by Rachel Lee
“Okay,” he said. “When you catch sight of one near the front, fire away, identify yourself and tell them to stop. Ben and I will deal with what happens then.”
“Fair enough.”
Outside, apparently emboldened when their shot didn’t receive return fire, the men rose up, crouching, but much more visible. Two headed toward the front, which meant they intended to enter. Why was that one staying on the side?
But his question was quickly answered. The last of them started to move toward the front. He watched, then joined Cat and Ben in the foyer.
“They’re here,” Cat announced. “I’m going ahead.”
Ben reached out swiftly. “Be careful.”
“I’m not going out there,” she said reassuringly. She then opened the door a crack and put her mouth to the opening.
“Conard County Sheriff. Freeze right there!”
But they didn’t even hesitate. Cripes, she thought, raising the shotgun and edging it through the door. She fired a warning blast.
“I said halt!” She fired again.
She felt one of the guys push some more shells into her hand and she quickly loaded them, for the first time wishing she’d brought magazines. Who would have guessed? She’d honestly believed that a few warning shots would stop them. If not, a couple more well-placed shots should have done it.
But nothing was stopping these men.
Then the rain of fire began.
The three of them swore and fell to the floor. Automatics, Cat thought. No three-round bursts to preserve ammo, so they must have plenty.
The bullets came through the entire front of the house, as if they wanted to saw it down, and ricocheted off metal or punctured the walls and staircase. Glass shattered.
“Let me,” Duke said, edging her to one side.
“Careful,” she couldn’t help saying, although he didn’t need the reminder. He was far more experienced at this than she’d ever be.
Ben cried out as more bullets pierced the house.
“Ben?” she called.
“A graze. Damn it. I can’t lift my arm...”
Just then, Duke rose on his knees, pushed the door open wider and fired into the night. A single crack.
Almost simultaneously a man’s cry could be heard.
“One down,” Duke said. “Hang on.”
Cat rose up. Without asking, she hurried over to the broken front window and used the butt of her shotgun to get more glass out of the way. Then she aimed for one of the attackers.
Enough, she thought. Enough. This one’s for Larry. Her heart pounded in her ears, and rage filled her.
Another swath of bullets cut through, and she had to duck, but then she rose up and fired another round. A riot gun wasn’t particular. Nor was she, at this point.
All the while fear tapped along her spine. Fear that Ben had been downplaying his injury. Fear that Duke would get shot.
Her own safety was the last thing that worried her. Strange.
Must have been the fury.
* * *
TEN MINUTES AFTER the firefight began, it ended in total silence. Eerie silence.
Cat felt almost dazed as she tried to look around.
“I need to go out there and check,” Duke said. “You help Ben.”
“No,” said Ben. “I’ll be fine. I managed to put on a tourniquet.”
Cat looked at Duke. “You’re not going out there alone. They’re still armed, and if any of them can shoot...”
“It’s common tactical sense, Duke,” Ben argued. “Don’t go alone.”
Duke was having none of it. “Cat, you stay here with Ben. He can’t defend himself. I’ll deal with those three. Quite effectively.”
Then he slipped out the door.
Ben spoke as if in answer to Cat’s instant anxiety. “If anyone can do it, he can.”
* * *
CAT WISHED SHE could see more. The night-vision goggles were displaying all kinds of static as the snowfall grew heavier.
She thought she saw Duke moving slowly toward the three men. Then a volley of shots rang out. Her heart stopped.
One man must be capable of shooting. At least one.
While the subsequent silence seemed to last forever, it didn’t. She knew it didn’t.
Ben spoke, his voice weaker. “Cat? What’s going on?”
“Damned if I know.”
The anxiety was going to kill her. One dark figure began to move toward the house. She lifted her shotgun, ready to fire, then recognized Duke’s familiar stride.
She could have collapsed with relief. With her radio, now certain no one else would get hurt, she called for help and relief.
Not too long after, the two medevac choppers arrived. The first one took Ben. The second took two of the wounded men. The other was dead.
The medics had flex ties and used them on the two shooters. They’d survive, but no one was taking a chance that they could cause more trouble.
Cat, knowing Ben would receive the best care, joined Duke, who was looking at the man who lay dead on the ground, the snow starting to collect on his clothing. The dead man was on his back, his eyes open and fixed on night he could no longer see.
“He shot at you?” she asked. “You shot him?”
“Yeah.” Duke’s voice was heavy. Then he said, “I know him.”
A shiver of shock ran through Cat. “You do?”
“Yeah. Years back, we were both in the ’Stan. I was on a solo mission when I heard a firefight. I had my own mission, and maybe I should have ignored it, but...” He shook his head. “I couldn’t,” he said simply.
Cat waited, still trying to deal with the hurricane that buffeted her. “And?” she asked after a minute.
“Oh, I found a squad under attack. Some wounded guys, and it didn’t look good for them. I got involved.” He indicated the corpse with his hand. “He was leading them. I thought at the time that he wasn’t happy I showed up, but that wasn’t the point. Those wounded men were. I helped. Dragged the wounded guys to safer ground and joined the fight.”
