by Eric Bernt
CHAPTER 81
SAFE HOUSE
GILBERTS CORNER, VIRGINIA
June 2, 10:30 a.m.
Five minutes earlier, Caitlin had been sitting at her command center, looking like a master church organist as she worked her multiple screens and keyboards. Her hands moved with experienced dexterity as she multitasked with ease, including answering a call from Butler’s burner phone. On-screen, Caitlin could see from a satellite view that the Bronco had turned around and was now heading north on I-95. “You’re going the wrong way.”
“Eddie isn’t safe,” Skylar answered urgently. “We left him with a patient who appears to have posted about us on Instagram.”
Caitlin couldn’t believe it. “I don’t even allow my own kids to have social media accounts. For God’s sake, what does a special-needs patient need one for?”
Skylar responded, “I could give you a clinical answer, but right now, all that matters is keeping Eddie safe. We can’t let anything happen to them.”
“I get it,” Caitlin responded, thinking of her own family. “If either one has a cell phone, they need to get rid of it.”
“Already taken care of. It’s at the bottom of a toilet.”
“Good. That was smart.” Caitlin worked the screens that were tapped into the American Heritage Foundation, trying to access the locations of the search parties. “Rest assured, there have been teams out there looking for you since you first grabbed Eddie and his device. Might be as many as six.”
Butler asked, “You got eyes on them?”
“Negative. My former employer uses independent contractors for this kind of thing. They keep track of their locations via personal cell phones, which means I won’t be able to see them until they arrive.”
“Who the hell is your former employer, exactly?”
Caitlin took a deep breath, realizing she had nothing to lose by revealing the information. “The American Heritage Foundation.”
“AHF,” Butler said, remembering something from a long time ago. “I remember seeing those initials on some documents years ago, but I never knew what they stood for.”
“Now you do,” she said matter-of-factly. She quickly brought up a satellite view of David’s Place. The Hellcat and its skid marks in front of the facility were plainly visible, as were the two men running inside. “Drive fast. I’ll call you back.”
Caitlin hung up and called Roberto, who answered on the first ring. “I got company. Can I call you back?” he asked.
“That’s why I’m calling. The two men who just entered your facility. They will claim to be federal agents. They are not who they say they are.”
“How can you be sure?”
“Because I have five grand that says so.”
“You need something bad, huh?” It was clear he was sensing real opportunity.
“I need bodies and vehicles there. Right now.”
“What kinda action are we talking about?”
“Whatever it takes to get my friend out of there safely.”
“I got a nephew. Rides with a rough crew. Boy’s a Pagan.”
“The motorcycle gang?”
“They don’t ride tricycles.”
“Call them.”
“Ten grand.”
“Fine.”
“How many you want?”
“All of them.”
CHAPTER 82
KELMAN NURSING AND REHAB CENTER
ALEXANDRIA, VIRGINIA
June 2, 10:37 a.m.
Mr. Elliott walked up the stairs to the front entrance of the building, pausing to take one last breath of fresh air before entering. He thought of his father and glanced up toward Heaven, wondering if the old man might be looking down on him at this very moment. The thought gave him a chuckle, because if his father could see him now, it would mean he’d been watching him all this time performing his many heinous deeds. I hope you’ve been enjoying the show so far, dear old Dad, but pay attention, because today is really going to be something special.
He decided then and there to make this event even more gut-wrenching by imagining that Caitlin’s father was his own. Yes, old man, this one’s for you. Mr. Elliott shook his head in disbelief that he had not thought of this earlier. It was only now that he was certain he would be able to perform at the top of his game.
He walked through the glass entry doors and approached the Formica-covered front desk, which was currently unoccupied. In a perfect German accent, he called out, “Hello? Is anybody here?”
The front desk clerk waved through the dingy window of an office behind the desk. “Be right with you!” He tried to sound as courteous as he could, given that he appeared to be managing several other matters.
Mr. Elliott nodded, waiting patiently. He occupied himself by imagining what the clerk would look like if he was missing his eyes.
CHAPTER 83
DAVID’S PLACE
WOODSDALE, MARYLAND
June 2, 10:39 a.m.
The two freezers sat side by side in the kitchen of David’s Place. One functioned properly and served its intended purpose. The other did not and functioned more as a combination pantry/storage closet. There were mops and cleaning supplies next to stacks of canned tomatoes and five-pound bags of refined sugar.
Eddie and Lolo positioned themselves behind empty milk crates in the back of the defective unit. They sat on the cement floor with their legs crossed, facing each other. There were only a few narrow streams of light by which they could see. It was nearly pitch-black. Eddie tilted his head from side to side, then rotated it left to right.
They spoke in hushed tones. “What are you doing?” Lolo asked.
“I’m acoustically familiarizing myself with this space.”
“I don’t understand what you just said.”
“To be comfortable in a new space, I have to listen from a variety of different angles.”
“Okay.” She nodded.
“It’s very dark in here,” whispered Eddie.
“Yes, it is,” she responded. Her voice quivered ever so slightly. “Very dark. I-I can barely see you.”
