by Sussman, Ben
The priest had moved to the altar where he was offering up a prayer for Jason’s spirit. Emma tried to join in with the unfamiliar words, hoping her mumbling would go unnoticed. The priest was followed by several people who had known Jason in his short life. A tall, thin doctor, who had practiced medicine in the town for forty years, talked about how Jason had overcome childhood asthma to become a star high school athlete. He was followed by a burly man with thinning hair who spoke of Jason’s talent on the football field and his dedication to the team. A striking young woman told an endearing story of her and Jason’s date to the Junior Prom and how he was so nervous that he forgot to put gas in his car, causing them to spend half the night on a country road dancing beneath the stars. At last, Jason’s mother and father spoke of how proud they were of their son for all of his life decisions, including going off to war. When they had finished, the priest appeared again at the podium.
“Would anyone else like to share their memories of Jason?”
Almost without her being aware of it, Emma raised her hand into the air. The priest smiled and gestured for her to come up. Questioning eyes swiveled in her direction. As she floated to the front of the room, Rachel Worth caught her eye and gave a small nod of appreciation. Emma turned to gaze out on the sea of faces. Her nerves jangling, she cleared her throat and began to speak.
“I, uh, I’m not very good at this. But I thought it wouldn’t be right if I didn’t say something about Jason Worth. We worked together but…it was more than that. I don’t know exactly when we went from being just coworkers to being friends, but it happened. Jason was loyal and kind and I’ve never known anybody like that. He was a true hero.” Emma paused, emotion choking her voice. She pushed through to continue. “He saved my life. And from what I understand about his military career, that’s what he excelled at. There was nobody braver or more dedicated to his country. I’m going to miss him, more than I ever thought possible.” Tears came now, trickling down her cheeks. “This world is poorer for having lost Jason. But I am incredibly richer for having known him.”
Emma stepped down and found herself enveloped in Rachel’s arms.
“Thank you,” Rachel whispered in her ear. She guided Emma back to the seat next to her and held her hand through the rest of the service. When it ended, people approached to shake Emma’s hand. At last, most of the mourners had moved to an adjoining room for refreshments. Emma stood up to join them, finding herself facing an older man in a black suit who looked incredibly familiar.
“General Griggs?” she finally realized.
Griggs nodded at her and then stepped to Rachel Worth, respectfully taking her hand. “I’m very sorry for your loss, ma’am,” he said with what Emma assumed to be practiced sympathy. “I had the honor of serving with your son.” Rachel thanked him and moved off to accept the condolences of a nearby couple.
Griggs turned to Emma, taking her arm. “That was a damn good speech, Ms. Hosobuchi,” he said as they drifted to the side of the room.
“Thank you,” she replied. “What are you doing here?”
“Jason Worth gave his life for this country. That’s something I respect more than anything, despite what you may think.”
“Civilian clothes?” she asked, pointing at his suit.
“Officially retired,” he said.
“Too bad. I’ll really miss you around the office.”
“Don’t lie, Emma. You’re not very good at it.”
They shared a laugh, which surprised both of them.
“So what will you do now?” she wondered.
“I got a fishing pole as my retirement gift.”
“Oh.”
“I hate fishing,” grumbled Griggs. “So I’m entering the glamorous world of consulting. Did you know I can make more in one month than I did all year as a general? It’s a messed up world.”
“Yes,” she agreed.
“I’d like to hire you,” he said suddenly.
“What?” Emma sputtered in surprise.
“I can use a cybersecurity expert.”
“Sorry, I’m going to stick with what I’m doing for now. There’s a big mess to clean up.”
Griggs shrugged. “I understand. But I hope you’ll understand that I’m going to ask you again. I can be pretty persistent.” He held out his hand for a shake. Emma ignored it, snapping a salute instead. Griggs returned it.
“Good day, Ms. Hosobuchi.” He threaded his way through the crowd and exited the church.
Emma watched him go, marveling at the conversation that had just transpired.
