I want to go home.” Anger flared that she could not persuade her heart to follow her feet.
The truth whispered. He’s not strong and brave like Alex.
“But he’s not my problem. Alex is.”
The instant she heard the words spoken out loud, she knew better. Alex would never leave a man behind. Neither could she. Reluctantly, she faced back toward the despicable hole in the ground and Raymond. Darn, he was a giant of a—kid. That realization made her choice both easier and more difficult. How on earth could she rescue someone so big yet so helpless?
She blew out a deep breath, bowing her head to follow her heart.
“I’m coming home, Alex,” she whispered to the trees, “and I’m bringing a friend.”
Eight
Damned Iraqi Republican Guard seemed intent on destroying everything and anything that got in their way. Harley stumbled against the rubbish blocking the narrow passageway. In a few feet, he’d be under cover enough to avoid the steady onslaught of enemy fire.
It had been a stroke of sheer, dumb luck finding ammo and weapons in the last abandoned home. He’d gone in quickly, always a good thing when a man’s breaking and entering. And yet, it seemed he’d known exactly where to look. He shrugged the spooky feeling of déjà vue away. Sometimes a guy’s just lucky. That’s all.
Grimacing from the pain in his leg, he ducked into a doorway and out of sight. His eyes took a moment to adjust to the darkness of what looked like a concrete barn minus windows. Big enough to be a warehouse, the smell emanating from the depths was more stink than storage. Animals lived here, human and the four-legged kind. Wood smoke drifted along in the draft with those other smells.
He kept to the shadows, weary of packing the gear he’d stolen. Hope urged him forward, but he was no fool. Dark did not equate to safety. He paused. An orange glimmer from deep within enticed. Campfire? Kent and the guys maybe? Gambling with his life was never Harley’s forte, yet he had to do something. Pass or play? He took a few halting steps forward, his senses on high alert.
Rounding the first corner, a rusted barrel came into view. Orange flames flickered from its mouth casting shadows on the walls. Cautiously, he peered into the larger area, almost the size of a banquet hall, only empty and full of debris. No one else was around, but people had stayed here. He could tell. There were too many cardboard boxes and grocery carts against the walls. And someone had started the fire.
“Kent?” he whispered quietly, in case his guys were hiding, maybe thinking he was an enemy soldier. When no one answered, he called a little louder. “Snakes? Rick? Anyone out there?”
Only the quiet crackle from the barrel answered. Good enough. He selected a corner and hunkered down behind a stack of old wooden boxes, hoping to catch a few ZZZs. Lowering his butt to the concrete, he pulled the pack off his shoulder and secured it behind him to serve as a pillow. His rifle on the ground beside him provided immediate protection if hostiles showed.
The relief of not marching or carrying a hundred plus pounds of gear felt good. One nagging reality persisted. The person who had built the fire would return. Still, Harley needed to rest for a minute. Maybe two. He stretched his legs and relaxed. Okay. Maybe five.
He’d have fallen straight to sleep, but the horror movie kept running through his exhausted mind in vivid Technicolor. Bright stabbing lights jolted him with images of bloodied bodies and vacant eyes; a baby girl in pink pajamas crying that she wanted her daddy. The next moment, a black dog with friendly eyes barked as if it expected a treat. All oddly familiar, all nagging for him to remember them.
One of those shopping carts rolled toward him, its wheels creaking as it approached. The cart stopped a few feet short of his boots. The crazy thing was…
Wait a minute. A shopping cart? Here in Iraq?
“What?” he asked out loud, like it might talk to him. Seeing the cart was just plain weird. It didn’t move again. Probably just, umm, gravity or maybe the wind. That’s why it rolled. He’d sat downhill. Yeah. There was a logical reason for everything. It wasn’t really looking at him either.
Easing his spine into the makeshift pillow, he rubbed the knotted tension out of his neck. A soldier needs solid facts to plan decent strategy. He seemed to be working with sand. Thinking took considerable effort. The throbbing in his skull escalated to squeezing.
