MORE THAN THE MOON

by A Rosendale

  Ramsey winced as if he’d been struck by the words. “How do you-”

  “It’s not difficult to dredge up facts on the internet, Agent Ramsey. And, on top of that…” She frowned sympathetically. “I understand.”

  Her silver gaze sent a shiver down his spine, as if she were reading his mind. He’d gotten a similar chill all those years ago upon discovering Travers hiding in plain sight. It was like they were able to devolve details without any explicit knowledge. He couldn’t decide how he felt about having such an intuitive woman thrust into his life.

  “Will you help us?”

  “You just killed a man,” he uttered in automatic response. “I should turn you over to the sheriff!”

  She shrugged tiredly. “I suppose we’d be safer then.”

  Ramsey watched her exhausted slump. She absently kissed her son’s head. It was then that he really looked at the child. There were matching rings under his eyes, which were disturbingly similar to the sea green eyes he’d examined some ten years before. Ramsey averted his gaze to avoid another chill.

  The blond dog stared disconcertedly at him. He was sure it was the otherworldly effect of this whole encounter, but it sure felt like the creature was accusing him of something.

  “Is this the guy we researched?” the boy asked. His voice cracked with puberty.

  Alma nodded.

  “Dad’s friend?”

  This time she hesitated to confirm and met Ramsey’s eye.

  “Yeah, I was your dad’s friend,” he filled the silence. With a sigh, he nodded. “And yes, I’ll help you. Eric Johnson is a son of a…” He shot a glance at the child and grumbled the rest of the title. “And I promised I’d help Travers if he ever needed it.” He motioned to the Explorer. “Follow me.”

  Chapter 57

  “This is pretty tucked away,” the woman noted as she got out of the CRV.

  Ramsey shrugged. “Good ol’ government housing,” he muttered. The long drive had given him a chance to think, but he was still reeling from the news that Eric Johnson was out of prison. If he’d gone after Travers, the principal player in his conviction, then how long would it be before he came after the arresting agent-in-charge?

  He waved them inside, noting that only the boy had a small duffel bag over his shoulder. Travers’s wife was empty handed.

  The interior of the cabin was dark and sparsely furnished. The living area had a couch and armchair facing a small tube TV. The kitchen was open and faced the living room, creating one large room with a lofted ceiling. Dark wood floors gave the whole house a cave-like atmosphere. A short hallway led to a single bathroom and two bedrooms, one that had been converted to an office with a single desk and computer. An old futon was shoved under the window and stacked haphazardly with boxes, clothes, and blankets.

  “Um, sorry,” Ramsey murmured in embarrassment, hurriedly trying to clear a space in the room. “This will be yours. Sorry there’s only the futon. I wasn’t expecting to have to entertain…ever.”

  “We’re sorry to intrude,” Alma said quickly and placed a gentle hand on his arm to stop his frenetic movements. “We’ll get it cleared off and make sure everything is stacked nicely. Do you mind if we use these blankets?”

  He shook his head. “Anything you need. I don’t have much, but please make yourselves at home. And, uh, when you have a moment, Mrs. Travers, we should talk some more.”

  “Of course.”

  “Is there anything I can get you at the moment?” It had been two years since he’d been around other people regularly and before that, it’d been his wife’s passion to entertain. He’d never learned the intricacies of hosting. This occasion made him feel awkward and strange.

  “I think what we’d both like most is a shower and a change of clothes, right?”

  The boy nodded eagerly.

  “Yeah, sure. There’re towels in the bathroom closet. I…I’ll be in the kitchen,” he finished awkwardly and hurried out of the room. Pouring a mug of cold coffee, he noted his hands were shaking. Dismayed by the reaction to a woman and a boy, he tipped a shot of whiskey into the mug. The liquor helped still his hands while he sat at the table and stared out the backdoor toward the gurgling stream, which was suddenly drown out by the shower.

  The boy was the first to reappear, his hair darker in its damp state. Ramsey stared at him wide-eyed for a moment. He was certain if he’d seen the boy before his mother, he’d have recognized him instantly as the CIA agent’s kin.

