Mission--Memory Recall

by Virginia Vaughan

  “You look like him,” Bethany said softly, and he nodded.

  “I see the resemblance.” They shared the same light-colored hair and strong chin. Marcus saw similar features in Shannon, as well. He imagined there were many more resemblances that weren’t physical.

  “I like your family,” Bethany murmured. “They seem to care a great deal about you.”

  He stared into her eyes and was filled with a rush of gratitude. She’d found him, given him back his name and allowed him to search for his family. “I wouldn’t even know them if it wasn’t for you,” he said and meant it. “Thank you for this.”

  “Anything coming back to you yet?”

  “No, not yet, but I feel like I’m on the verge of something. Like it’s right there and I only have to reach out and grab the truth.” He glanced at her. He’d felt that way with Bethany since the first moment he’d laid eyes on her. She was so wrapped up in his past that he could not imagine she wasn’t a vital part of it. He touched her hand and let his fingers entwine with hers. She didn’t pull away, which gave him hope that someday she could learn to trust him again. She was important to him. If he discovered nothing else about his life, he was certain of that.

  “I don’t want to be a part of this anymore,” she told him. He had a moment of panic that she was regretting bringing him here and being here with him. “I thought I was doing the right thing by finding you and taking you back to the Agency, but now I can’t do it. I just can’t do it, Marcus.”

  “You can do it, Bethany, and you will. You have a duty to your job and to your country. My only regret is that I’ve put you in this situation. I’m sorry for the pain I’ve caused you. I have to trust that, if I did these things, God is allowing me to face the consequences of my actions and, if I didn’t, that He’s leading me to the truth so I can be exonerated.” He swallowed hard. “I don’t know what kind of future He has in store for me, but I trust that He can and will fix it for me. I have no clue what that will look like, but I have faith that God will work it all out.”

  He nearly added that he hoped God would work it all out for them, as well, but he saw the hesitation already rising in her eyes as he spoke about God and faith. Probably not a good idea to get too far ahead of himself.

  Marcus noticed the tea was gone from her glass. He took it from her and rattled the remaining ice. “Why don’t I go refill this for you?”

  A popping noise shook the air. Marcus dropped the glass and instinctively grabbed for his gun, every sense now on alert. His mother and sister gasped at his sudden action, but he didn’t see the same kind of panic in Bethany’s face as he scanned the area.

  She placed a reassuring hand on his arm. “It’s okay, Marcus.”

  “I’m sure it was only a car backfiring,” Shannon said, worry clearly coming through in her tone.

  He glanced at her. She was clinging to his mother, who looked frightened. They probably were wondering if he was suffering PTSD because they didn’t know what he and Bethany had been through in the past two days.

  “It’s okay, Marcus,” Bethany told him again, this time her tone more calming. “We’re okay.”

  He lowered the gun then put it away, but his senses were on alert and a deep rumbling in the pit of his stomach told him something was wrong. It was a familiar feeling and one he was certain had rarely let him down. Every sound that drifted over the air, every dog bark and sound of a car driving by, raised the tension of the moment.

  This is crazy, he thought. I’m building up something that means nothing. When he spotted the familiar red targeting laser trained on Bethany’s back, he knew with a sickening pang that he was right.

  The shot fired, hitting her before he could do anything to stop it. The force of the bullet sent her reeling forward into the pool. The splash of the water as she hit it sounded like a tidal wave to his ears. He hurtled himself to the ground to pull her out but three more shots blocked his way and he scrambled back, taking cover behind a metal chair.

  Bethany! He had to get to her.

  Screams from his mother and sister, now huddled beneath the patio table, grabbed his attention. Fear was written across their faces. They hadn’t asked for this, hadn’t asked him to bring a killer to their home.

  “Get inside and call 9-1-1,” he told them, drawing his gun and returning the sniper’s fire.

  As instructed, the women crawled out from under the table and ran for the door. Marcus continued firing, crouching behind the chair and using it as a shield as he crawled to the edge of the pool. His heart dropped when all he saw was empty water tinged red.

  “I’m here,” Bethany said softly, causing him to turn. She was crouched in the corner of the pool, her head barely above water.

  His heart soared at the sight of her. “Are you okay? There’s blood in the water.”

  “It’s just a shoulder wound. I’ll be all right.”

  Pocketing his gun, he reached for her and pulled her out of the pool, water dripping and sloshing.

  “Where is he?” she asked.

  “On the roof two doors down. We have to get inside.”

  She nodded as he took out his gun and then ran when he started firing. He took off behind her, shooting aimlessly in the sniper’s direction.

  The shooter ignored Marcus’s shots and fired, too, several bullets hitting too close to them as they dashed across the patio.

  Bethany didn’t stop or hesitate and Marcus was glad he didn’t have to remind her to keep moving. She sprinted across the patio stones, slung open the back door and hurried inside, slamming it shut once Marcus crossed the threshold.

  He hurried into the living room, bolted the front door then closed the curtains, being careful to stay to the side of the window. Bethany helped him, but he realized the house had too many windows to cover them all. A row of glass lined one wall in the dining room alone. Those would be difficult to cover since there were no curtains.

