by Jim Heskett
“Oh, Layne. You can take the boy out of the farm, but you can’t take the farm out of the boy.”
“What’s your point?”
“You still act like one of us with your comm protocols.”
“If this is another nostalgia-provoking pitch to make me come back, I’m going to hang up. I’m at the park with my daughter.”
Cameron looked up at him, the rising sun burning through the fog and lighting her face.
“No,” Daphne said, her voice lowering. “I’m not trying to get you back. But, there’s something I thought you should know. It’s important.”
Layne took a step back from Cameron, toward an isolated spot under a tree. Secure line or not, he didn’t like the sudden gravity in Daphne’s tone. “I’m listening.”
“Several former shadows have gone missing.”
“How many is several?”
“Three missing, two others found dead.”
Layne felt his chest constrict. “Former shadows only? What about Serena and Harry?”
“Serena and Harry are fine. Serena is on assignment in Germany. I spoke with her about an hour ago.”
“And Harry?”
“Harry has been due some vacation, and his last day of work was yesterday. He left me a message telling me where he would be. “
“And you’ve checked in with him today?”
“He’s fine, Layne.”
He chewed on this for a moment. “Who’s gone?”
“Diem, Santiago, and Eppstein have gone missing. Roth and Jenkins are confirmed dead.”
A hundred different memories flew by in a whoosh of sensations. Layne had known and worked with Everett Diem and Lauren Santiago. The others, he didn’t know. Either they were before his time, or shadows in another team Daphne had kept separate from Layne and his crew. The separation had been for their protection, allegedly. “I’m sorry to hear about the two you lost.”
“I am too. It’s a mess here. I want you to be careful.”
“I appreciate you letting me know. I’ll keep an eye out.”
“That’s not all, though. I’d like you to come to Virginia and meet with me. This would be off the books, totally unofficial. No support in the field.”
“Why should I come to you?”
“You had to know this request was coming, but I need your help. We don’t know why this is happening.”
He sucked through his teeth. “Okay, what are you doing about it?”
“I’m pulling Serena back from Europe and calling in a few other agencies to help out. It’s tricky because we have to keep it quiet. Plus, I’d feel better, knowing you were here.”
Layne pursed his lips. It almost sounded sweet, the way Daphne had said it. But, Layne knew better than to trust Daphne to ever say something like that without an ulterior motive.
“Come help us,” Daphne said. “Your people need you.”
Layne looked back at Cameron, who was trying to shuck sand from her pink and purple sundress as she stood at the edge of the sandbox. “No thanks, Daphne. I know where I’m needed.”
3
As the plane descended toward Dulles International Airport, Layne watched out the little window as the earth grew. The ground soared up to meet him. Buildings and trees swelled from miniatures, larger and larger.
He sighed, feeling like a man on his way to the gallows. But, he had to do this. Didn’t he? Less than twenty-four hours after Daphne’s phone call, and he was on his way back to her. Like a junkie standing outside of his dealer’s house, begging to be let back in.
Maybe it wasn’t that extreme, but he did seem to have trouble quitting Daphne Kurek for good.
“Excuse me,” said the woman in the middle seat. Layne pivoted to look at her as she glared down at their shared armrest.
“Can I help you?”
“Yes. You could move your elbow.” Her face was steeped in disdain as if she and Layne had already been arguing for hours. Maybe she’d been doing that inside her head for a while and had finally decided to vocalize it.
Layne thought about what his former operational colleague Juliana Dewalt would have done in this situation. Probably popped the woman in the face with the back of her hand and then leaned over to take up the whole armrest. Glaring throughout, with a smug look on her face.
Strange to think of Jules now since Layne hadn’t seen her in so long. Not since Texas. But, he supposed, with this business about operatives on his former team dying and going missing, it wasn’t too strange to think about the people he used to work with. Many shadows had come and gone during Layne’s stint with the team.
He smiled, thinking about Jules throwing a quick backhand and then returning to her magazine or book.
“What’s funny?” the woman said, seething.
