by Susan Stoker
“Thanks.” It was all Coach could get out. He loved every one of his teammates like brothers.
“Come on, let’s get you back to base.”
The two men were quiet on the way back to Fort Hood. Coach lost in his thoughts about what could’ve possibly happened to Harley, and Truck worried about what was to come for his friend.
* * *
Seventy-Two Hours Missing
“There are reports of you being involved in an altercation outside of the burrito place on Sanders Street,” the Army investigator informed Coach. He was sitting across the silver metal table with another man. They both had their notepads out and had been asking him to repeat the events that led up to the time when Harley disappeared.
“It wasn’t an altercation,” Coach protested. “I had a conversation with a group of teenaged girls. Then I left.”
“We went to the high school and with the assistance of the employees there, tracked down the young women you spoke with. And their story is quite different than yours.” The other officer looked down at his notes, obviously having done his research, and read what was written there. “He was scary. He got in our faces and yelled at us, told us we were rotten and bullies. But we aren’t. He told me that he hoped my dog died and that my future kids would get cancer.” The officer looked up. “That sounds like an altercation to me.”
“That’s not what I said, and you can ask anyone who was there, but as I told you before, I did chastise them for being bullies. It was wrong, but I was emotional and not thinking straight.”
“Were you emotional and not thinking straight when you went back over to Miss Kelso’s place later?”
Not liking the insinuation, but also not surprised by it, Coach tried to keep his temper under control. “I was emotional, but not in the way you’re thinking. I went over to Harley’s place because I knew she’d make me feel better, and I knew I had to explain why I said what I’d said that day.”
“Did she understand? Maybe she was shocked at your behavior toward those kids. Maybe she said she didn’t want to see you again and you lost it. Hit her a bit too hard. With your training, it’d be easy to do. I know you and your buddies know how to kill and not leave a mark. I wouldn’t be surprised if you had connections that could help you get rid of a body as well.”
Even knowing the man was egging him on, purposely trying to get under his skin, his words infuriated Coach. “I. Didn’t. Hurt. Harley,” he enunciated. “I didn’t hit her. I didn’t yell at her. I didn’t do anything to her. I crawled into bed with her and we held each other. All night. I told her I loved her, and she said it back. We snuggled and fell asleep. In the morning, she was exhausted. When I left her place, she was sleeping.”
“Did you have sex with her?”
Coach gritted his teeth and met the investigator’s eyes. He so wanted to tell the man that it was none of his business and had nothing to do with whatever happened to his girlfriend, but knew he didn’t have the luxury to tell him off. If he was going to be any kind of help to Harley, he had to keep his shit together. “No. Not that night. The night before? Yeah. But that night, we were both too tired and emotionally drained to do more than hold each other. Is there a law against sleeping now?”
Coach’s snarky words didn’t even faze the officer asking the questions. “No. But you could’ve been pissed she wouldn’t let you fuck her. Maybe you did it anyway, and she got scared and ran.”
“I didn’t rape my girlfriend!” Coach yelled, finally losing it. “I love her. I would sooner stab myself in the eye than hurt her. I’m telling you exactly what happened, but you’re not listening to me. I left her that morning, safe and alone, sleeping. We had plans to meet for lunch and I couldn’t get ahold of her. That’s it. That’s all. Now she’s missing and no one is doing anything other than trying to get me to admit that I did something to her. I didn’t. I wouldn’t.” His voice dropped until he was begging the two strangers sitting so stoically in front of him.
“Please. You have to believe me. I didn’t do anything but spend the night next to the woman I love and leave her warm and sleeping in her bed. She’s out there somewhere. She needs help, I can feel it to the very marrow of my bones. But you accusing me of hurting her isn’t helping Harley. Time is slipping away and if you don’t find her, she’s gonna die.”
