Point of No Return

by Rita Henuber

  “Ma’am?” Mike Jr. said, bringing her back to the Ramsey living room.

  “The helicopter waiting across the border picked up our chatter. They went against orders and came after us. Landed between us and the Rovers.” Honey used her hands to show the positions of the truck and the chopper. “We were climbing in on one side and the crew was laying down fire from the other.”

  “It was a hot extraction,” Mason said.

  “Yes,” Honey said. “A very hot extraction.”

  “What kind of chopper?” Mike Jr. said.

  “Sea Stallion.”

  Mike Jr. nodded. “Big 50 cals and machine gun on board.”

  Military kids knew the realities of war, saw the world from a different perspective. Understood more than the average American adult about conflicts. If this were a civilian family, she wouldn’t be talking like this. Hell, she wouldn’t be here. How did these kids maintain friendships with civilian kids? “Yes, and the crew wasn’t holding back using them.”

  “Bet you were glad to see that helicopter,” Morgan said.

  She suppressed a shutter. Glad and terrified. She hated being in those damn things. She’d survived a crash and had rarely been aboard one that hadn’t been fired on. “Sure was.” She forced a smiled. “We were inside in less than a minute.” She paused a moment to make sure her voice didn’t shake. “The trucks were a hundred yards away. We were off the ground about fifty feet”—she leveled a hand at her shoulder height—“and they fired on us. An RPG. The chopper’s flares deployed and the pilots had us safe in seconds.”

  “Dumb asses,” Mike Jr. mumbled.

  Honey flicked her gaze to the colonel, who said nothing and was probably thinking the same thing.

  “Then what?” Mason said, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose.

  “A crew member gave me his com headset. Pilot wanted to have a chat.” Another pause. Even Ramsey was into the story. She was sure he didn’t know this. “He asked if there was any reason we shouldn’t take out the people who fired on us.” She looked at the boys’ faces, as she had at Kelly’s and Jenna’s in that moment. For the second time that day, with no ping from her conscience, she gave a kill approval. “I said, not a single one.”

  Knowing looks spread across their faces. Ramsey grew tense. He knew the possible consequences of this action. Knew what that country’s government could have done and, for whatever reason, hadn’t done. Hadn’t even acknowledged there’d been an incident.

  “But, I have to tell you, we both used a lot stronger language,” she said, and the boys gave her grins. “The pilots circled—” Her hand mimicked the turn and she recalled how she pressed her back against the interior bulkhead, bent her knees and braced the soles of her boots on the floor. How she fought back the bile and fear and prayed the Stallion’s huge rotor blades would continue to beat the air into submission and keep them airborne. “The crew made short work of it. Both Rovers blew and we were out of there. The medics on board took good care of your sister until we landed at a medical facility.” As they took Jenna from the Stallion she’d smiled wanly and managed a slight wave. Kelly wasn’t conscious. “That’s it.”

  The boys expelled loud breaths and relaxed back onto the cushions. She said nothing. They needed silence to absorb the details of an incident that forever changed their family. In the quiet, the yellow dog crept into the room and nuzzled Morgan’s hand. The boy returned the affection, absently scratching the animal’s ear.

  Ramsey stood. “You guys have anything else to say to the major?”

  They looked at one another. “Thanks for giving us the inside story,” Mason said. His brothers nodded.

  “That it?” Ramsey said.

  They nodded like bobble heads.

  “Then out,” Ramsey ordered. “Go back to watching the game.”

  A trio of yes, sirs and they hustled from the room. Mike Jr. stopped at the door and turned. A boy on the edge of manhood. He gave Honey what she called the man nod of approval and she tipped her head in response.

  “Nice boys,” Honey said, expecting Ramsey to sit. He shoved his hands in the back pocket of his jeans.

  “Yeah.” He looked after them. “Thanks for telling them. You did a good job not getting into the gore.” His gaze scanned the room, as if looking for someone. Jenna maybe.

  Honey stood. “Please tell Jenna I was here and sorry I missed her and Mrs. Ramsey.”

