“Ruby maybe,” RJ said. “But Toni was planning on becoming a lawyer for Christ’s sake. I have a hard time seeing her just walking away from this.”
“Maybe. But that was before all the horrible things that happened to her. Who knows how she’s going to feel about it now. Anyway, I guess I should tell you…” Killian paused to rub at his tired, bloodshot eyes for a moment before continuing.
RJ became impatient and grabbed him by the upper arm. “Tell me what?” she said in a harsh whisper.
Killian stopped rubbing his eyes and dragged his hand down the length of his face to begin rubbing at the thick growth of whiskers on his jaw as he continued speaking. “When we were at the gate waiting to board our plane, I used the burner phone I got from Walmart to send an email to the tip line of the Crescent City Scrutinor. It’s a small New Orleans newspaper devoted mostly to investigative journalism, so I figured it would be hungrier for what I had to say than any of the other bigger city papers would be. Anyway, I wrote as if I were McKnight and was afraid for my life for what I knew about DeBlanc and his corrupt relationships. I begged them to expose him before he got me killed. I told them basically everything that had happened to the four of us, without naming names of course, and all the corrupt things I know about DeBlanc – about his relationship with the Russians, about all the drugs, the sex trafficking, the rapes,” – he didn’t notice RJ wince when he said this – “the murders, everything I could think of; and, to be honest, I even threw in a couple of extra details that I made up – I wrote about how DeBlanc was also dealing drugs and sex trafficking victims for one of the Mexican cartels, and about how his father Daddy DeBlanc was a traitor just like his son, selling Texas oil industry secrets to the Russians.” He paused long enough for a short, ironic chuckle. “But, you know, even though I say I made these things up about the cartel and DeBlanc’s father, I’d be willing to bet that, based upon what we know of little DeBlanc junior, they both are pretty close to the truth. Regardless, I’m hoping that if the newspaper can get a jump on an explosive story like that, especially once it finds out McKnight the whistleblower is already dead” – this time, he did notice RJ wincing – “it will help lead the cops, the feds, or whoever ends up investigating this entire mess, in the direction straight toward DeBlanc and the Russians and away from us.”
RJ stared at Killian, unsure what to say. “Jesus, Killian. The things your mind comes up with. I think I said it before but, I really have no idea who you are, do I?”
“Let’s just say to be a SEAL I had to learn to think way, way outside the box. This little tip line trick is one I use whenever I have my vigilante cape on, if you know what I mean.”
“Yeah,” she said looking at him with tired eyes, “I do know what you mean. And what about that anyway? Aren’t you afraid that, after everything that went wrong with your hit on Toni’s pimp, the cops will be waiting for you when you get home?”
“Afraid? No, except that it would more than likely lead you and the twins right back into the spotlight of what just went down in New Orleans.” He then went on to explain to her how he had planted evidence on Lars Blackman to make it appear as if he were Savage’s killer.
After listening to Killian’s methodic explanation of his coverup, RJ sat back in her seat and closed her eyes, her head spinning from all the things they had just been discussing. She sat that way for such a long time Killian thought she had fallen asleep. He pulled his ballcap down over his eyes and was just about to lean his seat back when RJ sat up quickly and turned toward him again.
“Okay,” she said pointedly to Killian as he reluctantly pushed his hat back up on his head, “let’s assume that the little story you planted with the newspaper works, and the evidence you planted on this Blackman guy works, so then what? What are you going—” She caught herself and looked across the aisle at Toni and Ruby sleeping. “What are we going to do next? Just try to pretend that none of this ever happened and go back to our normal lives? Trying not to jump from fear thinking that the Russians are coming for us every time our phone rings or there’s a knock at our door?”
“Well,” Killian said with a sigh, “I’ve been thinking about this too. According to my father’s will, he had a cabin up on some mountain somewhere out in Montana. I could go out there and lay low for a while, maybe try to figure out what the hell my father got himself into. Or maybe I could even head back to the Middle East, become a mercenary for the Kurdish YPG. Finish in Syria what I started in Mosul.” He sighed again. “I don’t know, but whatever it is I do it has to be something that gets me far enough away so the Russians don’t think to try to use you or the twins to get at me.”