“Nothing,” Layne said, then he moved his arm off the armrest. The plane would land in seconds, anyway. Not worth it.
When the plane landed, the surly woman collected her bags and shuffled off, along with the others. Layne held back at first, allowing everyone else to leave the plane. He didn’t mind. It gave him a chance to think about whether he wanted to commit to this action. He busied himself with the in-flight magazine, letting his eyes unfocus as he weighed the pros and cons.
Yes, he was retired. He had no business looking into the deaths and disappearances of former members of a government agency so small and covert that it had no name. An agency Layne had been a part of for roughly a decade until he’d retired in disgust. Disgust at the operator, Daphne Kurek, disgust at himself. Disgust at a lot of different things.
Yes, he had responsibilities back in Colorado that needed attention. He’d had to ask an annoyed Inessa to watch Cameron, even though it was supposed to be Layne’s week with her. He’d planned to take her up to the cabin in the mountains for the last of the summer weekday play days before it turned cold at elevation. Besides, those spontaneous jaunts to the cabin with his daughter wouldn’t be possible forever. In another couple years, she’d be in school. Four hours there and four back from the cabin for only a weekend wasn’t a great use of time.
Layne had a lot of reasons to refuse Daphne’s call to visit her on the east coast. But he only needed one reason to say yes: duty. If shadows were disappearing, then Layne needed to know why. If Serena or Harry were next on that list, Layne had to do something to stop it from happening.
He disliked the idea of being like Pavlov’s dogs, salivating at the ring of the bell. He disliked the idea of potentially putting himself in danger again with little or no operational support because Daphne would tell him the whole thing had to stay quiet, for vague reasons she would refuse to explain.
Gritting his teeth, he left the aisle and took his bag from the overhead compartment. The flight attendants stood, smiles plastered, waiting for him. He shuffled along the plane, up the jetway, and then into the airport. The change in humidity and heat registered immediately. Sweat dribbled down his back as he rode the escalator down to the rental car shuttle area.
People in the airport stared at him, maybe because he was wearing long sleeves in the sweltering heat. He liked to keep his tattoos covered if possible. To give people less of a chance to identify him later if the need arose. Old habits die hard.
And there, standing between the Avis and Enterprise pickups, was Daphne Kurek. Of course. He hadn’t told her he was coming, but she knew. Daphne always knew.
Looking sultry in a form-fitting business suit with sharp heels and a hip cocked to one side. Curly brown hair rested on her shoulders. Red lipstick colored the smirk on her face. She held a leather purse in one hand, dangling from her fingers like a rock poised to fall off the edge of a cliff.
“Hello, darling,” she said.
“Why am I not surprised?”
She made a pouty face. “I would hope you’re always surprised and thrilled to see me in person. It’s been a while.”
“That’s true. It has been a little while.”
His eyes trailed around the area as an Enter
prise shuttle arrived.
“No need for a rental car,” she said. “I hope you haven’t reserved one already.”
“You expect me to believe you don’t know if I’ve reserved one yet or not?”
Daphne gave a sharp chuckle as she pulled her keys from her purse. “Come along, Layne. We have a lot to catch up on.”
Layne stood at the window of Daphne’s living room, overlooking North Columbus Street. Her house was rather small, but Layne knew better. Daphne Kurek had amassed quite a nest egg over the years. She kept this two-bedroom house because it was close to DC, but Layne knew she preferred her apartment in Paris to this little place. And Layne also knew Daphne thought her Parisian apartment was a secret, one not even he knew about.
He turned when she set down a cup of tea on the coffee table behind him. “Sorry, I’ve been traveling so much, I forgot I was all out of coffee.”
“Tea’s good with me,” he said as he sat in a chair across from her couch.
She picked up a framed picture and walked it over to him. Layne looked down at a younger version of himself, standing with Daphne, Harry, and a couple other shadows Layne hadn’t seen in a long time. All around a table at a little dive bar in DC, where they used to meet after operations to forget about them.
