Triumph (The Bellator Saga Book 6)

by Cecilia London

  “I hope so.” Schroeder logged into his computer. “I assume Commander McIntyre is expecting you. Perhaps you’d better call it a day.”

  Subtle. And appreciated. Her assistant earned a gold star for his participation in the day’s events. “See you tomorrow, Captain.”

  Chapter Two

  “You did what?”

  The conversation was not off to a good start. “You heard me. I visited Powell. Schroeder was with me.”

  Jack slammed his briefing book down. “Oh, he’s going to hear about this.”

  Their assistant would be fine. He knew how to stand up to his boss. “Jack, listen,” she said. “Powell insisted I see him without you. I had a feeling-”

  “Caroline, your feelings shouldn’t dictate your behavior with regard to that man.”

  “Oh, really?” she asked. “Is that why you beat him to a pulp the last time you were in the same room? I can’t imagine why he wanted to see only me.”

  “Fine.” Jack sat down on the couch. “What did he say?”

  How could she explain it without sounding like she was off her rocker? Especially when she wasn’t sure she believed Powell herself? She gave Jack the short version. His response was immediate and predictable.

  “He’s lying, sweetheart.”

  The little voice in her head was saying the same thing, but she wasn’t ready to listen. “You don’t know that.”

  “Of course I do. He’s manipulating you.”

  Lying. Manipulating. Everything Jack was saying had crossed her mind repeatedly on the walk back to their apartment. “I don’t think he is.”

  “How do you know?”

  Caroline wanted to believe Powell, so badly it hurt. “He told me things only someone with knowledge of the situation would know.”

  “Meaning?”

  She rested her forehead against his cheek. “He told me about a shootout. About bodies that were recovered.” She let out a shaky breath. “The descriptions he gave matched Tom and Jess.”

  “Only two?”

  “Only two. They had items of…importance with them.”

  “Could you be a shade more specific?” he asked.

  “Remember when I told you The Fed had proof the girls were dead? They recovered my Marquette scarf and blue hippo from where Tom and Jess were located. Later on, Murdock showed them to me during an interrogation. At the time I thought it meant…something different than what it may mean. Powell’s story changes everything.”

  “This could be a stunt. One last little jab as a gift from Murdock.”

  She’d had time to think on the walk home. Trying not to obsess over Canada. Pondering what the weather was like in early winter in Ottawa. Debating if brazen irresponsibility should trump common sense. Wondering whether she was chasing a pipe dream or grasping at imaginary straws.

  But the compunction in Powell’s voice. The – dare she say it? – sincerity. She didn’t get the impression their prisoner had ever been a big fan of his supervisor. His motivations were far from pure, but they weren’t exactly calculating either. The emotional thirst coursed through her so consistently it made her heart ache. “I don’t get that impression. The pieces fit together so perfectly.”

  “Too perfectly.”

  Jack had always supported her. Been so forgiving, so loving. Why was he being so recalcitrant? “Why don’t you want to believe this?” she asked.

  He pressed his lips to her forehead before speaking. “You’ve been through so much, Caroline. Made so much progress. And this bastard opens his mouth and puts you on a road that forces you to relive the grief and agony you’ve been trying to process. He’s slashing at wounds that have never properly healed. I don’t want to see you suffering again.” He swallowed hard. “Nor do I want to go through it myself.”

  Caroline closed her eyes. Trust him to be logical. To bring her back down when she’d started to rise again. “There’s no harm in checking.”

  “We’ve checked, sweetheart. Multiple times.”

  “I want to go to Canada. Right now.”

  His expression changed. “We’re leaving for The Hague soon. No.”

  Fuck The Hague. Nothing else mattered if her children were alive. “We can go to Ottawa first.”

  “Not without the proper documentation. You want to cross the border illegally?”

  As if they couldn’t talk their way out of it. “Yes.”

  Jack slid her onto his lap. “We have never uncovered a single indication that the girls are in Canada or anywhere else. No activity on the account. No nothing.”