  “We’re too exposed,” Bethany said and he agreed.

  Two figures emerged from the kitchen and Marcus had his weapon in his hand ready to fire until his mother’s cry stopped him.

  “What’s going on?” Shannon demanded. “What’s happening?”

  “Get downstairs in the basement,” he ordered. “You’re safer down there.”

  Bethany locked eyes with them. “Maybe we all are? A contained room with no windows?”

  Marcus shook his head. “We’ll be sitting ducks.”

  “We kind of already are.”

  He turned to his mother. “Did you call the police?”

  She nodded. “They’re on their way.”

  “Good. Now, get back downstairs. You’re safer there.” He ushered his mother and sister back through the basement door and instructed them to lock it from the inside. He grabbed a dish towel and pressed it into her shoulder wound, causing her to grimace in pain. “Hold that there as long as you can. Our only hope is to fight him off until the police arrive. I won’t let him get to my family.”

  Bethany nodded. “Maybe he won’t come in at all. He’ll just wait for us to come out. Aren’t snipers trained to keep their positions until their targets emerge?”

  “They are, but I’m not so sure anymore that this guy is formally trained.”

  “Why do you say that?”

  “He’s taken a lot of shots and none of them have hit us.”

  She snorted and motioned at her arm. “Speak for yourself.”

  “What I mean is he hasn’t killed us yet. He’s sloppy and impulsive. Military-trained snipers are patient. They wait for the right target. Think about the chaos he caused back at the diner. Even the bomb from the airplane was homemade. We were operating under the assumption that he used whatever was on hand to create it, but what if that’s all he has to use? He might not have the knowledge to create a more sophisticated weapon.”

  “Sophistica
ted or not, it did the job. It killed the pilot,” she reminded him.

  “I’m not saying he’s not dangerous, Bethany, only that he might not be professionally trained.” It was something to ponder.

  “How does that help—” Her words were cut off when something burst through one of the dining room windows and a small metal container rolled across the floor.

  “It’s a smoke bomb,” she yelled as a white fog began to hiss from the cylinder.

  He covered his mouth and nose and hurried into the kitchen, pulling open drawer after drawer until he found more towels. “He’s coming inside,” he told her, turning on the water in the sink and dousing the towels. His eyes were already burning from the smoke that was steadily taking over the rooms. “Place this over your mouth and nose.”

  She coughed, an indication that the smoke was doing its job. “We have to get out of here,” she said urgently. “If he was close enough to throw the smoke bomb, then he’s not in sniper position. Now’s our chance.”

  Before he could respond, the front door burst open and a man entered. He was wearing a gas mask. They both hit the floor as he opened fire and sprayed the rooms with bullets.

  Marcus saw Bethany holding her ears from the noise of the gun. She then used the cover of the smoke to crawl into the dining room and crouch beneath the table. He realized then that he knew how to make the smoke work for him.

  The sniper wore a gas mask, which protected his face but would not do anything to help his vision. Marcus circled the kitchen island, careful to remain low and out of sight as the attacker moved past it. When he turned and headed back the other way, Marcus swiped his legs, knocking the man to his knees.

  He jumped up and tackled him, sending the rifle sliding several feet away. The sniper scrambled for it but Marcus grabbed him and pulled him back, trying to dodge the man’s kicks to his face. One connected and Marcus released his grip at the pain of a man-size boot ramming into his jaw. His eyes watered briefly but he couldn’t be sure if that was from the pain of the kick or the smoke that had filled the room.

  The sniper grabbed his rifle and slammed the butt into Marcus’s cheek. Pain ripped through him and he fell back as the man leaped to his feet and stood over Marcus.

  “I’ve got you now,” he said, raising the gun to Marcus’s face. Marcus stared down the barrel and knew this was it. He was about to die.

  Six

  Bethany jumped to her feet and sprinted across the kitchen, leaping into the air and landing hard on the sniper’s back before he could fire. Startled, he dropped the weapon as she dug her nails into his neck. Yelping, the assailant reached behind him, grabbed her arm, pulling her forward and flipping her. She hit the floor with a thud before he reached for her, pulled her up and tossed her against the counter. Evil radiated from him as he wrapped his hands around her neck and started choking her.

  She struggled to free herself but quickly realized she was no match for his strength. That didn’t mean she was going down without a fight. She flung out her arms, reaching for anything on the countertop to use as a weapon. Her hand closed around something narrow and sharp—a meat thermometer—and she dug it deep into her attacker’s arm. He cried out in pain and loosened his grip. She gasped for air, coughing and trying to catch her breath. He grabbed at his arm, stared at the cut she’d given him, then clutched her again, his fingers digging into her neck before she could escape.

  Suddenly, Marcus appeared behind him, raised his hands and slammed an iron skillet across the back of the guy’s head. The force sent the man to his knees then to the floor, squirming in pain.

  Marcus leaned against the counter and gently framed her face in his hands. “Are you okay?” he rasped.

  Her throat was on fire and her was neck tender. When she tried to speak to tell him she was fine, she couldn’t. Instead she simply nodded to let him know she was okay. Sirens roared in the distance and she was thankful for the sound.