RJ shook her head. “That’s crazy, Killian. Out of the question. There’s no way you’re going to go off by yourself to some remote Montana mountain, or go back to fight again in the Middle East. Not in your condition. You need to recover. You need someone to take…” Her voice trailed off as a thought came to her. “You know what?” she said suddenly excited. “I think I may have already found whatever it is the Russians are looking for.”
Killian scoffed and squinted at her with a hard, skeptical look on his face. “What do you mean? How could you possibly know what the Russians are looking for?”
“Listen to this. When I was working on the Demon, I found a magnetic case stuck to the car frame behind the engine block. I bet your father put it there for you to find.”
“What the hell, RJ? What was in it?”
“I don’t know. I didn’t open it. But I bet whatever’s in it will provide us some answers about all this crazy Russian stuff.”
“Okay, but where is it, RJ? Where’s the god damned case? What did you do with it?”
“To be honest with you, I don’t know. I brought it over to your place right after I found it, but that’s when all hell broke loose.”
Killian sat up and turned toward her fully engaged. “What do you mean, all hell broke loose? Where’s the god damn case, RJ? What did you do with it?”
RJ shook her head apologetically as she tried to think back and remember. “I don’t know. I had it with me in the truck as I drove over to your house, but then…”
It was Killian’s turn to become impatient. “But then what?”
“But then I don’t know,” RJ said too loudly. She checked to make sure she didn’t wake up Toni and Ruby, and then whispering again she said, “I think I had it with me when I found Toni in the bunker with you, but then DeBlanc’s men showed up, and then, I guess with everything that happened since, I can’t remember now what I did with it.”
Killian shook his head in frustration.
RJ grabbed him by the arm. “Don’t worry, Kill. We’ll find it once we get back home. I promise. It has to be either in my truck or in the bunker.”
Killian stared hard at RJ for a moment, and then the intensity drained suddenly from his face. He fell back heavily into his chair and said, “You know, if it is what you say it is, then I think we all would be better off if we don’t find the damn thing, just forget it ever existed.”
“What? We can’t do that, Killian. No way. Don’t you want answers? Don’t you want to know why your father was killed? Why we almost got killed?”
Killian closed his eyes and shook his head wearily. “No, RJ, I don’t, not one bit.”
CHAPTER SEVENTY-SIX
The Demon was waiting in the BWI long-term parking lot right where Killian had left it nearly four days ago. So was Lukos Sabra’s now abandoned rental pickup truck several rows over. Even though Killian had noticed once or twice a white truck parked on the road outside his farm, the sightings were too brief and inconsequential compared to all that was happening at the time to register firmly enough in his consciousness for him to take notice of the truck now as he and the others walked by it on their way from the shuttle stop to the Demon. When they reached the Demon, RJ held her hand out to Killian, and he, still with his hazy vision and rolling migraines, handed over the keys without question.
RJ got behind the wheel. Killian rode shotgun. The twins sat in the back. When the Demon started up with a deep-throated vigor at first crank, RJ smiled and offered herself silent kudos for her recent work on the engine as she next cranked up the heat. Coming from New Orleans, they were all without jackets and were shivering from the crisp, breezy cold generated by the bright, late-winter afternoon. All of them were exhausted and in some form of pain, some more so than others. By now Toni was in desperate need of a fix, so it was hard to tell if her shaking was more from the cold or lack of drugs.
