Delta Force

by Alex Westmore

  Delta Force

  The Delta Stevens Crime Logs, Book 5

  Alex Westmore

  Contents

  A Free Book for You

  Delta Force

  More from Alex Westmore

  About the Author

  Bonus Offer

  © 2016, Broad Winged Books

  All rights reserved. Except as permitted under the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, no part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed or transmitted in any form or by any means, or stored in a database or retrieval system without the prior written permission of the publisher.

  This eBook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only; it may not be resold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient.

  Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are products of the author's imagination, or the author has used them fictitiously.

  Editor: Sara-Jayne Slack

  Cover & Graphics Designer: Mallory Rock

  Proofreader: Falcon Storm

  Broad Winged Books

  PO Box 72

  Brighton, MI 48116

  So you’ve just scored your very own copy of Delta Force. Awesome! Hey, you know what’s even more awesome? I want to give you a present as my way of saying thanks for checking me out. Yes, indeed, I’ve written a free short story just for my newsletter subscribers. You can grab your free copy at www.AlexWestmore.net/Newsletter. Happy travels!

  Alex

  Delta Force

  “What do you mean?” Delta quickly changed the phone from her right ear to her left as her feet hit the floor. Missing? How in the hell could Megan be missing?

  Turning on every light as she made her way to the kitchen, Delta grabbed a pen and pulled a memo pad across the counter. “Define missing.”

  The voice on the other line sounded curiously detached, and Delta heard an intake of breath. “Megan went out on one of her excursions three days ago and ne—”

  “Three days? Megan’s been gone for three days, and you’re only calling me now? What’s the matter with you?”

  “I’m sorry, Delta, but it isn’t what you think.”

  “What I’m thinking is, why in the hell did it take you so long to call?”

  “Megan and Augustine left three days ago for La Amistad Park after getting a hot tip about some poachers. I’m sorry, but I...”

  “What kind of hot tip?” Delta switched channels on the portable phone to reduce static.

  “I don’t know. Megan didn’t share much about her activities with us, Delta. She’d just whisk in here for a change of clothes and then be off again. She’s spent more time chasing poachers than working on her internship.”

  Delta’s mind was already ticking off a list of things she’d need to do. They would need binoculars, sturdy backpacks, maybe a first-aid kit. “So, she and Augustine went off to some park to go after poachers, and no one has seen them since?” Grabbing a pencil off the calendar, Delta scribbled notes in the margin. It was March 10th, and Megan was due home in less than two weeks. March 22nd was the only date highlighted in yellows and oranges.

  “Right. Megan changed her clothes, talking excitedly about the trip, and barely mentioned that she probably wouldn’t be home that night.”

  Cradling the phone between her shoulder and chin, Delta pulled on a pair of jeans before grabbing her favorite high tops—the ones she bought after the fire had melted hers down like a plastic plate. “When she didn’t return the next day, what happened?”

  “We just figured she stayed an extra night. You should see her down here, Delta. Megan has really changed. She’s totally into this macaw preservation thing. It wouldn’t have surprised us if she would have stayed an extra week.”

  “But?”

  “But she would have called if she were going to stay longer. It’s not like her to just up and go and not tell us where she is or how long she’s staying. She’s been very considerate that way.”

  “Are there very many phones in Costa Rica?”

  The line went silent, and Delta realized the absurdity of the question.

  “There are plenty of phones here, Delta. Terry and I have called everyone we’ve met here, and no one has seen them since they set out for Chirripo.”

  Lacing up her high tops, Delta looked at her ankle holster and wondered if she would be able to go armed. “Chirripo? Is that the name of the rain forest?”

  “Yes. It’s the smaller park bordering La Amistad.”

  “What about this Augustine fellow? Any word on him?”

  “We don’t know much about him. I’m telling you, Megan has been pretty secretive since hooking up with this guy.”

