The Athena File

by Jennifer Haynie

  “I’m sorry.” His words were soft, placating.

  “No, you’re not.”

  “I am.”

  “Whatever.” If she hadn’t needed her wingman and if her rental car had an ejection button, she would have pressed it at that moment. “Just…look through those records.”

  He sighed. “What do you want me to look for?”

  “Anything abnormal. He keeps three years’ worth of bank statements. The charge card statements only go back a year.” Abigail started a Johnny Cash album as they turned onto I-70 and headed east toward Green River. By the time she turned northward on US 191, Johnny had been switched for Josh Turner.

  “I found something.” David’s voice rose above the song.

  “What?”

  “Late November of last year, he got a rather large deposit. Then, a week later, a cashier’s check was cut for that same amount.”

  She darted a glimpse at him. “What?”

  “A cashier’s check.”

  She picked up her phone from the center console. “Can you call the bank’s number? I’ve got it set up on Bluetooth and can take it from there.”

  David dialed.

  When the operator came onto the line, Abigail said, “This is Major Abigail Ward. I’m the sister of Jonathan Ward and have power of attorney to take care of his finances when he’s out of the country. He’s on travel now, and I need to check on a transaction he made in December.”

  “One moment.” Muzak filtered over the speakers.

  David grinned. “Not as stimulating as Josh Turner.”

  She scowled. She wasn’t going to talk to him unless she had to. The phone rang through to another person, this one a guy. After she repeated her request, he asked, “The name of your favorite pet?”

  “Sylvester.”

  “Your father’s middle name?”

  “Mitchell.”

  The man’s voice filled the car. “I see that Mr. Ward did list you as his representative in his absence. When did the transaction in question occur?”

  “The second of December in the amount of three thousand dollars. A cashier’s check. I need to know who that was made out to.”

  “Wilson and Sculley attorneys at law, out of Wilmington, North Carolina.”

  How odd. “Thank you. I appreciate it.”

  “Is there anything else?”

  “Uh, no.” Abigail hit a button, and the music returned. “David, could you—”

  “Doing so right now.” He held up the phone. “Wilson and Sculley is a law firm out of Wilmington. They handle the legal aspects of real estate transactions all up and down southern shores of North Carolina.”

  “Call them.”

  “Wilco.” The phone rang across the stereo.

  “Wilson and Sculley, how may I help you?” the pert female voice on the other end asked.

  Abigail said, “I’d like to speak with whomever dealt with a real estate transaction for Jonathan Ward.”

  “And you are?”

  “Major Abigail Ward, U.S. Army. I’m his sister and have power of attorney when he’s out of the country for work.”

  “One moment.” A click and more Muzak told her she’d been put on hold.

  “Stretching the truth a bit, aren’t we?” David murmured.

  She ignored him.

  “Rupert Sculley.”

  “Mr. Sculley, this is Abigail Ward.” She repeated her story and added, “Jonathan is my brother, and I had a question about a transaction he did. I assume you handled the closing for him?”

  “I did indeed. Quite a nice gentleman, and he said he had a sister who was his proxy when he was out of the country. I’m happy to help.”

  “Can you tell me what he bought?”

  “At the end of December, he closed on a house down in Holden Beach. I could e-mail the information to you if you wish.”

  “Please. I’d appreciate it.”

  “You’re welcome. If you have any additional questions, please call me.”

  The phone pinged a few minutes later.

  “Check that,” Abigail ordered.

  “Yes, ma’am.” David mock-saluted and pulled up the message. “It’s got some attachments.”

  “What are they?”

  “Looks like some papers, maybe a contract. Then also one that looks like a real estate listing for…” He thumbed the phone. “Sunset Place. That must be the house he bought.”

  Their childhood beach house. How many years had they spent at least a week there? Many with the fond memories to go with it. Why hadn’t he told he he was even contemplating such a thing?

  “Abigail?” He reached out and touched her shoulder.

