Merit Badge Murder

by Leslie Langtry

  Riley's theory barged its way into my brain. It was out there, for sure. It was hard to believe that all of this was for Lana. She did have the connections though. But so did I—to Ahmed and Carlos at least. Not to Midori. Lana had the connection to Midori.

  That was the only thing that kept me from dismissing the idea outright. The Agency had proof that Lana had been personally connected to these three baddies. It was possible that someone found out the CIA was going to set me up as her babysitter. There'd been leaks to information like this before. Why not now?

  If that were true, then I was really pissed. The CIA was dragging me…an employee they'd let go, into their bullshit. Making my life…a life that was just starting to get interesting…a nightmare. I didn't deserve that. I'd given up a personal life when I'd worked for them. I'd sacrificed everything just to do their bidding. Now I had a chance to make up for my lack of, well, any life, and they wanted to drag me in again. Talk about unfair.

  And yet the tremor of doubt remained. I just couldn't shake it—no matter how beneficial it was for me. Something wasn't right about Riley's theory of Lana being the target. I just couldn't put my finger on it. I toyed with the possible connections until I finally climbed back into bed and fell asleep.

  * * *

  THUNK. THUNK. A sound roused me from sleep. THUNK. There it was again. What was that? I opened my eyes and lay very still in my bed. A few minutes passed, and I heard nothing else. Probably Lana's foot hitting the wall while she slept. Stupid big-foot bimbo.

  THUNK. I sat up this time. It kind of sounded like someone throwing a baseball at the side of the house. THUNK. What the hell was that? I looked at the alarm clock—three a.m. Without turning the lights on, I got up and put on some shoes.

  THUNK. THUNK. THUNK. The sound was always the same. It hadn't changed in volume. Maybe a branch was hitting the house. I listened. It was windy outside.

  THUNK. Well if it was a branch, then I needed to make it stop. There was no way I'd be able to sleep. I opened the door and moved down the hall.

  Thunk. Thunk. The sound grew softer. It must be right outside my bedroom, but I had no windows on that wall to check it out. There was an old oak tree right next to the house. That had to be it.

  I opened the front door and stepped outside. It was damp. Humid. We'd had some rain. I must've slept through it. Maybe a storm had knocked that branch loose. I moved into the wet grass and walked around to the side of the house. A huge pine tree stood between me and the oak, and I made my way carefully around it. My bedroom wall faced the street, but there was no traffic at this hour, which was good since I was wearing Dora the Explorer jammies. I rounded the big pine and stopped dead in my tracks at the foot of the oak.

  It wasn't a branch banging against the side of the house. It was a body. And it was still alive. A piece of cloth was wrapped around the head and covered the body down to the ankles. The rope looped around the head and arms so they were unable to move much. Legs kicked and flailed, occasionally hitting the house. That's where the sound came from. No other noise came from the victim—they must've been gagged.

  I ran up to the body, wrapped my arms around the legs, and lifted, supporting them with my weight so the rope wouldn't strangle him anymore. Whoever it was immediately stopped kicking. Either they were afraid that the assailant was back, or they knew I was trying to help them.

  "It's going to be okay!" I shouted. They didn't respond. By now, I was pretty sure it was a woman. The legs had that shape to them that I could feel through the blanket.

  I stood there, holding the body up and looking around for something to help me. A ladder would've been nice, but I thoughtlessly didn't think to put one out before going to bed, probably because I didn't own one. The body was getting heavier. Or my adrenaline was running out. I needed to do something fast.

  I wondered if I could flag down a passing car. But there was no traffic. None at all. That was strange. Any car would be able to see me very clearly from the road. It was a fairly busy street—even at three a.m. there'd be a car every now and then.

  If I screamed, I wasn't sure anyone would hear me. It was summer. Air conditioners were humming all over the neighborhood. No one would hear anything.

  Where were the cars?

  I looked up at the tree branch. The rope was just slung over it, tied to the trunk. Knots. Why did it have to be knots?

