“No, but it’s possible the medicine you’re taking has side effects. I’ll ask Libby to check with your doctor for you. Maybe that’s all this dream was about.” Mark treaded carefully. Dream or side effect, Kelsey seemed as fragile as Harley.
She didn’t respond, and he wouldn’t crush her with any more logic. Despite the cold, hard facts, she needed to believe a little bit longer. Kelsey wasn’t ready to let go.
He stalled. Maybe false hope wasn’t such a bad idea. “To tell you the truth, I don’t exactly know how to request something like that. How about I find out for you. It might take a little time, but I’ll make it happen if that’s what you want to do. Will that work for you?”
An uncomfortable silence stretched. At last she mumbled,“Yes. Okay. Thank you.”
Mark bit his lip at her timid response. Of course, she wasn’t okay. None of them were. The TEAM had devolved into a pack of lepers, losing bits and pieces of themselves every time they tried to help each other through this nightmare.
“Did Shelby arrive yet? Is she there with you?”
“Yes. She was here at the crack of dawn. I like her, Mark. Tell Libby thanks.”
“It was the least we could do. I’m going to send Gabe and Zack over in a bit to check on you, too. We’ll all stay close. If you need anything, and I mean anything, you call me or Harley, okay? We’re here to help.” Mark eyed Harley as he made this assignment to Gabe and Zack. There was a day Harley would have been the most logical man for the job, but no more. He needed emotional support as much as poor Kelsey to get through this kind of loss.
“Yes. Okay. Good. I will.” Every word out of her mouth sounded so damned lost.
“Hang in there, Kelsey. Libby and I will stop by this evening for a quick visit. We’ll bring the girls.”
“Thanks, Mark. Goodbye.” She hung up.
He turned to face an agitated Harley, whose fingers were tapping at his kneecaps. He looked ready to jump out of his skin, breathing hard again and his eyes blinking rapidly. “If she wants us to dig him up, then I say we start now. Let’s go.”
“Yeah. Find out how we go about doing that, would you?” Mark couldn’t keep the sarcasm out of his voice this time.
“What? You don’t think it’s a good idea?”
“I’ll do whatever she wants. You know that, but I’m hoping this is just a phase. I won’t lead her on with some crazy ghost story. Damn it, man, we know who’s in that grave. You saw him at the viewing. Hell, he hasn’t been buried a week yet. We don’t need to push her face in it all over again.”
“But what if he wasn’t in that coffin in the first place? What if that wasn’t him?”
“Who else was it then? The guy sure looked like Alex to me. Think about it, Harley.”
“You think about it! I’m tired of thinking about it!” Harley bellowed. “God, Mark. That’s all I do. I can’t sleep. I can’t eat. Every time I close my eyes, he’s lying there. Pasty white. Blood everywhere. Kelsey’s crying and all I want to do is puke. Shit! Judy thinks I’m losing my ever-loving mind. She keeps nagging at me. Wants me to go to her Lamaze classes, but I can’t. I get near a hospital and all I see is—him.”
“You’ve been talking with Kelsey, haven’t you?”
Harley didn’t answer other than to push away from the table and stalk out the door without a backward glance. He was too close to Alex’s widow, and just as emotional. They’d always had a brother/sister bond, but Mark needed him to help Kelsey out of her depression, not add to it.
This loss hurt deeper than others had. For some unfathomable reason, Harley was rejecting Alex’s death as much as Kelsey was. While that was probably a normal reaction for people in the depths of grief, it spelled trouble. No matter. Harley needed to stay away from her and take care of his pregnant wife.
Mark waited for Harley to make it back to his workstation before he called his desk phone.
“What the hell do you want now?” Harley’s snarl surprised Mark.
“How’s Judy?”
“I’ve got a damned pager. She’ll buzz me if she needs me.”
“The babies are coming today?”
Harley’s tone softened. “Yes. Maybe. Hell, I don’t know. Her doctor says they could be here at any time, but she’s had false labor before. God, I don’t know if I’m coming or going anymore. What am I going to do with twins?”
“She opted out of a C-section?”
