Nashville SEAL: Jameson: Nashville SEALs

by Sharon Hamilton

  “So you know the sitter is missing. What about the other girl, the old sitter, the one who was hosting the exchange student. You never called her back?”

  “No, I didn’t.”

  “Are they around? Maybe they know something?”

  “That’s what I was about to do. Let me call her.” As an afterthought, she looked up at the Detective. “Okay?”

  “Sure. Someone knows something. Haven’t heard from my guys outside or the folks interviewing the mother, so I’m thinking we’re shooting blanks.”

  “Estelle? This is Kendra Johnson.” She paused, her forehead creasing as she listened to something disturbing on the phone. “When was the last time you saw her?” Kendra was staring back in shock at the group overhearing her conversation, her eyes wide with worry. Jameson’s gut fell to the floor. He put his arms around Lizzie, who clutched him like the lifeline he was trying to be.

  The detective extended his hand for the phone, wiggling his fingers. Kendra handed it to him.

  “Mrs. Campbell? This is Detective Blalock from Nashville PD. When did you notice your daughter was missing?”

  Jameson could hear the woman sounding frantic and learned she hadn’t been missing longer than today, which relieved him.

  “And how about your exchange student, um,” he checked the paperwork, “Malia, is that how you pronounce it? Is she around?” He paused, waiting for the answer. “Chicago? Why would Malia go to Chicago?” After an explanation, Blalock added, “We’ll be sending over some people. Not sure if we can round them up tonight, but I need you to stay home until we take a look at Malia and Maureen’s room, okay?”

  He sighed. “Now there’re four girls missing. I’m gonna need additional resources. Excuse me while I go call the Bureau.”

  Kyle motioned to Jameson and Lizzie to follow him outside. Jameson knew he was hatching a plan.

  “Listen, we need to get over to that house and find out if there’s anything there that will point to where they’ve gone.”

  “Right.”

  “What’s this about Chicago?” Lizzie asked.

  “We’ve just learned about this other guy, this new shiekh—you know when they lose one they replace them with another one to take his place? We had one leader in the central valley in California go to prison for income tax evasion. The one before him was deported. They send replacements quick.

  “But in Chicago, there’s a group that worships at the White Mosque, and they are especially unfriendly individuals. Discreetly, I think we’ve had our eye on them, but you didn’t hear it from me, okay?”

  “So we go then.” Jameson looked at Lizzie. “You okay with this?”

  “I should stay with Kendra.”

  “Yes. And you can let us know if something comes up on this end. You can be our eyes and ears here. Jameson, you, me, and the boys will head over there right now. I’m gonna need that address. Can you grab it?”

  “Of course.”

  With the plan in place, Jameson noted the address and committed it to memory. Lizzie sent a text with Mrs. Campbell’s phone number when Kendra gave it to her, and the five SEALs left for the house, luckily only ten minutes away.

  Chapter 18

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  They elected not to call the Campbell residence beforehand and just show up, letting Mrs. Campbell think they were with the local police. She ushered them into an upstairs room done in flowered wallpaper, which hid what Jameson knew was a dark secret. The frilly outward appearance only added to the danger he felt at hand.

  A bulletin board made of covered fabric and laced with satin ribbon held pictures of dances and events, outings with friends, pets, and hunky movie stars. On the opposite wall, all by itself, was a huge poster of Jameson.

  “Well, would you look at that,” Fredo quipped. “We got us a fan. I’m guessing it’s not the Syrian girl.”

  Kyle had found a picture tacked to the wall beside Malia’s pillow. “I think I have something.”

  Jameson examined Kyle’s picture of the two American girls, golden blonde hair flowing in the sunshine with their mutual Syrian friend between them in a three-way hug. In the background was a house.

  “See that?”

  Jameson squinted, making out what looked like a portion of a tanned, sandaled leg and a small strip of white appearing to be the bottom hem of a kaftan. He stared into his LPO’s face.

  “We got us a new sheikh,” whispered Cooper.

