MORE THAN THE MOON

by A Rosendale

  Johnson smiled. “Yes.”

  “Bullshit. You don’t even know where they are.”

  “North Dakota with Agent Wyatt Ramsey,” he replied. “Brilliant idea, by the way. It worked right into my plans. Now all my victims are in the same place. I can pay the same man to kill them all at once.”

  Dirk reached out a hand to grab him, to threaten him in some way, but the infection and weeks of inactivity made his movements sluggish. Johnson gripped his wrist midair.

  “Oh, how I look forward to delivering your dead son to you.”

  “You-”

  His retort was cut short when Johnson wrenched his wrist, twisting it painfully.

  “Hmm. I’ve never been stronger than you, Travers. I quite enjoy it!” He twisted harder so Dirk was nearly wrenched off the couch.

  Chapter 69

  Alma was exhausted when she finally crawled into bed. It was past midnight. Ramsey had just relieved her from her watch. Their long, split hours were telling on the both of them, but it at least kept them safe. She was just getting comfortable and about to drift off when Cooper shifted next to her. He was usually asleep when she turned in.

  A muffled sniffling brought her completely awake and she leaned close to her son. He was crying softly into his pillow, trying to hide.

  “Cooper, baby, what’s wrong?” she whispered gently.

  “I’m okay,” he muttered into the cotton.

  “Coop.”

  He sniffled. “I miss Daddy,” he cried.

  Alma was surprised; he hadn’t referred to Dirk as ‘daddy’ in years.

  “And I miss Grandma and Grandpa. And I miss home.”

  “Oh, sweetheart.” She curled around him and gathered him in her arms. “Me, too,” she whispered into his soft hair.

  * * *

  At sunrise, tires rolled over the soft dirt driveway towards the cabin. The sheriff’s Bronco parked right behind Alma’s CRV. Ramsey watched out the smudged front window while Nolan climbed from the vehicle. He didn’t reach for his Stetson.

  Frowning, Ramsey stood from the armchair, stretched his stiff back and went to the front door.

  “Morning, Nolan,” he greeted. Had he been better rested he might have noticed the odd expression on the visitor’s face.

  The sheriff stepped behind Ramsey’s Explorer, drew his gun, and fired at the front door.

  Ramsey felt the first shot tear through the arm of his shirt as he dove back inside. He’d hardly scrambled to shelter in the hall when Alma was at his side.

  “It’s Sheriff Barton,” he panted. It’d been years since his last shootout. Adrenaline pumped fast through his veins.

  Alma shot him a wide-eyed glance, then took the information in stride. “I’ll go around back. You stay here.”

  He reached to stop her, but pain shot through his upper arm and cut him off. Before he recovered, she was sneaking around the kitchen wall and out the backdoor.

  “Damn it,” he cursed and turned back to the front. Nolan was creeping past the front window. Ramsey squeezed off a shot and the sheriff dropped below the sill as glass shattered over him.

  “Ramsey!” Nolan called through the broken window.

  He didn’t reply, just peeked around the wall as Nolan’s shadow grew on the screen door.

  “Ramsey, I just want the lady and the kid. I’ll leave you alone if I can just take them. It’s…it’s for their protection,” he lied.

  ‘Travers was right. Johnson’s reach is impressive.’ He waited for Nolan to appear in the doorway. The man glanced around the doorway into the dimly lit house, searching for a target. Ramsey took careful aim, but his shot was interrupted by another from outside. Nolan fell to a knee, blood blooming on his pant leg. Ramsey adjusted and fired. The sheriff fell backwards off the front step with a muddy splash. There was complete silence. Then heavy, wet footsteps sounded outside the front window and Alma appeared a moment later.

  “He’s dead,” she announced quietly as she entered the living room.

  Ramsey stood and checked her over as she neared him. “Are you alright?”

  “Fine. You, though…” She motioned to the blood running down his bicep and forearm.

  He examined the wound and was about to speak when she said, “It’s just a graze. Let’s get you cleaned up.”

  He stared in surprise as she wetted a washcloth in the bathroom sink and gently soaked up the bright red from his skin. He winced as she cleaned the wound and wrapped his upper arm in gauze.