  “Aw, you gotta be kidding.” A howl rose from the back of the house. “Dad, they just gave up a two-run lead.”

  “You have some time, Major?”

  Not quite sure what he was asking, she looked in the direction the grousing came from.

  He swiped a hand over his jaw. “So we can talk.”

  “Yes, sir.” She moved to return to the chair. Here was an opening to determine if another investigation was ongoing.

  “Not here. My office.”

  Honey nodded. Even better. “Certainly.”

  Ramsey led her past a family room, where the boys lounged on the furniture like tossed garments watching a ginormous flat screen. Captain snarfed popcorn and assorted snacks from the coffee table.

  The colonel stopped. “They trying to lose?” Each male Ramsey child gave them a brief glance over the shoulder, a nod, and went back to the game.

  Ramsey opened a door, revealing basement stairs. “My office is down here.”

  They passed a laundry room, a rec room with pool and foosball tables, and went into a good-sized windowless office. Every inch of wall space was covered with family and unit photos, pictures of other Marines, officers and enlisted. Shelves not taken up with books on military strategy, Tom Clancy, Stephen Coonts, and Nelson Demille tomes were lined with awards and sports trophies. He circled the desk. “Sit.” He motioned to a couple of chairs and she did. Ramsey crouched, opening a mini fridge. “You want a beer, water?”

  “Water will be fine.” She would love to have a beer but didn’t want to mix alcohol with the pain meds she’d taken and start drooling or something worse. Atop the beat-up wooden desk that looked like it had been salvaged from the fifties, a well-used copy of The Art of War lay next to a Kindle. An iPad and laptop sat next to them. Ramsey leaned over the desk, handing her a frosted water bottle. She reached for it and winced. Soreness was setting in. She was going to need stronger meds.

  Ramsey settled into a standard office swivel chair. “You get that the same place you”—he rubbed the back of his fingers over the side of his jaw—“got that?”

  Damn. The bruise was darkening. “Yes. He had a hundred pounds on me.” She gave him her best smile. “I don’t recommend it.”

  He nodded. She could tell he wanted to ask what happened but kept quiet. An uncomfortable silence ensued, broken only by the pop of the Heineken cap and the crack of the water bottle as she twisted the lid. Honey let her gaze wander over the pictures. Jenna was in several, smiling and happy. A beautiful girl, an image of her mother. This was not an ego wall. These were mementos. She glanced at the still silent Ramsey. His body language said he struggled with something. She waited. Her silence would draw him out. He put the bottle on the desk and blanketed his face with his hands. When he dropped them, his hazel eyes were misty. Flaming fish balls. He turned in the chair and looked at the family photos.

  “My daughter is smart. She was in Europe as part of an advanced study program. The youngest kid to go. We agonized about allowing her to participate.”

  Honey took a swig of water and said nothing. A single word from her could shut him down.

  “We gave her a sat cell. She checked in twice a day. Jenny called her and she always answered on the second ring. Jenny called to tell her some gossip and it went to message . . . we knew right away something was wrong.”

  Gooseflesh chills climbed over Honey. She could only imagine what they’d gone through.

  He faced her, not looking at her directly, his eyes darting around the room. He rubbed his hand over his mouth and chin.

  �
�Jenna is scared out of her mind they’re going to come back for her.” The shear intensity and pain on his face was shocking. “Here I am, a big, mean-ass colonel in the Marine Corps and I didn’t protect my daughter.”

  “Sir, what happened is not your failing.” His expression altered and her senses stood on end, preventing her from throwing out a question.

  “I understand you requested to join the investigation.”

  She paused, determining how much she would say. “Yes, sir. I haven’t been notified yet. I’m being held here and given a short assignment until a decision is made.” After today, the decision was most assuredly going to be a negative.

  He took a deep drink of beer, watching her carefully. Instinctively she knew he was assessing what to say. He nodded. “Global.” His expression went indifferent, like something in the beer neutralized his emotions.

