by Jen Doyle
With another tap of the keyboard a series of dots appeared on the map. “The solid red dots show where the ten bodies have been found; the flashing ones are the last known locations of the ten dead and four missing hikers. As you can see, they’re all over the Park, with a cluster in the southwestern corner. We figure the best strategy is to set up a base camp here.” He hit another key and a star appeared on the map. “Then we’ll split up into smaller teams and head out to the various crime scenes. This will all be done on foot and by boat. Canoe, to be more specific. Your briefing kits contain a training schedule for the next few days. Packing requirements are there as well. Civvies only—the last thing we need to do is scare hikers into thinking the Park has been taken over by commandos. See Wendy if you need to stock up on gear.”
Sitting back in his own chair, Ian continued, “Unfortunately, we have very little to go on. We were supposed to meet with the police detectives when we were up in Ottawa but, well, those meetings were put off, which is why we have to head up there again. In the meantime, ZSJ has been doing some research of their own that we’ve asked Tessa to share with us.”
Without missing a beat, Tessa leaned to the side, her hand disappearing off camera. “I’m uploading some pictures. Are you seeing them?”
The map was replaced by an image of one of the bodies. The man’s face, arms and torso were covered with intricate black drawings.
Matt replied, “We’ve got it.”
“So, as you all know, each of the ten bodies that has been found was covered with markings. And if you take a look at the pictures on the screen, you can see that the markings contain a lot of the same symbols, but not in the same patterns.” As she spoke, sections of the screen were highlighted, showing the specific areas she was discussing. “The symbols are probably a combination of letters and phrases; or at least a really early version of that.”
Although their own team had spent a fair amount of time studying the markings they hadn’t yet been able to make any headway in figuring out any possible meaning. Given that Tessa had an extensive knowledge both of linguistics and mythology, Ian was hoping she’d gotten further than his team had. “Can you decipher any of them?”
“A few,” Tessa answered. “This is most likely where it starts.” A red circle appeared on the screen. “In the beginning, which is how a lot of legends start.”
A frisson of unease ran up Ian’s spine, something he wasn’t used to. Not at this stage in an op, at least. But there were a lot of things about this whole mission that were unusual, the most obvious being the woman to his left. The woman whose very presence was a reminder of the heady, in-the-beginning part of his own life—and the abrupt and painful end of who he was before everything shattered around him.
“These are legends, too?” Lyndsey asked.
Nodding, Tessa answered, “Or stories of some kind. And no, I don’t know what the rest of it says—that’s where the problem comes in. As far as I can tell, as similar as these markings are to others I’ve come across, this language seems to be much, much older. Ancient, in fact. I’m not sure it’s ever been seen before, at least in this incarnation.” Her eyes sparkled with excitement at the challenge.
“Then how do you know it says ‘in the beginning’?” Brady asked at the same time Sprague said, “Are the markings on the body like hieroglyphics?”
Tessa chose to deal with Sprague first. “They’re like hieroglyphics in that they’re pictures representing words, but in this case, the pictures aren’t quite that descriptive. It’s more lines and circles and shapes, which at some point in time evolved into actual pictorial representations.” Moving on to Brady’s question, she said, “Some of the symbols—like the one that starts the whole thing off—haven’t changed much over time. Unfortunately, that’s only the case with a few of them. I know the drawings represent a story, and I know how the story starts since it’s the same way they all do. What the rest of the story is, however, will take a little more time. Especially because it appears to be different on each of the bodies recovered so far.”
Matt tapped his pen against the table. “How would someone in the twenty-first century be using symbols from some language that’s—what, thousands of years old—if it’s never been seen before?”
“Definitely B.C.,” Tessa answered, “and I don’t know. That’s what you’re going in there to find out, right?”
“Hoo-ah!” someone—most likely Brady—shouted.
Ian admired his enthusiasm. “Anything else you can tell us?”
“Not about the markings,” Tessa said, sitting back, “but I’ve been through the autopsy reports and—”
“You have the actual reports?” Matt snapped, his none-too-happy gaze shifting to Ian.
“Of course,” Tessa answered. “Don’t you?”
Matt’s voice ice cold. “Nope.”
“What exactly do the reports say?” Ian asked, trying to hide his irritation. This was exactly the kind of political bullshit he hated. Bringing on ZSJ was one thing, but for Monica to hold back files… “We only have the summaries.”
Tessa raised an eyebrow, indicating he hadn’t succeeded one bit. Then she replaced the picture on screen with a chart that listed fourteen names. At the top of the page was a series of headers: height, weight, eye color, hair color, race, and occupation. As an add-on, it seemed, there was an asterisk after eleven of the names, and then a number next to twelve of them.
And he suddenly got the feeling this about to go south six ways from Sunday.
Clearing her throat, Tessa said, “As you can see, there are some similarities among the bodies…”
“Fuck,” Matt muttered, his entire being going cold.