  “How…”

  “I’ve lived with a spy for twenty years. We’ve been over this,” she answered with a smile of trepidation.

  It wasn’t until her hands were empty that he noticed the tremble of her fingers. Frowning sympathetically, he set his gun on the bathroom vanity and took her hands in his.

  “It’s okay. You’re safe.” He could feel the tremors through his grip.

  “I…” She took a deep breath and stared at his chest. “I’m sick of death.”

  He nodded in understanding.

  “And I’m tired.”

  She looked it, Ramsey thought. His heart broke for her and he felt a sudden wave of anger at Travers. He’d known the life he was dragging his wife into. What a cruel road to take her down. He released her hands and drew her to his chest.

  “I’m sorry, Alma,” he said quietly. Anything else he said would be against a dead man and that didn’t feel right, so he left it at that.

  After a moment, he released her and she brushed her long hair behind her ears.

  “What now?” she asked.

  “Mom?”

  “Oh, Cooper! You can come out. It’s safe.”

  While the boy and dog crawled out from under the bed, she waited for Ramsey’s answer.

  “Well, we waited for Johnson’s man. Who knew he had the sheriff in his pocket?” He shook his head in disbelief.

  “Wyatt, you okay?” Cooper asked when he saw the bandage.

  “Yeah, fine. Your mom’s a handy nurse.” He shot her a grin that hardly lifted her mood, so he cleared his throat and continued. “He’s just going to send someone else, Alma. Either we need to move underground or…”

  She crossed her arms and stared at the floor. Her gaze slowly settled on her son. “He’ll never stop,” she muttered quietly.

  Ramsey shrugged. “That’s possible. But if we can stay a step ahead, we can at least keep you and Cooper safe.”

  Her shoulders collapsed even more with exhaustion. “You’re right.”

  “Let’s pack a bag and get out of here.”

  She nodded and steered Cooper back to their room.

  Chapter 70

  “Well, Travers?”

  Dirk had been doing pushups, or trying at least, when a key jiggled in the lock. He’d managed five pushups before his arms gave out and he collapsed to the carpet with a painful grunt. Then the door rustled and he scrambled to the couch, out of breath. He was slouching there, trying to look normal when Johnson entered.

  “Well? You feel anything when your wife died?”

  It was suddenly harder to draw breath.

  “I’ve always wondered if that’s true, you know? If you feel it when someone you love dies. Well?”

  Dirk sucked in a painful, shallow breath. “She’s not dead,” he insisted.

  Johnson frowned sympathetically. “That’s what everyone says, I imagine.”

  “She’s not dead,” Dirk repeated. “That’s too easy for you.”

  He shrugged. “You’d think so, but my man had no choice. The boy, too, unfortunately.”

  Dirk took measured breaths against the growing panic and shook his head. “No. This is just one of your games.” Sweat broke out on his brow and betrayed him.

  Johnson laughed. “If only.” He slapped his captive on the cheek, then doubled back. “You feel alright?”

  Dirk glared in response and his heart did a dizzying flutter that made him slump on the cushions.

  Johnson narrowed his gaze.

  �
��Your doctor hasn’t been by lately,” Dirk muttered.

  The former congressman smiled. “True.”

  “You’re withholding antibiotics.”

  The smile doubled. “True.” His eyes twinkled at the man’s expression. “Yes, I have been withholding treatment. I told you, I enjoy being stronger than you.”

  “You’re slowly killing me.”

  He nodded happily. “Yes. You’ll know when I start killing you quickly.” He started out the door.

  “You leave this fever untreated, I’ll be dead before you can even enjoy the act,” Dirk muttered.

  “All the sooner you’ll join your family,” Johnson jibed. He laughed at the pained expression that crossed Travers’s face. “I’ll call the doctor tomorrow.”

  Chapter 71

  Despite a brief complaint, Cooper had settled right back into sleeping in a car. He and Bailey were stretched out in the back of the Explorer. Alma wasn’t surprised after their last night’s brief slumber, interrupted first by tears and then Nolan’s arrival. She was reclining in the passenger’s seat, dozing with her sweater pulled tight against the chilly night.

