SEAL Firsts

by Sharon Hamilton

  “Everything’s okay,” Christy replied. “Don’t worry. Another mistake.” She shrugged and that seemed to satisfy the couple, who nodded and went inside.

  The older officer flew past her and into the hallway. He turned back to her. “Who are you talking to?”

  “The neighbors you terrorized.” She enjoyed the words.

  It wasn’t fair to take her anger out on the police, but since Kyle was MIA, she couldn’t scream at him.

  Maybe he joined his friend. Two missing SEALs now.

  “That kind of language is not smart, missy. I need you to get back inside. Now.” He grabbed her arm firmly but without violence, and wheeled her inside, slamming the door behind him.

  Christy yanked herself free. This picture was all wrong.

  “He’s not here, sir,” the policewoman said what was obvious.

  “Who?” Christy asked, pouting.

  “You know damned well who, young lady. Your boyfriend, that’s who.” The older officer was annoyed.

  She snorted. The situation would be funny if it wasn’t so sad. Boyfriend? “He’s not my boyfriend.”

  He leaned his tall frame into her bedroom, eyeing the tussled sheets.

  Christy’s cheeks flamed and she looked down at her bare toes with the bright pink polish. Her eyes began to well up with tears. Damn, she was going to have to change the polish. Every time she looked at her toes now, she cried.

  She steeled herself, looking straight into the woman officer’s face, letting her tears spill over and trace down her cheeks. “It was a goodbye fuck.”

  The woman officer’s eyes grew round and she gave a hint of a nod. Christy saw traces of some pain on her face. But immediately a mask developed and the woman looked away.

  “So, where did he go?” The senior man had graying sandy blond hair and clear blue eyes. Despite his age, he looked to be in great shape. Well defined muscles and a proud carriage. More military than police. Christy wasn’t done testing the man.

  “Out,” she answered.

  The lead man looked up to the ceiling and shook his head, murmuring something. He sighed and gestured for her to sit on the leather chair she still thought of as Kyle’s.

  “I’m Sergeant Mayfield, and these are officers Jones, Thiessen, and Woodward.”

  The woman was named Woodward, Christy noted. Christy crossed her arms and legs as she sat, not about to offer them coffee, tea, or water. They’d have to beg for it. And even then, she’d think about it.

  Once everyone was seated, Sergeant Mayfield began. “We are looking for a man named Kyle Lansdowne. We know that he spent some time here.”

  “Yes. Is it a crime to date?”

  “Look, I’ve reminded you before about your attitude. If you cooperate with us, there’s no need for you to get mixed up in this mess.”

  “And I should believe you why?” Christy fluffed her drying hair.

  “Unless you’d prefer to answer questions downtown. And of course, if you refuse, we could hold you.”

  “What questions? I don’t know anything. I meet a cute guy, he came over here and we…you know…” She looked at the female cop, who immediately averted her gaze. “We had a good time. I’m single. But I don’t know anything about him.”

  “Except you know what he does for a living,” Mayfield persisted.

  “Yes. He told me that.”

  “And why?”

  Christy thought about their first meeting, and no way was she going to tell them.

  “He returned some signs I had left at an open house. And he asked me out. Simple as that.” She measured Mayfield’s expression and found a hint of kindness there, not the bravado he was trying hard to portray. She addressed his ramrod chest. “Don’t you tell a girl what you do for a living?”

  The three younger officers looked briefly to their sergeant, then away. One tapped his foot. Woodward looked out the sliding glass doors to nothing but blue sky, and the third one examined his fingernails.

  Christy could see she’d wounded the older man in some way. He was probably a lot like Kyle. A loner, except for his brothers in blue.

  Mayfield cleared his throat. “I want to know everything he told you. Start to finish. From the top, missy.” The look he delivered told her he could be nice, but only for so long. She’d better comply. She sighed, watching him pull out a notepad from his vest pocket.

  “He’s looking for his buddy, his teammate. He’s gone missing, and Kyle thinks it isn’t voluntary. That’s all I know.”

