The Garbage Man

by Candace Irving

  Kate held up her hand. "There's more. That photo of Burke? The one where he's in uniform and sporting a full beard and mustache? When I saw that, it was as if he was suddenly inches from my face, staring at me, telling me something over and over. I could even see his lips moving. But damned if I can figure out what he's saying—or said."

  If he had said something. Despite the return of the memories from that compound, part of her still wondered if—feared—she was doing this to herself.

  "Only that doesn't make sense. If I had met Burke, surely I would've remembered him? Plus, why pin that medal to my pillow? And why hang onto a set of tags for four years and then dangle them from my mirror? Mind you, I'm not suggesting he held onto them for me, but he would've had to have found that compound before CID did and retrieved them. While that's possible given the man's particular combat-honed skill set, why would he even want to go to that compound on the sly?"

  "Did he know Max?"

  "I have no idea. But it's possible. Max was a lieutenant colonel and a trauma surgeon. He knew a lot of soldiers." He'd treated even more.

  Kate tensed as Liz reached inside her trunk to retrieve the photo album she'd perused and put back two days earlier.

  "Do you mind?"

  Yes. "No."

  Liz went with the latter as she laid the album in her lap and opened it. She flipped through the pages until she'd reached the man who most likely qualified as the best friend, based on the number of photos he appeared within.

  Liz tapped a shot of the two of them searching for souvenirs in an Afghan souk. "Is this Max?"

  "Yeah."

  She started to flip the page.

  Kate reached out to stay her hand. "Hold it." She gripped the corner of the book. "May I?"

  "They're your pictures."

  True. But there was a photo on the bottom of the page that she'd never really paid attention to before. Possibly because it was a group shot taken in the office Max had shared in Afghanistan, and she hadn't known the other medical personnel surrounding him. But there, on some doctor's desk beside the group was a mug with that now distinctive, red and white Madrigal Medical logo.

  Was this the desk and Madrigal cup Burke claimed to have seen? Had he spotted it when he'd rifled through her trunk and mentioned it in an attempt to jar her memory? Had he wanted her to connect Madrigal...to Max?

  Given how meticulously he'd planned every other detail, including both their "accidental" meetings at Fort Leaves, it was more than possible.

  It was all but certain.

  "Liz, I think they did know each other—Max and Thomas Burke. And I think Burke wanted me to know." Why else had he hung those tags from her mirror?

  But why would it matter that the two had met? Max had been active-duty military. He hadn't been a Madrigal Medical contracted hire...although that cup did suggest Max had shared an office with someone who was.

  Kate groaned as she rubbed her hand over her face. "If I could just remember what Burke said to me."

  Because he had said something. That, she'd finally come to accept. Their encounter must've taken place in that quiet room while she'd been less than lucid due to sedation. The more she thought about it, it was the only scenario that made sense.

  "Close your eyes."

  "What?"

  Liz nodded. "You heard me. Close your eyes and take several slow, deep breaths as you try to clear your mind."

  "I don't—"

  "Who's the detective in this room, and who's the psychiatrist?"

  Kate sighed and closed her eyes. She took the directed breaths, bemused when they did help to relax her.

  "Now, keep your eyes closed and picture the photo you saw in your mind. The one that jarred the partial memory. Close in on his face. Can you see it? Now move out. Can you make out anything around the man? Clues to tell you where you are? For example, are you inside or outside?"

  "Inside. I'm in a small room. It's dim, but I can make out Burke's mustache and beard."

  "Okay, that's good. Hold on to that image. Keep focusing on it as we move on to sound and smell. Does anything stand out?"

  "Not really. It's quiet." In fact, there was no real sound at all. Just those silent, moving lips.

  "What do you smell? Food, sweat, shampoo...deodorant?"

  "No, none of that." If anything, the air was clean. Cool. With the barest hint of, "Wait—antiseptic. I smell hospital antiseptic." She was definitely in that quiet room at the combat support hospital. Hope coursed through Kate and, then, she could hear him. The voice in her ears belonged to Burke, but he wasn't telling her anything. He was asking.

