by Casi McLean
The young girl trembled, clinging to Duke’s neck.
What the hell? Wyatt shifted the light to see her better. “How did you get here, sweetie.”
Turning her head, she splayed a hand shielding her eyes from the bright light.
“I’m sorry.” Wyatt redirected the beam.
She lowered her hand then squeezed Duke closer.
“I promise I won’t hurt you.” He set the phone on a clump of vines. “See. Don’t be afraid. I want to help you.”
With a tug, she drew Duke into her lap and shook her head.
“You understand me?”
A nod confirmed she spoke English, but she said nothing.
Her long, blonde, stringy hair clumped together. Whether from filth or wetness, Wyatt couldn’t be sure. The dim light hindered his vision, but from all indications she wasn’t left behind by a tourist. Dressed in little more than a dirty, oversized, tee-shirt, she obviously fled quickly, having no time or resources to dress appropriately. Grime smudged her arms, legs, and face. Fear laced her expression. Wyatt had seen that same terror-ridden look on far too many Afghan children after they’d seen their parents murdered in front of them or blown into red mist by an IED.
He held out a hand in her direction.
Again, she jerked away.
Holding up both hands, he reassured her. “Okay. I won’t touch you.” Slowly, he dropped his hands to his knees. “Can you tell me your name?” He raised his brows.
“Hanna,” she whispered.
“Hanna. That’s a beautiful name.” He smiled softly, hoping she would sense he meant her no harm. “My dog, Duke” ––he raised his brows toward the German shepherd––“seems to like you a lot. Do you have a dog?”
Hanna shook her head. Lowering her gaze, she tightened her grip on the animal. “She said I’d find help here…but I don’t know who to trust. If I don’t find a way to save my sister, Damien will kill her.”
“Whoa, back up a second, sweetie. One step at a time. In order to help you, I need to know some facts, like where is your sister? Who is Damien? And why do you think he will kill her?”
She recoiled into a fetal position as if his very presence threatened her, and she said nothing more.
Confused, Wyatt knew grilling a traumatized child would likely cause her to withdraw, not open up. Now acclimated to the darkness, he gazed at the young girl, examining her from head to toe. Curled around Duke, she clung to him like a toddler to a teddy bear. The bones of her small frame were clearly defined through a blanket of thin porcelain skin, but despite her gaunt stature, her natural beauty radiated. Two pale bare feet peeked from under Duke’s fur, flashing a memory of the starving Afghan children Wyatt had left behind in another world. Whatever caused Hanna to flee terrified her.
Despite classic signs of abuse, she knew she’d have to trust someone in order to help her sister. If this man, Damien, threatened them, timing was crucial. He raked his fingers through his hair. His instincts rarely steered him wrong, and right now, they screamed urgency. If a man created this fear, she’d likely respond more easily to a woman. Harper was his best bet.
“I’m sorry, Hanna. I didn’t mean to frighten you with a flurry of questions. If your sister is in trouble, we need to help her quickly. I have a friend who can make that happen.” He stood then held out a hand. “Her name is Harper and she’s just down the path. Will you trust me enough to come with me?”
Hanna’s gaze shifted to meet his…slowly, her outstretched hand followed. Now exposed to the light of the full moon, her right wrist displayed a bracelet of deep purple that streaked down her thumb into her palm. “She promised me I’d find help here.”
Duke rose and padded behind his master.
“She was right.” He tugged on her hand, mindful of her bruised arm. “We’ll find your sister. I promise. And with any luck, we’ll have you both home by Christmas.” As the girl stood, Wyatt observed her stature, guessing the child’s age to be fourteen or fifteen, older than he’d thought at first glance.
Hanna nodded. “Wait.” She turned, then leaned over and snatched a royal blue coat she had used as a blanket.
“Do you need help?”
Hanna shook her head, stared at the coat draped over her arm and brushed her hand across the soft cashmere several strokes then clutched it to her chest.
“I can see the coat means a lot to you, but you’ll be warmer if you at least wrap it around you.”