  She brushed away his hand. “That…that’s the place where we always went to the beach while growing up. Boy, that’s a surprise.”

  “You didn’t know about it?”

  “Can’t say I did.” Her mind spun nearly as fast as the tires. It wasn’t that her brother had lied to her. He’d held out. But why?

  David flipped through the credit card statements. “This is interesting.”

  “What’s that?”

  “I’m looking at his credit card bill for transactions made in late December. The statement date is for the fourth of January.”

  “He must have paid it right before he headed back to Ghazni.”

  “Maybe. It’s for a purchase made at Office Depot for almost five hundred dollars, made on the second of January.”

  “He’d have no reason to purchase that much in office supplies, meaning…” this would explain everything, “meaning he purchased a safe.”

  “Huh?”

  “A safe. I found a safe key along with the drive of his notes. I’d bet money that he put the drive with the Athena file on it in that safe at the beach.”

  “I’d have to say you might be right, then.”

  She frowned. Jonathan was in the hands of his kidnappers. If they were who she thought they were, it’d be only a matter of time before they beat the information from him.

  She pressed hard on the accelerator. The sooner they got to Raleigh, the better. Who cared if she could hardly stand to be in the presence of her wingman?

  23

  Salt Lake City, Utah

  Abigail pushed the door between their rooms almost closed and eased into bed with a sigh. She’d needed to be alone, especially after supper at one of the generic chain restaurants near the Salt Lake City airport. She should’ve eaten by herself. David had remained silent, his gaze probing and watchful as if he’d expected her to come clean about her outburst on the ride up. She’d do no such thing. Not with him. He didn’t deserve an answer after the way he’d lectured her.

  She tugged the comforter to her chin. As her body warmed the sheets, her eyes drooped closed. Nightmares of masked kidnappers beating Jonathan intermingled with the carnage she’d seen of the convoy and that of her investigation into the demise of the Mighty Men. They seemed so real, so vivid—

  “Jonathan!”

  Her eyes flew open, and the dreams dissolved. She released a ragged gasp. Brushing her hair out of her eyes, she sat up and stared at the clock. 10:35.

  Suddenly, she didn’t want to be alone. Still… Really, God? He’s the only one around to comfort me? After today? She glanced at the doors separating her room from David’s. A sliver of light slipped out from underneath. Even his company would be better than none. Had he fallen asleep with the lights on? Then she heard the turn of a book page.

  She slipped on a pair of sweats to go with her nightshirt and crept into his room.

  He sat on the couch, his feet on the coffee table, his right hand squeezing a foam ball, a paperback propped on his knees. His gaze flicked upward. “I thought you were sleeping.”

  “I had a bad dream.” She remained where she was with her arms folded.

  “Come over here.” He patted the cushion beside him. “I won’t bite.”

  “After today, I’m not so sure.”

  “I know.” He sighed. “I owe yo
u an apology. Please forgive me for tearing into you like that. I had no right. Can you forgive me?”

  A sigh escaped her. “I do.”

  “Then come over here and sit down.”

  Finally, she did, which brought her into immediate proximity of whatever stuff he used on those close-cropped, tight, black curls of his. “What are you reading?”

  “A Nevada Barr mystery.” He laid it face down and ran his finger down the worn spine. “What were you dreaming about?”

  “Jonathan. What I read regarding the convoy hit. What happened years ago.” She leaned forward and rested her elbows on her knees, much like Jonathan had all those years ago after he’d lost his ten friends. “I need you to have my back as much as I need you to be my wingman.”

  “How so?”

  “I’m scared,” she confessed to the floor.

  “Of what?”

  “That it’s not going to be him we find but his body. And I don’t want to be alone for that. I don’t want to be alone.”

  He rubbed her back. “I’ll be here for you.”

  “Stop, will you?” She slapped his hand away. Another headache arrived, and she pinched the bridge of her nose. Finally, she sat back. “Can you promise me something?”