  If I couldn't find something to prop the person on, I'd have to get up there and untie the knot. I looked at the rope around the body. One knot in the tree. Six knots on the victim. My best bet was the tree.

  Okay, so I had to let go and work fast. I wasn't entirely sure I could do that. But there were no other options. In the time it took me to go into the house, then the garage, and come back out with something to cut the rope or put under this person, they would strangle to death.

  "I'm going to have to let you go," I said. "Just for a few seconds, so I can untie the rope."

  Whoever it was barely moved. I took that for approval. It must be another bad guy. The only difference was, this one was still alive.

  "I want you to tighten the muscles in your neck as hard as you can. On the count of three." The body didn't move. "One, two," I paused for a second. "Three!"

  I gently lowered her, and the second I let go, I scaled the tree. The knot was in a V-formation where the trunk split off into two huge branches. It was tight.

  The victim started to kick a little. I'm sure the noose was starting to cut off her air. I pulled at the huge knot, but it wouldn't budge. Damn it! Did I make the wrong choice? Should I have gone inside? My stomach was around my knees, and I felt like throwing up.

  "Hold on!" I shouted down, my fingers were numb as they twisted the stiff rope. I got the knot a little loose. But by now the hanging victim was really kicking. I had to make a decision quick. I dug my fingers into the little space in the knot, but the body's weight was not helping. I wasn't going to make it. This lady—whoever she was, was going to die. Right here. Right now. And there wasn't much I could do about it.

  "Ms. Wrath!" A startled Rex Ferguson was running toward me. He grabbed the hanging body by the legs and held it up.

  "Keep her supported! I'm trying to untie the knot!" I yelled, breathing a little more regularly. I was so grateful that Rex had showed up, I didn't have time to realize that this would only hurt the investigation.

  The rope began to budge now that there was no weight on it, and with one more pull, the knot came undone. The body fell forward, and Rex caught her. The cloaked woman lay limply in his arms. Were we too late?

  "Let's get her inside!" I said, and Rex followed me into my house.

  We laid the person on the couch, and together we untied all the knots. When the noose was removed, I lifted the blanket off.

  "Lana!" I cried. She looked bad. There were bruises on her face and an angry, red line around her neck where she'd been strangled. She was unconscious but breathing.

  "We should get her to the hospital," Rex said.

  I'd already dialed Kelly. She arrived in seconds and began to look Lana over.

  Rex and I stood back, watching her as she listened to Lana's heartbeat and lungs.

  The detective turned to me. "What is it with you and that cartoon character?" he asked, indicating the curtains.

  "I like Dora…" I said absently.

  Suddenly, it all seemed so ridiculous. My anger at Lana seemed totally unfair. "Is she going to be alright?" I asked Kelly.

  Kelly stood and turned to us. "She's going to be okay. I don't think she needs to go to the hospital. The bruises on her face seem superficial, and there's no real damage to the throat. She's breathing normally."

  Rex frowned. "Maybe we should take her to the hospital just in case?"

  Kelly shrugged. "You can, certainly. But it isn't totally necessary."

  I knew what she was doing. Kelly was deflecting. She knew Lana probably didn't have any insurance and that the scrutiny she'd receive in the hospital would throw more unwan
ted attention on me.

  "I need to interview her," Rex said. "Someone tried to kill her. We need to see if she remembers anything."

  "I should call Riley," I said. "He'd want to know."

  Kelly smiled as I heard the sound of a car door slamming outside. "I already did. On my way here—he'll be right over." Huh. Now Kelly was calling Riley. On his personal cell. I shouldn't be weird about that. Right?

  Riley came in—the door was unlocked. I thought that looked good—like he knew he was family and could do so. On the other hand, the CIA was being pretty forward with my house. I'd have to do something about that.

  "Is she okay? What happened?" Riley asked. He was in a full suit, neatly pressed. He must've jumped right into it.

  I thought it was best to explain exactly what happened—leaving out any CIA bits, of course. We left Kelly in the living room with Lana and went into the kitchen. I made tea. Then I told them both the whole story, from the noise outside my bedroom to Rex coming to the rescue.