  “Where is he looking for him?”

  “I’m sure I don’t know.”

  “Who does he think has his friend?”

  “I don’t know. He hasn’t said, and I don’t think he knows, either.”

  “Why does he think the guy has been taken against his will?”

  Christy had to think about what Kyle had told her. “Armando is his friend from the Teams…” She could see Mayfield picked up on her words right away. “Armando’s sister is in some kind of trouble, and Kyle thinks Armando went to find her.”

  She watched as he scratched notes in his notepad.

  “These aren’t the bad guys here,” Christy continued. “Except for the fact that they are known for their one night stands. But in my case it was two, thank you very much.” She placed her palm against her heart and closed her eyes. She’d seen by their squirming none of the officers wanted to be there. “I doubt he’ll ever come back here again, so you’re wasting your time questioning me. The bad guys are the ones messing with Armando’s sister.”

  “No, missy, I’m afraid I can’t agree with you entirely,” Mayfield said.

  “How so?” she asked.

  “We’re not in Afghanistan. We’re in the U S of A, and here, we take care of the bad guys. Kyle and his SEAL buddies don’t get to act on their own just because they think it’s a good idea. They’re not supposed to interfere with local authority. They’re supposed to cooperate.”

  The argument was valid. No one said a word. Christy didn’t want to look at any of them. But that same question had gnawed a hole in her stomach.

  Mayfield flipped out a business card and passed it to her between two fingers.

  “And now we got three dead bodies. Men brutally murdered. I think Kyle had something to do with those murders. That makes him one of the bad guys.”

  An hour later, Christy nearly jumped out of her skin when she heard her cell ring. She didn’t recognize the number at all.

  “Hello?”

  “Christy? Everything okay?”

  Kyle’s voice sounded far away. She worked to stay cold to him.

  Self preservation.

  “I think it’s a good idea if you leave me alone.” It was true, but so painful to deliver.

  “I’d have to agree with you there. But things have escalated and I just want you to be very careful. We’re dealing with some people who have already killed. I don’t want you anywhere near them.”

  “I would have liked a nice talk like this yesterday morning. Seeing as how you’re so concerned for my welfare. But the slam, bam thank you ma’am thing…”

  “No. That’s not me.”

  “Oh, really? You have a multiple personality disorder? One minute you’re fucking my brains out and the next…”

  Careful, Christy. Don’t say something you’ll regret.

  “Look, I’m sorry about how all this happened,” he said.

  Christy lost it. “You know what, Kyle?” Here. It. Comes. Don’t do this, Christy! “I’d say as a lover, you’re probably an eight, eight and a half…” You’re such a bad liar. “But as a hero, and I thought all you SEAL guys were heroes, you’re a fucking zero.” She hung up.

  She counted to ten. No return call. She took the battery out of her phone so she wouldn’t know if he tried to call her back. She ran for the shower, stepped in, and turned on the warm water, drenching her pajama bottoms and sweatshirt.

  This is for the best. Kyle wanted to call Christy back—heck, he wanted to do way
more—but he knew this mission was probably not going to have a happy ending. He needed to walk away from Christy. Better to involve only those people who had fully signed on for that kind of danger. Let Christy live with the illusion that life was fair and filled with good people. Sure, she’d be nursing a broken heart for a while, but that was being kind, he told himself.

  Just focus on the mission. Don’t let it get complicated. Then throw everything into his workup for the next deployment.

  If they don’t boot my sorry ass outta the Navy.

  And that would depend on whether or not this mission succeeded.

  Chapter 18

  Mayfield was filling out reports from the interview with Christy Nelson that morning. She hadn’t been much help, and her attitude had been irritating at first. But he understood her motivation to protect a man she clearly trusted. He couldn’t fault her for being loyal. And more important, he knew she was honest. He’d believed her story about her SEAL. He’d known a few SEALs, even tried the BUD/S course during his ten-year stint in the Navy. But since he wanted to fly jets, he wasn’t too disappointed when he washed out. In the end, he’d had to give up flying, too, due to his eyesight.