  Did Brennan tell you anything before he died?

  She opened her eyes. "I don't— Why would—" She lurched to her feet and began pacing as the confusion whirled in. "It doesn't make sense."

  "Then you do remember something?"

  "Yes. Burke kept asking if Max had said anything to me before he died." In fact, that was the only question Burke had focused on, asking it again and again, even when it became clear that she wouldn't—couldn't—answer.

  But why would Burke care about her private conversations with Max? How had Burke even gotten past those doctors and into that quiet room undetected?

  Hell, why had he gone through such hoops to ask her anything at all, much less if Max had made some grand, final confession?

  "Did he?"

  Kate spun around. Liz was still seated beside the trunk, holding that album. "Did who, what?"

  "Did Max say anything?"

  At least I can have that Arlington burial.

  Only...that wasn't a confession, grand or otherwise. Hell, Max hadn't even been speaking to her at the time, but himself. Nor did the comment make sense. Not earlier, out on her deck, and not now. Max hadn't even been buried. His body had been cremated as per his wishes, his ashes interred in the Brennan family vault alongside those of his folks and the rest of his ancestors while she was still laid up at Walter Reed.

  Kate stiffened as the connection locked in.

  I.

  A short, seemingly innocuous word. But it wasn't innocuous. In fact, that single pronoun was the key to the entire, horrific ambush—and everything that had followed. Especially when paired with those damning words that preceded it: at least. Max hadn't been referring to his final send-off, but someone else's.

  Shit.

  Kate crumpled against the edge of her father's dresser as she nodded. "Yeah, Max did say something. A split second before that blade dropped he said, 'At least I can have that Arlington burial.'"

  Bemusement furrowed into Liz's brow. "I don't understand. Was he referring to eligibility?"

  "Yes."

  "But...I still don't get it. Even if your friend hadn't been a POW when he died, he was active duty. Serving in a war zone. Surely he wouldn't have been barred from interment at the national cemetery?"

  "You're right. He wouldn't have been." But someone had. And not only had Max known, he'd been thinking of little else at the time.

  For damned good reason.

  "Tanner Holmes."

  The furrow in Liz's brow deepened. "The soldier you just googled in your den?"

  "Yes." Max had known that Holmes hadn't deserted—and he'd known how the staff sergeant had really died. Which meant Max had also known about Madrigal's organ-harvesting racket...because Burke had asked him to look into it.

  It all made sense. Especially in light of Max's mood that last night inside the wire. It had been odd to say the least, more so when he'd asked her to tag along on that mission. But during the drive, his mood had become stranger still. She'd had the distinct feeling Max had been trying to find the words to say something to her. Now she knew what.

  And when she added in that cryptic comment Burke had made to Liz during the car ride the two had shared to Saint Clare's shelter?

  "Liz, when you told me Burke claimed the Army had betrayed him, you said he'd also muttered something about 'camouflaged battles and true heroes, and making things worse.'"
>
  Her friend nodded. Like her, Liz appeared numbed by the shock of it all.

  In the context of Max's final, resigned words, that last part of Burke's statement wasn't cryptic anymore. It was downright damning.

  ...making things worse.

  The more she thought about it, the more certain she became. In fact, it was the only explanation that allowed everything else to fit: Burke had come to Max with his suspicions about his buddy's death. And when Max had uncovered enough to make him believe Burke was right, Max had decided to turn to her.

  "That's why Max really asked me to accompany him outside the wire." The only place he could guarantee they wouldn't be overheard, especially by his fellow physicians. Specifically, the one he suspected of colluding with Madrigal. "The night before we left, Max said he wanted to discuss something, but not then—that it could wait until the coming mission. He was scheduled to check on the wife of a warlord the Army was courting. He'd performed the woman's surgery." At the last minute, Max had asked her to come along as an extra set of female hands. Naturally, she'd agreed. The trip would've been worthwhile for the potential intel alone. "But Max was in a strange mood. When I pushed it, I could've sworn he was about to open up, but then he got a call and left to check on a patient. Liz, I think he knew about Madrigal and those organs. I think he'd been poking around for Burke. And he was murdered for it."