On the drive from the airport to Toni and Ruby’s mother’s Sandtown row house, Killian explained everything to the sisters that he and RJ had discussed during the flight. He put the potential danger they may still be in and the choices they had to make in clear and unambiguous terms. Ruby needed no time for consideration. As expected, she did not want to have any business with the authorities. She explained, in her manner of speaking, that she wanted to put the entire experience, including Killian and RJ, behind her and never hear or speak of it or them again. She even told RJ she could keep her clothes just so she wouldn’t have to hear from RJ ever again after today. By now Toni was craving drugs so badly she couldn’t seem to think straight. Killian had to keep repeating himself to her so he was sure she understood the situation they were all in. In the end, however, even though they were for significantly different reasons, she made essentially the same decision as her sister – no police; no feds; no more drama. She wanted to put all her focus on getting herself clean from drugs so she could then focus on getting her life back on track and getting back to school as soon as possible.
The darkening blue of the clear, late afternoon sky flared with dramatic pinks, yellows, and oranges by the time they reached the mother’s house. The Demon was still coming to a stop along the curb when, without a word, Ruby got out of it and strutted up the short sidewalk to the front door and rang the doorbell. After her mother opened the door, screaming and dancing with joy as soon as she realized it was her missing daughter, Ruby turned back toward the car and flipped them all off before entering the house.
RJ and Killian got out with Toni and said their goodbyes at the curb. RJ made a strong, heartfelt pitch to try to convince the shivering, antsy Toni to come stay with her in Gettysburg for a while. The slow pace might do her some good, RJ reasoned. She then pulled Toni into a warm hug and carefully explained to her about Diego’s nearby retreat, about its programs for sexual assault victims, confessing that she herself had benefited from them when she was younger. And there were also its addiction programs that could help Toni recover from her habit. Old enough to be her mother, RJ’s maternal-like affection for the young woman was quite obvious. But with tears in her eyes Toni declined, explaining that for now she had to, wanted to, spend some time with her mother and sister. While doing so, she would try to treat her addiction at one of Baltimore’s methadone clinics. She made no mention of seeking out treatment for all the mental and physical trauma she had just been through. Maybe someday, she said, after things get settled she could come out to visit with them. But, as RJ and Killian stood at the curb and returned Toni’s wave as she entered the joyful home, neither believed they would ever see her again.
CHAPTER SEVENTY-SEVEN
With the sky now a lush, velvety black and overwhelmed with a myriad of glittering, beckoning stars, RJ pulled the Demon into the short, gravel stone driveway of Killian’s farmhouse. It had been agreed upon, begrudgingly so by Killian, that RJ would stay with him for a few days while he rested and began his recovery, so they had already stopped by her house for her to grab the things she would need for the stay.
She powered down the car and looked at Killian. “Well, are we going to call it a night or do you want to go straight over to the bunker and look for the case?”
Killian didn’t answer. He just sat there looking out the front window at the dark rolling field behind the house, the only sound the ticking of the Demon’s big engine as it cooled and contracted. When he finally spoke, he sounded completely exhausted, defeated. “No, I don’t have the energy, or desire, to look for that thing, not tonight at least.”
Nor did he have any energy or desire to look for it the next day, or the next day after that. All he had wanted to do was to stay in bed and sleep. And for the most part, with RJ caring for him, that’s all he did. But when RJ woke early in the morning after the third day since their return, she found him in the kitchen sitting in the dark at the breakfast table, a cup of coffee set steaming before him, staring out a window that showed only the black of the predawn morning.
“Killian,” she said softly, “are you all right?” He winced when she flicked the light on, so she flicked it right back off. “Sorry about that.”
Killian went back to looking out the window.
RJ managed to pour herself a cup of coffee in the dark and then sat at the small table opposite of him. “How’re the migraines?”
“Manageable.”
She smiled as she sipped her coffee. “Now that you’re up, I want to check that nasty gash at the back of your head. I know you get sick of me saying it, but it sure could use some stitches. About thirty or forty of them I would guess.”
“Not gonna happen,” Killian said gruffly.
“Yeah, I know. I’ll take a look at it after breakfast.”
Killian broke himself from the window and looked at RJ through the dark. “How’s that face of yours doing?” he said, reaching for his coffee. “You keep harassing me to go to the hospital for the rifle butt I took to the back of the head, but then you ignore the one you took to the face. Doesn’t seem right, if you ask me.”