She lowered her head and drew her long hair to the side then slid the wrap over her shoulders. “It’s such a beautiful coat.” A slight smile curled the corners of her lips. Taking a few steps alongside of Wyatt, she stumbled in pain. Letting out a whimper, she collapsed into him.
“What happened?” Again, Wyatt’s gaze dropped to her bare feet. “You must be freezing with no shoes on. Please, let me carry you, Hanna.”
Drawing herself to a wobbly stance, she paused, fear washing across her face.
“We’ll make better time.” He raised a brow, hoping she’d take his offer as assistance and not a command.
She gazed down the dark path before her then toward Wyatt. “She told me whoever found me would help my sister and me.”
Wyatt squeezed his brows together. “Wait, I thought the she you were talking about was your sister. Who told you to come to this island?”
“A woman on the graffiti bridge. She showed me where to find the canoe.”
Wyatt chuckled. “Am I missing something? What canoe?”
“The canoe that brought me here. When I felt it hit land, I got out and dragged it into the woods in case I needed to escape again.
Hanna, I won’t hurt you. I just hate to see you in pain. Let me carry you to go see Harper. Your bare feet have to be freezing. Please. I promise I won’t touch you unless you feel comfortable enough to allow me to help.
After a cautious gaze, she nodded.
He scooped her into his arms and began the trek to the compound. As he walked, Wyatt continued to talk, hoping she’d feel more at ease. Her replies helped him draw the girl’s puzzle pieces together. Hanna escaped from somewhere near the old Alexandria Aqueducts––hence her reference to the graffiti bridge––a woman told her where to find a loose canoe near one of the boathouses nearby. “What happened next?”
“She gave me this beautiful coat. She said her cell phone fell into the river and she didn’t have a car…I asked her to come with me…warned her about Damien, but she insisted she’d be fine.” Hanna grasped the coat tightly to her chest. “I hope she got home safely. If Damien found her, he’d…”
Her voice faded but Wyatt heard the worry in her silence. For a moment, the foliage thinned, allowing moonlight to sprinkle silvery beams through bare branches. He glanced at the night sky then again shifted his gaze to Hanna. “Now, let me get this straight. A woman you never met showed you how to escape Damien and get to Roosevelt Island.”
“She saved my life. I only hope I’ll be able to rescue my sister in time.”
“And the lady gave you this coat?” He gazed at the wrap and a team of ants crawled down his back…a royal blue cashmere…just like the one he’d given to his sister on her last birthday. Again, the path darkened, but not before he caught a glimpse of the compound entrance just a few yards farther down the trail. The garment couldn’t be his sister’s…could it? “We’re here.” He slid Hanna to her feet then released the latch and the bunker door opened casting bright lights on the young girl and the coat draping her shoulders. Wyatt’s breath caught in his throat, causing him to cough. “Did the nice woman tell you her name?”
“I’ll never forget it. She was so beautiful and kind.” Hanna brushed her stringy hair from her face. “Alyssa.” She gazed directly into Wyatt’s eyes. “Her name was Alyssa.”
Chapter Four
A knot coiled in Wyatt’s stomach as Hannah mentioned the name. Emily had spoken to Alyssa during the murder investigation. Could his sister’s ghost be reaching out to Hanna as well? A wave of jealousy streamed down his ar
ms, numbing his fingers. He wanted so badly to talk to his sister again. Why could she communicate to Em and Hanna but not to him. He shoved the door further then swallowed hard to force the tormenting green monster into hiding.
Barely inside the bunker, Wyatt placed a hand on Hanna’s shoulder and softly squeezed. “Are you ready to meet my friend.”
She nodded.
Duke scampered past his master then dashed down the corridor.
Hanna trembled, her eyes widening as she stared at the massive stone passageway. “Where are we? What is this place?”
“I’ll show you around and explain this compound further later. Right now, we need to find Harper and tell her about your sister. Oaky?”
Again, she nodded and softly slid her hand into his.
“Where have you been?” Harper’s voice echoed through the chamber before she got to the vestibule. Turning the corner, she glanced at the entrance and froze, a frown pinching her features together. “Wyatt, this bunker is off the grid, remember?”
Hanna clenched his hand so hard it actually hurt.