  Worse, Max had known why he was being killed.

  Max had spoken Arabic. Maybe one of the terrorists had unwittingly let something slip within his earshot, or maybe Max had been taunted with the knowledge. Either way, he'd known they'd been sold out. Why else had he mentioned Arlington? Max might've been eligible for interment—but Holmes wouldn't have been. Not after the staff sergeant had been officially branded a deserter by the Army.

  "I don't understand. Your friend was killed by terrorists. Your entire team was."

  "Yes, and no. They were terrorists. But I now think they were tipped off. Most likely via the coroner. As a doctor, the first thing Max would've done was pull the Tanner Holmes autopsy report. He'd want to review it for himself. He must've spotted a serious inconsistency." In turn, once that report was pulled, the coroner would've figured out that Max was on to him—so the coroner had ratted Max out to Madrigal.

  It would've been easy for Madrigal to employ the services of a shadier-than-hell go-between that the company had in its Middle-Eastern pocket. Quite possibly the same go-between who'd facilitated the hanging, gutting and burning of Tanner Holmes' body in Iraq. The terrorists wouldn't even have known who they were really working for. Nor would it have been the first time a bounty had been placed on heads of specific US soldiers. It was the only scenario that made sense.

  The coroner would also have known the details of Max's coming medical mission with the warlord's wife.

  Plus, "Why else were those two soldiers who'd also survived the ambush shot through their temples? And there's Max—a seasoned trauma surgeon—beheaded. Terrorists or not, he could've treated their wounds for them if they'd kept him alive. Hell, he would have; he'd taken an oath. But they cut off his head without so much as a ransom demand." And there was that flag and that camera.

  When she'd entered that final hovel, the bastards had been in the midst of filming Max's death. Granted, posting the resulting video on some agreed upon jihadist website would've added to a growing collection of anti-American terror porn. But if her suspicions were correct, that video would also have provided proof of a job completed—and that whatever blood money promised by the go-between should now be released into a predetermined bank account.

  "And, finally, there's me. I got the rapes. I might not remember them, but I got them. I suspect it's the only reason I was kept alive as long as I was." But after they'd had their fun? She was next. "There were never any plans to trade us for other jihadists, much less exploit us for medical services, human intelligence or money. That ambush had been a targeted kill to take Max out, preferably before he confided in me."

  She and all those other soldiers had simply been collateral damage from the makeshift weapon sighted in by their own countrymen. From a physician, no less.

  Talk about fratricide.

  Her phone rang from across the house. Though the sound was faint, it caused her and Liz to flinch.

  Kate stood and headed for the den, numbed enough to let her friend close the album and return it and that medal to her trunk. With the shock of it all still reverberating through her, she wasn't sure she could've managed any of it.

  Better to concentrate on the job. Her case.

  That call.

  According to her caller ID, it was from Lou. "Hey, boss."

  "Hey, Kato. I got the texts and updated the APB with Burke's real name and photo. How about you? Feelin' better?"

  Not by a long shot. "Yes."

  "Good. Could you send Agent Cordoba back here, then? Ed and Tonga need to get going."

  Her stomach lurched, then bottomed out as she checked the dial on her watch. Kate tightened her grip on the phone as terror locked in. "Boss, Joe left my place a while ago. As in almost two hours."

  But Ruger hadn't alerted. If Burke had been in the surrounding woods, surely the Shepherd would've heard something and warned her?

  But she'd been trapped in her hellish past. And when that happened, Ruger's entire focus was on her—as it had been when Joe had left.

  "Just a sec."

  "Sure thing, Kato."

  With no time to lose, she bypassed the boots she'd left in the hall bathroom and grabbed her Glock instead. She didn't even stop to tell Liz as she chambered a round. She simply headed for the back door. Ruger followed her out onto the deck, then down and across the clearing.

  It was pitch black out now due to the thick cover of clouds that had moved in.