It took Ian another few moments to figure out why. And when he did, well, his being went a little cold, too. Not because he didn’t recognize the same thing Matt was seeing—not when the descriptions of each of the victims fell within an inch of Ian’s height and five pounds of his weight—but because he knew that look on Matt’s face. The shuttered yet wary gaze, complete with a heavy dose of distrust that took Ian directly back to all those years ago. Back to a time when he couldn’t have cared less about seeing the next sunrise, when he’d charge full steam ahead no matter how dangerous the path. A time when, yes, he’d needed someone with a hell of a lot more good sense to draw some lines in the sand, not to mention hold some serious consequences over his head. Matt had been that someone then; Abby, too, in fact. But they’d come a long way since then and just because Lyndsey was back in his life again didn’t mean he was going back there.
“What do the numbers indicate?” Matt asked.
There was a slight pause before Tessa answered. “Twelve of the fourteen men had children. The number indicates how many.”
Ignoring Matt’s frown, Ian asked, “And the asterisks?”
Tessa’s lips flattened out. “Eleven of the men were widowed.”
Well, then. Ian almost sighed.
“Eleven out of the fourteen men were widowed,” Lyndsey repeated. “The fourteen six-foot-two-ish, two-hundred-pound-ish, athletic, healthy men.” And now she glared at Ian pointedly.
Great. Because what he really needed was for both Matt and Lyndsey to be looking at him as if he were the one who needed protecting. Time to switch gears. “Have you had a chance to look at the transcripts from the police interviews?”
Though Matt also threw a glare Ian’s way, he didn’t protest the change of topic. For the moment, at least.
When the police department had originally reached out—and before Monica Cain had asserted control and put a damper on the exchange of information—they’d sent along some of the transcripts of witness interviews. Among the most interesting were those with the park rangers and the Lac La Croix guides; and it wasn’t so much what they said but what they didn’t.
A smile came over Tessa’s face. “You noticed that, too?”
“If by ‘too,’” Matt answered, “you meant the part where the policeman said they’d just turned t
he tape back on again, then yeah. We sure as hell did.”
Picking up the thread of conversation, Rodrigues said, “Which meant it had been off, but someone mentioned something important enough to make them want to record again?”
Tessa nodded. “It was the interview with…” She shuffled through the papers, trying to find the right one.
“Annika Willett,” Ian answered. Because, yes, he sure as hell picked up the details on anyone who was going through that kind of loss. “Her boyfriend is still missing.”
“And you think it’s important?” Sprague asked.
Matt was the one to answer again. “We’re grasping at straws, but that’s all there seems to be in this case.”
“Has anyone tried to talk to her?” Lyndsey asked.
Of course they’d tried to talk to her. “She hasn’t returned our calls,” Ian said, realizing how shortly he’d said it only after Lyndsey’s eyes narrowed. And realizing how much he’d tensed up, which was something that rarely happened—he’d spent the last ten years making sure any tension he felt stayed well under the surface; he was sucking at it right now—he forced himself to lean back in his chair. “We’d planned on trying to catch her while we were in Ottawa, but we couldn’t connect. We’ll make another attempt before heading out to Quetico.” He shifted away from her and scanned the rest of the room. “Any other questions?”
“Jesus, Fox.” Matt cocked his head in Ian’s direction. “Despite it appearing that he’s ready to bite everyone’s head off, our esteemed commander means that we will be happy to entertain any and all questions after you’ve had a chance to go through the briefing books.”
Okay. So maybe that had come out with a little bit of a snap.
“Needless to say,” Matt continued, “based on the physical details, several of you should take extra precautions on this op. Stay with your partner at all times—these men disappeared when they went off on their own.” He looked up at Tessa. “Is there anything else you can think of right now?”
“Nope.” Tessa gave a radiant smile. “But I’ll keep digging. I’ll let you know if I find more.”
Matt nodded and snapped his chair back as he addressed the team. “Okay. You know what we know. I’ll reiterate what Ian said: it’s not much to go on. Though it would be great if we could solve this thing right off the bat, the odds of that happening are minimal. This is a recon mission—gather as much data as you can. Take as many pictures as possible, make note of anything that seems unusual.” Looking around the table, he continued, “Brooks and Sprague are team leaders, Brady and Rodrigues will be second in command. Those four plus Wendy and Lyndsey stay here; everyone else is dismissed after team assignments are read off. Reassemble downstairs in the gym in half an hour.”
3
Lyndsey could live with the terse conversation about team assignments and a whole lot of other really boring things; what she had a harder time with was Ian putting himself at risk.
Okay, yes, so that was his job. It wasn’t like she hadn’t considered that during the last week. But seeing those stats up on the screen—seeing them and flashing back to a decade ago when she’d first seen the report about the helicopter crash in which ‘Fox’ had been reported dead, well… She hadn’t quite considered this part of things. Her bad, granted, but still.
This clearly wasn’t the best time to bring up her concerns, however. Wendy, Ana, and Brady had been dismissed ten minutes ago, leaving her, the Brooks guy, and Sprague with Ian and Matt. Ian and Matt, who had spent the last few minutes snapping at each other about what seemed to be entirely mundane things. Like mission protocols. What could possibly be the problem with how many back-up maps the team needed to—
“I don’t need a watchdog, okay?” Ian finally snapped, jumping to his feet. “We are so far past that point that it isn’t even funny.”