“I know, Harper but this girl needs our help.” His gaze shifted to his companion. “This is Hanna. She escaped a really bad man and she wants us to rescue her sister.”
Harper approached, studying Hanna with each step. “This young lady’s name is Hanna?”
He nodded. “Yes. Will you take her to the living quarters and find her some dry clothes?” He stared at Harper with a I-need-your-help stare. “I think a little girl-time would make her feel better and you can get the details about her sister so we can plan a rescue.”
Harper gave him a nod, then offered her hand. “Of course. Come with me, Hanna. Let’s get you cleaned up and you can fill me in.
Still holding Wyatt’s fingers with a vice-grip, Hanna took a step backward.
He drew back and placed a hand on her shoulder. “It’s all right. Harper will help you while I get your canoe…to make sure Damien doesn’t see it.”
Hanna nodded and released her grasp.
“Here, let me take your coat. I’ll hang it in the entry closet with ours, so it will be here when we’re ready to leave.” He held the garment while she slipped off the wrap.
Reluctantly padding away, she glanced over her shoulder.
Wyatt nodded and smiled, hoping to give her some reassurance. When they turned the corner, he beelined to the tech room.
Gunny Sgt. Logan Steel sat at the helm of the main computer. He stood when Wyatt, the second in command, entered the room.
“Night shift duty again?” Wyatt shook his head and scanned several screens for updates on current cases.
“Yes, sir.”
“I need you to run a missing child search for a young girl…age between fourteen and sixteen. Her name is Hanna…blonde hair, small frame, possibly kidnapped with her sister…I don’t have a name for the second girl, yet.” He paused, his thoughts spinning. “Also, run a criminal search for the name Damien through DC, Maryland, and Virginia, too.”
“On it, sir.” Steel’s fingers flew across the keyboard for a few seconds then he turned toward Wyatt. “Searches running.”
“The computer screen flashed multiple pictures per second…so fast Wyatt could scarcely see the images. “How long will that scan take?”
“Hard to say, sir.” Steel shifted his gaze to the screen. “We could get a hit immediately or not at all. I entered the United States first, then added worldwide. I’ll let you know when the search ends…or the moment we get a hit.
“Thanks.” Again, Wyatt glanced at the screen then toward Steel. “The late shift must be tough on you and your wife with an infant.”
“It’s not so bad, sir. Working nights makes it easier to stay awake on my days off so Courtney can get a full night’s rest.”
“Makes sense.” He angled his chin to Steel’s workstation. “I hope I didn’t interrupt anything pressing.”
“No, sir. I just finished some appropriations for Emily and Ash and was about to pull-up Alyssa’s list.” He shook his head. “We didn’t have as much trouble breaking the encryption as we thought, but what we found sent us down a murky rabbit hole. The way The Association’s finances are set up, it’s like a spider web or a maze through the Internet with holding companies, shell corporations, acquisitions, and assets over the last thirty-eight years. I traced them back to the eighties and still, their net worth is virtually impossible to estimate. Hollow companies can be traced by hand, looking through the actual ledgers for the earlier year and that will take time.”
“I have faith in you, Steel. You and Rhodes will figure out who backs the Deep State.” Wyatt glanced around the room, still fascinated at the vast array of equipment Harper appropriated from NCIS headquarters. Computer screens lined the walls, each allocated to specific on-going investigations. State of the art technology streamed not only information, but also top-secret intel, access to drones, and the ability to monitor worldwide real-time activity through satellites. “Look at what you have to work with.”
To the rear of the room, back entrances led to several SCIFs tucked into the compound. Unbeknownst to even the highest-ranking officials, this secret bunker held everything necessary to command any mission and the tunnels hidden beneath the Potomac River connected to all the major government buildings––including the White House.
Harper never ceased to amaze Wyatt. He paused, yearning for the woman he couldn’t erase from his thoughts. “By the way, Steel, do you know what the Director was so hyped-up about?”
Again, the Gunny turned toward Wyatt. “I don’t want to assume I know anything about Director Drake’s business. That said, she burst from the rear SCIF a while ago and darted through here asking if I’d seen you.”