  Flaming fish balls. Her heart jittered. Ramsey had reason to believe Global was behind Jenna being taken. She hadn’t expected this. She’d completely misread the intent of this visit and she realized she’d underestimated Ramsey. Was this the reason Moore insisted . . . Moore. Was she underestimating him? She’d think about Moore later. Right now Ramsey was the focus. She’d been in the field long enough to know when a contact was ready to give up information.

  “You have anything that can tell us why Jenna was taken?” he said evenly.

  Honey shook her head. “Sir, I was told you have access to my team’s report.” He dipped his head. “Everything I know is in there. I’m at a complete loss as to why she was taken. Why she was treated the way she was. And why a group of petty thieves were holding her with no ransom request.”

  “You were assigned to review Global.” He reached out and repositioned the nearest picture of Jenna and his wife. “Might as well tell you this. You’ll find out soon enough.” He turned to her.

  Here we go. Honey forced herself to stay still, breathe normally.

  “My wife and daughter aren’t with my parents.” He swiveled side to side. “They’re with my brother, at his place in upstate Vermont.”

  She blinked. “Sir?”

  “I think there’s a good chance they’ll go at Jenna again.” He sighed deep and loud. “My brother is former Special Forces. He’s a little over the edge. A survivalist nut, but I know they’ll be safe there.”

  “I see.” Honey nodded. She completely understood. “Why do you think there will be another attempt?”

  Ramsey blanched. His gaze darted side to side. His thumb jittered against the bottle’s green glass. “A hunch. A gut feeling. When she was taken, there was no request for money, no contact of any kind. I think it was personal.” He was good at keeping his voice even but his body language said he was struggling to stay in control. Keep his anger from exploding. “I’m going to do everything in my power to protect my family.”

  Cheering and stomping came for the family room. Her gaze lifted in that direction.

  “I’m protecting them.” He hitched his head up. “I don’t leave them. They come to work with me. One or two armed Marines follow them. Command knows and approves,” he said, delivering a potent dose of commanding officer attitude.

  “Sir, I wasn’t . . .”

  “Sorry,” he said quickly. “I . . . we . . . This has been a very difficult time.” He picked an envelope off the desk. “A note from Jenna and my wife.”

  Honey took the envelope and stood. “If there isn’t anything else, I’ll go now.” This ploy would make it easier for him to get to the point sooner or shut him down completely. She was counting on the former. “I’m flying to Tampa first thing tomorrow to visit the Saunders family.”

  Ramsey’s face clouded like a violent storm. “Kelly isn’t doing well.”

  “Yes.” She nodded. “I called the Saunders home earlier to ask about coming. I was told.” She didn’t relish visiting the family and had suggested she come a week or two later. The general had insisted on her coming tomorrow.

  “They don’t think she will . . .” His voice trailed off. He picked up the picture of Jenna and her mother.

  Remembering Kelly’s gaunt appearance, Honey was amazed she’d lived at all. “Sir, when we got to her . . . she was bad.”

  Ramsey swiveled around to face her, the chair creaking. “There’s something else.”

  “Sir?” Honey watched as tension crept into Ramsey’s expression and his body stiffened. The Marine officer emerged, sending the sad, concerned father away like a multiple personality takeover.

  He replaced the photo on the desk and stared at her until she sat. She toyed with the envelope until Ramsey found his voice. “I asked around about you.”

  Honey grew wary and kept her body language quiet.

  “You’re well thought of. Never fail to get the job done and can be trusted.”

  She saw no advantage in responding. Silence was her ally here and she took full advantage of it.

  “The general and I spoke and we have a favor to ask of you.”

  “Yes?” This felt big but she sure as hell wasn’t committing to anything until she knew what it was.

  He leaned and brought a camouflage backpack to the desk, removing several folders. “Since our girls were taken Dave and . . . the general and I have looked for a connection. A reason. We’ve been through our personal notes looking for a link. Two things came up. We crossed duty for three months on a base in the sandbox. Never spoke.” A long pause and a deep breath. “I’m on a board considering Global for a new contract and Dave was considering a consulting job with them.” He pushed the folders her direction. “My personal notes are in there. Saunders will give you his when you get there. We feel we can trust you and we’d like you to take a look. Fresh eyes.”

