The look of consternation he received only heightened Jonah’s uneasiness.
“I won’t stop,” Rivera assured him. Turning into Jonah’s driveway, he peered at the lights in the windows above him then over at Jonah. “We’re all here to help,” he added. “Don’t think for one minute you’re alone.”
Jonah managed a wry smile for Santiago’s diplomacy. The man had offered unqualified support without touching on the subject of Jonah’s mental and emotional fragility.
“Thanks. And for the ride, too,” he added, pushing out of the car.
The shrill ring of Bart Branson’s cell phone startled the psychiatrist out of a deep sleep. He groped for the light switch as he came awake. Picking up his phone, he winced to see who was calling. Did Spitz ever sleep at normal hours? If the man hadn’t given him a job, Bart would have let his call go to voice mail.
“Yes?”
“Barty.” Spitz’s voice was like the crack of a whip. “You were supposed to tell me when the patient’s memories started to return.”
Bart pictured the patient in question, the Navy SEAL who’d come to see him twice since his evaluation at the hospital. Poor Jonah Mills was looking a good deal better after a week back in the States. Being with his family again had done him a world of good, even if he couldn’t remember his wife or daughter.
“They haven’t yet,” Barty defended himself. “I mean, he remembers fragments of his captivity, but nothing significant and nothing relevant to the mission. I thought that was all you cared about.”
“He’s remembering more than his captivity,” Spitz insisted.
How do you know? Bart wanted to ask. “If that’s true, I’m sure I’ll hear about it. I’m due to meet with him Tuesday.”
“Christ,” the caller swore. “Not tomorrow? I thought you met three times a week.”
“Twice a week works better for the wife. She has to drive him, you know, and she works.”
“Fine. Find out on Tuesday exactly what he knows. Take notes, Barty. I want details.”
“Of course.” Bart would rather find out how Jonah was getting along with his wife, who’d told him they were going to separate. Family counseling was his passion, not trauma-related therapy. A recovering addict couldn’t pick and choose the practice he wanted, however.
“I’ll call you right after our consultation. That’ll be about 5 o’clock,” he promised.
“Don’t call.”
“Don’t? But I thought you wanted to know—”
“I’m heading to Oceana for a meeting Tuesday afternoon. I’ll swing by and pick up a copy of your notes then.”
“Oh.” It already rubbed Bart wrong to be sharing a patient’s private information, but this was the military, where things worked differently than they did in the civilian sector. Apparently, a SEAL’s chain of command had every right to pry into his medical records, especially if those same records dictated whether he was fit for active duty.
“Okay,” Bart hesitantly agreed.
With a terse, “Don’t disappoint me, Barty,” Spitz hung up.
Thirty years had passed since they’d gone to school together. Spitz had gotten that nickname because he swam so fast, like the Olympic swimmer, Mark Spitz. Taller and better looking than Bart could ever hope to be, Spitz had been assertive and confident even in high school. All those years in the military—Special Forces, no less—had forged him into a man of steely determination, devoted to keeping the world safe. Above all else, he detested fanatics and terrorists.
Good thing, too, Bart thought. If Spitz weren’t one of the good guys, he’d be a villain like no other.
Putting his phone down, Bart sank back against his pillows, thinking. If it were up to only him, Jonah Mill’s therapy would involve every aspect of the patient’s life, not merely his memories. His chain of command, however, seemed completely preoccupied with finding out what really happened the night he’d gone missing. Someone’s head was going to roll when the truth came out and, apparently, that truth resided in Jonah Mills’s brain, and it was Bart’s unenviable job to pry it out of him.
Whether those memories were better off buried didn’t seem to matter to Spitz. He was too busy holding back the tide of terrorism to concern himself with one man’s well-being.
Chapter 14
Jonah stood at the landing to his deck, admiring his and the kids’ handiwork. Their objective for the day was accomplished, leaving him with an entire afternoon free. He vowed he wasn’t going to sleep it away, either.