  She had to give him credit. She’d started to get worked up and he hadn’t responded in kind. To keep her calm, no doubt. Caroline took a deep breath, focusing on the here and now. Using the most reliable method that had soothed her in the past. She tried not to think about the hippo and the scarf. “Maybe they missed something.”

  “They didn’t,” he said gently. “You have to let this go.”

  She didn’t know much about how he’d gotten to California. Maybe now was the time to open that door. “Did you do any searching yourself when you were up there?”

  Jack loosened his grip. “That doesn’t matter. None of our agents found anything.”

  So cagey. Not a good sign. Maybe her serenity wasn’t his sole concern. “What did you find? Did you search for the names on the passports? In the locations we’d agreed on? What did you do when you got to Ottawa?”

  He slid away from her on the couch. “I-”

  Evasiveness and physical distance. Not good at all. “What is it?”

  “You don’t know much about my journey here.”

  “I didn’t feel comfortable asking. You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to.”

  “I purposely avoided Ottawa.” Jack rubbed his neck, the color flushing his cheeks. “I didn’t find out about the girls until I got here and had our intelligence guys check with their sources in Canada.”

  Caroline touched his hand. He hadn’t lied, not really. But he hadn’t been truthful either. “You had them check the passports? The names? The locations?”

  “Yes. There was nothing to be found. Not even the second time around, when they did their best to dig deeper.”

  “Why didn’t you tell me?” she whispered.

  Jack still wouldn’t look at her. “I couldn’t face them. Back then I assumed they’d already made it up there.”

  “So did I.”

  He blinked several times. “I thought our agents would find them. That they’d bring the girls to California along with Tom, Jess, and Christine. And we’d find out what happened to you, and you’d be safe too.” He tapped his fist against his lips. “Nothing worked out the way I had planned. Stupid, silly dreams they were.”

  “They weren’t,” Caroline said. “We both held onto hope, and the last thing we should do is trivialize the power it gave us.”

  He shook his head. “There was no way to explain – I’d left you sitting in the snow seriously injured so I could get a flash drive to a rebellion we weren’t even sure was there. I couldn’t-”

  She didn’t want to hear this. Not when they had so much more to deal with than the mistakes of the past. “Jack-”

  “It was freezing that night,” he said quietly. “For months all I could think about was how cold it was, how frightened you looked, how much of a goddamn pussy I was for leaving you there. There was no way I could look our children in the eyes and tell them I’d left their mother to die.”

  His hands were trembling. Caroline put her arms around him. “You need to let that go, darling. You would have never left if we had any other options.”

  “I swore to them I would take care of you. That I’d protect you and get you to them in one piece. I couldn’t face that. Face them.” He let out a bitter laugh. “And you know there’s no way in hell I’d be able to tell Christine what I’d done.”

  Caroline put her head on his shoulder. “They might be out there. Maybe we missed something. We have to go to Canada o
urselves.”

  “Caroline-”

  Couldn’t he sense her urgency? Didn’t he see the same things she did? Were they living in competing realities? “Maybe they didn’t want to be found. Did you think of that? Especially if we weren’t the ones doing the searching.”

  “Sweetheart, not everything is a conspiracy.”

  It sure damn well felt like it. The universe seemed destined to collude against them at every turn. “You don’t understand. If what Powell told me is true, Chrissy wouldn’t have made it easy to track them down. She would have known to stay hidden, to stay out of danger. You know she would have done anything to keep our children safe. We have to try, Jack. Please.”

  “Those are an awful lot of necessary coincidences. I don’t want you to hold onto things that aren’t there.”

  What was wrong with him? “Don’t you care? Why don’t you want to believe this?”

  He clenched his fist. “I am concerned. I want to believe. But I can’t hope the way you can. It hurts too much to have faith.”

  Maybe his claims of optimism and good humor weren’t as grand as he thought. His sanguinity was couched in some serious cynicism. “But you have hopes for the rebellion, right?”