“Thanks. I’ll catch up with her.” Wyatt snatched a handful of Reese’s Peanut Butter Cups from a bowl sitting on the conference table, peeled off a wrapper and popped one into his mouth. But first, I need to see a dog about a canoe. After a quick glance over his shoulder toward Steel, Wyatt pushed through the door.
§
Searching for attire to fit Hanna, Harper rummaged through her closet and chose a clean pair of her tightest blue jeans and a small tee-shirt with NCIS imprinted on the front. The clothes might be a bit baggy on Hanna’s slight frame, but they’d work. Grabbing a pair of Nikes, she considered the size, hoping the girl’s feet weren’t too swollen and bruised.
Convincing Hanna to take a quick shower while Harper found her some warmer clothes was a challenge. Frantic Damien would harm her sister, she begged Harper to leave immediately, find Sara and help her escape. She finally persuaded Hanna that running off unprepared for what they might find would be more dangerous than taking a few minutes to pull together a team and set up a plan with technology and backup. Harper also acquired some much-needed background from Hanna.
At first, she was reluctant to talk about her trauma. The fear in her eyes reminded Harper of children she’d comforted so often in Afghanistan. She took the girl’s hand and softly squeezed, assuring her she was safe now and Harper wanted to help. Once Hanna relaxed, the floodgates burst open. Contemplating what she’d gone thorough over the last twenty-three months gave Harper chills. She’d seen terrors beyond what anyone should have to endure in Iran and Afghanistan, but the thought of what that child had suffered made her stomach heave.
Thoughts still spinning between Hanna’s experience and Wyatt’s earlier behavior, Harper sat on the edge of the bed and glanced through her texts. She paused on the most recent addition then swallowed hard to clear the knot forming in her throat. She brushed her finger over the screen then reread the text.
I can’t reach my brother. Please have him call me asap. In the meantime, tell him Alyssa spoke to me again, this time with a message for you and Wyatt. I’m not sure who she referred to, but she said to take Hanna’s case and rescue Sarah…before it’s too late. And she insisted you’d understand why soon.
The message from Wyatt’s sister sent a chill down her ba
ck as a memory surfaced of Emily’s initial encounter with Alyssa. If anyone had told Harper a year ago, she’d believe in supernatural occurrences, she would have belly laughed.
Her entire life revolved around facts and visible proof. As Director of NCIS, she made sure every case followed procedure, especially regarding detail verification. Every “I” dotted, and every “T” crossed. But sometimes working with witness’ testimony, facts fell into a nebulous zone. The one thing Harper knew for sure, the idea of “my truth” and “his truth” was total bullshit. Memories decayed over time and people’s thoughts were skewed by their own experiences. But sometimes people flat-out lied. All that could be counted on were cold, hard facts.
When Wyatt first told her Emily had a sixth sense, Harper thought the entire story was bullshit too, until Emily told her things only Alyssa could have known. Now, Harper had to admit some things in life can’t be explained simply with scientific fact. Never again, would she doubt Emily’s sixth sense. Alyssa helped Harper’s team solve her own murder. Despite a lifetime of training screaming to trust facts proven by evidence, Harper conceded Alyssa’s anomaly to be proof supernatural activity existed.
She reread Emily’s text. Clearly, the new case was going to have to take precedence over her feelings for Wyatt. She immediately compartmentalized her emotions, shoving them into a dark corner of her mind.
When Wyatt strolled into the bunker earlier with the young girl, again, a chill swirled down Harper’s back and snaked into her stomach. No way could Emily have known about Hanna unless Alyssa told her. And when Hanna described the beautiful, kind woman who helped her, Harper didn’t need confirmation of the woman’s name. Was it coincidence Alyssa spoke to the child exactly where Detective Frasier found her body? Harper thought not…Alyssa’s spirit, apparition, or ghost––whatever the appropriate title might be––spoke to Hanna.
From all indications, the kidnapping fell into FBI territory––not like that had ever stopped Harper from following clues before––and Alyssa insisted everything would make sense later. Hell, who was Harper to argue with a ghost?