  The SEALs he’d met socially, in the Navy and through his line of work, stuck together and usually cleaned up their own messes. This was all too public and out of control. Something was wrong with the picture. It was starting to smell, too, as the body count was increasing.

  This investigation was just not making sense and was going in circles. He’d watched the news report this morning about the late night fire, and it really worried him. That’s probably what prompted the call, before he could finish breakfast. He was asked to bring lots of backup and to be armed.

  No, the deeper he investigated, the more things didn’t add up.

  The task force, made up of members of the ATF, SDPD, and the San Diego Sheriff’s Department, plus a Naval Officer he’d never met before, had three murders to investigate now, and for some reason, he felt there would be more. That was definitely not going in the right direction. His superiors were screaming at everyone, indiscriminately, while publicly and on camera telling the media they had utmost faith in their men and women and that the perps would be caught. The public was now aware of the Navy angle. He wondered how they had gotten wind of that particular fact. Feeling in the San Diego area ran either hot or cold for sailors. Not much left in the middle. He didn’t want those emotions tainting his investigation.

  He looked up to see Sherriff’s Deputy Warren Hilber stride through the office doors and glamour the staffers and officers as if he were a vampire at a sweet sixteen ball. Mayfield didn’t like him and he sure as hell didn’t trust him. Hilber’s sidekick of recent was that jerk-off from the Navy, Carlisle with a big fat III after his name, the one who wanted to join his force some day. Mayfield would never allow either the deputy or the Navy tin cop anywhere near his squad if he could help it.

  Only, he wasn’t sure he could help it.

  He knew they were coming in to see him. Every time he talked with Hilber, he felt like punching his lights out, effectively ending his own career. Something dirty about the man.

  Warren knocked on Mayfield’s opened doorframe. And then he smiled.

  Shit. Let the games begin.

  “Come on in, fellas. You guys off today?”

  “No sir, we’re just getting revved up. Got real close to catching that rogue SEAL and his merry band of men last night.” Warren was eager.

  “Don’t tell me he got away.” Mayfield leaned back in his chair.

  Now why does this make me a little happy?

  He laced his fingers behind his head. He needed a haircut. And now, at the stench these two gave off, he needed a shower.

  The smile was wiped off Warren’s face like cold cream wiped off a whore’s red lipstick. Warren was sizing him up, and Mayfield could tell he wasn’t intimidated in the slightest. This made Warren and his Petty Officer Carlisle the III dangerous. And desperate.

  “This time. But we arrested an accomplice,” Warren Hilber said.

  “And who would that be?” Mayfield asked.

  “Sergeant Wilbur Hoskins, retired.”

  “Gunny. You got Gunny. Good job, boys. I hear women halfway around the world have been looking for that son of a bitch for years.” Everyone in San Diego knew about Gunny and his legendary gym. He wasn’t much as a husband, preferred his wives to not speak English, but he was still a hell of a guy and a rock in the community. Mayfield wished he were a cigar smoker. He’d have lit one up in celebration and laughed these two out of his office.

  Carlisle piped up, “Detective Mayfield, I got it on good authority Gunny is aiding and abetting these criminals, these rogue SEALs.”

  “Well, Carlisle,” Mayfield said, as he stood up and looked out the window, showing his profile to both men standing before him. He knew it wasn’t lost on them that Mayfield was almost a foot taller than either of them. He intended for them to squirm a bit. He looked down on Carlisle as he finished his sentence. “I’ve never heard Gunny pick a fight in the twenty years since I’ve known him. In fact, he’s the one the guys call to stop the fights, or to come clean up the pieces. But aiding and abetting? That’s a stretch, don’t you think?”

  He finished, looking out the window. When he turned, Warren was peering down at his report. Mayfield sat down and put a file over it. A slight frown fell over the deputy’s face.

  Warren and Carlisle looked at each other. Mayfield continued his lecture. “Fellas, it’s like firing the school janitor if the students’ test scores drop.”

  Mayfield could see it got to Warren, who was trying to make nice, with a wolfish grin that was all mouth and no eyes. Lots of attitude oozing through.