  "What made you come over?" Riley asked Rex. He was sizing the detective up, looking for something that screamed fraud.

  "I thought I heard someone shouting outside," he said as he sipped his tea.

  I frowned. "You heard that over the air conditioner?"

  Rex shook his head. "I didn't have it on. I sleep with the windows open." He set down his cup. "I heard you shouting and looked out my window. I saw you holding Lana up. By the time I got here, you were up the tree."

  Riley and I looked at each other. It sounded feasible. I did shout. And I was glad he heard me. I needed the help.

  "Thank you," Riley said, "for helping my cousins."

  "Are you going to tell me what's really going on?" Rex asked.

  I held my breath and waited. It was up to Riley. I didn't want to bring down the wrath of the CIA on me by saying anything that could send me to prison. Or worse.

  "I'm not really sure myself," Riley said smoothly. "Did you check how they got Lana out of her room in the middle of the night?"

  He was changing the subject, forcing Rex to investigate. It was a good idea. The three of us ran to Lana's room.

  The window was open. She'd left it unlocked. Why did she do that? A wet, muddy smear came up over the windowsill and down the wall. Someone came in from the outside. There were signs of a struggle. How did I miss hearing it? Rex walked around the room, surveying the scene.

  I studied my neighbor. He was wearing a T-shirt and pajama bottoms. No cartoon characters. They were just plaid. He had slippers on his feet. They were soaked from the wet grass. He smelled like rain and fresh air. I know I should be worrying about Lana, but I couldn't take my eyes off of Rex.

  Neither could Riley. The blonde hunk was scrutinizing the brunette hunk. Trying to decide how much to tell him. Riley's eyes weren't on the room. They were on the man. They were sizing up the threat.

  Kelly stuck her head in. "She's come to."

  We followed her down the hallway to where Lana was sitting up. She looked like hell. Kelly had wrapped a comforter around her and had given her some tea. Lana held the cup in shaky hands. She looked at us. The bruising around her eyes was more pronounced.

  Rex knelt in front of her. "Miss…Miss…" He looked at us.

  "Babikova," I said. I left out the Svetlana part.

  "Miss Babikova, can you tell us what happened?" His voice was so gentle. It wasn't pushy or prodding. Just asking for the facts and sort of saying it was alright if she couldn't give them.

  Lana looked at me, then Riley. The fear in her eyes was agonizing. I felt horrible. I'd been so mean to her, and then I didn't even wake up during the assault. Hell, it probably looked to her like I'd let her attackers in and pointed her out.

  Riley nodded, almost imperceptibly. Rex didn't see it, or he would've known something was up.

  "I…I didn't see much…the light was off." She hugged the comforter around her. "I woke up to someone punching me over and over in the face." She flinched. It must've hurt. "I think I was unconscious when they hung me in the tree."

  "Did your assailant speak? Was there more than one?" Rex asked.

  Lana shook her head. "He didn't speak. I think there was only one, but I'm not sure." She didn't add anything to that. She was a good spy. She knew what to offer and what to withhold…if she was withholding that is.

  Rex stood up and nodded. "I'm going to have to call this in. The crime scene guys will be here. They'll want to take pictures of your injuries." He looked down at his pajamas and slippers. "I'll run home and change while we're waiting."

  Lana nodded. I did too. Riley said nothing. I watched as Rex excused himself. I wondered if I shouldn't go with him and maybe help with his shirt or something. I could use a distraction right now.

  "Anything else, Lana?" Riley asked. "Before the detective comes back?" He put emphasis on the word detective. He didn't want us to forget that Rex was a cop and that this would make things harder for us.

  "Maybe we should come clean?" I interrupted. I wanted to buy Lana some time before she told Riley anything more. "I mean, we all work for the government. Us, the CIA, the Feds, the local cops. We're all the good guys."

  Riley shook his head. "I'm under strict orders from Langley not to let the locals handle this. They think it's a matter of national security."