RJ rolled her eyes. “Nobody’s asking. And my face is fine, by the way. Nothing’s broken, no gaping wounds. I just happen to look like I got run over by a truck, that’s all.”
Later, after breakfast had been eaten and after RJ had cleaned the wound on the back of Killian’s head and put a new dressing on it, RJ, still clad in her pajamas and robe, was sitting on the couch in the living room with her feet up on the coffee table and the laptop open on her lap when Killian, also still clad in pjs and robe, walked into the room.
“You need to get some internet service out here,” RJ said without looking up from her computer. “I can play only so many games of solitaire.”
“Got it out in the bunker,” Killian said as he sat down next to her on the couch.
RJ’s heart leaped, surprised by his closeness, just as other parts of her body responded simultaneously in other equally primal ways. But when she looked at him, she could tell right away that the closeness was meant for conversational purposes only. “Uh oh,” she said, trying to keep the disappointment from her voice. “This looks like it’s going to be serious.” She closed the laptop.
Killian shifted himself so he could look at her directly. He cleared his throat. “I just wanted to say how thankful I am for everything you’ve done for me.”
Touched deeply by the unexpected, uncharacteristic sentiment, the heat returned, but to her cheeks this time as she blushed. “We… we’ve both done a lot for each other, right? I mean, I’m just as thankful to you for...” She stopped talking, seeing in his eyes there was more that he wanted to say. “What is it, Killian?”
“Well, you know how we were talking about how dangerous it could be for me... for us... if the Russians decide to come after me again for whatever it is they’re looking for?”
“Yes, of course. I also remember you saying something ridiculous about a cabin in Montana.”
“Right. But if you remember, it wasn’t just Montana I was talking about. I also mentioned—”
“Wait a minute,” RJ said, cutting him off. “Don’t tell me you were serious about going back to the Middle East?”
“Think about it, RJ. As long as I’m over there, and I make sure that the Russians know that’s where I am, then at least I know you’ll be safe. They’ll have no reason to come for you if I’m out of country.”
“N
o,” RJ said with finality. “Not in your condition. I will not let you do something so stupid, especially when you say it’s something you want to do it on my behalf. But let’s be honest, Killian. We both know why you really want to go over there, and it’s not just to lure the Russians away from me; it’s to kill the uncle of that Yazidi girl you rescued.”
“But RJ, you’ve got to understand. Me getting as far away from you as possible is the best—”
“Okay, wait.” RJ said as pulled her feet off the coffee table and sat up. “What if you give them the information they want? Then they’ll absolutely have no reason to come after you, me, or any of us. Right?”
Killian massaged his temples. “What are you talking about, RJ? Give them what information exactly?”
“The information, Killian. The god damn information that almost got us all killed,” RJ said trying to control herself. “What if we just hand it over to the Russians?”
“There’s no way, RJ,” Killian said frustrated. “First of all, we have no idea what’s inside this case you’re talking about. Second of all, if whatever is in it is what they’re looking for, we have to remember that it was damaging enough for them to murder my father and come close to murdering us over it. So even if we do turn it over to them, there’s no guarantee they won’t kill us anyway to ensure our silence.” He grabbed RJ’s hands and held them in his. “Let’s just please forget about this stupid case and I’ll go away for a while. It’s the only way out of this. And then after everything’s blown over, I’ll be back. In fact, I’ll go out to the bunker right now and...”
RJ pulled her hands away from Killian’s. “Yesterday while you were sleeping, I went out to the bunker...” She pulled the magnetic case out of her robe’s pocket and set it on the coffee table.
Killian looked at the case and then back to RJ. A dull pain began pulsing in the back of his head and then worked its way quickly around to the left temple where it settled in and throbbed heatedly. His ears began to ring and white spots began bursting like fireworks in his field of vision. Nausea crept into his gut. He tried to blink it all away as he grabbed the case off the table. He looked inside it, and then with relief said, “So, if it was empty, why even bring it up? There’s nothing to even give the Russians.”
The Good Kill Page 43