Whiskey Tribute: A Trident Security Series Novella - Book 5.5

by Samantha A. Cole

  Dana remained quiet for a few moments, clearly pondering all he’d said. The silence didn’t bother him, instead, he found it comforting. He continued to swing the seat, content to just sit there beside her. He wasn’t sure how much time passed before she shifted a little closer to him. Letting go of her hand, he put his arm around her and tucked her into his side.

  “I promise I’ll think about it…about us.”

  She paused and he thought she wasn’t going to say anything more, but then, with a sharp intake of breath, she rested her head on his shoulder. “I meant to tell you, it looks like I’ll be going back to teaching next school year.”

  He smiled. This was familiar ground they’d stepped back on—chatting about everyday things. “Really? Wow, that’s great.”

  She’d been working as a high school math teacher when she’d met Eric all those years ago. After they’d married and Ryan had arrived, followed by Taylor, she’d become a stay-at-home mom until the kids were old enough to go to school. Her tutoring a few students after school had supplemented Eric’s military pay. But then Justin and Amanda had followed, and they’d all moved to Iowa when Eric retired from the SEALs. He’d put his combat experience to good use, working for a company that trained men and women to be bodyguards. Not the Hollywood type of guards, but the ones businessmen needed when they went to foreign countries where it wasn’t uncommon for Americans to be kidnapped for ransom. A retired SEAL from Team Two had started the business about ten years ago in Texas, and Eric had contacted the guy about opening another training facility about a half hour south of Stormville. The franchise had been a success and was still operating with a new boss at the helm.

  “Yeah. It’s time. The extra life insurance money Eric took out won’t last forever, and I need to start working again, if only for my sanity. One of the teachers is retiring at the end of the year at the high school, and I applied for the job when I heard about it. They called me yesterday morning and told me the position was mine if I wanted it. Ryan’s not thrilled since he’s got one more year before he starts ninth grade, but at least, he won’t be assigned to any of my classes.”

  Figures. Most kids wouldn’t want their mother teaching in the same school they attended. “I’m sure he’ll get over it.”

  “Probably.”

  She shivered and he tightened his hold on her. Although the temperature was dropping and they would have to go in soon, neither one of them made an effort to stand. What he wouldn’t give to have this time with her every night.

  Chapter 7

  Eighteen Months Ago

  After he finished taping the parts of a bike that weren’t being painted, Curt stepped out of the ventilated stall as his cell phone rang on his hip. He was usually out somewhere on a Saturday night watching a ball game or sometimes just vegging at home, but for some reason, he’d been uneasy all day. Unable to describe the feeling or figure out what was causing it, he couldn’t shake the sense that something wasn’t quite right. To get his mind off of it, he’d taken his bike for a ride to the shop and started prepping the new custom order for its paint job on Monday morning.

  The phone continued to ring as he tossed the roll of trimming tape onto the workbench. It was probably Eric calling him back. While Curt had been at the gym earlier, his buddy had left a voice mail saying he needed to talk to him about something, and to call back as soon as he could. Curt had gotten the message after retrieving his duffel bag from his gym locker, and left his own message on Eric’s voice mail when his friend didn’t pick up.

  Plucking his phone from its belt clip, he glanced at the screen. Dana. That wasn’t odd. She called him at least once a week. She probably forgot to tell him something when he spoke to her yesterday morning. Connecting the call, he brought the phone to his ear. “Hey, sweetheart. What’s up?”

  “C-Curt…”

  His body tensed. “Dana, what’s wrong?”

  Her words came out in a rush. “He didn’t come home. I don’t know what to do. It’s been three hours. I called—”

  “Slow down, sweetheart. Slow down.” That feeling he’d been having all day intensified. “Who didn’t come home? Ryan?”

  “No. Eric.” She took a deep, trembling breath. “He went out for his run three hours ago. I don’t know where he is. His cell went to voice mail.”

  What the hell? He’d just assumed it was their oldest son she was talking about and Eric was out searching for him. That kid always lost track of time. “Do you have anyone out looking for him?”

