The Athena File

by Jennifer Haynie

  Mitch sagged against the side of the truck. “What would those be?”

  “First, if you see any other strangers in town, and I mean any, I want you to report to me. I’ll figure out whether they are of consequence.” His handler exhaled hard, probably blowing out the cigar smoke Mitch remembered so well from his days in Kandahar. “The second is that I want you to warn David Shepherd.”

  “What?”

  “You see, I have come to the conclusion that others in my pay have made a foolish error in kidnapping Abigail Ward’s brother. You are to warn the two of them to back off, to stay away from anything related to the kidnapping.”

  “But if I warn him, then I reveal myself.”

  “Are you so dense?” The question came across as a growl. “Warn him covertly, of course. How you choose to do so is up to you.”

  Mitch flinched at the idea of what he insinuated. “Burning Tree’s a small town. I can’t just waltz up to the front walk. People talk around here.”

  “You will do what needs to be done. Remember that the money I’m paying you is going for a good cause, is it not? If you don’t do my bidding, your lovely little girl won’t get any more cancer treatments, right?”

  He had to bring that up.

  Mitch closed his eyes and scrubbed a hand across his face. He always held little Vespa in his arms during her chemo treatments. It was too much for a five-year-old to bear sometimes. “Okay. I’ll do something.”

  “Report to me when you’re done.” A click sounded.

  Mitch slid the phone into his pocket. What could he do? He hadn’t been lying to El Lobo. People talked in town. They’d let David or Kyra know if they saw something suspicious. Maybe waltzing up the front walk was exactly the right thing to do. His mind churned as he pulled onto the road and reversed course.

  A minute later when he arrived at the house, he had his story in place. He’d mistakenly handed off the wrong package earlier that evening and had come to exchange it. And he’d leave a note for Kyra that he’d been in their house to do the exchange.

  With another box in hand to confirm his cover, he climbed the steps and rang the doorbell. Ranger barked, but no one came to the door. Carefully, he turned the knob. Like all Burning Tree residents, Kyra didn’t bother to lock her door, so it opened on soundless hinges. “Ranger, hey, buddy.”

  Mitch loved on the dog for a few minutes. Lilly whined from her crate in the kitchen, and he let her lick his fingers before returning to the living room. He’d deal with Abigail first, then with Shepherd, all without putting a scare into everyone else.

  With one last look around, he headed to the guest room and went to work.

  21

  Burning Tree, Utah

  The waitress returned, holding two desserts for a table occupied by one. She watched Abigail hurry out. “Is she coming back?”

  David offered his best smile. “I’d better get those to go.”

  Across the way, Kyra put her hands on her hips and glared at him. She only shook her head and turned to talk to a customer.

  He shrugged.

  Abigail had been foolish to think he’d be able to help her. How could he after all that had happened?

  “You failed him and everyone on that mission.” Those words from Jessie’s grieving widow echoed in his ears.

  He closed his eyes and rubbed his temples.

  Seven years ago, he’d sat with Captain, Jonathan, and the chieftain in the chieftain’s home as they sipped strong cups of overly sweetened hot tea. David spoke in halting Pashto. “Sir, your daughter has gifts that very few men have, even fewer women. I’d like her to come to the States for training. With your permission and blessing, of course.”

  The chieftain, a man of few words, cradled his cup. For the longest time, only the fire hissed from the family hearth. Slowly, the old man nodded. He smiled, revealing both missing teeth and his pride in his daughter. “It is so. You have both my blessing and my permission.”

  “David.”

  He jumped. The waitress must have called his name more than once.

  She extended a clear box holding two slices of chocolate silk pie.

  “Thanks.”

  Once she left, he dropped a ten on the table to cover the tip and rose. Only then did he see Abigail’s fleece. He grabbed it and headed into the deepening dusk.