Renting an industrial sander had made short work of their project. In less than two hours, the entire deck had been stripped down to unfinished hardwood. Miriam and Ian had gone straight inside to enjoy their reprieve by playing video games. Jonah was at loose ends.
Glancing at the sky, he prayed the storm clouds hovering out over the ocean wouldn’t dampen the pristine planks of the deck. He’d like to start staining it that very afternoon while Eden was at work.
The door opened, curtailing his inspection. Jonah’s pretty wife stepped out of it wearing black workout capris, a pink tank top, and carrying her purse and water bottle. The realization she was headed out to teach dampened his spirits. He’d been hoping to spend a little time with her before she departed.
“You have to leave already?” he asked, checking his watch.
She crossed to where he stood and gestured at the sander standing at the base of the stairs. “I thought I could return it to the rental place before I go in.”
“Not by yourself,” he protested. “It weighs like eighty pounds.”
She shrugged. “I’ll get someone to help me.”
He put a hand on his chest. “Hello, I’m right here.”
“But the rental store is closer to the front gate, and I’d rather not drive all the way back home again. I’m sure there will be someone who can help me.”
Jonah was sure of it, too. He had to laugh at his ridiculous jealousy.
“Just let me go with you,” he pleaded. “I’ll walk home from the base gym. That’s not far at all.”
All at once, he realized he would have to go without the pistol Saul had loaned him. Virginia was a right-to-carry state, but military bases were a different story.
I’ll be okay, he assured himself. Lowery would be at work, and he’d keep a sharp eye out for any undercover cop cars trying to run him off the road—if that had even happened.
Swiping the hair out of her eyes, Eden considered him for a thoughtful moment.
“I guess the walk home would do you good,” she relented.
He grinned at her. “That’s your way of saying you’d love my company, right?”
Her lips wobbled toward a smile. “Go grab your wallet and your phone,” she ordered in lieu of an answer. “You don’t want to make me late.”
“No, ma’am,” he replied, hurrying inside to grab his things and to tell the teens he’d be back in an hour or so.
Delivering the rented sander back to the shop proved to be a satisfying, if not highly entertaining, outing.
“We should go on dates like this more often,” Jonah teased after they’d dropped off the machine and were heading up General Booth Boulevard toward Dam Neck’s front gate.
Eden shot him a distinctly torn look. “You’re a lot more fun than you used to be,” she surprised him by admitting.
He could only imagine. “I think I took life a little too seriously. Forgive me?” he asked. He’d kept his tone intentionally light but still held his breath as he waited for her answer.
She tore her gaze off the traffic to look at him. In her face, he read cautiousness but also a willingness to move forward. Her expression alone freed him to breathe.
“Sure,” she said, keeping her reply to the bare minimum. Jonah slowly exhaled.
As they neared the gate, Eden asked Jonah if he knew where his troop members lived.
Jonah thought for a moment and realized he didn’t remember. “I only know where Lucas lives,” he admitted.
Ed
en nodded toward an elegant, gated community as they drove past the entryway. “Your CO lives in there,” she said. “Saul lives close to Oceana in the cutest little bungalow from the 1930s. Theo and Bambino share a condo out on Chick’s Beach.”
“How do you know all this?” Jonah asked.
She cast him a wry smile. “They all had me over at one time or another the year you were gone.”
“Even Commander Dwyer?”
“Well, yes, along with everyone else, for his Christmas party.”
“Wow.” Jonah made a mental note to thank everyone for looking after his wife. “I wish I could have been there.”
Eden’s grip on the steering wheel tightened. “Me, too,” she said with surprising sincerity. “I hate the thought of you getting tortured, Jonah.” Her voice turned gruff with emotion. “No one in the world should have to go through what you went through.”
Seeing the tears well in her eyes, Jonah reached for her hand and squeezed it. The memory of her freely given kiss the day before emboldened him to lift her knuckles to his mouth and gently kiss them.
“I’m a survivor,” he assured her.
He saw her visibly swallow and gently tug her hand back. Then again, maybe she needed it to turn the wheel as they came to the intersection bearing them toward Dam Neck.