  “What’s this?” Ramsey asked suddenly. His question split the nightlong silence like a gunshot from this morning and she flinched violently.

  “Sorry,” he said quietly. “I wasn’t sure you were asleep.”

  “It’s okay,” she mumbled, sitting up. “What?”

  “This number. What is it?” He held Travers’s book out to her in the dim Ford reading light.

  She squeezed her tired eyes closed and blinked to clear them before settling her reading glasses in place. The string of numbers was crammed tight together with no spaces or dashes, but she was certain she knew what it was.

  “That’s a Boston telephone number.”

  “You’re sure?”

  “Yeah. The first three digits are the Boston area code. I don’t recognize the rest.” She squirmed in her seat to extract her phone.

  “Call it tomorrow,” Ramsey said gently. “It’s what, two in the morning there? Do you even have service?”

  The phone turned on with the ‘no service’ message and she shook her head. “No. You’re right.”

  “I’m sorry I woke you. Try to get some sleep.” He took the book back and continued scanning it, as was their nighttime ritual.

  She frowned and leaned over the center console to read along with him.

  * * *

  “Hello?” The woman’s voice was aged and frail.

  “Hello,” Alma greeted uncertainly. “I’m calling-”

  “Alma, dear, is that you?”

  “Uh…” She shot a startled look at Cooper and Ramsey who were watching her expectantly.

  “It’s Liz Cortez! That is you, isn’t it, Miss Alma?”

  “Yes, yes, it’s me, Mrs. Cortez. Um…”

  “You must be calling about the apartment.”

  “Um, the apartment?”

  “Yeah. It’s still here when you need it. I’ve got the key.”

  “Dirk kept the apartment?” she asked incredulously.

  “Of course.”

  Thoughts suddenly organized themselves in her tired mind. “When was the last time you saw Dirk?” she asked curiously.

  “Oh, must have been about five years ago, dear.”

  “He stayed at the apartment?”

  “Yes. Is everything alright, Alma?”

  She swallowed. It hurt every time she thought it and crippled every time she said it out loud. “Dirk passed away, Mrs. Cortez.”

  The old woman gasped. “No! Oh, dear, oh, lord… I’m so sorry! Oh, he was the most wonderful young man. I’m so sorry, dear! How’s your little boy taking it?”

  Alma’s eyes darted to her ‘little boy’ who was nearly as tall as her. “It’s been hard. You said you have a key to the apartment?”

  “Yes. You’ll probably be wanting to sell it, though.”

  “Not yet. I, uh, I might come see it, if that’s alright.”

  “Of course, dear! I’m here any time!”

  “Thank you. Bye.” Alma hung up and stared incredulously at the two males in the car. “Dirk kept our apartment in Boston. That was our neighbor.”

  “That phone number was listed under the section titled ‘assets’,” Ramsey pointed out. “Maybe he left something of consequence there.”

  A dim outline of a plan started to form in Alma’s mind. “What if we split our decisions and resources three ways?”

  “What do you mean?” Cooper asked. He glanced out the car window at Bailey sniffing around the open field they were parked in.

  “I have some favors I can call in, some old friends in Boston. Cooper can stay with them.” She continued before the boy could argue. “You can gain intel on Johnson, Wyatt. Get a fix on his location, see what defenses he has, whatever.”

  Ramsey held back a chuckle at her spy-like efforts.

  “I’ll go to the apartment, see if Dirk left us any ‘assets’ there.”

  Ramsey frowned. “I don’t know, Alma. That’s all mighty close to the serpent’s mouth.”

  She shrugged. “The closer to the madman’s lair, the less likely he’ll notice us, right?”

  His expression didn’t fade.

  “Do you want to run forever or at least try our hand?” she demanded.

  He shot a look a Cooper.

  “I get it. I’ll take a walk,” the boy offered grudgingly and rolled out of the car to walk with Bailey.

  “Alma, what’s this about?”

  She raised a brow.

  “Travers wanted us to run with Cooper. You’re suggesting running right to him. I…” He steeled himself to say what he thought. “If I didn’t know better, I’d think you’re trying to get revenge.”