  Delta went back into the bedroom and flung open her closet door so she could retrieve an empty duffel bag. Then she opened her drawers and grabbed various pieces of clothing. From the top of the closet, she tossed in her binoculars, a rain poncho, a compass, and her favorite hiking pants. “Any family? Last name? Anything?”

  “We spoke with his mother. She lives in Rivas. Doesn’t speak any English, though.”

  “How did you locate his mother?”

  “Terry went through Megan’s desk and found the name of a small village. We had a friend check it out for us.”

  “And?”

  “And the family is not real worried yet. The mother doesn’t think Megan is with him. You know... these people are Catholic, and...”

  “I get the point.” Grabbing her duffel bag, Delta brought it with her back to the kitchen. “Have you notified the authorities?”

  “I just got off the phone with the American Embassy.”

  Delta looked around and plucked the SOX baseball cap Sal had given her off the floor. Then she grabbed the toiletry bag and tossed it into the duffel bag before cinching it closed. “And what did they say?”

  “She’s one of a dozen or so people reported missing in the last couple of months.”

  Delta paused for a moment before straightening up. “A dozen or so? Don’t they find that a bit strange?”

  “This is Latin America, Delta. People come down here to disappear on a regular basis. The Costa Rican government doesn’t get overly excited about it unless it’s someone important.”

  “Megan is someone important.” Adrenaline kicked into Delta’s system like gasoline in an engine.

  “I know that, but Central America has excellent hiding places. You can really get lost down here, so a missing person isn’t high priority.”

  “I see.” Delta’s blood suddenly ran cold.

  “Delta, I’m scared. Terry and I don’t know if we should stay, come home, go looking for her, or what.”

  “For now, I need you to stay there.”

  “We’ve heard horrible stories about these poachers. We shouldn’t have let Me—”

  “Liz, Megan does whatever Megan wants, or needs, to do.” Delta paused as she stared at the wallet-sized photo of Megan pinned to the refrigerator. Pulling it out from under the magnet, Delta put the photo in her chest pocket. “It’s one of the reasons we love her so much.” Delta walked into the living room and looked around for other items she might need.

  “Delta, I’m really sorry.”

  “Don’t be.” Tossing the duffel bag on the couch, Delta opened up a hollowed-out edition of Winnie-the-Pooh and removed a wad of emergency cash. “Okay, Liz, here’s what we’re gonna do...”

  When Delta swung her front door open, less than two hours had elapsed since she’d hung up the phone with Liz. Her lover was missing, and she knew only one other person who could help get her back.

  “Ready?” A short Latina woman with long black hair and serious, fierce coffee-brown eyes entered briskly, cartin
g a blue duffel bag similar to Delta’s over her shoulder. Barely legible on her bag was “River Valley Police Academy” in worn white letters.

  “I have a million vacation days, and Gina sends me with her prayers. You have me as long as you need,” Connie said, quickly brushing passed Delta. She was a good seven inches shorter than Delta’s five-nine, but her intensity more than made up for her lack of height.

  Closing the door behind her, Delta nodded. “Thanks. Get the tickets?”

  “Went one better,” she answered, picking up a half-filled cup of lukewarm coffee and taking a sip. It didn’t matter how old or how cold, Consuela Rivera loved coffee. “The next flight for San Jose doesn’t leave until tomorrow, so I made a few calls and arranged for us to hitch a ride on a military transport.”

  Delta waited for Connie to finish the cup of coffee before continuing. She’d known Connie forever, and knew it was useless trying to get information from her until she was damn good and ready to give it. “I didn’t know you had any military connections.”

  “I don’t. Sal and Josh do. They made all the calls. Even offered to come. I told them I’d call if we needed them. No use bringing everybody down there until we know what’s what.”

  “They’re good people.”

  “Yes, they are.” Connie walked into the kitchen and opened the pantry door. After quickly surveying the contents, she withdrew a box of granola bars, a pack of raisins, and a half-eaten fruit roll-up.