“You know how she is. The babies aren’t in distress. Her pregnancy’s gone smooth. She feels good and she’s a nurse. She ought to know. I think she’s bat-shit crazy to go the natural route, but I’m just a stark raving lunatic who wants to go grave digging.”
Mark ignored the heavy sarcasm. Yes, he knew how Judy was. Everyone did. Harley’s redheaded wife ruled the roost at the Mortimer home, a damned good thing for a guy from up-state New York with lingering PTSD. She brought order to Harley’s chaotic life and would soon bring them the two healthy sons they never thought they’d have.
“You’re no crazier than the rest of us right now, bro. Tell me if there’s anything you need, okay?”
“You bet. Umm—”
“Don’t worry about it, Mortimer. We’re all wound pretty tight right now. Focus on Judy and those little guys. You’re going to be a good father. Just wait. The second you see them, your life will change in a big way.”
“Shit.” Harley’s voice cracked. “It already has.”
Chapter Three
“Do you think I’m delusional?” Mrs. Stewart asked again.
She’d asked it twice, and Shelby had replied with the standard upbeat answers, but a question asked more than once meant something else was going on.
Kelsey had been a pretty lady before her husband’s death, judging by the wedding portrait on the mantle. Long chocolate brown hair. Trim. Tan. Her dark eyes full of stars and the sappiest smile on her face. Mr. Stewart and she made a handsome couple. They seemed to have had eyes only for each other.
Shelby stopped reorganizing the hallway linen closet. She’d only meant to change the linen on Mrs. Stewart’s bed anyway, but everyone knew pillowcases should be in pairs. The white with the white. The red with the red.
One thing led to another. Before she knew it, she’d stacked all the sheets, towels and pillowcases on the kitchen table so she could wipe the closet shelves down with a good disinfectant. Fresh and clean. Neat and tidy. The way every linen closet should be.
It could wait.
She closed the door and left her cleaning compulsion behind to join Kelsey at the kitchen table. “I guess everyone’s a little crazy, Mrs. Stewart. Is there something you want to talk about?”
“I wish you’d call me Kelsey.”
“I’m sorry. I keep forgetting, don’t I? It’s a habit. I try to maintain a formal line between my clients and me, but for you, Kelsey it is.”
“Thanks. It’s just that... I must be seeing things. My head tells me one thing, but my heart seems to have a mind of its own.”
Shelby waited. She didn’t have personal experience dealing with death and loss. Her parents were both alive. Her grandparents, too. The closest she’d come to losing anyone was a patient, a small boy who’d nearly died at the hospital. Only that wasn’t so much grief as outright terror.
Her throat tightened remembering the awful thing she’d done. He’d been in her care. The walls closed in. Bile crept up the back of her throat as the day came back with a vengeance. Some memories never went away.
Thank God he’d lived, but that was why she’d fled the pressure and confusion of the hospital for the sanity of homecare. In a one-to-one private setting, she could maintain strict control over the minutia of healthcare for another. The sleep schedules. The diet. Prescriptions.
That day, the world became black and white. Controllable. It had to be. What had happened then would never happen again. Not with Shelby Sullivan absolutely in charge.
“I know better, but last night I could’ve sworn...” Kelsey’s voice dropped, bri
nging Shelby back to her current client. Kelsey lifted one hand to her cheek. Her gaze drifted from the cup of tea in her hands to the open bedroom door at the opposite end of the hall. “I thought he slid into bed with me. I thought he told me he loved me. I’m sure I felt his breath on my cheek. His kiss. It seemed so real.”
Shelby gulped. It sounded real to her, too. “I think it just takes a long time. I can’t imagine what you’re going through. This has to be incredibly hard.”
Kelsey breathed out a ragged sigh.
“Maybe these, umm, feelings are just your mind’s way of coping. You know, of easing you back into reality.” Shelby bit her lip, hoping she was helping, not hurting.
“Maybe.” Kelsey pulled her gaze out of the hall and forced a weak smile. “Listen. Don’t worry about me. Would you join me in a nice cup of herbal tea?”
“What if I make breakfast instead? What would you like to eat?”
But Kelsey’s gaze had drifted down the hall again.
Shelby squeezed her hand to divert her. “I’m here for you, Kelsey. If there’s anything I can do, please let me know.”