Smoke swirled his way, bringing with it the smell of brimstone and the awful stench of body odor and burning flesh. In the midst of it, a lady in flowing white stepped through the conflict. Green eyes blazed with a wonderfully warm light that radiated peace and comfort into his tortured brain. The veil of her auburn hair flowed in the breeze behind her. Whoever she was, just seeing her brought instant relief.
“Harley,” she whispered enticingly. Even her words floated. “I’m here.”
She reached for him. He held his hand out for her to take. Their fingertips met. With a sigh, he relaxed, breathing in the perfume of her hair where she now lay tucked under his chin. He could not recall pulling her into his arms, but no matter. She was there now.
“I’ve been looking everywhere for you,” she breathed.
Just as he relinquished the weariness of the awful day—she evaporated. Harley scrambled back to his feet, jolted awake by the smell of death and his loud breathing. There was no cozy flame in a barrel, only billowing smoke that suffocated. There was no woman either. He was holding an armful of air. Hyper-vigilance replaced the peaceful feeling.
And then he saw them—two enemy soldiers, cocky, young, and cruel as sin. Something or someone struggled on the ground at their feet. It whined. A man? A child? A dog?
Harley looked again, blinking to see better. It was a dog. A black dog. A white lightning bolt slashed her chest. Best EOD dog in Army K-9 forces. The only female in his life. His dog.
“No!” He exploded across the battlefield. “Don’t hurt her!”
Evil eyes slanted in his direction, but their muzzles pointed at his dog. It took three shots to put her down, each a vicious gouge out of his heart. She yelped. He ran so fast that he fell, his rifle sliding out of reach in his haste. Scrambling on all fours, he pushed off the ground, intent on reaching her in time.
Don’t die! I’m coming. Wait for me!
The apparition faded. He skidded to a halt, his heart stuck in his throat and the fear so real he could taste it. But no Iraqi guard stood over his dog. There was no dog. There was only concrete walls and empty space where the murder of his K-9 companion had taken place. Thunder vibrated through his chest. The walls closed in as the pain in his heart fell out.
Harley sank to his knees, his head in his hands. But it looked so real. Felt so real. Her final whimper still hung in the air. He could hea
r her.
God, not my dog too!
For the second time since she’d been arrested, Judy sat at the interrogation table at FBI headquarters in Washington D. C. When they had first detained her, she’d thought how hard could this be? Once she answered their questions, they’d see how mistaken they had been. She and Harley were innocent, so she gladly surrendered her computer and anything else the FBI agents demanded. Only when one of them pulled a federal search warrant out of his inner suit pocket did she realize she was sunk.
Within minutes, her home was in shambles. In the end, the FBI removed everything computer related. They even boxed up Harley’s music cassettes and CDs, like there was anything suspicious with a collection of old cowboy music. Of course, they’d taken what little was left in his gun safe. Like storm troopers, they advised they’d return for the safe. They needed a hand truck for that.
But they had also taken the ring she’d planned to give Harley. Her very orderly plan for a marriage proposal had been upended, and her romantic plans dashed. Worse, the FBI suspected her of conspiring with Harley in two successful assassination attempts. How stupid were they?
It was early afternoon when the door flew open and in walked the same expressionless agent who’d arrested her. He slid a black folder to the table and took the seat opposite. With meticulous care, he arranged several photos in a perfect line in front of him.
Judy watched him run the field. Middle-aged with slicked back gray hair, he looked the type who thought he could intimidate her. He wanted her to fall all over herself and confess just because he was FBI. The idiot wanted her to—what was the word? Squeal? That’s why he hadn’t spoken yet. Well, two could play that game.
She crossed her arms and leaned back into her chair. Just to irritate him, she closed her eyes and willed the world of the federal government away. It was either that or break down, something she refused to do in front of this guy. Besides, Harley was her man. She had his back no matter what this federal agent wanted.
Silence. The agent had finished placing the game pieces in order. Great. He was probably staring at her now and waiting. Well, let him wait. She certainly was. Biting her lip, the frustration of her predicament built into a tsunami of rage. How could this man be so dumb as to think she’d even consider helping him?
Harley (In the Company of Snipers Book 4) Page 7