  When it came to good people, Consuela Dolores Maria Rivera was at the top of that list. For seven years, she had been Delta’s best friend, partner in crime, and mentor. She was the yin to Delta’s yang, and there wasn’t anything they wouldn’t do for each other. Connie and Delta, Delta and Connie; the two were as inseparable as butter and toast, and when it came to solving hard-to-crack crimes, they had no equal.

  Tossing the box of granola bars to Delta, Connie continued rummaging through the pantry. “Damn, Del, don’t you ever eat at home? Mother Hubbard’s cupboard looks stocked compared to yours.” Reaching for a bag of dried apricots, Connie tossed those to Delta as well.

  “Costa Rica has stores, you know.”

  Connie pulled her head out of the pantry and glared hard at Delta. “Right. Your lover is missing in the jungle and you want me to believe you’ll stop to go grocery shopping? Tell me another tale, my friend.”

  Delta bowed her head, trying to hide her grin. No one knew Delta better than Connie, and not just because Connie was a genius. They fed off each other in a relationship which could only be called symbiotic, both ebbing and flowing when needed. The pair complemented each other’s strengths and weaknesses, possessing a nearly psychic bond between them that even their lovers did not understand.

  Closing the pantry door, Connie opened her duffel bag and made room by jamming some of the other items down. Then, she opened an overstuffed kitchen drawer and started pawing through it.

  “Is there a flashlight in this mess?”

  Delta walked over and instantly plucked one out. Connie snatched it from her and turned it on and off. “Anything else?” Delta asked.

  “Still have that Swiss Army knife?”

  Delta opened the junk drawer and pushed through the jumble before finding the knife. She continued rummaging, looking for its black leather holder. Connie walked over to the roll-top desk and sat down and jotted some numbers on a notepad. As she set her pen down, she noticed a lavender envelope with unfamiliar handwriting neatly stretched across it. Connie opened the envelope and found a card with a black-and-white picture of Emma Peale, from the 1960s show The Avengers, on the front. Inside, the card read:

  To My Favorite Cop.

  If you’re ever in Rio, look me up-

  You’re the best! In crime and passion-

  T.

  Shaking her head, Connie put the card back in the envelope and slipped it into the interior pocket of her jacket.

  “Found it!” Delta announced, proudly displaying the oft-used first-aid kit.

  Connie looked at the kit and sighed. “Geez, how often have you used this thing?”

  Delta looked at it and grinned. “I’ve been stabbed, shot at, and nearly burnt to death. How often do you suppose?”

  Connie’s smile mirrored Delta’s. “Let’s hope we don’t have to use it this time out.”

  Taking one last look around her house, both for useful items and to make sure lights were off and windows closed, Delta quickly jotted a note to Megan – just in case – and taped it to the refrigerator. “What about our firearms?”

  Connie shook her head. “Not unless you want to spend a week in their jail trying to explain why we’re carrying them. This is a country without an army, Del. They don’t like civilians packing.”

  “But we’re not civilians,” Delta replied.

  “Down there we are. Besides, we probably won’t need them, and it’s not worth the risk of being deported before we even get started. Trust me on this one, Del. Latin American countries frown on foreigners toting guns around, especially Americans.”

  Delta frowned as she reached for her Swiss Army knife. “How about this?”

  Connie nodded as she yanked her bag closed. “Never leave home without it.”

  As the two women reached for their duffel bags, Connie lightly touched Delta’s shoulder. “You scare me when you’re this calm. You okay?”

  Delta’s green eyes slowly filled with tears. “I’ve been on autopilot ever since she left. Just working and trying not to get myself killed until she comes home and tells me she wants to be with me. I’ve been marking off the days on my calendar each night. I wasn’t...I’m not ready for this, Con.”

  Connie hugged Delta. “Ready for what? A trip to a foreign country? Come on, Storm, you’re ready for anything.”