“Jason,” she whispered to the air with a smile. “I really hope you were watching that.”
Fifty-Eight
It looked like a thousand other apartment buildings in Orange County. Tan stucco walls, orange roof tiles, green and leafy plants peeking out from behind black metal terraces. The only thing out of place was the blistered man with a cane who stood in front of it.
Detective Larsen shifted his leg to relieve some of the discomfort in it. The doctors had told him he would only need the cane for a few more weeks, but he wished it were sooner. Maybe he should have waited…
No, he reminded himself. You’ve waited long enough.
He flashed back to the moment in the helicopter that had haunted his dreams since happening. There was Matt Weatherly, his body separated from plummeting only by the cabin door. Then Weatherly was gone, heading to the safety of the ocean below. Larsen had turned back the controls, fighting them to straighten the helicopter. The pitch and yaw were too great for him, however. After a quick glance to make sure Weatherly had made it safely to the water, Larsen unbuckled himself and raced to the cabin door which was still pinned open. He dove through the narrow opening just as the explosion ripped through the air.
He was outside of the helicopter when he felt the flames licking his flesh. His back was alive in lancing trails as he hit the water. Embraced by the ocean, his world went fuzzy at the edges before turning to black. Everything was calm stillness. In that half-world between life and death, images danced. It was not the typical summary of his life that Larsen witnessed, though. There was only one thing that floated in the space with him; or rather, two things.
His ex-wife Julie and the child he had never gotten a chance to know.
Understanding had crashed into him then. He had gotten sober long ago and had left Julie alone, as he thought she would like. He always believed he owed her at least that much. But he had never uttered a word of apology to her. Never tried to find out where she had gone. More sickeningly, he had let his child disappear with her. Instead of being the impetus for a life ruled by the needs of someone else as any good parent does, he had only sunk deeper into himself and his selfishness.
His soul ached and wailed. Being the God-fearing man that he was, Larsen was sure he had been sent to hell. What else could this empty blackness with nothing but sorrow to keep him company be?
Then, miraculously, there was a pinprick of light. Larsen drifted towards it as it grew in intensity.
“I can make it,” he told himself. “I have a chance.”
All at once, light and sound assaulted his senses. Weatherly’s face was hovering above his own. Larsen tried to speak and the words were clumsy but Matt understood them. He was alive. And it was glorious.
After that, it was three straight days of intense questioning by the military. Weatherly and Larsen had been separated, as the detective thought they would be. Facts were checked and re-checked against their stories. At last, the young woman named Emma, who had questioned him about computer issues he knew nothing about, entered his locked room with a thick stack of papers.
“Sign these confidentiality agreements and you’re free to go,” she said. Larsen scribbled his name on the signature lines, noticing some of the dire consequences listed should he breathe a word of his ordeal. Emma scooped them up and exited without saying anything further and left his door open.
Larsen found Matt in the hallway outside.
<
br /> “You’re looking a little better,” he said, upon seeing the detective.
“Feeling it, too.”
Matt stuck his hand out for a shake, which Larsen took. “I don’t know if I ever said it but I’m grateful for everything you did. Without your help, I…” he trailed off, afraid to finish the sentence.
“Just doing what I thought was right,” said Larsen. He let go of Matt’s hand.
“So what are you going to do now?” Matt asked.
“Take a little time off. I realized I’ve got some unfinished business to attend to.”
As Larsen approached the front door of the apartment building, he found his hands shaking. Willing them to stop, he opened the door and entered the cool carpeted lobby. It was a nice building, he thought.
It had not taken him long to find Julie. A simple search of the DMV database yielded her address. He decided to dig a little further and saw that she was unmarried. She also had a minor that lived with her named Sam.
I have a son named Sam, Larsen thought when he saw the name on the screen. What was he like, he wondered. Did he love baseball or hate it? How old was he when he took his first steps, formed his first sentence? He closed the window out before looking for anything else. He did not deserve to know any more than the name until he had made his pilgrimage.