“You keep that picture just sitting around your house?”
She scoffed. “Trust me, this place is secure.”
“This is new,” Layne said, eying the frame. “You haven’t had this picture on that end table for years like you’d want me to believe. This is for my benefit. I warned you about trying to shoot me with your nostalgia gun.”
Daphne sat, unfazed, with her eyes twinkling at him. “How are things with your ex these days?”
“No thanks,” he said, shaking his head.
“Okay, so, you’re not into the small talk. You used to be so much fun, Layne Parrish, and now you just stare at me with those cold eyes, any time I see you.”
“You know why. You used up all your chances to get the benefit of the doubt a long time ago.”
Her lips pursed, then she eventually nodded. “Have it your way. We can keep it strictly business. Why did you change your mind about coming here?”
“I’m not here to talk about me. Tell me what you know about everything going on with our missing people.”
Daphne leaned forward. “Roth and Jenkins were found in different states. Evidence suggests they were all killed within the last two weeks, a few days apart. Both were tortured before they died.”
He gripped the edges of his mug of tea, letting the heat transfer into his hands. Tortured. Not an easy thing to hear, but Layne had to be objective about this. He had to look at it from an operational perspective, something he hadn’t done in a while.
“That’s clever,” Layne said. “Dumping the bodies far apart would dissuade the cops from thinking it’s a serial killer. Or, at least, put them off.”
“Are you okay? I know you worked with some of them.”
“I’m out of the life, Daphne. But yes, it disturbs me that they’re gone. It disturbs me even more because there might be others. How many ex-shadows are in the wind?”
She shrugged. “A few. We don’t keep tabs on everyone who ever worked on the team. As for Roth and Jenkins, there will be funerals in their respective hometowns. I can get you the details if you want. It’s probably not a smart idea to go to them, but you can if you choose.”
“Right now, I’m more interested in Serena and Harry.”
“I’ve called Serena back from her op. She’ll be on a plane later today. Harry, I haven’t talked to. I tried to call him again this morning, with no answer. He is out in the woods, though. It’s not unreasonable that I might not have heard from him.”
“Has he ever gone completely off the grid like that before?”
She nodded. “He definitely likes to unplug when he’s on vacation. This isn’t unusual at all.”
The wheels turned in Layne’s head. “Let me hear the message he left for you.”
Daphne pulled out her phone and tapped a few buttons, then she set it on the coffee table between them. “We did some initial analysis of the message. According to a rough report of background noise, it’s possible this was recorded somewhere in the southwest. New Mexico, Arizona, Nevada.”
Layne chewed on his lower lip and nodded for Daphne to continue.
“Hey, Daphne,” said Harry’s scratchy voice from the phone’s speaker. “I’ve decided to start my vacation a day early. I hope that’s okay. I’ll be heading out for the trail this morning, and plan to be back on Friday.”
Layne flicked his hand, and Daphne paused the playback. “I assume you checked Harry’s credit cards?”
“Yes. He gassed up in Marshall. No CCTV, but that puts him in the right area, at least.”
Layne sat back and tugged on his lower lip. Maybe this all seemed normal, but he didn’t like the idea of Harry being unreachable at a time like this. It was a bad sign.
He nodded at Daphne to continue playing the message.
“I’ll be gone about five days. If there’s anything you need, I can check my messages on Thursday when I’m in cell phone range. Okay, that’s about it, I guess.”
The message ended, and Layne let the words sink in as only the sound of a ticking clock filled the room. Then, something stood out. A weird feeling tickled the back of Layne’s neck. “You said it could be Arizona?”
“Could be. It would need more days’ worth of analysis to be sure.”
“Can you skip back about five seconds?”
Daphne tapped a few buttons, and the playback started.
“I’ll be gone about five days.”
Layne held up a hand and then sat straight up. Harry had said the word gone with a slightly different tone. Almost with an accent. Harry spoke with a bit of a Virginian drawl, but the word had been exaggerated on the recording. He’d drawn out the o, like “gohne.”