  “Phil Olsen is driving around trying to find him. Curt, I’m scared. This is so unlike him. I have this feeling something happened to him and I don’t know what to do.”

  A heartbreaking sob came across the line, and it twisted his gut. There was no way Eric would worry Dana unnecessarily like this, and that just made the situation even more troubling. “All right, listen. Call Phil. Tell him to make it official with the sheriff’s department and get every out looking for him. I’m going to call Ian and see if his pilot can fly me up there.”

  “You-you don’t have to do that.”

  “Yes, I do. If you hear anything, call me right away.” After she acknowledged him, he hung up the phone and hit the speed-dial button for Ian, then started locking up the garage while he waited for the call to connect.

  “Sawyer.”

  “It’s Curt. We’ve got a problem.”

  He filled his former teammate in and requested the use of their company jet. It would be the fastest way for him to get up there and join the search. Some people might say it was only three hours since the guy went missing, and to wait awhile. But in his heart, Curt knew something was seriously wrong and he needed to be there when they found out what it was.

  When Ian asked if he wanted anyone from the team to go with him, Curt replied, “No. I have no idea what’s going on, but I do know the people in that town and the sheriff’s department come out in droves when someone is missing. If we need more help, I’ll call you.”

  “You’re sure? I can move things around.”

  “Yeah. But Ian, man…I’ve got a bad feeling about this.”

  “So do I. I’ll have the pilot waiting for you at the municipal airport. Call me as soon as you land and have info.”

  “Will do…and thanks.”

  Three and a half hours later, the private jet landed and Curt found a sheriff’s vehicle waiting for him. He was grateful for the lift since the rental car agencies in the small airport were closed for the evening. As Deputy Phil Olsen drove, he filled Curt in on what was happening. There were dozens of law enforcement personnel, firemen, and volunteers out looking for the missing husband and father, but with the darkness of the night, they’d failed to find any sign of him so far. “The last place anyone can confirm he was spotted was about twenty minutes or so into his run. One of our neighbors was driving through town and passed him going the other way on Main, just west of Bluebird Drive. We haven’t found anyone else who may have seen him after that, but at that time of the evening it’s dinner time for most folks around here. Eric varied his routes all the time, so we can’t figure out exactly what roads he took and where he was heading. From Main and Bluebird, there are way too many side streets he may have taken, or continued out to County Road 32 or turned left into the county park to run the trails.”

  The deputy had barely stopped the car in the Prichard’s driveway when Curt leaped from the vehicle and rushed up the walkway to the front door. Finding it unlocked, he entered and, after a quick glance in the empty living room, strode toward the kitchen where he heard low voices. He hoped like hell he’d find Eric had returned within the last few minutes and it was all a misunderstanding they would laugh about. But seeing Dana, her eyes swollen and her cheeks stained with tears, his hopes were dashed. Ryan and Phil’s wife, Peggy, were sitting at the table with her. When Dana saw him enter the room, she jumped from her seat at the dining table and ran into his arms. “Thank God you’re here. There’s still no sign of him.”

 
; Her body trembled as he hugged her tight. “We’ll find him. I promise you.” What he didn’t add was ‘alive or dead’. But he knew with each passing hour, the chances of finding Eric Prichard alive and well were diminishing. The man would never walk out on his family, he wasn’t suicidal, and from what Phil had told him on the way over, he’d left his wallet and credit cards behind. They’d tried pinging his cell phone, but it was either off or the battery was dead, and the last calls or texts he received had been before he left the house.

  Dana gave him a squeeze, then stepped back. The look in her eyes was a combination of fear and determination. “You bring him back. I trust you to bring him back to me.”

  He knew right then that she feared the worst had happened…the same feeling Curt was fighting in his own mind and gut. But until they heard otherwise, he’d tear the county apart until he found his best friend.

  “Uncle Curt, I want to go with you.” Ryan stood and approached him, worry etched on his eleven-year-old face.