  “I can wish things for other people. Wish things for you. But this is one thing I can’t quite believe. Not yet.”

  Self-preservation was understandable. What a cruel paradox that it came at her expense. “We’ve never been able to find closure. Maybe there’s a reason. They’re out there. I know it.”

  “Did you tell Powell any of this?”

  Her husband knew better than to ask her that. “I was a little bitchy to him. I didn’t want him to know he’d touched a nerve. I also kneed him in the balls.”

  Jack laughed. “Of course you did. Goddamn, Caroline.”

  “I don’t suppose it sounds even remotely convincing if I tell you it was an accident?”

  “Not in the slightest. Just try to keep your rage in check, all right?”

  Caroline was getting better at tempering her reactions but the slightest provocation from the wrong person could set her off. “We have to try, Jack. I have to know.”

  “All right. But we’re going to The Hague first. We can’t travel to Canada until we have the proper documentation. It’s too risky.”

  Much as it pained her to admit it, he was correct. Crossing the border illegally wasn’t the best way to plead their case. She’d have to practice patience. “Schroeder is on it,” she said.

  “We’ll get to Ottawa. I promise. I assume Powell wants something in exchange for this absurd claim?”

  She could dodge the question, but wouldn’t get far. “He wants consideration if he testifies against the people giving the orders. That’s all.” Caroline leaned back. “He’d get that regardless. Why not exploit it if we can?”

  Jack caressed her cheek. “I don’t want you to get your hopes up for nothing.”

  He didn’t trust Powell. He didn’t trust anyone. Truth be told, neither did she. But she trusted Jack. And she trusted her instincts. “I won’t,” she promised. “But if there’s a chance-”

  “We will go to Canada, but we’ll do it right. Set something up with the Prime Minister, make it a full diplomatic mission. How does that sound?”

  She’d take what she could get. “I guess I can live with that.”

  Jack kissed her forehead. “In the meantime, maybe you should talk to Dr. Haddad. It might help you wrap your head around things. We’ll get the truth eventually, Caroline. I promise.”

  He wasn’t quite on board, but she had a couple of weeks to convince Jack to see her perspective. A couple of weeks to process everything. Maybe even a couple of weeks to have more than a few visits with Natalie to help her get by. Then they’d be on their way out of California and toward their future. “If Schroeder can get us visas, I can wait.”

  Chapter Three

  Caroline hadn’t visited with Natalie often. Not recently, anyway. Although it would have been healthier for her to describe their visits as what they were – regular therapy sessions. She’d been so upset at Powell, so adamant with Jack, then retreated into a weird sense of calm. It didn’t feel right. When in doubt and with international travel on the horizon, she’d let Dr. Haddad do the analyzing.

  “I don’t know what’s wrong,” Caroline said. “Everything comes crashing at me and I practically have a breakdown, but instead of dealing with it I block it out. Like it’s not really happening. Powell being one of my attackers, the girls, everything. I know it’s a defense mechanism but I can’t keep shutting it down. It makes it impossible to function when I have to lead. I have to be aware of my surroundings. I have to be…me.”

  “Of course,” Natalie said. “You’ve been protecting yourself. You’re juggling a bunch of heavy concepts at the same time. A reactionary response is completely expected. You’ve had to adjust to a new normal multiple times, and your psyche has resisted. You have to deal with it in a way that doesn’t damage you further.”

  How long ago had it been when feeling good was the default instead of the unattainable? “Do you think I’m ever going to be myself again?”

  Natalie shrugged. “I can’t give you the answer you want. Who you are changes over time.”

  “There have been times when I don’t much care for my behavior.”

  “I suppose that’s a sign that the real Caroline, whoever that is, is inside you somewhere. It’s also a sign you should stop kicking men in the balls.”