By the time they approached the front gate, Eden had sent him two more surreptitious glances. Was she reevaluating their relationship? Please, God. In his mind, Jonah repeated the prayer he’d prayed the day before in her Jacuzzi tub.
He was pleased to see the base itself hadn’t changed one iota from what he remembered.
“I’m a few minutes early,” Eden remarked as they passed the mini shopping mall and turned into the parking lot at the base gym. “Would like a tour?” she offered. “We’ve added new equipment in the weight room since you were last here.”
“Sure.” Jonah’s uneasiness returned as Eden parked and exited the vehicle. Sweeping a cautious look around them, Jonah followed her into the building.
She led him straight to the employee office where she dropped off her purse and introduced him to her colleague, Karen, who was on her way out. Next, she showed Jonah the new gymnasium floor where he remembered shooting hoops with his teammates. A couple of men did a double take as they looked in his direction. One of them waved a hand in acknowledgment, and Jonah nodded in reply.
“Did I know that guy?” he asked Eden.
She glanced behind her on their way out. “Um, I’m not sure.”
He trailed her to the weight room.
“Still smells the same,” Jonah commented as they stepped through the door into the large, well-lit space.
“Check out the new…,” Eden’s voice abruptly faded.
Following her gaze, Jonah stiffened at the sight of James Lowery working on his triceps with the pulley machine.
At their entrance, Lowery looked over and froze. The muscles in Jonah’s neck and shoulders clamped. As Lowery broke eye contact, Jonah backed out of the room, his heart thudding painfully fast.
“What’s the matter?” Eden retreated with him.
“You’d better get ready for work,” he said, unwilling to share his suspicions when she’d rejected them once already.
“But you haven’t seen the updated locker room.” She searched his face with concern.
“I need to head home.” He said the first excuse that popped into his head. “Starting to get really tired.”
Concern knitted her smooth forehead. “You sure you’ll be okay? It’s at least a mile to the back gate.”
Self-disgust welled in him. “If I can’t walk one stinking mile, then I’m no good to anyone,” he growled.
The hurt that flashed across her face kept him from immediately turning his back on her. Instead, he dropped a quick kiss on her cheek.
“Thanks for the tour,” he said, softening his tone, then he walked swiftly toward the exit.
Vulnerability ambushed him as soon as he stepped outside. I have to get over this, he thought, cutting across the baking hot parking lot in order to take the swiftest route home.
As he crossed the street then struck out across the field, he heard a car door shut behind him. A nondescript vehicle eased away from the gym, onto the street he was crossing.
It’s not Lowery, Jonah thought. Nonetheless, he lengthened his stride, walking as fast as he could across the grassy expanse, at least two football fields in size. Out of the corner of his eye, he watched the car drive up the road away from him.
Shaking his head in disgust, Jonah looked the other way, in the direction of the ocean. The storm clouds were edging closer. He thought he detected a rumble in the distance, which meant his staining the deck would have to wait for another day.
Approaching Regulus Avenue, which would take him to his home by the back gate, he blinked as a clod of dirt flew up from the ground not a foot in front of him. Only for a split second did he freeze and question what he saw. In the next instant his training kicked in. That’s a bullet! His brain screamed the warning, and Jonah broke for the nearest cover—the ditch that lay between him and the road.
Thoop. Thoop.
Two more bullets, fired from a suppressed rifle, drilled into the ground at his heels. He dove face-first into the damp ditch, his heart in his throat.
This can’t be happening. It was broad daylight, for goodness sake!
Spitting dirt out of his mouth, Jonah peeked over the blades of grass on the rim of the ditch to locate his assailant. For an unnerving minute, he could see no one.
“Where are you?” Just imagining a shooter existed would have been a worse scenario than being shot at for real.
The glint of a watch gave the sniper away. There you are. A man who had to be Lowery hid behind the trunk of a loblolly pine, aiming a suppressed rifle at him. Jonah surmised he had driven around the far side of the field then pulled off into the picnic area there.