  “Fuck!” Jameson sat on Maureen’s bed and knew the clues had just ratcheted up. The threat to Charlotte’s life was more eminent.

  “Jameson, you’re gonna call the mother up here and ask her about this place. See if she knows it. She might not be honest with me,” said Kyle.

  Mrs. Campbell was in near shock, her hair falling down over her neck after trying to secure it with a clip. Her mascara had run from crying. She was holding a stiff drink and smelled like she’d had a couple already when Jameson handed her the picture.

  “You recognize this?” he asked.

  She squinted, working on her focus, and then recognition came across her face. “That’s the Stadler’s place.”

  “You know where it is?” asked Kyle, forgetting the rules of engagement.

  “Yes, I’ve been there lots of times when the Stadlers lived there. But they moved to Florida about seven months ago. They tried selling the house and the little ranch. Couldn’t get enough, so I believe they decided to rent it out.”

  Kyle and Jameson shared a look.

  “It’s a ranch, too? Are there outbuildings and such?”

  “Oh yeah, they raised chickens, although I don’t suppose they’re there now. They had a small barn and a shed for the apples they picked and sold in the late summer.”

  “Ma’am, could you find me the address of this house, please?”

  “Sure, I’ll do you better. I’ll give you the property flier. It has the address and a map on it. I saved a couple to send to them in Florida.”

  All of the SEALs had their Sig Sauers, never leaving home without them, sometimes another backup, and a KA-BAR strapped to their lower legs. No one had brought their MP5s, because they had been traveling to Tennessee to attend a concert, not go to war. Jameson heard the cursing in the background, as several felt they were under-armed and didn’t care for it one bit. The only time he’d seen his SEAL buddies act nasty was when something was wrong or missing with their equipment, or they’d contracted something that Anti-Monkey Butt Powder couldn’t handle.

  Jameson hadn’t been brought up to speed yet, so all he had was his hunting rifle, but he was a crack shot, especially at long distances.

  The little house came into view as their rented van pulled slowly into a clearing just outside a good view of the front porch. On a normal day, it would look like a welcoming rural homestead. But he knew it was the prison that held his daughter.

  Kyle whispered instructions again, just like they’d discussed on the short trip over. Without IEDs or little flash bombs, they’d have to coordinate their attack flawlessly, if the surveillance proved to be accurate.

  Armando came back with the information. He could hear the little girls playing in one of the bedrooms downstairs, supervised by one of the sitters, and everyone seemed to be doing fine.

  Jameson leaned back into a tree, closed his eyes, and nearly lost his bowels, he was so grateful. Cooper and Fredo gave him an appreciative pat on the back.

  “How many inside? Can you tell?” asked Kyle.

  “Didn’t want to risk it, but I’m thinking I heard maybe five separate voices. They’re working on something in back, a new delivery of two-by-fours and some steel and bags of concrete, but no one working at this hour.”

  “These fuckin’ maggots. You send some of them back to the source, and then they fly the coop and set up shop somewhere else,” whispered Fredo.

  “Well, not this group. I don’t want anyone killed if we can help it. But if you see any of the girls in mortal danger, you have my permission to shoot. I’ll ge
t the court martial, but you’ll be able to live with yourself, hear?”

  “Yessir,” everyone whispered in unison. Everyone readied their weapons.

  They checked their timekeepers and followed Kyle’s silent countdown, knowing when they were supposed to do what they’d outlined. Jameson and Jones were to go in through the window in the girls’ bedroom. Armando would take the rear door with Fredo behind him, and Kyle would take the front door breach. Anyone reaching for a gun would be disabled and killed if they didn’t stop. Anyone who held a hostage got a bullet to the head, plain and simple.

  Like all their operations, the assault started on time with complete accuracy. The girls screamed when they heard the window shatter, running to their babysitter, but Charlotte’s eyes grew wide when she realized Jameson stood before her, on his knees, ready to accept the body slam she gave him. Even the sounds of gunfire in the next rooms didn’t faze her. Jameson held her close and assisted Jones in safely stowing the girls behind a mattress and box spring sitting near the outside corner. The SEALs propped the bed up with two sturdy wooden chairs and instructed the girls not to leave the area.