  Outside, Abigail leaned against a post of the restaurant’s porch. She had her arms folded across her chest. Her head drooped, and her dark blond hair cascaded alongside her face and framed it in waves of a rich wheat color. For a moment, he drank in her profile. Yes, she and Jonathan definitely favored each other. Though some light remained, she shivered in the increasing chill.

  He cleared his throat. “You forgot something.” He held up her fleece before offering his jacket. “Here. You’ll be warmer.”

  “Thanks.” She shrugged into it and started to step off the porch into the parking lot.

  He took her arm. “Let’s go this way. It’s a prettier walk.” When she resisted, he gently tugged her onto the path leading along the river and behind the hotel. “Besides, we haven’t finished talking.”

  “I have. It’s clear you have no desire to help.”

  “I don’t think I said that.”

  “Whatever.”

  He stopped where the path ran parallel to the river, then leaned against the rough wood of the railing separating the walkway from the riverbank. “Mom and Dad got into the hotel business about ten years ago, which includes the bungalows behind us. He always wanted to make the riverfront an attractive place for townspeople and guests alike. Building this fence was one of the first projects I did for him when I returned three years ago.”

  Abigail ran her fingers along the top rail. For the longest time, only the water burbling along some nearby rocks filled the air. Finally, she speared him with her gaze. “I take it you were homeless.”

  He started. “How did you know?”

  “I pulled your history and noticed a gap in the VA records. And the way you talk as if you’re the worst failure in the world.” She shifted away a few feet and glanced at him. “Why do you think that?”

  “Because I was homeless. I mean, who lets himself get into a situation like that?”

  “It happens to the best of people.”

  “Says the woman who has it all.”

  She glared at him. “You don’t know a thing about me, David Shepherd, so don’t you dare say something like that.” She turned back toward the house.

  “Abigail, wait.”

  If anything, she quickened her pace as they passed through the remainder of the resort. The path moved away from the river to meet the sidewalk along the road. She turned left toward the house and almost bolted to the porch steps.

  “Abigail, please.”

  She faced him. Since dark now enveloped the area, the porch light cast her face in shadows. She yanked open the screened door. “Sorry, but until you look back over your life and realize what a lie you’ve believed, we have no business together.”

  “Can you at least hear me out?”

  “Why should I?” She turned the front door knob.

  “Because I have more to say. And besides.” He held up the pie. “We haven’t had dessert, and you promised you’d try it.”

  She rolled her eyes, but she didn’t slam the door in his face. “Okay. Fine.”

  “There’s a fire pit in the backyard. If you get it going, I’ll meet you out there.”

  She muttered something under her breath and let Lilly out of her crate. Both dogs headed outside with her.

  David paused at the sink and ran some water into Kyra’s electric teakettle. He found some peppermint tea in a decorative clay pot on the counter. As the water began heating, he gazed out the window above the sink.

  Abigail had lit the fire. In its glow, she tossed a ball for Ranger, who ran out, grabbed it, and brought it back. He charged after another throw. Lilly squealed as she nearly got run over by her larger companion. Abigail picked he
r up and cradled her. She settled onto one of the wooden Adirondack chairs. Did she even realize how her face transformed when cuddling the puppy?

  He leaned against the counter and closed his eyes.

  On a chilly August afternoon in 2008, Nabeelah lay prone with an M-4 in her hands. She had glanced over her shoulder. “How did I do, Sergeant David?”

  David had peered through the scope. “You’re so close. Here.” He adjusted her hands and the way she held the gun. “Try that.”

  She fired.

  David did another check. Perfect. “You hit it square on, little sister.”

  She grinned. “It is good?”

  “Very. Now you must repeat over and over for it to be natural.”

  “You’re our Athena,” Jonathan said from where he crouched nearby.

  Nabeelah turned to him. “I am what?”

  “Do tell, professor’s son.” David grinned at his best friend.

  “Athena was a Greek goddess. Goddess of wisdom. Goddess of courage. She’d only fight fiercely when defending her homeland.” Jonathan’s gaze switched to their protégé. “Just like you, Nabeelah.”