“You did that under fire?”
“Hell, yeah. Bad situation. No reason the wounded should become target practice.”
“But why would he be here now?”
Duke just shook his head.
It seemed like a weird confluence, Cat thought, but stranger coincidences happened. Random, unexpected things.
The patrol cars had begun arriving, and soon Gage limped toward them, his shearling jacket hanging open, a tan cowboy hat on his head. He looked down at the corpse then at Cat. “Explain quickly, then get home. You can fill out reports tomorrow.”
“Three armed men approached the house and started to make Swiss cheese out of it. We returned fire. Ben was wounded. Two of the intruders were as well. This one wasn’t that lucky.”
Gage turned his head. “The house doesn’t look very good.”
Understatement of the year, Cat thought. “I should go back inside, get anything Ben might want.”
“Make it quick,” Gage said.
She hurried back inside, looking around. She doubted Ben would want any clothes before tomorrow, but then she spied a photo of Ben and Larry together. Framed, it had been protected behind glass that was now shattered. She took it. Broken glass or not, she could put it beside his hospital bed.
“Now go,” Gage said. “Both of you. We’ll talk tomorrow. Leave the weapons behind and let us get to work. This is one thing I don’t need you for, Cat.”
She didn’t even want to argue. As the adrenaline began to wear off, she began to feel wrung out, limp. Exhausted.
She and Duke didn’t say much on the drive back. Too soon for an after-action report, she thought. Both of them needed time to absorb it all.
But that bit about knowing one of the guys, a man he’d
assisted in Afghanistan, must have rocked him. He was probably sitting behind the wheel chewing that over. He hadn’t struck her as a man who easily accepted coincidence as a reason.
Maybe he was right. She just hoped he wasn’t blaming himself for Larry.
* * *
DUKE DROVE STRAIGHT to the truck stop. Cat, now dozing, hardly stirred as he went inside to order up two loaded breakfasts and a half gallon of coffee. If she could go to bed when they got to her house, that was fine by him. He doubted he’d be able to.
Not until he pulled up in front of her house did she actually wake. Then she yawned and stretched, and he watched with mild amusement as she staggered toward her front door. Yeah, it was still the middle of the night, but he suspected she was having a physical letdown. Just wait until that passed. She was going to be all over the night, the entire case, when she had the brainpower.
She made it inside. When he followed with the take-out bags and the tray full of coffee cups, he was astonished to find her sitting at the kitchen table. She rested her chin in her hand, her eyelids at half-staff.
“Go to bed,” he suggested. “You’re beat.”
She shook her head slowly. “It’s hitting.”
“Thought it would. Then join me for breakfast.”
“Sorry I fell asleep.”
Duke paused as he pulled out the containers and offered her one of the coffees. “I’m not. I wouldn’t have been much company. Besides, you were coming off adrenaline. I know what that’s like.”
“But not tonight?” she asked groggily as he opened boxes and put one in front of her, along with a fork. She blinked. “Did you get everything?”
“On the breakfast menu. We need the calories.”
She nodded and speared a home fry, carrying it to her mouth. “Probably.”
They ate quietly for a while, but Duke knew the questions were going to come, probably the same ones he had. As the fuel hit their systems, they would both reenergize.
When they were finally sated, he pushed the nearly empty containers aside and handed out two more cups of coffee.
“Is it still snowing?” Cat asked.
“It stopped while we were driving home.”
She nodded and let out a big sigh. She began to turn the foam cup in front of her. “I need to get an espresso maker.”
That comment came from so far out of left field that Duke felt taken aback. Was she still half-asleep? Or was she not ready to deal with the night’s events yet?
Either way, he didn’t blame her and just let her sit and settle. He knew her too well already to believe stasis would last long. He’d also been through enough situations like this to understand that some people needed longer to crawl back inside their own skins.
Besides, he was trying not to deal with a larger picture that kept occurring to him.
“We need to go see Ben,” she announced.
“Rest a little. Ben’s probably pretty busy about now.”
“Did you see his wound?”
“Upper arm, tourniquet. Bad enough, I suspect. But he’ll be fine. He just needs some stitches and maybe a shot of morphine.”
Cat nodded.
Duke waited, his mind buzzing like a hive of bees. Not a coincidence. Couldn’t be.
Cat sighed again and drank quite a bit of coffee before speaking. “You knew that guy?”
“Not really. We only ran into each other that once. But the minute I saw him, I knew who he was.”
And every time he remembered that, his gut twisted in a knot. Had that man turned Larry into a proxy target? God, he hoped not. That was the only thing that could make this worse.
Cat stirred. “I hate to say this, but I can’t deal with this right now. Maybe in the morning.”
Which was how they came to be snuggled together under the covers. Just hugging. Duke had never found such comfort after any action. Wasn’t supposed to need it.
Right then, he discovered that he did need it.
* * *
ALL TOO SOON, the day began. Cat awoke shortly after Duke, and the two of them headed straight to Community Memorial Hospital, Cat carrying the shattered photo of Larry and Ben.