  Something about that sentence wasn't right. "Okay…then why aren't there more officials here? Why just you?" I asked. It was a valid question. Why was Riley the only one handling this if it was considered a threat to national security?

  Riley frowned and shot me a look. "Not now. We need to get any info out of Lana before Rex comes back."

  "I did see something. Something else," Lana said as her eyes darted to the door. "The guy who beat me up had a ring on. It's a very specific ring." She swallowed hard.

  "You'd seen it before?" Riley asked.

  Lana nodded. "I've seen rings like that many times. It was given to FSB members only."

  Riley frowned.

  "The former KGB," I whispered. "Crap."

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  I got dressed while a forensics team crawled all over Lana's bedroom and the side of the house. It's a small thing, but I didn't want them to see me in my Dora jammies. Instead, I slipped on a white T-shirt and pair of shorts. Kelly stayed with Lana. I think she felt a little protective of her.

  We watched in silence as the team worked. Rex and I gave them our shoes so they could distinguish our footprints outside from the kidnappers. Riley said nothing. Kelly stayed to answer questions on her involvement. One by one we were interviewed. It was all standard operating procedure. Nothing out of the ordinary.

  My mind was racing. FSB. The Russian Foreign Intelligence Service. It was them? Riley was right? I'm sure he thought so. And it made sense that the FSB would come after Lana—after all she did spy on them…for me.

  But why involve Ahmed, Carlos, and Midori? If they were going to kill Lana—and wear a ring that broadcast who they were—why kill the other three? What purpose did that serve? Was it all to frame me? To cover up that the real target was Lana?

  The ring. Why wear the ring, letting us know who they were? Maybe they thought she'd be too terrified to tell us.

  I needed to talk to Riley, but that would be impossible until everyone else had left. I wondered if the FSB still had agents in the area. They were probably watching the house. I would. I'd want to make sure my victim died before leaving if I were them.

  If they were watching, then they would know, if they hadn't figured it out already, that Lana had survived. And if they came all this way and went to all this trouble, they'd stay until they were sure she was dead. It was how they worked. They'd come too far and wasted too many resources to fail.

  The police took photos of Lana's bruises. It must've been the only time in her life she'd taken a bad photo—and even then she looked gorgeous. She also looked scared. She'd worked with FSB and knew what they were capable of.

  Rex approached. He was in a suit,
just like Riley. How did men throw on a suit like that and look so good doing it?

  "They found construction barricades across the street a few blocks in both directions. That's why there wasn't any traffic going by when this happened," Rex said.

  "I wondered about that," I said. Obviously, the FSB didn't want anyone driving by, attempting to save Lana. They wanted her dead, like Ahmed and the others. Thankfully, she was smart enough to kick my bedroom wall.

  Rex added, "We're not going to insist that Ms. Babikova go to the hospital, but I think she should." He watched as Riley shook his head. "Alright. Well, we are going to put the house under surveillance for a couple of days, just in case whoever did this comes back. I'll come back over in the afternoon to see if there's anything else Ms. Babikova remembers later."

  He could rim the perimeter with land mines and rabid Dobermans—it wouldn't matter. This wasn't some random murderer. These were trained professional killers hiding beneath a government flag. A Russian flag. It seemed unfair to let Rex think it was just a simple, Midwestern murder attempt. But then, maybe he wasn't thinking that.

  Rex handed me a card. "My cell number. That's the best way to reach me. If anything, and I mean anything happens, don't hesitate to call."

  Oooh! He gave me his cell number! That's got to mean something, right? Like he's interested. Right? My stomach dropped a little when I thought how he'd seemed interested in Lana yesterday. No, I shook my head—which probably looked ridiculous to those around me who were watching. Rex was just being polite. He didn't really flirt back. He probably didn't know what to do with the blonde bangle dangling from his arm. Yes, that was it, I told myself, and went back to being excited about getting his number.

  The forensics team had packed up and were heading for their vehicles. It was dawn, and everything that had been dark as pitch was now bathed in lavender light. Somewhere in this neighborhood, assassins were hiding. Watching. It was better motivation for staying awake than any form of caffeine.