“So…did you hurt her after your argument? Then panic because you knew what would happen to your career if anyone found out? Did you stash her in a motel somewhere? Immobilize her? Does she need a doctor? Is that why you think she’s going to die? If you tell us where you put her, we can get her medical help, then she won’t die, and you won’t be charged with murder.”
Coach put his head on the hard, cool table in front of him in defeat. If Jacks was behind Harley’s disappearance, he’d succeeded in his mission to make his life a living hell. He’d won.
Regardless, it was obvious Harley was going to die, because no one would pull their heads out of their asses long enough to see that he wasn’t the bad guy here. Coach had never felt so defeated and scared in all his life.
No matter that he’d been on more deadly missions than he could name.
No matter that his name was listed in files deep in the guts of the United States’ war records.
He had more medals than he could ever wear.
But all of it didn’t matter.
Nothing did.
Harley was going to die, and somehow he felt as if it was his fault because he couldn’t find her.
22
Ninety Hours Missing
* * *
Thank you for tuning into KWTX Evening News Ten. Tonight’s big story is of missing local woman, Harley Kelso. We’ve been reporting on her disappearance and the questioning of an Army sergeant about her whereabouts. This afternoon, we received this phone message from one of Miss Kelso’s neighbors,
“I’m calling about the disappearance of that woman. She lives across the way from me, and I don’t sleep much anymore. And I have to say that something is very wrong here. I saw a big SUV pull up to her place really early in the morning, and then it left only a couple of hours later. The guy was huge, and I know I sure as hell wouldn’t want to meet him in a dark alley. He had something to do with it. I know he did. Why would he leave so soon after arriving? It doesn’t make sense. It’s just really fishy and I’m willing to help the police with whatever they need to put him behind bars.”
The Temple Police Department and Army investigators have interrogated the soldier, but so far no arrests have been made in the case. If you have any information about Harley or her missing vehicle, please contact the TPD as soon as possible.
* * *
Coach didn’t even look up at the television screen. He barely heard the newscast and didn’t give a shit that he was being crucified in the press, and people he didn’t know were fingering him. He’d never met the mysterious neighbor who had called into the radio station to accuse him.
He hadn’t done anything to Harley. He knew it. His friends knew it. Hell, even her siblings knew it. Everyone else could go to hell.
Coach had been in close contact with both Montesa and Davidson since Harley had gone missing. Davidson had been on searches with the rest of the Deltas, and Ghost had been keeping him updated on what they found out, which was damn little. Montesa had hit social media hard, posting smiling pictures of Harley all over, urging everyone to report anything they saw, no matter how small they might think it was.
Coach’s hands shook as he remembered the dream he’d had the last time he’d fallen asleep. He and Harley were skydiving again. She was strapped with her back to his front as she’d been the first time he’d met her. She was giggling and smiling as he pushed them from the plane. Then suddenly she was face-to-face with him and they were hurtling toward the ground. He went to pull the ripcord, but it wasn’t there. He wasn’t wearing a parachute at all.
Harley had looked up at him in the dream and said in a sad voice, “I’m gonna die, aren’t I?”
He’d opened his mouth to tell her that wasn’t true, that he was doing all he could to save her, when her eyeballs had started bleeding. The blood oozed out of her eye sockets and dripped to his face as gravity pulled the two of them toward the ground. He blinked, but couldn’t see Harley anymore, only a red haze.
“I’m so scared, Johnny. I need you,” were the last words she’d said, suddenly sounding like his sister, Jenny, before he’d jerked awake.
Running to the bathroom and throwing up hadn’t been enough to wipe the memory of the horrible dream from his mind.
The last couple of days had been hell. He’d only slept in short spurts, and they had absolutely no new information about where Harley was. Blade and Beatle had found no signs of a recent car accident when they’d investigated and trolled Main Street all the way past Temple and into the countryside. There were still no unidentified bodies in the morgue or in the hospitals. The team had no new information from Beth either.