“You are scared. I can tell by the way your voice sounds. The pitch and timbre are different from your normal speaking voice.” He looked directly at her because she could not see that he was doing so. In the darkness, he studied her face and its every feature—at least, as best he could. Her hairline. The shapes of her ears. The silhouette of her eyelashes. And the more he looked, the more he was certain that he had never seen anyone so beautiful in his whole entire life.
She nodded again. “Aren’t you scared?”
“Yes, but I am pretending not to be.”
Lolo paused for a moment. “Isn’t that lying? Pretending, I mean.”
He took a moment to consider his response. “Yes, but I think in this circumstance it is okay.”
“I thought lying was bad and-and something you never do.” She tilted her head with curiosity.
“I think it’s okay if you are scared and you are trying not to be.”
She nodded, accepting his explanation. “Can you pretend for me? Most of the time it doesn’t work. When I try to pretend. To be a famous ballerina. Or-or a pretty fashion model. Or a five-star chef. It doesn’t work. No, it doesn’t.”
“You don’t have to pretend to be pretty. Because you are. Very pretty.”
If it wasn’t so dark, he would have seen that she was blushing. “No-no. Not true. I’m not.”
“Yes, you are. You can believe me. I am being accurate.”
“I think you must need glasses.”
“No, I do not. I have very good vision. It is not as good as my hearing, but it was measured to be twenty-twenty at my most recent optometrist’s visit, which is considered excellent except for combat pilots. They must have twenty-ten vision, but I do not want to be a combat pilot.”
“I don’t want to be a combat pilot, either,” she said.
“I have never flown in an airplane,” Eddie said.
“I ha
ve never flown in an airplane, either. That is another thing we have in common.”
Eddie nodded. “Our list of things we have in common is longer than I have ever had with anyone else.”
“I hope it gets longer. Much longer.” She leaned toward him. “Eddie, why are you so nice to me?”
He carefully considered his answer. “I don’t know how not to be.” She was close enough that he could feel her breath on his face, and he immediately leaned back and turned away. He looked at the floor next to them. The metal shelving behind her. And the aluminum ceiling above them. “How did you know about this hiding place?”
“Because I come back here sometimes when I am sad.”
“When are you sad?”
“More than sometimes. Too much, I think.” She rocked back and forth, which seemed to comfort her.
“You are not sad now, are you?”
“Oh, no, I am not sad. No, not sad at all. I am scared. But with you. You help me feel not so scared.”
“How am I helping you feel not so scared?”
“The way you talk to me. Like you care. And notice. Not everybody does that when they talk to me. Notice.”
He smiled, but then his ears perked up. He closed his eyes to help him focus exclusively on his hearing. “The men. They are coming.”
CHAPTER 84
DOWN THE HALL
DAVID’S PLACE
June 2, 10:42 a.m.
Guthrie and Nance methodically advanced down the hallway, checking the last of the patient rooms. Guthrie knocked on the door, and Nance rushed through it. All he found was an old man snoring soundly in his bed. His teeth and hearing aids were on the nightstand next to him. Nance checked the closet, the bathroom, and under the bed, just to make sure. No one else was there.
He backed out of the room. “Think they took off?”
“Possible. Could have doubled back on us, too,” Guthrie responded. “You want to take off or retrace?”
“Let’s split up. You retrace. I’ll check the common areas, then work back toward you from the other side.”
Guthrie nodded. “I like it. Except you retrace.” He took off into the recreation room before Nance could protest. Nance started going back through the rooms they had already searched. Guthrie checked the recreation room, startling the handful of residents who were busy working on their daily arts-and-crafts project.
The young nurse supervising their work did not appreciate the interruption. “Can I help you?”
“Have you seen a man and a woman who do not belong here?” Guthrie asked.
“Well, I see you,” she answered pointedly, crossing her arms across her chest.
“It’s a matter of national security,” he stated sharply. “Have you seen them or not?”
She looked him in the eyes. “I have not.”
He checked inside the room’s two storage closets, then moved on to the medical examination rooms.
After a moment, the nurse mumbled under her breath, “National security, my ass.” It was only now that the gaunt woman she was helping with her painting of a donkey cracked a smile. A great big one.
CHAPTER 85
I-95 NORTH
FOUR MILES SOUTH OF WOODSDALE
June 2, 10:44 a.m.
Racing north on I-95, Roberto’s vintage Bronco was barely holding together. Minor problems like poor wheel alignment and lack of tire tread became big ones when traveling over one hundred miles per hour. The vehicle shook so much that Butler had difficulty holding on to the steering wheel. All he could see in the rearview mirror was a blur.
Skylar looked concerned. “This doesn’t feel safe.”
“It’s not,” he answered matter-of-factly. He kept his eyes on the road.
She gripped the door handle tightly. “This is not how I want to die, Butler.”
“This is not how you’re going to die. Try meditating. It’ll make you feel better.”
“Is that what you’re doing?”
“Fuck, no. I live for this shit.”