  Biting his bottom lip, Curt grasped his nephew’s shoulder and pulled him near. He leaned down so they were face to face. “I know, buddy, but I need you to stay here and look after your mom for me, all right? I need to know she’s in good hands. We have a lot of people out there looking for your dad and we’re going to find him. Understand?”

  The boy’s eyes, so much like his father’s, blinked back a few tears and then he nodded. “Okay.”

  “Good boy.” He turned back to Dana. “Can I have the keys to Eric’s truck?”

  She snatched the spare set of keys off a hook next to the phone on the wall. “Of course.”

  “Where are the rest of the kids? In bed?”

  Shaking her head, she put an arm around Ryan, who was obviously taking his new assignment seriously and sticking close to his mother. “No. Amanda’s staying at her friend Nellie’s house and Justin and Taylor are up the street, sleeping over at a friend’s house. They don’t know what’s going on…I didn’t know what to tell them.”

  Curt ruffled Ryan’s hair and kissed Dana’s forehead. “All right. Let me hook up with the sheriff’s department and find out where they’ve searched and what areas still need to be covered. Call me if you need me.”

  “Just bring him home.”

  Another wave of dread passed over him and he gave her a somber nod. “I will.”

  Fourteen hours later, Curt found his best friend. Eric had been struck by a vehicle and thrown into a cornfield on the side of County Road 32. Volunteers had passed the area several times, but it wasn’t until Curt and several deputies walked along the road that he noticed what the others had missed. Pieces of a recently broken headlight, with what looked like blood smeared on them, were found on the grassy shoulder. Eric’s battered body was located about twelve feet into the rows of corn and hadn’t been visible to those driving past.

  Now, the deputies were keeping Curt from disturbing the hit-and-run crime scene as they waited for the medical examiner to respond. The sheriff was making sure the news didn’t reach Dana until Curt returned to the house to tell her himself. It was his duty and he wouldn’t pass it off to anyone else.

  He paced back and forth on the dirt shoulder opposite from where his buddy lay. How long? How fucking long had Eric laid out of sight as his life faded away? Did he know what was happening? Did he suffer? Could he have been saved if someone had seen it happen? God damn it! He was in the middle of bum-fuck Iowa, where he should have been safe. They had survived countless missions together in some of the most dangerous places on Earth, and Eric fucking buys it on the side of the road in fucking Iowa, of all God-damned places. “Shit.”

  Wishing he had something or someone he could hit, Curt strode back to Eric’s truck, climbed in the driver’s seat, and slammed the door. Anger and sorrow coursed through his veins, as he pounded his fist on the dash. “Son of a fucking bitch, Eric! It wasn’t supposed to be like this, you asshole…it wasn’t fucking supposed to be like this.”

  He took a deep breath and ignored the wary look on a deputy’s face as the man walked past the truck on his way to his patrol car. Shoving his outrage back down to deal with later, Curt pulled his phone from his pocket and hit the speed dial button on his phone for Ian.

  “Talk to me, Elmer.”

  Fighting the quiver in his voice, he told his friend and former teammate they had to bury one of their own.

  * * *

  The next two days flew by in a blur. Eric had always said he didn’t want to be waked at all. He hated them. Dana and best friend knew they would only be planning a funeral, followed by a party…not a morose reception, but a fucking party. He’d wanted everyone to celebrate his life, not mourn his death. Family, friends, and Eric’s Navy brethren began arriving in droves on Monday while Curt escorted Dana to the funeral home to make all of the arrangements for Tuesday’s service. SEAL Team Four was stateside and those who could boarded a flight to Iowa, along with a Navy honor guard for the gravesite service after the mass at the family’s church.

  Curt stood by Dana’s side throughout the entire ordeal. He’d been a godsend for her and the children. After barely getting through the funeral without falling apart, they invited everyone to attend the ‘celebration’ at a local pub Eric and Curt liked to go to for a beer and a ballgame every once in a while. There were many men dressed in their formal Navy blue uniforms mixed in with the civilians. It was a testament to the brotherhood Eric had belonged to.