  Alma scowled.

  “Alma, what’s happening isn’t your fault. What Travers dragged you into isn’t fair. You should never-”

  She raised a hand to stop him. Her stern expression succeeded more than the waved of her hand. “Dirk didn’t drag me into anything! For God’s sake, he died begging for forgiveness! How do you think that makes me feel?”

  Ramsey was taken aback.

  She continued passionately. “I loved him without ever thinking about it. He was so dangerous, but…he made me feel alive. Our relationship was never poetic and it ended in blood.” She shook her head. “It’s been a month and the memory of him still knocks the wind out of me. So, yes, Agent Ramsey, maybe I would like some revenge, but don’t you ever accuse Dirk of dragging me along. We did this together.” Her expression darkened. “And I intend on ending it before that bastard can touch our son.”

  “With you as collateral?” Ramsey pointed out.

  She scowled.

  “Alma, I just-”

  “Let’s just get some information. Johnson will never even know we’re in the city,” she begged.

  He sighed and watched the boy and dog he’d grown so fond of play in the grass. “Your friends are trustworthy?”

  She nodded.

  “Fine. Let the record show-”

  “Yeah, yeah, yeah,” she muttered and squeezed his hand.

  * * *

  “Dirk? Dirk, that you?”

  The grizzled, old voice was familiar enough to rouse him. He stared up into two identical lined, toothless faces. The image made him dizzy and he groaned and rolled away toward a concrete wall where it was cool and dark.

  “Dirk?” A hand shook him by the shoulder. The fingers felt like a skeleton grip they were so bony. “Hey, son, is that you?”

  He was rolled onto his back to stare up at the ancient figure. A vague memory crept through the fog of fever. “Dave?” he muttered. “Where…”

  “One of the guys found you and brought you here. I recognized you. Wow, bud, it’s been a while!”

  Dirk couldn’t return the enthusiasm. Dave’s profile split to three images.

  “Boy, you don’t look good.” The old man placed a fatherly hand on his brow. He whistled and dipped
a soiled handkerchief in a muddy puddle in the alley. He laid it over Dirk’s forehead. His muddled voice rumbled on as Dirk slipped off to sleep.

  Chapter 72

  It took a thirty-minute conversation and a series of awkward hugs before Alma wrested the key from Mrs. Cortez and entered the apartment. Memories flooded over her. She could practically smell delicious meals wafting from the kitchen, hear show tunes floating in the air, and feel sea-salt in the air.

  It took a moment to realize that cool sea-salt air was actually billowing through the apartment. She wondered how long the bedroom window had been open. If it hadn’t been for the daylight sifting through the dusty window, she would have never noticed the dark shadow huddled under the sill as she crossed to shut it.

  She stopped midstride to stare at the bundle of muddy fabric. Her heart stuttered as she noticed flesh colored splotches amid the earthy tones. A gust of chilly wind rustled the cloth and a shiver rattled the pile. She inched closer and stooped down.

  Her breath caught and she felt faint. ‘No,’ she thought. ‘No, it’s not possible.’ “Dirk?” she whispered.

  There was no response so she edged closer. “Dirk?” She reached out a hand to touch a grubby shoulder. “Is that really you?”

  A low moan rumbled from the pile of flesh and cloth.

  “Dirk?” Throwing the rest of her caution to the wind, she scooted to its side and rolled it over. Through the muck, she recognized his undoubtedly rugged characteristics, the sharp chin and cheekbones. He was emaciated and malnourished, but discernible amid the dirt. “Oh, God! Dirk!”

  His eyes fluttered open. They were not nearly the brilliant coral she remembered, but more of the dull green hue of artic water. “Alma…” His voice was unrecognizable, so weak and wispy. “You’re alive?”

  “I’m here. You’re alive! I can’t… God, I love you!” She scooped his head onto her lap and kissed his boney, dirty face enthusiastically.

  When she released him, he blinked at her for a moment before falling unconscious in her embrace.

  * * *

  A moan filled the empty bedroom. Alma set aside a damp washcloth and gently touched Dirk’s cheek. His eyes opened and struggled to focus.