  “What?”

  “That you’ll clear the air with my brother?”

  He remained quiet. The dimness of the lighting turned his dark eyes liquid. Absentmindedly, he ran some of her hair between his fingers.

  She brushed his hand away.

  He wove her fingers between his.

  Her heart sped up. “Please. I know it’s easy to hold on to old grievances. I beg you to let this one go.”

  “If it means that much to you, I will.” Seeming to catch his gesture, he released her.

  “Thanks,” she murmured. Then her temples throbbed again, and she winced.

  “Are you okay?”

  “Headache,” she muttered.

  “Do you have anything for it?”

  “Nope.”

  His brow furrowed. “I’ve got some ibuprofen in my kit if you—”

  “I don’t need anything,” she lied. She pushed to her feet. The less said the better at that point.

  “You’re sure?” He rose as well.

  “Y—yeah.” Not convincing, even to her ears.

  “I’m not so sure of that.” He caught her arm. That gaze, unnerving in the bright light of day, penetrated her defenses and hit close to that part of her soul where she’d locked away secrets of her own, those she didn’t want to share with anyone.

  The lie rolled off her lips. “Really, I’m fine.” She forced a bright, brittle smile to her face. “I’ll see you bright and early at five.”

  With that, she strode to her room and shut the door before he asked enough questions to unearth her fear of painkillers.

  24

  Raleigh-Durham International Airport, North Carolina

  “Of all the best laid plans,” Abigail muttered as she trundled her carry-on across the tightly-woven carpet at the Raleigh-Durham airport terminal. Weariness surged through her. “Who knew that leaving at 6:30 in the morning could lead to getting in at 10:25 at night?”

  “You couldn’t predict the bad weather in Chicago.” David came shoulder to shoulder with her.

  “Grrr!” Her steps quickened. “At least we don’t have to worry with checked luggage.”

  “What’s your plan?” With his long stride, he easily kept up.

  “We get into the car. Get to the beach ASAP, albeit with stopping for coffee before we leave. Then we get the drive and figure out what’s on it.”

  They arrived at the escalator that lowered them to the first level.

  “Question,” David said.

  “That would be?”

  “Why do you think getting the drive will help us get Jonathan back?”

  “We’ll have what they want. And if it has the Athena file on it like I think it does, that makes it an Army matter that CID is already working on. Then it’s in the Army’s jurisdiction, meaning more resources.”

  “Have the cops made any progress?”

  “How should I know?” She conveniently ignored the fact that, during their time stuck at Midway airport in Chicago, Nick had called for a seventh time. Some people collected cats. She collected voicemails. “They haven’t talked to me. And if the kidnappers were as clever as I think they were, they didn’t leave behind anything that could be traced to them.”

  David frowned. “Are you sure they haven’t called?”

  She didn’t answer.

  They rode the escalator down to the level that allowed them to cross underneath the terminal road to the parking garage. After arriving at the elevator, she jabbed the Up button and leaned against the wall with her head hung. “This so stinks.”

  He slid his hand under her hair and rubbed the back of her neck. “I think we’re both tired.”

  Rather than pull away this time, she leaned into his hand. This wasn’t good. His touch put every nerve on alert. If she let her mind wander too long, she might imagine things that weren’t possible.

  The ding of the elevator rescued her. Once it released them to roam three floors up, she strode across the concrete. “We’re down the row a few. Navy blue Honda Accord—”

  “Hello, Abigail.”

  Dressed oh, so splendidly in a khaki suit and black shirt, Nick leaned against the back left fender of her car. One hand held a cigarette with smoke curling from the glowing tip. The other remained in his pocket, which pushed the corner of his jacket back to reveal his gun and the gold badge on his belt.

  Yeah, he wanted to show her who was boss.

  He glared at her. “It’s about time you showed up.”