“I don’t think there’s anything funny about this,” Matt snapped right back, now on his feet as well. “There’s a lot of writing on the wall and none of it’s good.”
“There’s always writing on the wall and it’s never any good. But we have jobs to do and—”
“At what point do I get to call a time out?” Brooks interrupted, causing both men to turn to him even though the question was addressed to Sprague.
Sprague, who had his chair tipped back as he watched Ian and Matt argue, shrugged. “Could probably give it another minute or two. I haven’t seen this show in years.”
Although Matt and Ian both glared at the other two men, they each eased back down to sitting again. Ian’s gaze dropped down to the table for a few seconds before he looked back up at Matt. “Look,” he said. “I get it. The last time Lyndsey was around things didn’t go well.”
Ummmmm… How had this suddenly become her fault?
Matt gave a bit of a snort. “I’m assuming we both agree that’s an understatement,” he muttered.
“But nothing about this mission,” Ian continued, speaking over him, “is any worse than anything we’ve dealt with in the last decade or so.”
Lyndsey couldn’t keep herself quiet any longer. “Oh, good. Because for a moment there I was thinking that having a crazy tattoo-artist, serial killer who’s already abducted fourteen men and killed ten of them decide to go after you next might be, oh, I don’t know, just a little bit concerning.”
Ian’s eyebrow shot up as he turned to Lyndsey. He sat back in his chair, all of his tension appearing to dissipate—appearing being the key word. She was learning that the more relaxed he seemed, the more coiled up he actually was. “Leary’s the same physical type. So is Cuevas.” He turned back to Matt. “One of the men was Korean-American, just like you. Should you all sit this one out, too? Hell, why not just send out a sign-up sheet to all the guys who are under six feet and ask for volunteers?”
Not backing down, Matt said, “I’m just saying that it might not be the worst thing for you to sit out this op.”
“Don’t you mostly have a desk job any way?” Lyndsey asked…which, given the glare Ian was now directing her way, was obviously not the right thing to ask. But she wasn’t one to back down, either. “Who would even know?”
“I would know.” Ian switched his full attention—and irritation—to Lyndsey before looking down at the table. “Jesus,” he muttered. “This is a ridiculous conversation.”
Now it was Matt who was sitting back in his chair and looking all unperturbed. “I’ve gotta be honest, I’m wondering if there’s another reason you’re pushing on this one. Like maybe spending three weeks in the woods with Lyndsey.”
Now hold on a minute…
“In case you hadn’t noticed,” Ian replied, “I was as in the dark about ZSJ’s involvement with this case as you were.” His voice going even colder, he said, “More so, come to think of it.”
From the way Matt’s eyes narrowed, she figured there was even more going on here than she’d originally realized. Like maybe that whole agreement Matt and his bosses had made with Zachary way back in the day to stay out of each other’s business. An agreement, by the way, Lyndsey hadn’t been aware of, either. But was she going there? No. Because right now she was putting all of her efforts into trying not to take this personally. She was actually quite impressed with herself for not telling Ian as much, in fact.
Although she might have emitted a hmph or two.
Though Ian was still clearly irritated, he didn’t put up any more of a fight. Instead he pushed his chair away from the table and stood up. “Are we done?”
Matt nodded. “For now.”
Lyndsey watched as Ian left the room without so much as a backwards glance. Truth be told, she wasn’t entirely sympathetic. With the exception of Matt’s completely unnecessary muddying of the waters, she was on his side of this argument.
She didn’t say anything until Ian was gone. “You think he’s in danger.”
With a shrug that looked a lot more careless than Lyndsey thought he felt, Matt said, “This whole op is giving me the creeps; I’ll give you that.
There’s something about it that just isn’t sitting right. And if that means I’m all over him then so be it.”
Matt pushed his own chair back with enough of a shove for Lyndsey to get a sense of how unhappy he was about all this, too—and maybe get a little bit of a glimpse into the past and what it had been like between the two of them all those years ago.
So she supposed she could give them both a little leeway for now.
“I need to make a couple of phone calls,” Matt said, standing up. “Sprague will show you where you can change. Brooks, walk with me? There are a few things we need to go over.”
Well, that was good, she supposed, as the two men left the room. Whether she agreed with Matt or not, any further conversation along those lines should stay between her and Ian.
So, great. Discussion over without anyone digging further into the hole.
Yay?
Lyndsey looked at Sprague and tried not to sigh. Smiling, he gestured for her to go ahead of him out the doors. As they walked downstairs, Sprague said, “If nothing else, ma’am, you’ve certainly made this op more interesting than any one I’ve been on for a really long time.”
This ma’am thing wasn’t the easiest to get used to. It made Lyndsey feel a whole lot older than her thirty-seven years. And, honestly, if this was how things were going to go, she was feeling a little less interested in the team knowing about her connection to Ian. At the same time, she was definitely more of a get-everything-out-in-the-open kind of girl, so everything felt a little off kilter—not her preferred mode of being when going into the proving herself part of the day. “Fantastic. Anything else I can do for you?”
He laughed. “Now I’m even more interested in seeing you fight. Other than that, nope.” He pointed to a door off the hallway. “Locker room’s in there.”