A chill ran up Layne’s back, sending a shudder up into his shoulders. “I know where Harry is. He’s not bird watching in Appalachia.”
Daphne’s head cocked. “How do you… where is he?”
“You remember the Mexico City op from about ten years ago? You remember that woman from the FBI named Fiona LaVilla who did the briefing before we left?”
“I guess so. That sounds a little familiar.”
“She had that nasally accent and was always snapping her fingers, remember? It was a weird thing to do, like she was worried we would fall asleep. Anyway, she was from Sedona. Harry kept saying, 'Fiona from Sedona, Arizona.' Like a little kid, he kept repeating it. After a while, he was drawing out the o’s, just like that. Sedohna. Harry is in Arizona, and he’s not there willingly.”
4
Harry strained his neck to look out the corner of the window. He couldn’t see much. An interior wall made of cinderblock, a hint of a natural red rock wall beyond that dotted with green, and blue sky. The window itself was reinforced glass, with no means of opening it. At least, not from the inside.
He had free range of this bedroom although that didn’t mean a lot. They had removed the toilet lid and anything else heavy enough to use as a weapon. He’d considered trying to break the window glass, but it wouldn’t matter. Anytime he made a noise, the door opened, and someone came in to check on him. He probably wouldn’t get more than two whacks at the glass before they’d have him on the bed with his hands forced halfway up his back.
He thought about the message he’d recorded for Daphne. Had Layne heard it? Harry had no reason to assume Daphne had played it for him, but in the moment, mispronouncing the word was the only thing Harry could think of. Daphne wouldn’t get the joke on her own.
Holding out hope that Layne would not only hear the message but remember that inside joke from years ago and figure out what it meant… a slim chance.
Harry didn’t know quite how to take his current situation. He’d never been the victim of kidnapping before, so this was all uncharted territory.
He’d attended a three-hour seminar training for this scenario, despite how ludicrous it had seemed at the time. Harry was operational support. He sat in front of a computer and tracked shadows in the field. He looked at maps and spreadsheets and satellite feeds. He wasn’t the sort of person to put himself in the position to be kidnapped, since he did most of his work from home, wearing a hoodie and fleece pants, with his dog curled up at his feet.
But, it hadn’t gone as he’d seen in the movies, or as in the worst-case scenario they’d trained him to expect. No torture. Nothing physical, at least. The threat of violence against his family was a real and tangible effect, but they hadn’t laid a finger on him. Not yet.
The door opened behind him, and he didn’t bother to turn around. “Are we in Sedona proper or a suburb? I couldn’t tell from the drive.”
“Don’t worry about it,” said a silky female voice, which did make Harry abandon his view of the outside world. So far, he hadn’t heard or seen a female in the house. Only a rotating crew of a half-dozen men with shadowy faces and indistinct voices.
This woman was beautiful. Long blonde hair, sharp eyebrows like half-moons over crystal blue eyes. She had a trim figure and clothes so form-fitting they looked drawn on. The woman was carrying a tray of bacon and eggs, which she set on the dresser. Harry noted the plastic utensils that accompanied his breakfast.
She put her hands on her hips, and Harry noted the plump curve of her biceps. A fitness type, just like his wife.
“Who are you?” he asked.
“Ashleigh. I work for your host.”
“Good morning.”
She nodded. Professional, reserved, but Harry felt a sense of vulnerability from her. Something about this woman told Harry he could talk to her, unlike the others he’d encountered so far.
“Good morning,” she said. “Did you sleep okay?”
An overwhelming sensation throttled Harry, and he didn’t know how to describe it. Validation of his suspicion about this person standing here with him. For the first time since his kidnapping, he’d found someone who was nice to him. Genuinely nice to him. Not the shark smile of the guy Ronald, who’d made him record that message yesterday. Maybe it was because she was pretty or had asked him a question suggesting she actually wanted to know the answer. But, it didn’t matter. Someone was being nice to him. It felt like a piece of leftover bread tossed to a starving man.