  “What’s your name?” Ramsey asked gruffly.

  “Cooper,” he answered quietly, standing awkwardly in the living room in socks, jogging pants, and a T-shirt. The golden retriever stood loyally at his side. “This is Bailey.”

  “It’s nice to meet you, Cooper and Bailey.” He motioned to an empty chair and Cooper hesitantly sat down. His eyes were drawn to the large bottle of amber liquid and Ramsey felt inexplicably guilty.

  He must have noticed the man’s sudden shifty gaze. “My dad drank whiskey sometimes,” Cooper said in way of explanation.

  Ramsey nodded. “I remember that.”

  “How did you know him?” he asked in confusion. “You’re a FBI agent and he was a computer programmer.”

  The realization that the boy didn’t know his father’s career hit Ramsey hard; then he wondered if his wife knew. Unease crawled up his neck.

  “Um, he helped me catch a bad guy. Twice.”

  “Twice?”

  Ramsey had no experience with kids. Was the boy asking what the word ‘twice’ meant? “Uh…”

  “You had to catch the same bad guy two times?”

  “Oh. No. Two separate bad guys, two separate occasions.”

  There was an unpleasant silence.

  “Are you going to arrest my mom?”

  Ramsey raised a brow. The day’s events had thrown him for such a loop, he’d forgotten the child must have seen the shooting. His training returned to him and he sat up straighter to interview the only witness. “Can you tell me what happened?”

  “It kind of goes back a few days.”

  “That’s okay. You can start there.”

  Cooper’s brow furrowed while he organized his thoughts. “We were in Seattle looking for you. We were there a few days, always a different hotel, though. That’s how Mom lost her luggage; she left it in one of the rooms on accident. She’s been…distracted. It was kind of like vacation at first, except we were trying to find computers, not landmarks, like Dad…” His voice faded with grief.

  “It’s okay. You were looking for computers. Go on?”

  “Uh, we started with the public library, but Mom said something about a firewall or something. I don’t know. She couldn’t find anything about you there. Then, in the middle of the night, I heard her say something, like she was talking to Dad and then a sound like a book snapping shut, you know?”

  Ramsey nodded.

  “We went to an internet café the next day, cause Mom said they had looser security, or something. Then she typed in a new website that asked for a password. I remember, because I was surprised she knew the password. We went back to that café two days in a row while she used this site and some other top secret ones to look for you. We had tracked you here, but the date was almost two years ago, so she was trying to see if you were still around. We were on the computers, I was playing Minecraft, when this guy came up to my mom. He was creepy, you know? I started to get up from my computer, but she waved at me to stay put. He whispered something to her. I couldn’t hear what, but she looked mad. When she whispered back, he glared at her and said he’d wait for us. I think he was scared so many other people were around. As soon as he was outside, she grabbed my hand and we ran out the back door and back to the car. We left Seattle that night.”

  “And came here?”

  Cooper nodded.

  “What happened last night?”

  “Mom was really tired and we saw that rest stop. We haven’t stayed in a hotel since Seattle. We were going to sleep there, but
in the middle of the night, a truck pulled up. Bailey barked at it; that’s the only reason we knew he was there. That same guy from the cafe got out and he had a gun this time. Mom yelled at me and Bailey to get down and then she got out of the car. There was some yelling, but…but I was really scared and didn’t peek. There were lots of gunshots, and then she got back in the car and drove away really fast. I looked out the back window. That guy was dead.” The boy was looking at his hands in consternation.

  Ramsey noticed a shadow in the hallway for the first time. He wondered how long Mrs. Travers had been there, listening.

  “Do you think she did it on purpose?”

  The boy thought hard about that question. “Yes. But I think that man would have…would have…”

  He considered letting the child struggle until the painful possibility crossed his lips, but found his heart aching for him. He placed a tentative hand on his shoulder. “It’s okay. I think he would have hurt your mom, too.” He looked pointedly toward the hallway and said loudly, “I think she did the right thing.”