  “Sir, I understand he isn’t the primary target. But I think we can use him as bait. Lansdowne will have to surface. He’ll contact Gunny. The Feds are releasing him this afternoon, just holding him as long as they can. Everyone Kyle knows should be under surveillance.”

  “Well, we’ve talked to the girlfriend, and I don’t think she knows anything either, Warren,” Mayfield said. At the expression on Carlisle’s face, he wished he hadn’t revealed so much, and Hilber had been way too interested in that report lying on his desk.

  “That where he was last seen, at her place?” Warren asked.

  “Yes. Nearby.” He didn’t want to give the girl’s location, specifically. He hoped Hilber hadn’t read it on the report sheet. His antenna was beginning to trace.

  “He’s going to want to go back,” Carlisle said. “He’s a real ladies man.”

  So Carlisle thought he was aiding the investigation and was trying to earn his stripes, a way to get on the police force somehow. Mayfield saw his hatred of the young SEAL as plain as the tattoo of an anchor he wouldn’t let his wife get years ago.

  “And just what are you talking about, sailor?”

  That actually made Carlisle blush. Warren kicked him in the shin and saw the man start.

  His words directed more at Hilber, the Navy man tried to explain further. “They all do this, hang around the ladies. Drinking and raising hell. No sense of decency. I’ve had him cited for service unbecoming for years. The Navy’s just looking for an excuse to boot his sorry ass outta here.”

  Mayfield wondered what in the stars was out there to get young Lansdowne in the crosshairs of so many assholes. Why were these two so anxious to bust him? Why was he in the middle of shit between the Feds and the Navy?

  All he had to do was put in another five years and collect a good retirement. He needed all this controversy like he needed another ulcer. Or another girlfriend.

  Maria, I’m so sorry you had to hear that. He spoke to his beloved dead wife, only gone ten months now. Mayfield felt she saw everything that rattled around in his brain, including his need for some recreational female companionship.

  “We’ve got some work to do, sir. And I can see you’re busy and got your hands full with the press. We’ll get out of
your hair.” Warren gave a bitter smile and dragged Carlisle out through Mayfield’s door.

  A pair of regulation assholes.

  Mayfield had the sense that if he didn’t solve this case soon, there would be further violence. Something that wouldn’t reflect well on the Department or the Navy. Something that could affect his retirement.

  Big time.

  Chapter 19

  Kyle was temporarily holed up at Fredo’s apartment, trying to stay out of sight. He’d sent Fredo to go check on Gunny, who had sustained some injury and was being held overnight at the hospital. A morning paper had been delivered, so Kyle was reading an article about the explosion at the cabin and the purported murders. He knew they were murders. He didn’t like the fact that members of a SEAL Team were implicated. Although the article didn’t mention him or his team by name, he knew it was only time before he was found to be a link. If the local authorities knew about the SEAL connection, they’d get to him sooner or later.

  His cell rang.

  “Gunny’s pissed he has to stay longer. They’re not going to release him today like they promised,” Fredo squawked on the phone.

  Kyle nodded. He’d guessed as much. “How long?”

  “They’re running tests. Doesn’t know.”

  “And so that means we break him out, right?”

  “Damn fuckin’ straight. He said tonight, when they change shifts.”

  “He hooked up to anything?”

  “Heart monitors, things that drive him crazy. He tries to take them off and then the nurses come running in, thinking he’s having a heart attack. Has nothing to do with what they did to him last night. They’ve found something else.”

  “If Cooper says he’s okay, then we take him. Tell him that, Fredo. I’m not taking him if it’s going to risk his life.”

  “Roger that. I’ll tell him. Not that it would make any difference.”

  “Not going to happen. Don’t care how much he begs. I’m not going to have his death on my conscience.”

  It was one thing to have the deaths on his hands of the good men he led into battle, but then they’d signed up and knew the risk. Another thing entirely to have a civilian suffer. Someone who’d already paid his debt to his nation. Who’d earned his retirement.