The hallway he was walking down now seemed interminably long. Each step brought him closer to Julie’s door while also kicking up his heartbeat until it was hammering in his chest. He stood in front of the door. For some reason, he crossed himself before stretching out his hand to lightly knock. From behind it came the muffled tap of shoes on a tiled floor followed by a “just a second!”. The knob turned as the breath froze in Larsen’s throat.
And then she was there. Larsen marveled at how she had not aged a single day. In fact, she looked better than he had ever known her. The lines of worry that he had undoubtedly caused were gone. Her eyes were bright, the way they were when he first met her. Consternation flooded her features.
“Holy shit,” she whispered. “David, is that you?”
“It’s me,” he croaked before clearing his throat.
“What are you doing here?” she asked, wary now.
“I, um,” he fumbled for the words he had practiced in the mirror for days but his mind kept coming up blank. “I wanted to just say that I’m sorry.”
She leaned in the doorway, crossing her arms. “Seven years and that’s all you’ve got?”
“No, I actually have a lot more to say but I kind of pictured you already slamming the door in my face by now.”
“I’m thinking about it,” she said.
“I wouldn’t blame you, Julie. Not one bit. I just…I’ve been through a lot lately and there’s no excuse for what I did or how I’ve acted. And I know it may take you forever to forgive me, if that ever happens at all. I was a lowlife piece of scum.”
“Go on, I’m agreeing with you so far.”
“I’ve been sober for a long time now. The man you grew to hate, and you had every right to, he’s gone. Dead and buried.”
“Good,” she nodded. “So who’s this guy standing at my door right now?”
“He’s the guy who, for whatever reason, got a second chance at life. And since I got it, the only thing I’ve known that matters is you and the child that we made.”
A sigh whistled through Julie’s lips as she ran her fingers through her hair. “I’ve changed a lot since I left, David.”
“I understand that.”
“So I know that people don’t stay the same and that maybe you mean everything you just said.”
“I do,” he insisted.
She held up a hand. “You took the first step just now. But this is going to be a long, difficult road.”
“I’ll do whatever you want me to, I swear.”
Julie nodded, mulling something over. She turned, calling out into the apartment, “Sam, come here for a minute.”
“Okay,” a voice rang out from down the hall.
Larsen’s heart jackhammered as he heard a pair of feet scurry across the floor. A shadow came, followed by long brown hair and two questioning hazel eyes. A Nintendo Wii controller was clutched in one hand, blue light blinking.
“Samantha,” Julie said. “This is Mr. Larsen. He’s…an old friend of Mommy’s.”
The young girl stepped forward and offered a half-hearted “hi” as her questioning eyes took in the man in her doorway.
“A girl,” Larsen said in an awed whisper. Julie nodded. Larsen managed to kneel down to get at eye level with Sam. “Nice to meet you, Sam,” he said.
Sam gave a small smile. “Nice to meet you, too” she replied, then pointed at Larsen’s cane. “Are you hurt?” she asked.
“No, sweetie,” Larsen said assuredly. “Not anymore.”
Fifty-Nine
“Luke, be careful!” Matt called out, trying to chase after him but finding it impossible with his leg brace. Up ahead, Luke was narrowly avoiding people’s bodies with ease as he clopped across the wooden boards of the Santa Monica Pier. Matt did not remember it being this crowded the last time he took Luke here, but then he realized that was several years ago.
“Let him go. He’ll be fine,” a voice said behind him.
Matt smiled, turning to see Ashley appear behind him with two puffy pink sticks of cotton candy. She handed him one. “Can you believe these are five dollars apiece? I should open a side business here.”
“You’d put all the other vendors out of work in two weeks.”
“One week,” she countered, grinning as she took a bite.
Matt felt his pocket shift with the buzzing of his cell phone. He reached for it but Ashley’s hand stopped him.
“Uh uh,” she warned him. “You promised Luke. No business today.”
“You’re right,” he said, pulling back. “Speaking of my son, where is he?”