  Joe had taken a call as he'd left. An emergency?

  It was long shot, but—

  Kate brought the phone back to her ear. "I'm back. Where's the car Carole signed out to Joe?"

  "It's still here, parked right behind Seth's."

  Oh, God. No emergency, then. "I'm entering the path to the cabin now. And, yes, I'm armed." Dried leaves, needles and twigs snapped softly beneath her bare feet, digging into her soles. "I don't see or hear anything out of the ordinary." She glanced down at Ruger, keeping pace at her side. "Neither does Ruger."

  "I'm heading in from the opposite direction. You got a flashlight handy?"

  "Just the one on my phone."

  "Then hang up and turn it on. Seth and I'll be hooking up with you in two, three minutes, tops."

  She hung up as instructed and dialed Joe's number instead...and heard ringing from deeper inside the woods.

  She bolted toward the sound, twigs and rocks cutting into her feet in earnest as she panted to a halt beside a large oak. Even in this low light, she could see the glistening swath of blood that coated the bark at the base of the tree. Beneath that, Joe's ringing phone, its crystal shattered.

  Joe was nowhere to be found.

  Burke had taken him.

  17

  Lou had brought her back to her deck where he, Liz and Ruger were once again at her side. All too soon, Agent Walker and Seth joined them—empty-handed.

  Kate's heart slammed against her ribs as her fellow deputy reached the patio table, the fruitlessness of the search he'd just completed intensifying the hollows beneath his eyes. "I'm sorry, Kate. He's gone. Burke must have Agent Cordoba slung over his back, because his prints are deep. Easy to track."

  She slipped her arm around Ruger as the Shepherd scooted closer, grateful as always for his instinctive support.

  "But?" Because there was more. She'd heard it in Seth's voice.

  "Given the terrain, the prints are damned near in a straight line until they reach Quaker Run. There, they just stop. Right at the edge of the gravel road."

  That explained why Ruger hadn't alerted. There'd been no nearby car. And, if Burke had carried Joe, the vet had to have knocked Joe out with that
first blow. No audible, drawn-out struggle, and worse, "Burke had get-away transportation waiting."

  "Appears so. And since that's the roundabout way to your place—" Seth shook his head. "I already checked with the guys. None of us took it on our way here earlier."

  Which meant they had no make, model or color for the vehicle Burke had stashed—no chance at an updated APB. Which of course, Burke had also planned, just as he'd planned every other move he'd made in this drawn-out, deviant scheme of his.

  "Burke was waiting for me, wasn't he? Once you all left, he'd planned on slipping back inside my house. Only this time, he was going to force me to remember."

  But Joe had spotted Burke first.

  She'd seen what that bastard had done to Grant and his co-conspirators. She'd held it. Joe did not deserve that.

  If Burke hadn't already slit her friend's throat and left him for dead deep inside those woods.

  No one voiced it. But from the unease that had set in, they were all thinking it.

  Even Liz.

  Walker stepped forward. "Don't despair about your friend. Agent Cordoba's unexpected presence on that path has accomplished one positive thing. It forced Burke to deviate from his plan. That may work to our favor. Especially if Burke decides to keep Cordoba alive as leverage, as would be prudent."

  The shrink was right. Burke would be a fool to blow leverage. Something the vet had proven he was not.

  Walker returned her slow nod with a crisper one of his own. "Your sheriff shared the link to the article you sent. While we were waiting on Agent Cordoba to return, I pulled Burke's military record. I haven't finished the file, but I did read the summary. The sheriff said you had breakfast with Burke this morning?"

  "Yes." Ruger tucked his muzzle into Kate's lap as she turned to include Lou. "I've pieced together the rest of my past. I believe my friend Max uncovered the organ racket after Burke asked him for help back in Afghanistan. Max planned to lay it out for me once we were outside the wire and out of range of eavesdropping ears—but Max never got the chance. Burke visited me when I was sedated following my escape to see if I knew anything." She filled them in on the Silver Star and Max's tags.