“I will,” Kelsey promised, shifting her attention to the kitchen. “Honest.”
Only Shelby knew better. She couldn’t fix this problem with food, but she could prepare a solid menu and make sure her patient ate better. Toast and tea were not good enough. A good healthy breakfast ought to do the trick.
“Would you like an omelet?”
“Sorry. I haven’t been to the store since—”
“Don’t say another word and don’t you worry,” Shelby said, lifting out of the chair, glad to be useful and determined to get Kelsey back on her feet. “How about a spinach omelet with bacon on the side? Sourdough toast? Orange juice?”
“Oh, no.” Kelsey resisted. “That’s too much trouble. Besides, it’s too early to go to the store and you just got here. I can make do with a piece of toast.”
“It’s no trouble at all. Trust me,” Shelby promised, her car keys already in her hand and her mind made up. Kelsey needed a healthy menu plan to get her back on track. Maybe a bottle of vitamins, too. B-12. And chocolate.
Libby was right. Kelsey was a genteel woman who needed help while she learned to cope with her husband’s death. I might just get her a nice bright bouquet of flowers, too. Anything to make her smile.
The funeral sucked. Three days later, the office still felt like a tomb, and Gabe wished he were somewhere else—like the other side of the world. The farther from the walking dead that used to be the best covert team on the East Coast, the better.
He sat at his desk staring into space and thinking.
The effect of the alpha male’s death was instant. Everyone walked on eggshells. No one pointed a finger. Everyone seemed to understand. He hadn’t killed his boss. It wasn’t his fault. Yeah, right. Some first responder I was.
He used to think Alex had unusually elegant taste for a stiff-necked Marine. The black marble surfaces combined with polished aluminum created an attractive, yet functional work environment. Not anymore. The whole damned place looked cold. Like a morgue. Gabe had demons enough from his two tours to Afghanistan. He didn’t need them at work, too.
He now had three supervisors instead of one. The day after it happened, Senior Agent Mark Houston stepped out smartly and took over most of Alex’s workload. Someone had to. Senior Agent David Tao seemed to have filled the role as trusted but invisible advisor. He haunted the fitness center. A man had to track him down if he needed answers.
Harley was another problem altogether. He’d distanced himself in the ways of a man on the verge of a nervous breakdown. Nothing pleased him so everyone stayed clear.
None of this would’ve happened if Alex had stayed in his office that morning. But no, in his usual hardheaded way, he’d gone to the FBI meeting alone, not like that spelled a death sentence in and of itself. He’d just wanted the Bureau onboard with a perceived threat he’d received. When Alex made up his mind, people tended to get out of his way. He’d meant what he’d said, every damned time.
The whole mess stemmed back to that rat bastard, Charlie Oakes. He and his buddies wanted revenge because Alex had never looked twice at them, never would’ve hired them even if he had. Alex honestly believed in the concept of a few good men. He made schmoozing through a job interview impossible with that single telling question.
When’s the best time to take a kill shot?
Gabe had looked at Alex long and hard the morning of his job interview. What the hell? Any USMC rifleman worth his salt knew that answer. Like NEVER.
Enough said.
Alex nodded just once, what Gabe now understood was his stamp of approval. And just like that, prior USMC Sergeant Gabriel Cartwright became property of The TEAM and proud of it. He was done with the killing that went along with active warfare. Working for Alex promised less of it. Gabe had shot one too many as it was.
“Meeting in ten. You ready?” Junior Agent Taylor Armstrong leaned back in his chair and brushed his hair out of his eyes. He rarely spoke. He didn’t have to. He’d proved his loyalty when it counted most—in battle. Their friendship ran quiet, but deep.
“Sure. Why not?” Gabe grabbed another gulp of coffee and stowed his emotion.
I’ve got nothing else to do.
It was time for a staff meeting as a supervisor instead of an employee. A first.
Mark gathered his thoughts and left Alex’s office, determined to get on with the business of living.
Junior Agent Taylor Armstrong, ex-USMC scout sniper—as if there was such a thing—sat at his desk with his head down, no doubt working on his debriefing reports from his latest op. He was the strong and silent type, one-half American Indian, the other half crazy in love with his new wife, Gracie.