  “She’s what we need,” he had told his commanding officer months later, shortly before they spoke with the chieftain. It was now March of 2009, and the Mighty Men were due to return to the States in eight weeks. “She knows how to get the information we need from the women quickly but gently. She’s got the endurance, and she’s got the gift of independent thinking needed for units like ours. I think with further training, she can be a very valuable asset to SF here in Afghanistan.”

  The lieutenant colonel studied him before shuffling the papers on his desk. “How long has she been attached to your team?”

  “Seven months,” Captain answered, standing at parade rest beside David.

  “I can see a distinct increase in direct action successes. More insurgents caught. No casualties, hardly any injuries. All of these, I’ve reported to my superiors, and they said to keep doing whatever we’re doing to maintain our successes.” Their CO tapped a pen against the paper. “You say it’s because of her?”

  “Yes, sir,” David replied.

  “And you had a hand in training her?”

  “He did most of it. Sergeant Shepherd taught her well,” Captain said. “All he had to do was tell her once, and she did it. Heck, she’s a better study than some of our guys.”

  The lieutenant colonel studied them for a long minute. “I’ll have to get buy-in from my superiors, but I think they’ll be interested. If they say yes, you’ll plan out a suitable curriculum for her?”

  David fought against a grin of success. “Yes, sir, I will.”

  “Then it’s settled. I’ll get back to you soon.”

  Captain and David returned to the village. Within a week, they had their answer from the CO. “Extract her when your team moves back here to return to the States. I’m leaving you in charge of this, Shepherd. You do a good job of this, and maybe we can parlay this into a bigger training.”

  The teakettle’s whistling brought him back from the memory. After pouring water into the mugs, he dished out the chocolate pie. He joined Abigail and set both mugs and plates on the stone edge of the fire pit. “Have some. I hope you like peppermint tea.”

  “I do.” She sampled her pie. “This is definitely yummy.”

  “I told you it would be.” He fell silent. How much could he help her understand? How much should he tell her? Finally, he dove in. “I realize, as I look back on my life, how I had it pretty easy in the Army, all the way up until I returned to Womack at Bragg in May 2009. I got out of the hospital in June. Sure, I’d been in a war and had already done two hazardous tours of duty in Iraq after that. I’d never gotten hurt, even though I lost buddies and had others who’d gotten injured. After that, things got really hard. Jonathan and I were trying to put together another team, and it wasn’t working. The captain was a yes-man who only wanted a promotion. The rest of the guys were whiners to the nth degree. And though I most likely didn’t need the painkillers by the end of 2009, I kept taking them as a way of coping. Booze helped too. Then Jonathan retired.”

  “Are you blaming my brother for what happened to you?” She leaned forward and studied him with narrowed eyes.

  At that point, the best answer was a non-answer, so he continued, “Things crumbled after that. Shortly after he retired, I heard about a program offering early retirement to personnel who’d put in their twenty and had done at least three tours of duty in the sandbox. I jumped on it and moved to Raleigh. I had a hard time, a really hard time, adjusting to civilian life. I couldn’t find a job until I got offered one to be the assistant manager of a drugstore. And by that point, I was so deep into painkillers and alcohol that I couldn’t keep it.”

  Silverware scraped on pottery as Abigail finished the last of her pie. She set the plate on the edge of the fire pit and sat back with her mug cradled in her hands. “Why are you telling me this?”

  She baited him. He knew she did, but he couldn’t help but answer. “I’m telling you this because if I’ve been such a failure at life, I’m not capable of helping you.”

  “I think you’re lying.”

  He scowled at her. “I’m not lying to you. All of that happened.”

  “Oh, I know it did,” she said. “That’s not what I’m talking about.”

  “Then what exactly am I a liar about, Major Ward?”

  “How long were you in the Army?”