  Delta pulled away and gazed into Connie’s coffee-brown eyes. “I’m not ready to be without her.”

  “For all we know, she could be having the time of her life. You can’t start thinking like that or you won’t be any good to us.”

  Delta opened the door and stepped out, wiping her eyes with the back of her hand. “You should see my other thoughts. I keep pushing away the idea that she’s all alone and afraid.”

  Connie squeezed Delta’s shoulder. “Alone, maybe. Afraid? Not Megan.”

  Delta nodded unconvincingly as they stepped out on the porch. She may not be afraid, but I sure as hell am.

  “I’m scared,” a small, red-haired woman whispered, folding her hands around her body to still the shivers.

  Megan put her arm around the woman and pulled her closer. At nearly six feet, Megan had a hard time getting comfortable in the small tent they’d been assigned upon arrival.

  “So am I, Siobhan, but if you just keep doing what they tell you to do, you’ll be fine.” Megan reached behind her and tightened the ponytail of her long blonde hair. Her hair, like the rest of her, was covered with a thin layer of dust after working all day, its usual luster dulled by the dirt and grime she’d been exposed to for the past several days.

  “But they shot that one poor man, and he didn’t even...”

  Megan placed her fingers over Siobhan’s mouth to quiet her. “Shh. They’re coming for us. When they get here, don’t panic, and don’t act scared. These bastards really get off on a woman’s fear, so be strong. Look brave, and you’ll be fine. Stare them straight in the eyes.” Megan let go of Siobhan and peered out of the tent through one of the metal eyelets. All around the camp, guards dressed in green army fatigues carried rifles over their shoulders. Some chatted in Spanish while others looked out into the bleak darkness of the surrounding rain forest. It was nearly dusk, and the guards would soon retrieve the women, to provide the nightly entertainment.

  The thought of what these men wanted disgusted her. Megan had spent the better part of her life providing the form of sexual entertainment these men took for free. A wry smile flickered across her face at the irony of her situation: Three years ago, after meeting Delta, she’d left prostitu
tion behind to start a new life; now she’d have to rely on that very past to save herself. What a bitter taste that left in her mouth. How could she have come so far, only to wind up at the beginning?

  When she’d left the streets and a life spent on her back, Megan Osbourne had discovered an entirely different world, one which she wholeheartedly embraced. She loved being up in the mornings, drinking coffee with Delta, watching as the dawn turned into day. The sunshine, the warmth, the way it seemed to make people happy were things that escaped her during the years she’d prostituted. Like a vampire cleansed of the curse, Megan rejoined the land of the living and discovered that being awake in the day was so much better than the life she’d been living at night. Once she’d had a taste of Delta’s world, she knew there was no better place to be. Megan enrolled in the local university to sample more of it, and became hooked; hooked on Delta, hooked on knowledge, and hooked on living a real life. But it wasn’t enough. So when her paralegal professor offered up a number of Latin American internships, Megan’s hand was the first to shoot into the air. Costa Rica sounded like a wonderful place, and Professor Juan Carlos’ background in environmental law was just the ticket she needed. She had always wanted to travel, to see things she’d only read about in magazines. She wanted to taste a culture very different from her own. What Megan wanted most, now, was to live.

  “Megan, I...I don’t think...I can do it,” Siobhan said, starting to cry. “I can’t just...just lie there while these...oh, God, they’ll kill me.”

  Megan stroked Siobhan’s back. Poor young woman. Siobhan had never been out of Ireland before this trip, and now, she was afraid she’d never get back. Megan herself had had similar thoughts the day she was captured after wandering too far from camp.

  Her mistake had probably cost Augustine his life, but Megan could not dwell on that. Since she was snatched from the stream, Megan made a commitment to herself to do whatever she needed to do to stay alive. She would eat dirt if that’s what it took, but she had made her mind up that she would do anything they asked of her, as long as it meant she would see Delta again.