  Alma bit her cheek as she entered the room to stand behind her son and placed her hands on his shoulders. She was in the same wrinkled clothes, but her hair was damp and hanging loosely to her shoulders. “Cooper, why don’t you take Bailey on a little walk?”

  He nodded and patted his leg so the dog would follow. They stopped in the spare room for shoes, then padded outside together.

  Alma sat heavily in the vacant chair. She glanced at Ramsey’s mug, then the whiskey. Although she was beyond exhausted, her gaze was sharp and perceptive.

  He hesitated, then motioned to the bottle. “Want some?”

  She glanced at the door where Cooper had disappeared. “Only if you can promise me we’re safe here.”

  Without replying, he plucked another coffee mug from a cabinet and splashed liquor into it. “Mixer?”

  She shook her head. He would have laughed at her tolerance if the situation weren’t so serious. Once the mug was in hand, she took a long draw, hissed at the sharp taste, and allowed an ounce of tension to loosen from her shoulders.

  After a long silence and another sip, she said, “Well, where do you want me to start?”

  “Do you know why Johnson would have targeted your husband?” This was the first order of business: finding out how much she knew about her own spouse.

  “Dirk was investigating Congressman Johnson when we first started dating. He threatened Dirk and me. I didn’t know it at the time, mind you, but after we were engaged, he told me about his career. From what he told me, Johnson was involved in some plot of domestic terrorism and Dirk’s report was what led to his arrest. He mentioned you were the arresting agent?”

  Ramsey nodded as he drank the tainted coffee.

  “You were at the hearings, too?”

  Another nod.

  Alma sipped her whiskey and stared out the glass backdoor. She could hear the brook gurgling, but it was so well hidden by the forest, she wondered how far it was.

  “How do you know Travers is dead?” He watched her flinch at the question.

  “I was on the phone with him. He sounded…hurt, out of breath. There was a gunshot and then…” She shook her head. “I think every morning he’ll be asleep next to me.”

  Ramsey remembered those first stages of grief. It’d been months of denial, thinking when he came home that his wife would be in her office or he would reach for her in the middle of the night. He shoved the memories away. It was painful enough to watch this woman go through it without reliving his own anguish.

  He tipped the bottle of whiskey to her empty cup before asking, “What happened last night?”

  Alma’s hand shook. She gripped the mug tightly. “I knew I shouldn’t have gone back to the same internet café two days in a row, but it was the only place I could access the FBI database.”

  “How the hell did you get into the FBI database?” he demanded, astonished.

  “Dirk. He left me some notes. I’m sure that’s how Johnson tracked us to Seattle, through the internet. It was stupid, a mistake Dirk never would have made.” A sudden thought struck her. “And that’s how he knew to come here. He knows…knew I was looking for you. If he shared with Johnson… I’ve put you in danger, Agent Ramsey! I’m so sorry! We-” She stood up abruptly.

  “Mrs. Travers, sit down.”

  She paused, standing behind the chair.

  “If your husband was at the top of Johnson’s hit list, then I’m betting my name is just down a few. You haven’t caused any harm that wasn’t inevitable anyway. Sit down.” When she still hesitated, he said, “You have to stop running eventually, Mrs. Travers. Let’s meet this bastard head-on.”

  Slowly, Alma lowered herself back in the chair. Exhaustion weighed heavy on her. She still wasn’t sure if she could make it through the world without Dirk, but Ramsey would at least be a pillar, an additional protective barrier between Johnson and Cooper.

  “What happened last night?” he repeated gently.

  “Cooper already told you we pulled over to rest. It must have been around three o’clock when Bailey started barking.”

  “How did you know who it was?”

  “I didn’t, but I got out of the car with the gun anyhow.”

  “Where’d you get a gun?”

  “Dirk’s notes suggested getting one, and after running into the man in Seattle… I got it in Spokane two days ago.”

  “You clearly know how to shoot.”

  She shrugged. “Dirk taught me. I panicked last night, though.”

  Ramsey laughed. “I’ll say. Ten rounds will take out anyone. Cooper said there was some shouting?”