  Their attacker heard them, too. He stumbled to his feet and raced to the back door, slinging it open and taking off running. Marcus swooped up the rifle and chased after him.

  Suddenly the house seemed quiet after the hustle and bustle of the last few minutes. Bethany heard a voice calling for help and remembered Elizabeth and Shannon in the basement. She pulled open the door, surprised that it wasn’t locked anymore because she was certain Marcus had made them secure it from the inside.

  She saw the two women at the bottom of the stairs. Shannon was crying and looked up at her, panic written across her face. Elizabeth was slumped against her.

  “You have to help us,” Shannon cried. “She’s been shot.”

  Bethany hurried down the steps and ran to them. She checked Elizabeth and saw blood pooling around her abdomen. “How did this happen?” she asked Shannon.

  “I don’t know. We were huddling down here like Marcus said to do when the shooting started. I guess one of the bullets came through the floor and hit her. She just collapsed right in front of me. I unlocked the door to get help but you and Marcus were fighting with that man and the house was full of smoke.”

  Bethany heard the sirens grow close then heard the sounds of cars stopping in front of the house. “The police are here. Don’t worry. We’ll get her to the hospital.”

  Bethany heard footsteps on the stairs behind her and turned. Marcus rushed to them. “Where is the shooter?” she asked.

  “He got away. What happened?” he demanded, motioning to his mother on the floor.

  “She’s been shot. She needs an ambulance.”

  Marcus rushed back upstairs and returned a moment later with the paramedics, who had just arrived. She watched him as they tended to Elizabeth. His shoulders were tense and his jaw clenched, evidence that he was scared. It wasn’t her mother suffering yet she still felt helpless as she watched the woman struggling for each breath. Relief only flowed through Bethany when they finally had her loaded into the ambulance.

  Shannon crawled into the ambulance and rode with her to the hospital while Marcus and Bethany followed behind them after a brief discussion with the authorities. There would be more questions from the police and even from Shannon and Elizabeth, but for now the interrogation could wait. Bethany slid across the seat and put her head on his shoulder as he drove. “Everything is going to be fine,” she soothed. He nodded, indicating he’d heard her, but she could see he didn’t believe it.

  She only wished she did.

  * * *

  Marcus pounded his fist against the steering wheel, angry and frustrated. He had no more of a clue as to who was doing this to him than they had before. He tried to be thankful they’d escaped in time...at least, he hoped they’d been in time. If that maniac had taken his mother from him before he’d even gotten to know her, Marcus would make sure he paid for it.

  Bethany touched his arm, trying to be reassuring. “I’m sure she’ll be fine,” she said.

  He wanted to believe she had some medical knowledge that he was unaware of, but she didn’t. She was only trying to be encouraging. He couldn’t stand the helplessness he’d felt standing there watching as his mother struggled for breath because someone was after him.

  He pulled into the hospital parking lot and rushed inside. Bethany practically had to run to catch up. After asking the desk clerk for information about Elizabeth’s condition, he scowled when he was told to take a seat and that someone would be out as soon as they knew something.

  His realized his faith was wavering as he lowered himself into a chair. It wasn’t fair and it wasn’t right that his mother was suffering because of him. She hadn’t asked for this and he hadn’t meant to bring it into her life. He should have realized the danger after Milo and Marie had been killed, but he’d just been so caught up in learning about his past that he hadn’t allowed the risks to his family to override his need for answers.

  Bethany sat beside him and her presence was a g
reat comfort to him, greater than she could possibly imagine. The waiting seemed never ending and more than once he stood and paced the waiting room before returning to his chair.

  Finally, Shannon emerged from the back and updated them about Elizabeth’s condition.

  “She’s going to be fine. Apparently, the bullet went straight through her. They want to keep her overnight, but they don’t believe there is any lasting damage.”

  He blew out a quavering breath and silently lifted a prayer. Thank You, God, for sparing her.

  “I’m going to remain with her tonight.” His sister pulled out her keys, peeled off one and handed it to Marcus. “This is the key to the house. I don’t even know that we locked it up, but in case someone did, this will get you inside.”

  A weight lifted from his heart at hearing his mother was going to be okay, but the relief quickly morphed into something cold and hard in the pit of his stomach.

  “I know that look,” Bethany whispered from beside him. “What are you thinking, Marcus?”

  He wanted to ask her how she knew his look. That implied some kind of intimate knowledge of him. He thought again about that kiss and wondered for not the first time if she was being completely honest with him about their past relationship. But he couldn’t even think about that right now. He had to put all that aside and focus on what was best for his family. And, as much as he wanted to stay and get to know these two women again, it was time for him to leave.

  “We can’t stay here,” he told her. “I’m putting my family at risk the longer I stay.”

  Shannon didn’t argue the point, which only made him more certain he was right. Their being here was a danger to his mother and sister. They had to leave.

  He closed the hand Shannon held out. “We won’t be needing this.”

  She grabbed his arm. “Yes, you will.” She pulled him aside. “There’s a box in the china cabinet in the kitchen. It has the personal items the army returned to us. Something in there may help you figure out why this is happening to you.”