  Huh. That had gotten back to her. Thank God she wasn’t lecturing Caroline about it. “So, what do I do?” she asked. “I’m engaging in reckless conduct. Acting out, letting my mind drift, getting set off by the slightest thing. It’s not healthy, especially when I have to act competently for the near future.”

  “It’s not a permanent solution, but you need something to get you through the next few weeks. Maybe longer. Compartmentalize. Pick your emotional battles. Concentrate on the task at hand. I know it’s hard not to think about your kids, or worry about the long term, or drift into the past, but you have to be singularly focused on your testimony or you’ll cause yourself even more stress.”

  In other words, Caroline needed to calm the fuck down. “Is that a clinical opinion or a personal one?”

  “I’m basing it on my assessment of who you used to be and who you are now. You could handle all of it if you had no other choice, but you have options. Don’t power through when you can glide. You’re allowed to slow down.”

  “It’s hard,” Caroline said. “I want to run to Canada. I need to know the truth.”

  Natalie patted her hand. “You will know. But you can’t rush up there. You have to take care of a few other things first. Pace yourself. You’ve won quite a few battles but this is still a war. And no, that’s not an allegory for anything else.”

  Like hell. “Liar.”

  Natalie took out a prescription pad. “I think it would help if you were on something for a few months. You’ll be traveling and under a greater amount of stress than usual. Just promise me you’ll take them in moderation.”

  She’d be able to have fuzzy flights instead of getting worked up? Seemed like a great deal to her. “I promise.”

  Natalie handed her two sheets of paper. “Something for anxiety and something for your fear of flying. They should have both of these at the pharmacy in the hospital.”

  Double drugs. Goody goody. Caroline pocketed them. “I take a bunch at one time then chase with whiskey, right?”

  “Don’t start. Oh, and I know this goes without saying but…be careful. Please. Nothing stupid.”

  Like she’d be able to agree to that with a straight face. “I solemnly swear I will listen whenever Jack says I’m acting irrationally. Does that work?”

  “For now. Once you get back here we can take the next step. Focus on your testimony. Nothing else. You can’t control those other things anyway. You can control your behavior in Europe, can control your language and demeanor. Enjoy your
self if you’re feeling up to it. Use everything else as motivation. A reminder why you’re doing all of this.” She headed toward the door, apparently finished with her sermon. “If nothing else, just think of how I’ll yell at you if I discover you haven’t been following my very professional and medically sound instructions.”

  Caroline leaned in for a hug. “Your sense of humor is far too much like mine. But I love you anyway.”

  Natalie kissed her cheek. “Safe travels. Go get your meds.”

  *****

  It took another two weeks of wrangling before their overseas adventure was finalized. A private plane provided by the California Republic. Additional security. A direct flight from San Diego to Amsterdam with an escort to The Hague. Drivers, bodyguards, travel allowances…every t had been crossed, every i dotted. Schroeder deserved a raise.

  Caroline had shown Tom’s watch to Jack, then placed it in the drawer next to their most precious mementos. She’d take it out from time to time, staring at the inscription, rolling it over in her hand. Checking to make sure the time was correct.

  It seemed wrong to leave it behind, knowing what its owner had gone through in order for it to end up in her possession. A nine hour difference between San Diego and The Hague. She’d need something to help keep track of her schedule. She plucked the watch out of the drawer and adjusted the hands accordingly before shoving it into her rucksack.

  The anxiety medication hadn’t reached its full effectiveness but it soothed her, made it easier for her to practice compartmentalization. A temporary solution to a permanent problem. The tranquilizers she’d been prescribed were a nice bonus. Caroline had already taken one of them and was feeling pretty damn relaxed as she finished packing.

  She’d need business clothes. Dresses. Shoes. A purse, since manufacturers of women’s suits hadn’t figured out how to put damn pockets in the things. Something other than boots and a uniform. Casual outfits weren’t an issue but she had to look moderately presentable for her interviews. Despite her apprehension, a trip to Europe was the closest thing to freedom she’d had in years. Their cover story was simple: an anniversary trip to the continent. How delightful.