  Alma took a sip of whiskey. “He said if I went with him, he’d make sure Johnson took it easy on me. Dirk mentioned that he didn’t think they knew about Cooper. I think he was right.”

  He nodded slowly, processing her account.

  “He said Dirk…Dirk died quickly, not how he’d planned at all. He was taunting me. Then he started walking toward me. I pulled the gun and started shooting.”

  “He got off a couple shots as well.”

  Alma nodded. Perhaps it was her imagination, but she thought she’d felt the bullets whisk by her, tugging at her clothes. “I took these from him.” She dropped a pair of objects on the table.

  Two cellphones, one in pristine condition, the other an old iPhone stained dark red.

  “This was Dirk’s,” she explained quietly and touched the bloodied phone.

  “Why take the other phone?”

  “I thought it might put me in contact with Johnson.”

  Ramsey nodded at her foresight. “Good idea. But it might be a means for him to track his assassin, and now you.”

  “I thought about that.”

  The incredulous look he shot her made her grin.

  “I’ve been married to a spy for almost twenty years. I learned a few tricks of the trade.”

  He laughed.

  “I’ve kept the phone turned off so it can’t be triangulated or whatev-”

  They both froze at the sound of tires crunching in the soft mud outside.

  “Go to the bedroom,” Ramsey ordered.

  “Cooper-”

  “I’ll get him.”

  Alma hurried to the office bedroom to look out the smeared window. A Ford Bronco with a gold star and the word ‘Sheriff’ printed in scratched paint on the doors was parked between her CRV and Ramsey’s Explorer. A pang of fear went through her that was strikingly different than the one she’d felt facing an armed killer twelve hours before. She noted that the bullet holes in her car door were opposite the Sheriff’s point of view.

  A tall, lanky man in jeans and a western shirt stepped from the Bronco, then reached back into the cab to don a dark brown Stetson. He looked curiously at the Honda and started to round the front fender when the front screen door squeaked open.

  “Can I help you, Nolan?” Ramsey called from the front step.

  Sheriff Nolan Barton adjus
ted his gait and met him. “Surprised you’re not still at the scene. And what’s with the kid?” He threw a thumb over his shoulder to indicate the long driveway shadowed by towering pines.

  “My great-nephew,” Ramsey answered as Cooper and Bailey appeared. Cooper stared at him wide-eyed for a second, then did his best to look natural.

  “Didn’t know you had siblings.”

  “Nah. My wife’s niece’s son.”

  “Your niece around?”

  “Why? Lookin’ for a date?” Ramsey shot back, perturbed by Nolan’s interest.

  The Sheriff laughed loudly. “No, no. I think the missus would object. I was just thinking it might be nice to have a woman’s touch around this dump.”

  Ramsey forced a laugh and motioned inside. Cooper followed the Sheriff at a distance. “Why don’t you go to your room?” Ramsey offered lightly. The boy jumped at the suggestion and Bailey followed him at a trot.

  “So that’s the reason you left the scene?”

  “Yeah. I didn’t want them here alone. Well?”

  “ME identified the man as Dante Arguello, 26 years old, a taxi driver from Boston. No idea how the poor bastard got out here. Out of the ten rounds fired, five hit him. Obvious cause of death. Pretty clean scene by the looks of it, wouldn’t you say?”

  Ramsey nodded. “Yep.”

  Nolan’s eyes narrowed suspiciously. “Nothing you can think of to go on?”

  The FBI agent knew he was fishing. “The tire tracks are the only thing I can think of. That is, unless there are prints on the 9mm rounds?”

  His expression lightened and he shook his head. “No prints. Think you can run those skid marks through your fancy little database?”

  “Of course. I’ll call you as soon as I have results.”

  “Tonight? Tomorrow at the latest?” Nolan begged.

  Ramsey frowned.

  Nolan turned dead serious. “I don’t like the idea of some trigger-happy killer running through my county, Ramsey.”

  “What makes you think the shooter is even still here?”

  “Those tread marks were headed towards town, not away from it.”

  He scowled. “I’ll work on the identification. You work on scouring the county for your murderer.”