Cat wore her uniform, and that got them past any gatekeepers.
“Ben needs some family here,” Cat said under her breath.
“Yeah,” Duke agreed. “I think they all disowned him, though.”
“Damn.”
“Larry used to laugh it off, without mentioning Ben by name, saying he’d never have an in-law problem. Honestly, I don’t think either of them was able to really laugh it off.”
“I couldn’t.”
Ben sat up in bed, eating from a tray of food that looked more appetizing than it probably was. He offered a weary smile. “Cooked prunes, anyone? Oatmeal? I’ve always hated oatmeal.”
“Me, too,” Cat answered. “Sticks in my mouth.” She held out the photo. “I thought you might want this. Careful of the broken glass.”
Ben took it and looked down at it. “That shattered glass feels like my heart.”
She was sure it did.
“How are you doing?” Duke asked him.
“Nicked the brachial artery. Tourniquet saved me.” He gave a snort. “Military training can be good for something.”
“It appears,” Duke agreed.
Ben continued to stare down at the photo. Then he ran his hand over the backing, as if stroking it. He’d probably have stroked the photo if it had been safe to do so.
Then his hand froze. “I’ve held this a million times in the past,” he said slowly.
Duke leaned forward. “What’s wrong?”
“There’s something behind the backing. Something that wasn’t there when I first put it in the house.” He looked up, his eyes wide. “Duke?”
Duke looked at Cat. “Maybe you should take it.”
She nodded. Evidence of some kind? Or just damage from the firefight last night? Only one way to find out.
She placed the photo facedown on the table, then felt the backing carefully. It rocked slightly. Picture backing, no matter how thick, didn’t usually do that.
Carefully, she bent back the tabs that held it in place. “I’ll remove the glass once I can get the photo out.”
“Sure,” Ben said.
She could feel both men watching intently. Her heart was climbing into her throat. At last she was able to lift the backing off—and what she saw caused her breath to catch.
“What?” both men asked.
She slowly lifted out three discs in their paper sleeves and held them up. “Could these be it? Larry’s secret?”
Chapter Twelve
Four days later they stood in Good Shepherd Church for Larry’s memorial. Cat hadn’t expected much of a turnout, given that Larry had barely arrived in town and Ben was still only slightly known.
But the church was packed.
She smiled faintly, glad to see it. Ben needed to feel community support right now. Support even from relative strangers.
The last few days had been tough for both Ben and Duke. Enough details of the autopsy had been shared to give both men a crystal clear awareness of what had been done to Larry. The minimum, but still too much. At least neither of them had pressed for more information, although they could have.
Rocked by that, Duke had nonetheless forged ahead, working with Ben on a service for his brother while keeping his finger on the pulse of the interrogation of the two men who had survived their assault on Ben’s house.
It seemed someone had hired the men to come out here to remove any evidence Larry might have of misdeeds among higher-ups in the Army relating to the murder-for-hire plot. The information was on those discs—lots of it. Names, dates, places, witnesses. It would indeed have filled a book.
Duke planned to turn it over to military authorities for in
vestigation, but not before he asked the sheriff to make copies for safekeeping. A chain of evidence.
In addition, they’d found out that the dead man, Jason Lewis, had a burr under his saddle about Duke.
“When he heard you were in town,” one of the killers said, “he started to go kinda nuts. I don’t know why.”
The other man did. “Just before we began that attack, he told me that Major Duke had interfered with an operation of his in Afghanistan.”
Questions answered, Cat thought as she waited for Reverend Carson to make her appearance. It wasn’t often that all the questions got answered.
Ben had decided he wanted Larry buried nearby. He also wanted to give the eulogy. Duke seemed content to be guided.
When Ben rose, his arm in a sling, his eyes were visibly wet. “I planned to say a whole lot, but somehow I can’t. Larry was one of the good guys, always a warrior for justice, unafraid in the teeth of death threats. A hard-driving reporter who always wanted the truth and wouldn’t settle for less.”
Ben’s voice broke, and he dashed at his eyes, wiping away tears.
Cat’s throat tightened, and she had to blink herself.
“Anyway, maybe Larry’s brother can do a better job of this than I can. But I just wanted to say, I love Larry. I loved him since the first time we met. And I was hoping when he came out here, we’d start a real life together. We weren’t granted the time, but...”
His voice broke again as he stuffed his hand into his pocket. When he drew it out, he held a gold ring.
“I was going to ask Larry to marry me.” He laid the ring atop Larry’s casket and walked down the steps toward the aisle.
Then the most beautiful thing happened. People rose from the pews and surrounded him, offering hugs and kind words. Offering him a sense of belonging, a sense that his grief was shared.
Cat couldn’t hold back the tears any longer.
* * *
MUCH LATER, CAT, Ben and Duke gathered in her living room. It had been a wrenching day for all of them, especially the men. First the service, then the trip to the cemetery. Then a funeral supper back at the church, where a whole lot of friendly people delivered a potluck.