Butler’s phone rang. It was Caitlin. Skylar jumped, hitting the speaker button halfway through the first ring. “Hello.” Her voice quivered along with the car, sounding like she was standing on one of those vibrating platforms chiropractors use.
“Your voice sounds strange. Everything okay?”
“Never better,” Skylar lied.
“You still on I-95?”
“Copy that,” answered Butler. “Passing an exit called Mountain Road.”
“Get off,” Caitlin instructed.
“When?”
“Right now.”
He slammed on the brakes, skidding to a stop in a cloud of dust along the shoulder. Skylar closed her eyes, dropped the phone in her lap, and braced her hands against the dashboard. “I hate roller coasters!”
“Then you’re certainly not going to enjoy this.” He put the car in reverse and backed up rapidly toward the off-ramp. To the phone, he asked, “Now what?”
“Go north on Mountain Road,” Caitlin answered.
“Where are we going?” Skylar asked.
“Rendezvous point.”
“How’s Eddie getting there?”
CHAPTER 86
DAVID’S PLACE
WOODSDALE, MARYLAND
June 2, 10:46 a.m.
Inside the broken kitchen freezer, Lolo was rigid with fear. Her breathing was shallow. She spoke rapidly. “Now scared. Really-really scared. I am. Don’t like this. Not at all. No-no.”
Eddie whispered, “We should not talk if we don’t want them to find us.”
She clenched her teeth, as well as the rest of her. She spoke as quietly as she could. “I don’t know if I can. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m really scared.”
“Would it help you not to be scared if I held your hand?”
She nodded, reaching out for his hand. At first, he flinched and pulled back his arm. He didn’t mean to, it just happened.
“Sorry-sorry-sorry.” Her breathing was becoming more rapid. Her hands were starting to shake. Tears streamed down her face. She was on the verge of complete panic.
Eddie recognized her desperation because it reminded him of the moment when Homeland Security agents had surrounded him outside his childhood home. He had never been so scared in his life. He remembered breathing very rapidly and thinking he was going to die, right before he went into shock. Then everything went black until he woke up in Children’s Hospital of Philadelphia. He didn’t want that to happen to Lolo. Not now, or ever.
He spoke soothingly. “It’s okay.” He then took a deep breath to muster his courage and reached out for her hand. At first, he overshot and grabbed her wrist. She quickly adjusted her arm and grabbed his hand. She squeezed it tight. So tight that Eddie grimaced. “You’re hurting my hand.”
“I-I can’t help it,” she whispered. “Sorry.”
“Is it helping you?”
She nodded again.
He then whispered very quietly. “You can squeeze all you want, then.” He paused, then added, “One of them is in the kitchen.” He pointed toward the door.
CHAPTER 87
KITCHEN
DAVID’S PLACE
June 2, 10:47 a.m.
Guthrie rushed into the kitchen, methodically scanning the room. He quickly moved around prep tables, getting down on one knee to check beneath them. Finding nothing, he moved behind several stacks of canned goods, which appeared to have been just delivered. He advanced toward the freezers, first checking the one that was operational. It was ice-cold. He moved inside briefly, quickly determining his targets were not there.
He turned toward the adjacent freezer and put his hand on the door handle, when his phone buzzed inside his pocket. He answered it quickly. “What?”
“We have company. Meet me out front.”
Inside the freezer, Eddie listened to the man exit the kitchen and move down the hall. “He’s gone now.”
Lolo continued squeezing his hand. She was breathing fast. “Are you—are you sure?
”
“Yes, I am sure. Another man called him on his phone and said, ‘We have company. Meet me out front.’”
“Eddie, are you okay? You don’t sound right. In pain.”
Grimacing, he couldn’t take it any longer. “My hand. It really hurts.”
She released her grip on his hand. “Sorry-sorry. I forgot. Didn’t realize. Sorry.”
“I believe you.” He paused to massage his hand. “You were scared. I understand. I did not mean to put you in any danger, either, but I did. It was wrong.”
“Oh, it’s not your fault. No, not at all.”
“Yes, it is. It is my fault. Those men came here because of me. I do not want anything bad to happen to you because of me.”
“That’s okay, Eddie. I don’t mind.”
He did not make his buzzing sound because she was telling the truth. “But I do mind.” He stood up.
“Where are you going?”
“I am leaving so that you will be safe.”
She stood up quickly next to him. “But I don’t want you to go. I don’t get many visitors. Please don’t go.”
“I don’t want to. You are my one and only friend. But I know it’s the right thing to do.”
“Eddie, how do you know? How?”
With the protection of the darkness, he looked her in the eyes. “I know with my whole body. This is only the second thing in my life that I have known with more than just my head. I do not know how I do, but I do.”
“Will-will I ever see you again?” Lolo asked haltingly.
“Yes. Unless I die, but I will try not to.”
“Try very hard not to. I would be sad. So sad.”
He began moving slowly toward the door, stepping carefully, feeling in front of him for objects that might block his path. Upon reaching the door, he cracked it open just enough to allow a sliver of light to stream in. The narrow band illuminated her face. “You should go to your room. Like the other patients. Pretend you are asleep. In this circumstance, it’s okay.”