  “You mean to tell me you were so eager to see me that you came all the way to the airport?” Abigail put one hand on her hip.

  “That’s me. Your one-man greeting party.” His New Jersey accent flared like the tip of his cigarette when he took a drag. He exhaled through his nostrils. It didn’t take much for her to envision him charging her like a bull. “Who’s your pal?”

  “I’m a friend of hers. David Shepherd.” Ever the wingman, David pressed closer from slightly behind her and to her right. His bulk reassured her.

  She remained where she was. “Why are you here?”

  “Because a good detective keeps his victim’s family informed.” Nick tossed the cigarette onto the concrete and stubbed it out with the toe of his loafer. “Only this good detective has tried to call the family of his vic not once, not twice, not even three times but seven times. You want to tell me why you haven’t called me back?”

  “I’ve been busy.”

  “Doing what? Visiting him?” Nick gestured toward David. “In Utah?”

  “You were checking up on me?”

  “Of course I was. You flew to Salt Lake City on Thursday. Returned today with the intent of getting in earlier this afternoon. So yeah, I’ve been waiting on you for a long time, and I’m ticked.”

  “So what?” Abigail popped the trunk to stow her luggage. Inside, the zippers had been pulled on both her gear bag and the suitcase containing her guns. She growled, “What have you done?”

  “I searched your gear.”

  “With no warrant?”

  “Oh, I got me a warrant.” He reached into his blazer and tossed a folded sheet of paper toward her. “Read it and weep. I had probable cause since someone broke into your house.” He shrugged. “I found some nice, interesting women’s size-eight high tops that match the footprints we pulled from the soil in your backyard.” In a flash, Nick grabbed her arm.

  She flinched.

  “You want to tell me something? Like how you conveniently left your phone in the room when you broke into your house and then lied to me?”

  “Hey—” David stepped forward.

  Nick put out his hand. “You stay out of it, pal. ʼFess up, Abigail.”

  Finally, she opted for the truth. “So I broke into the house. So what? It
’s my house as well as Jonathan’s. I had a right to be in there.”

  “It’s an active crime scene.”

  “That you wouldn’t let me see.” She jerked her arm loose. “Sorry, but I didn’t find anything of substance in there.” She lifted her chin. “Since you’re so up on keeping the vic’s family informed, what can you tell me? And I want everything, you understand?”

  He hesitated.

  “Everything, Nick.”

  “We found financial records in there. Things like stock, bank, and credit card statements. That’s it. My boys worked through it on Thursday, yesterday, and all day today. They just finished this afternoon, which is why I came to the airport. Seems your brother went and bought himself a beach house at Holden Beach. Paid all cash for it, too.”

  “Where we vacationed in the summer while growing up.”

  Nick’s lips curled in a smile.

  Suddenly, Abigail realized her blunder. What was she thinking? It wouldn’t take him long to figure out that Jonathan had installed a safe at the beach house—if Nick hadn’t already done so. And to have the cops get their hands on that drive… She couldn’t let that happen. She thrust her bag into the trunk. “Well, if that’s it, we’ll be going—”

  Nick whipped her around and slammed her into the fender.

  “Hey!”

  David grabbed his arm. “Let her go.”

  In a flash, Nick shoved him back. “You touch me one more time, and I’ll arrest you for assaulting a law officer. This is between her and me, got it?”

  “No, it’s—”

  “Got it? Now shut your trap.”

  “David, it’s okay.” Abigail offered a weak smile.

  He backed away, but he remained close.

  Nick returned his fiery gaze to her. “You listen to me and listen to me good, Abby.”

  She stiffened as he used the nickname she hated.

  “I want that drive you got. Understand? Now hand it over.”

  “What drive? I told you I didn’t find anything.” She kept her face neutral.

  “Why do I think you’re lying to me? Again?” Nick released her. “If I find out you’ve lied to me, that’s it. I’ll toss your butt into the clink for impeding an investigation.”