For the moment, the shooting had stopped. Lowery was waiting for Jonah to stand up again so he could nail him.
Helplessness steamrolled Jonah, making him crave the Sig Sauer he’d been forced to leave at home. Armed with a pistol, he could at least send Lowery running for cover. Then again, without a silencer like Lowery was toting, the military police would be on top of him in a heartbeat.
That’s it—call the MPs!
Jonah was digging his cell phone out of his pocket when he changed his mind. The minute they pulled up, Lowery would withdraw. What Jonah would describe to the MPs would sound crazy. Of course, he could search the grass for the bullets to prove his story, but what if he didn’t find them? Did he really want his CO hearing his allegations and concluding he did have PTSD, and it was out of control?
The sound of an approaching truck had Jonah craning his neck in the opposite direction. At the sight of a public works vehicle coming up Regulus, he squirmed out of his once-white T-shirt and waved it overhead like a soldier surrendering to the enemy.
Lowery wouldn’t dare risk shooting someone other than Jonah, would he?
Praying that was the case, Jonah heard the truck decelerate. Brakes squealed as it came to a stop. The driver’s door opened and footsteps preceded the shadow that fell over him.
Squinting up into the worried, weathered face of a public works employee, Jonah said simply, “Hey there.”
“You all right?” The brawny man looked him over, clearly confounded. His gaze froze as it fell upon Jonah’s scarred chest.
Jonah twisted his face into a pain-filled expression. “I think I twisted my ankle when I went to jump across the ditch.”
“Well, darn.” The stranger’s eyes had filled with compassion. “I’ll help you,” he offered, leaping down into the ditch without a second’s hesitation to lend a hand.
Praying Lowery was smart enough not to involve a stranger, Jonah talked the man into standing behind him as he helped him to his feet. It was all Jonah could do not to peer over his shoulder as the worker escorted him out of the ditch and
up to the road.
“Can I take you somewhere?” the man asked.
“That’d be great.” Jonah seized the opportunity for a ride while thanking God heartily for His well-timed intervention. “I live by the back gate.”
“That’s where I’m headed,” the stranger insisted, escorting Jonah to the passenger door of his truck.
Once inside, Jonah ducked his head below the window while pretending to examine his ankle. Hope started to replace the dread coursing through his bloodstream.
“Think you broke it?” the driver asked, as he slipped behind the wheel and put the truck into drive.
“I don’t think so.” Jonah did not breathe easily until they’d cleared the gate and turned toward his house. By then, he’d put his filthy shirt back on.
“You need help with the stairs?” the man asked as he braked in Jonah’s driveway.
“No, no. You’ve done enough,” Jonah insisted. “Thank you so much.” He pumped the stranger’s hand profusely.
“Pleasure is mine,” the good Samaritan replied. “Thank you for your service, sir,” he added with a hint of moisture in his eyes. The scars on Jonah’s chest had obviously affected him.
Jonah sent him a rueful smile. The man probably wouldn’t feel so grateful should he discover he’d been used as a human shield.
Stepping carefully out of the truck, Jonah stood at the bottom of his steps and waited for the utility truck to disappear before dashing nimbly up the stairs, only to find the door locked. With a sigh and a nervous look around, he rang the doorbell and waited some more.
The day Eden gave him a key to the house he would finally be certain he was welcome here.
At last the door popped open.
“What happened to you?” Miriam gaped at his mud-and-grass stained shirt as he darted inside.
“You would never believe me,” he muttered, heading straight to his study. There he shut the door behind him before retrieving the holster and pistol he’d been loath to leave behind.
His fingers trembled belatedly—not so much from shock as from rage.
Had Lowery seriously thought he could shoot Jonah in broad daylight and get away with it? Actually, with the streets so quiet and most Navy personnel at work, Jonah could have been struck by a bullet and lain in the grass for hours before anyone noticed him.
Returning to Eden (Acts of Valor, Book 1): Christian Military Romantic Suspense Page 20