She’d investigated Jacks and had reported that from what she could find, the man hadn’t had any contact with any of the men in his former unit. His days were taken up with meetings with his lawyer to discuss his upcoming trial.
Harley’s credit cards hadn’t been used and her phone was still dead.
At this point, Coach knew Harley could be as far away as California. Or someone could’ve snatched her away, changed the license plate on her car, and driven across the border to Mexico. He knew what happened to most of the women who went missing in Mexico, and it was extremely difficult to even think about. But even more horrific than the thought of her being kidnapped and used as a sex slave, was that she could be dead.
Coach wasn’t an idiot, he knew the longer a person was missing the more likely it was that they were deceased.
Four days. She’d been gone for four days. It was an eternity. Very few people were found alive after so long. The few publicized cases were the exception, not the norm.
The guys were taking turns staying with him, and today was Truck’s turn.
“What do you think happened to her?” Coach asked in a low, agonized voice. Truck might be big and scary looking, but Coach knew inside, he had a marshmallow heart. He was the first one to volunteer to sit with newborn puppies when the animal shelter was low on staff. He was the first one on the team to rush into situations where women and children were involved, and he had taken it upon himself to help out Mary, and the other women, whenever they needed it. He seemed to find Mary’s caustic attitude endearing, rather than offensive. He might be easygoing most of the time, but at the same time, he was also the first one likely to take his knife to the throat of a terrorist threatening one of his teammates.
“Don’t do this to yourself,” Truck warned. “It’ll bring you nothing but grief.”
“I already have grief,” Coach told him in a weary tone. “Do you think she was snatched?”
“Coach…”
He ignored the warning tone of his friend and kept talking. “I think that has to be it. I mean, otherwise why wouldn’t we have found some trace of her by now? Even Tex looked after he got home from the hospital, and he found a big fat nothing.”
Obviously deciding Coach was going down the pity road whether it was healthy or not, Truck went along with it. “They could’ve ditched the car in a lake or pond or something. It could be years before someone found it.”
“But Harley would’ve fought them. I know it. There’s no way she would sit back and let them take her easily. I just can’t see it.”
“Yeah, I agree. She’d probably try to leave clues, just like Tiger did over in Turkey.”
“Her phone too. She knows all about how they can be tracked by the towers. She would’ve kept it on as long as possible, or even sent me a text. It doesn’t make sense.”
“The kidnappers could’ve taken it away from her and ripped out the battery,” Truck countered.
Coach nodded. “I suppose there’s always the possibility that she really did just up and leave. I wouldn’t have thought it of her, especially since she’s close to her siblings. But she could be planning on getting in touch with them in a few months, after the search for her has died down. Maybe she couldn’t handle what I told her. Maybe I disgusted her when I let those teen girls have it at the burrito place. I kinda disgusted myself. I wouldn’t blame her if—”
“She didn’t leave you, Coach,” Truck interrupted. “No way in hell. You guys might have been dancing around each other, figuring out the new relationship and all, but I can tell you with one hundred percent certainty, that Harley did not just up and walk away from her life. We’ve all seen the way she’s looked at you over the last couple of months. She loves you.”
Coach lifted his head to look at his friend, not caring that his eyes were full of tears for the second time in a week. “Then where is she, Truck? Where the fuck is she?”
Truck put his hand on Coach’s shoulder. “I don’t know, Coach. I simply don’t know.”
* * *
Ninety-Six Hours Missing
“Johnny Beckett Ralston, you need to come with us. We have more questions about the disappearance of Harley Kelso.”
“What? I’ve already told you everything I know!” It wasn’t entirely unexpected, but the officers had still surprised him.
“Turn around, sir. Put your hands behind your back.”
“Truck!” Coach bellowed as one of the officers grabbed hold of his biceps and turned him around. He didn’t fight them, but yelled for his friend again. “Dammit, Truck!”
His teammate ran out of Coach’s back hallway in time to see his friend being held securely by the arms by the two officers from the Temple Police Department.