Ashley pointed and Matt followed her finger to see Luke gaping in wonder at a carnival game stand. Two people held out rifles that shot thin streams of water at elusive painted ducks on a track. Matt watched them fail miserably and groan before walking away. Ashley and Matt joined him. Luke looked to his father with an expectant expression.
“How much?” Matt sighed and asked the worker, who informed him the cost was three dollars. Matt handed the money over, then picked up one of the rifles. He sighted down the barrel as the ducks rolled by with mechanical quacking. He knocked one down but his other shots widely missed the mark. They stopped moving and his gun jammed to a halt. He found Luke staring at him with disappointment. “Something is wrong with the barrel,” Matt mumbled.
“Seriously, Weatherly?” Ashley wondered as she stepped up next to him. She handed money to the worker who started up the ducks again. Ashley aimed and rattled off three quick bursts which knocked the ducks down. “Line them up again,” she said, forking over another three dollars. The worker did and Ashley repeated her performance.
An ecstatic Luke pointed out which of the prizes he wanted. Ashley chose a pink teddy bear for her own prize and handed it to Matt, who shook his head in admiration as they walked towards the towering Ferris wheel. “I don’t know, Matt. Usually it’s the guy giving this to the girl on a date.”
Matt stopped short. “Is this a date?”
“Hmm,” said Ashley. “I don’t hate you anymore.”
“That’s a good start,” he replied.
“And you did save my life a couple of times, which puts you ahead of half the guys I’ve dated in Los Angeles.”
“I also put your life in jeopardy a few times.”
“True. But at least you offered to buy me dinner afterwards.”
“The offer still stands. As soon as both our schedules open up.” He left it unspoken that much of his recent time had been spent at the funerals of people he had known and cared for.
Ashley reached out and placed her palm over Matt’s heart. “I know what you’ve got in here, Matt, and I don’t think I’ve ever met a man w
ho has what you do.” Matt placed his hand over hers and nodded his thanks.
The moment was broken by the buzzing of his cell phone.
“Not again,” she said with a roll of her eyes. Matt withdrew the phone and looked at the screen. “What about your promise?”
“I know, I know,” he said. “But this is an international number and it’s the fourth time it’s called me. Could be an eager new client. Let me just take it real quick.”
Ashley put up her hands in mock surrender as Matt stepped slowly to the railing and brought the phone to his ear. “This is Matt Weatherly.”
Static assaulted his ear.
“Hello?” he asked into it. The crackling softened before a woman’s voice cut through.
“Matt?”
Matt’s mind scrambled. No, he thought. It can’t be. “Katie?” he said aloud.
“Matt, is it really you?” his dead wife’s voice asked. “Find me. Please. I’m-”
The line cut off abruptly. “Katie,” Matt said, knowing he would get no response. The phone dropped from his numb hands. He turned to look back at the pier. Across the way, Luke met his father’s eyes and waved. Matt returned it and then looked back out at the ocean.
After picking up the pieces of his life for the past seven years, and then the last three weeks, Matt Weatherly once again found it in shatters.
THE END
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
I could not have produced this book, or practically any creative endeavor, without an amazing group of people that support me. My eternal cheerleaders begin with my amazing wife Morgan and daughter Sibyl, the dual lights of my life. I would also like to thank my mother-in-law, Cynthia, for being the best editor I have ever had the pleasure to work with. Thanks to my father-in-law, Phil, for military research assistance. And the incredible Jon Kaya of Kaya Designs, whose book covers have been a gift from heaven. More gratitude goes to mega-producer Geoffrey Klein for his tireless efforts on behalf of THE FOUR HORSEMEN, my ever-loyal manager Jonathan Hung and my fellow novelist Cheryl Holt. Proper thanks for writing inspiration goes to Shane Black, James Rollins, Steve Berry, Dan Brown and James Patterson. And, finally, to all the amazing fans I have gathered and met since I began this journey - a giant thank you. Keep reading!