  His back stiffened. “I don’t like being interrogated.”

  “How long were you in the Army?”

  “Twenty years. The same as your brother.”

  “When did things get bad?”

  “The last year or so.”

  “And how long were you in the civilian world before you became homeless?”

  “Less than a year.”

  She remained silent as if to let him come to his own conclusions. Finally, she asked, “When looking back on your life, starting in 1990 and running until 2011, what do you see?”

  He bolted to his feet. “You have no right to ask me that. How dare you come in here with your insinuations?”

  “I’m insinuating nothing because I know better.” She approached him, stopping within inches of him as she stared into his eyes. Her gardenia scent wafted to his nose. “If you were a true failure, you would have felt no reason to justify it. Yet you expended a lot of breath explaining why you think you are one.”

  Her words stung him deep in his soul. “I don’t have to hear this. Good night, Abigail Ward. Have a safe trip home. And good luck on finding your brother.”

  He stomped up the steps to his apartment. Once inside, he slammed the door and headed toward the bedroom.

  She’s right, you know. The thought stopped him in his tracks. There’s something more happening here, and you need to figure it out. He returned to the door, and opened it a crack, then slipped onto the deck and peered at the fire pit.

  Abigail had resumed her seat and now had her head in her hands. Did she cry? No, it seemed as if Major Abigail Ward cried for no one.

  Ranger came up beside the chair and pawed her leg. She reached out and scratched his head before rising and gathering their plates and mugs.

  Even his dog had betrayed him.

  Huffing out a breath, he headed to the bathroom and flipped on the light. And came face to face with a message scrawled across the mirror.

  Stay away from this.

  The dark red lipstick resembled the color that had graced Abigail’s lips—the woman who, right this moment, stole his dog’s affections and his sister’s sympathies.

  He needed to put a stop to this. He strode into the bedroom and toward the door but stopped.

  Someone had jabbed his hunting knife into the dresser top. He took a step closer. The intruder had speared the picture of Jonathan, Nabeelah, and him. The tip went straight through Nabeelah’s face.

  This wouldn’t have been Abigail’s doing. Besides, when would she have
had the time?

  She was alone downstairs. Was she in danger?

  He thumped through his apartment and onto the deck, almost colliding with her and sending her head over heels back down the stairs.

  She threw a hand up to stop him. “Whoa!”

  Off balance, he caught her around the waist with his right arm and grabbed the railing with his left hand to keep both of them from tumbling to the concrete below. His right-handed grip began around her waist weakened, and he tightened his hold until he felt her heart hammering against his chest. “Are you okay?”

  “Y—yeah. I—I can’t breathe.”

  “Sorry.” David eased his hold.

  She extracted herself and stepped onto solid ground. “Someone’s been here. They left a message on my mirror.”

  She led the way inside to the guest room and waved him toward the note on her mirror.

  Leave here and don’t come back.

  That same deep red of Abigail’s lipstick.

  “You got one?” Her question broke into his thoughts.

  He jerked his chin in a nod. “Somewhat similar.”

  “Show me.” She led the way upstairs and read the note left for him. “This has to be related to Jonathan’s kidnapping.”

  “There might be more.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “In here.” He led her into his bedroom.

  She frowned at the knife and picture. “I think someone’s trying to warn us.” She ran downstairs and to the guest room with him hard at her heels. After taking a picture of the writing on her mirror, she pawed through her backpack. “My laptop is still here. So’s the drive, but who knows if anything was copied?”

  She yanked open the dresser drawers and began throwing things into her suitcase.

  “What are you doing?”

  “I’m headed out. We seem to be at an impasse, and since there are no flights out until Saturday, I’m driving back.”

  “That’s like a day and a half drive if you don’t sleep.”

  “So? I’ll get there at the same time as if I flew.”

  “Abigail, wait.” He stepped between her and the bed where she’d tossed her suitcase. “I didn’t say no.”