  Officers who’d been around kept personal notes in addition to the required official reports. They noted reactions of others and their own feelings of an event. Things that wouldn’t be in official reports. Ramsey finished off his beer and Honey didn’t move, barely breathed, waiting for him to speak. “While you’re at Global we’d like you to keep your eyes open and report anything out of the ordinary to us.”

  Chapter 14

  The drive from Nashville to the O’Brien cabin had already taken the better part of three hours. The rental car’s GPS guided Honey from the highway to a winding two-lane road and now urged her to turn where a mostly rusted and bullet-riddled sign indicated TN Lake Road 2 something. Several holes obliterated the rest of the number. She took the turn. The car’s tires skidded over the dirt and gravel, raising a cloud of dust and obscuring her vision of the road ahead. The GPS rudely warned she was on her own from this point. She blew out a long breath. Unable to see ahead and on her own said it all. She’d basically walked from Tampa to Nashville, pacing the plane the whole flight, working on fitting the puzzle pieces together with no success.

  Earlier that day she’d arrived at the Saunders home in Tampa to find them accepting condolences. Kelly, her frail body unable to recover, had died during the night. General and Mrs. Saunders thanked her for all she’d done. Geezus. Thanked her and asked her to bring the people who did this to justice and bring closure for them. As if the memory of Kelly and Jenna in the hovel on the other side of the world wasn’t enough to do that. Kelly’s death had shaken her. Even if she wasn’t included in the team to find the mo-fos who’d taken the girls, she wasn’t going to let it go. She was involved. It was personal. She would make the connection to Global and Bristol, give the families peace and make sure it would never happen to another child again.

  Saunders had taken her aside and gone right to the point, handing her a courier case with his notes. He also delivered a caution. The contents contained no national secrets, or anything outside her security clearance, but they were sensitive. Memories of senior brass indiscretions had visions of senate hearings filling her brain. She asked outright, the same as she had Ramsey, if he was involved in any other investigation. Both men were taken aback by the question, denying any knowledge of another inquiry, and
wanted to know more. She’d told them she was covering her ass, nothing more.

  Working with friendlies required a whole new skill set. Hell, even figuring who the friendlies were required a spreadsheet. It had all seemed so straightforward in the beginning. Get in. Do the job. Answer all the whys. Ramsey and Saunders were definitely in the friendly camp. No ulterior motives. Baffled as to the why, but definitely felt Global was suspect. The jury was out on Moore being in the friendly camp. His leading her to think there could be another ongoing investigation was crap. She was his ulterior motive and he was a general taking orders from his privates. Bristol. Now he was as far from friendly as he could get. What the fuck caused him to risk doing what he did yesterday? She needed a diesel shit sucker to get to the bottom of this steaming, stinking pile of crap.

  O’Brien was the problem now. Separating the fact they were lovers and convincing the ex-CIA, contract spy to trust and work with her would be like brain surgery. Done very carefully. She’d asked Moore to redact her name when Jack was told of the DoD visit. She’d argued with his CIA connections that he would have access to info about her, giving him an unfair advantage in an interview. He’d bought it.

  After ten miles through deep forest, over a twisting, rut-infested, dusty, narrow lane she came to the isolated cabin. The ramshackle structure sat lower than the road on a small cove looking out to one of Tennessee’s many lakes. Honey grabbed her duffels and stepped out of the dust- and bug-splatted car, slamming the door hard enough for anyone inside to hear. “Hello.” A truck from the middle of the last century and peppered with rust holes sat in front of a leaning shed not visible on satellite photos. The mass of kudzu vines covering it offered aerial camouflage and seemed to be the only thing holding the dilapidated thing up. O’Brien didn’t show and she took the path through the knee-high weeds leading to the cabin. Dragonflies zipping back and forth in their quest for insects dodged around her. Broken flagstones crunched under her black Oakley boots and unseen critters scurried, rustling the dry vegetation.