His buddy, Maverick Carson, yet another ex-Marine, jumped to attention the moment he spotted Mark. He might’ve made the same mistake Mark did when he was the new kid in the office, and called Alex sir. Alex had a thing about being inappropriately addressed as an officer. But that day was gone.
Mark nodded at Maverick, but kept going. Mental note to self: He’s wound too tight. Let him know he’s in good company, that working with guys and gals who know the down side of war is good medicine, maybe the best for a vet come home from the sandbox.
Their buddy, Gabe, seemed lost in thought, one leg stretched in front of him and staring at nothing. He’d grown quieter with every passing day since the funeral. Being first on the scene with Alex had left its mark. He blamed himself. What returned war hero wouldn’t? Survivor’s guilt always sucked.
Bottom line, Gabe needed to get his head back in the game, and Mark intended to remedy that in short order. No one blamed him. Every last agent on The TEAM knew exactly what happened. They wanted the shooter, plain and simple. And dead.
Newly hired Lisa Channing stood smartly at attention in her cammie cargo pants and TEAM polo. Somehow, she made that man’s uniform look good, something Landon Truman obviously noticed. Odd. Of all the new hires, he seemed the most unaffected by the loss of his boss, probably because he kept flirting as if that were all he had to do. Next time I see him hanging around her desk, we’re going to have a talk. That bullshit stops.
No big surprise. David wasn’t at his workstation. No doubt he was in the first floor gym he’d persuaded Alex to build years ago. Same as Zack. He took his anger and grief to the fitness center and pounded it out on the weight bench. He’d spent a lot of time there lately.
The married couples surprised him. Usually discreet and professional about their relationship, today Rory Dennison stood at the window, his arm around his wife Ember’s waist. They faced the bright light of another sunny day in Alexandria, but her shoulders heaved. He tipped his head into hers. Mark let them have their moment.
Izza sat stiff in the middle of her husband’s desk with one boot on his armrest, a tissue at her nose. Connor’s hand rested on her thigh. Tight-lipped and teary-eyed, this was the first time Mark had seen Conno
r’s kickboxing wife cry. She sniffed and turned away.
Izza had a rule about crying—at least about being seen doing it.
Poor Junior Agent Steven Cross sat plugged in at Mother’s workstation, as if she owned him. The man had the patience of a saint. Mother bossed him as if he wasn’t the highly trained professional he was.
Mother. The quintessential Girl Friday. A genius computer geek. The go-to gal for everything technical. Mark’s favorite covert hacker. Even she looked a little red-eyed and teary.
She’d shown up her first day of work under her given name, Sasha Kennedy. Once she got comfortable, she began doing what she did best—minding everyone else’s business. Next thing anyone knew, Alex had nicknamed her Mother. Only he didn’t mean it in a nice way. Damned if she didn’t take it as a term of endearment, though.
Mark halted at her workstation and cleared his throat. “Hey, guys. Listen up.”
Harley came to stand at his left while the others gathered around, the life kicked out of them but still on the job and ready to work.
“Yes, Boss,” Rory replied like the good troop he was.
That word.
Mark faltered, the mantle of responsibility a weight he didn’t want, not this way.
David and Zack joined the group with the same resolute expressions on their faces as everyone else. Mark had to give it to Alex. As hard as the guy could be on his team, he’d still earned the dedication of every one of them.
“We have two missions. First and foremost, we’ll stay close to Kelsey. She needs to know she’s still part of this team. Two, we hunt down the bastards who killed Alex. Until we know different, we’re officially going after every last one of Charlie Oakes’s buddies.”
“The gang of ten?” Ember asked from where she stood with Rory.
“Yes. Did you find the list yet?”
“No. It’s not on his computer. I still need to check his desk. He might’ve written it down somewhere. You know how he is, umm, was.” She turned her face into her husband’s shoulder at her misspeak.
“It’s okay, Ember. We’re all hurting. We’re in the same boat.” Mark took a deep breath. “We’ve all lost men before. It goes with the profession we’ve chosen, but Alex wasn’t just another guy. It’ll be tough for a while, but we can do this. We can carry on. We’re the best team out there, remember?”
Gabe (In the Company of Snipers Book 8) Page 3