  Jameson was carefully monitoring the emotional level of the teenager. He could see she looked scared and sported a recent black eye. “Are you Cissy?”

  “Yessir,” she said sweetly. “God, I’m so glad you came.”

  “You hurt? Anybody hurt?”

  “I’m fine, but Maureen—”

  The sounds of gunfire were over, and he heard a series of “clears” and knew it was safe to begin to breathe.

  “Where are Malia and Maureen?”

  “Malia went off to Chicago with Maureen to prepare for the wedding.” As an afterthought, she asked, “You don’t think they—”

  Jones interrupted, “Cops’ll find them. Okay, Jameson, I’m going outside to make sure it’s safe.”

  The tall, dark-skinned SEAL slipped through the doorway.

  Jameson held the two little ones, their shaking bodies feeling cold. They were still in their nighties and were barefoot. Their feet and legs were dirty, faces smeared with what appeared to be jam, wispy hair flying up in all directions. He warmed them with his body, still aware of the sounds around him, especially outside.

  “What were they going to do?”

  “I’m so sorry. You her daddy?”

  “Yes.”

  “They had these girls sold to some guy in Chicago.” Her lip quivered. “I overheard them talking. The boys speak perfect English.” As she watched Charlotte being embraced, she added, “I didn’t know anything about this. They just showed up.” She began to cry, and Jameson pulled her over next to the other two girls and huddled with them all.

  The SEALs walked through the bedroom door together with a swagger he hoped to have one day.

  “Jameson, why is it that whenever we find you you’re surrounded by ladies?” Kyle barked. Armando and Cooper were trying not to laugh, but finally gave up.

  Yeah, he knew how to charm the ladies all right. He knew how to sing a hit record and be the man on stage. All those things were good and honorable. But he was looking at the men he would die for, if need be, and they’d just saved the most precious thing in his life: Charlotte. They could swagger all they wanted, boast about their exploits, and be as obnoxious as hell, but they got the job done. For that, he would forever be grateful and not mind putting up with everything else.

  Chapter 19

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  Jameson clutched Charlotte, wrapping her in his jacket. He smoothed her hair, kissed her forehead, and whispered to her over and over again how much he loved her.

  She relaxed in his arms, and he was gratified to hear her begin to chatter just like the happy little girl he remembered. She was safe. His brothers had helped save her, and it now appeared she was resilient to the danger she’d just lived through. God knew, he’d be making sure she never wanted for anything the rest of her life. He would ache whenever he had to leave her, but he would always come home again to her and her mother.

  Still clutching his daughter, he walked into the living room of the structure. Cooper and Fredo were stacking computers, cell phones, and piles of loose papers, throwing everything into cardboard boxes. Eight young men—children, really—sat with their backs against the wall. Four armed men lay dead on the floor.

  Kyle was giving instructions to the locals by phone, directing them to bring a large van for what appeared to be quite a haul of information.

  Sadly, they’d not found the sheikh, nor any of the older men, except one. He said his name was Assad, and he’d been an interpreter for American forces in Syria recently. The younger boys were zip-tied, their faces showing the shock and surprise of capture. Fredo let Assad chatter on, while the boys in front of him were restrained.

  “Oh yeah?” Fredo remarked.

  Assad was trying to talk his way into Fredo’s good graces, something Jameson knew wasn’t going to fly very long.

  “You know, asshole, I’m about done with your bullshit.” Fredo picked up a wide piece of duct tape and placed it over Assad’s mouth. The strip was so long that it also covered his ears.

  “That’s better,” Fredo said. Armando pushed Assad next to his Junior Militia and used the tape to wind around the man’s wrists several times.

  Jameson was ready to get Charlotte home, but they waited for the emergency vehicles to arrive on the scene to take control of the prisoners and the intel.