“Call Montesa,” Coach ordered brusquely. “She told me yesterday that she and her partner, John, would be there for me if I needed them.”
“Done. Don’t worry, I’ll make sure you—”
“I don’t care about me,” Coach said over his shoulder as the officers led him down the breezeway toward the parking lot. “We both know I didn’t do this. I don’t care how many questions they ask me. Don’t stop looking for her! I don’t care if they keep me there indefinitely. Promise me. Promise me you won’t stop looking for Harley until you find her!”
“Swear, Coach!”
Truck stood in Coach’s doorway, fists clenched. He had no idea what the cops thought they had, or what new questions they thought they’d ask, because the team sure had dick. If the detectives had more information than Beth or Tex had been able to dig up, he’d be shocked.
Harley had literally disappeared out of thin air. If their computer hacker friends couldn’t find hide nor hair of her, there was no way the cops had found anything to point toward Coach being responsible. Speculation and circumstantial evidence, maybe, but nothing concrete.
Truck hadn’t met Montesa or her partner, but if she was anything like her sister, they’d make sure Coach would be treated fairly, and not kept in an interrogation room indefinitely.
In the meantime, he had to get word to the team that Coach had been detained for more questioning. Even being suspected of murder could hurt his Army career, and Truck wasn’t about to let that happen. Coach was a damn good soldier, and an even better Special Forces Delta operative. The team needed him. Hell, the country needed him.
Whirling around to head back into Coach’s apartment to grab his cell and wallet, Truck shook his head, worry furrowing his brows. Where in the world was Harley? He was afraid that finding her would be the only thing that might save Coach’s ass at this point.
* * *
Ninety-Seven Hours Missing
Roberta Harris was running late, as usual. She’d dropped her oldest kid off at school, and then stopped by the grocery store to grab a gallon of milk and a few other essentials. Her kids ate like horses, and seemed to always be hungry. With her shitty luck, there were only two cashiers open and the self-checkout wasn’t working. She had to wait behind a woman with two baskets full of food and a f
istful of coupons.
She was going to be late dropping Ricky off at preschool…again. She couldn’t manage to get him there on time to save her life. Luckily the girls at the school were understanding. It was nine fifty-five and she had five minutes to get him checked in. Wasn’t going to happen. She thought about abandoning the groceries and making a run for it, but decided against it. Ricky and Rob would be hungry after school, and this was one of the only times she had that day to pick up some food.
Thinking about her crazy schedule as she drove toward Ricky’s preschool, and how she wished her husband hadn’t been deployed for the third time, Roberta didn’t see the brown coyote running across the road until it was too late.
She slammed on the brakes, but it didn’t help. She heard a yelp and felt the car shake as the poor animal smacked into the front bumper of her car.
Shaking, Roberta pulled her car over to the side of the road. There was a guardrail along the edge, so she couldn’t pull as far over on the shoulder as she would’ve liked. But she’d only passed one other car in the last five minutes, so she thought she was pretty safe to stop and check out her car. Looking behind her to make sure Ricky was all right, seeing him smiling and laughing, Roberta finally climbed out of the car to see what the damage was.
There were no other vehicles around at the moment as it was a deserted roadway outside of town. Ricky’s preschool was a bit out of the way, but it had gotten great reviews, and Ricky loved his teachers. It was worth the commute to get him the best education she could. “The last thing I need right now,” she grumbled, “is to have our insurance rates go up.” She rounded the front of the car, relieved to see no dent and only a small scuff on the bumper.
Looking around, she didn’t see the coyote she’d hit though. It wasn’t in the road and it wasn’t lying on the shoulder.
Worried now, Roberta hoped it hadn’t slunk off the road to die in horrible pain. She headed to the side of the wide street to look over the guardrail. If the injured animal was there, she’d call the cops. Maybe they could come shoot it and put it out of its misery. She hated thinking of any creature being in pain.