  “Can I have everyone’s attention, please? Listen up!”

  Dana glanced up from cutting Amanda’s chicken fingers into little bits. Ian Sawyer was standing on a small stool so he could be seen by everyone in the place. At the bar next to him, Devon, Brody, Marco, Jake, and Boomer were helping the pub owner and bartender with a case of Jameson’s whiskey. She knew what was coming, having attended several SEAL funerals in the past. There would be two toasts. The first one included everyone—family, friends, and teammates. The second would be later on, reserved for Eric’s brothers-in-arm only. It was a team tradition which had started a long time ago and was repeated, without fail, at every Team Four funeral.

  There were a bunch of whistles and shouts of ‘quiet’ before the crowd of one-hundred-plus people hushed. With the help of the waitresses, dozens of plastic shot glasses filled with whiskey were passed out to everyone over the age of twenty-one. For the minors and those who didn’t drink, a few were filled with cola, so they could still participate.

  Bringing a small tray of shots over to the table, Curt made sure Dana and her kids had the appropriate drinks. As the glasses were passed to those who hadn’t received one yet, Ian took the one Devon handed him. “For those of you who don’t know me, I am proud to say I served with Eric for many years—it was a privilege to have him on my team. We have a tradition on our team to toast the fallen with a whiskey tribute, and I invite you to join us for the first one. His teammates will have another one later, in private. As the ranking retired officer here, I was asked to lead you in this first toast. Does everyone have a glass?” When he was certain all had received one, he lifted his own in the air. “Eric Prichard. Call sign, Wabbit. It was your team’s honor to serve with you and to call you our brother. Your loyalty to your country, your team, your family, and your friends will never be forgotten. You served your country with honor and integrity, the same way you lived your life. Today, we saluted you and then your fellow SEALs proudly slammed our tridents into the top of your casket as a sign of our undying gratitude and respect. Your family is our family and we will always be there for them since you no longer can be. Take care, my brother, until we meet again.”

  There wasn’t a dry eye in the place when all the SEALs shouted out ‘hoo-yah’ before they downed their shots.

  A little over an hour later, most of the local folks had left, and Dana was saying goodbye to those who remained. Her mother and Jenn Mullins were gathering up the children so they could all head back to the house. Jenn was Ian’s goddaughter, and her father had been on
Team Four, as well. The team had watched her grow since she’d been a baby and she called a lot of them ‘Uncle’. Her parents, Jeff and Lisa, had been murdered six months ago, and Jenn was just beginning to emerge from her dungeon of angst. She now lived with Ian in Tampa, while going to college nearby. The sweet girl had been entertaining the kids all day, and Dana was grateful.

  Scanning the room, she saw Curt talking to Marco while drinking another soda. She knew he was staying sober so he could help her, but she was worried about him. He hadn’t broken down yet, trying to be strong for her, and she knew it was only a matter of time before his grief hit him square in the chest. She wanted that to happen while he had his teammates around to watch his back.

  Spotting Ian and Devon chatting a few feet away from her, she stepped over to them. Ian lifted his arm around her shoulder and pulled her into his side. Placing a brotherly kiss on her forehead, he asked, “How are you doing, Dana?”

  “As good as I can be at the moment, but I need you to do me a favor.”

  “Name it.”

  She sighed. “I’m going to be heading home in a bit with my kids and the grandparents. Jenn is coming, too, for a little while. Can you make sure Curt stays here with you, please?” Devon raised an eyebrow at her, but she continued before he could ask any questions. “He needs you guys right now. He’s been a rock for me since he got here, but I can tell he’s holding back. Get him drunk and watch his six…do what you guys do for each other at times like this. You can drop him off later—he’s been crashing on the couch. Even though they’re coming back to the house for a while, my mom and in-laws have been staying at the bed-and-breakfast in town, and the kids will sleep like rocks tonight. Just call my cell phone when you’re on your way and I’ll open the door.”