  He boarded the second seat in the van. Cissy and her other charge were helped to the rear seat, sitting securely between Coop and Fredo. Charlotte was curious at first, but then tucked her head under his chin, her fingers playing with the beads on his shirt, touching the different colors. His emotions welled up, and he began to silently sob. He didn’t want to scare her, so he took deep breaths to attempt to calm himself, part of the training he’d received, but also just instinct.

  His SEAL brothers let him do this in private. No one consoled him. They let him deal with his joy and his pain as the van took them back home. He now realized that for every joy in life, which was so precious and fragile, there could always be a huge source of pain.

  Not today.

  Today, the good guys had won. Today, they were going to live to be with the ones they loved. He was sure that Kyle and Cooper, Armando, Jones, and Fredo were missing their wives, their girlfriends, and their own children. They followed every movement he made as he hugged the miracle of his own.

  When they arrived at the house, he picked Charlotte up, heading for the front stoop. She’d begun to fall asleep, which he was grateful for. Lizzie met him half way, relief on her face as she hugged them both and received a tired return hug from Charlotte. Kendra took her daughter in her arms. Mrs. Gunther wrapped her arms around her daughter, who collapsed in her mother’s chest. They were led to an ambulance.

  Lizzie pulled his head down. “Thank you. Thank you. Thank you, my love.”

  All he could do was smile through his own tears, matching hers, and search how full his heart was, overflowing with the love of his women.

  Next, Lizzie went to each of the SEALs and gave full-on, body slamming hugs and kisses, thanking them for their rescue mission. He followed along as she received embarrassed smiles from these tough guys, and saw their cheeks pink up. His beautiful Lizzie could melt the whole State of Alaska with her gracious, loving heart and warm smile. She would live with exuberance and the free spirit organically given to her from the day she was born. And he’d spend his life protecting that free spirit and making sure nothing would ever interfere with her happiness again.

  One by one, people started leaving the house. Kendra transferred both girls, who were fast asleep and clutching each other, to her bedroom, instructing Jameson and Lizzie to take the other one.

  “We all need to rest. I’ll do the duty in the morning and bathe the girls. I’m not going to do it now, nor do I have the energy to bathe myself,” her raspy voice chirped. “This has been quite a day, and I’m exhausted.”

/>   Jameson suddenly didn’t feel so exhausted. He ushered his SEAL brothers outside and wished them farewell. He conversed with the police and Detective Blalock and shooed away a news crew with their satellite dish and white van. He locked the front door and saw that Blalock had put a detail out in front of the house. He was grateful for that, as well.

  “You know what Charlotte told me when I gave her over to Kendra?”

  “No. What, sweetheart?” He pulled her to him, wrapping his arms around her, squeezing, and feeling so grateful to be alive.

  “She said, ‘Mommy, can I tell you a secret?’ and I said, ‘sure.’”

  He waited, leaning back to be able to view her pretty face in the reflection of the moonlight.

  “She said, as she pointed in your direction, ‘That’s my daddy. And he loves me.’” Lizzie’s eyes filled with tears again. “You told her.”

  “I don’t remember any of that, honey, but I must have. It just came out, I guess.”

  “Well, she was listening. She heard every word. You’re gonna have to remember that in the future. She has very keen ears.”

  “Hmmm.” Her body heat began to permeate his soul. “I’m going to have to remember that.” He kissed her, felt the familiar reach of her arms up over his shoulders, the way her tight nipples knotted against his chest. He squeezed her ass, lifting her up off the ground, and she wrapped her legs around his hips.

  He carried her down the hallway to the little bathroom with the even smaller shower. “There’s hardly any room in here,” he growled as he opened the glass door and turned on the water. “So we’re gonna have to conserve space as best we can. Would it be okay, honey, if I pressed you close so we both could fit in here?” He followed up his statement with a wicked grin.

  “With pleasure,” she said as he removed her top and her bra. She carefully unbuttoned his special shirt. “Some day, you’re gonna have to tell me about this.”

  She carefully folded it, laying it on the stack of towels on the wicker shelf where it would be safe.