by Kathy Herman
“Don’t be too hard on yourself, Hawk. This is the twenty-first century. Those kinds of old-fashioned values are honorable, but few people live by them anymore. You’re still the same person. Sure, you have life experience you didn’t have before, and you don’t want to make the same mistake again. But you’re still the same man.”
Hawk blinked the stinging from his eyes. He wasn’t the same man. There’s no way Special Agent Romo would understand. Hawk didn’t understand it himself.
“The point I was trying to make,” Hawk said, “is that a moral compass is extremely important. If I had read mine and done what I knew was right, I would have gone an entirely different direction, and my life wouldn’t be the mess it is at this moment. It’s important to equip your kids with the principles found in God’s Word. They work, if we use them. And we can’t use them if we don’t know what they are.”
Romo nodded. “I see what you’re saying. Maybe Annie’s been right all along. Thanks for being so candid. You’ve given me a lot to think about. Well, Hawk, I guess this is the end of the line for us. Special Agent Barron will drive you home.” Romo stood and extended his hand. “Thanks again for your willingness to help us catch the bounty hunter.”
Hawk smiled and shook his hand. “I was willing. Deputy Duncan got it done. But it was a split second only God could’ve planned for.”
Hawk walked up the steps to the front porch and waved at Gary Barron as he drove away, a cloud of dust kicking up behind his rental car. It felt as if a lifetime had passed since he had sat on the porch swing and counted the minutes until it was time to go into Foggy Ridge and give his statement to Sheriff Granger.
Now he sat on the porch swing and just listened to the sounds. The hummingbirds fighting over the feeder. The mourning doves cooing. A jet crossing the wide expanse of Arkansas sky. The hot June breeze whistling through the pines. He knew the minute he walked into the house, he’d be smothered with kisses and hugs and tears of joy from a family that truly loved him.
So why was he feeling so lost and alone? He had thought that after he helped the FBI capture the bounty hunter, he would have done all that he could to honor Kennedy and would be free to move on. She was dead. It was over. Why couldn’t he let go? Why did it hurt so much to know that he would never see her again? He knew nothing true about her, except for what he had read in her heart. And yet an indefinable bond more real than the relationship itself would not let him go.
The orange-and-white kitten climbed up on the porch and sat at Hawk’s feet meowing. He reached down and picked him up and looked into his bright yellow eyes.
“What are you doing out here all by yourself? Are you feeling lost too, little guy? I can’t believe you’re still nameless.”
Nameless. How he hated that word. Her name was Kennedy Taylor. Nothing was going to change that reality in his heart and mind. It had been painful listening to her referred to as Nameless, as if she never existed, never made an impact, never left an impression. She wasn’t just a vapor that disappeared.
The front door flew open and Jesse came outside.
“I saw you sitting out here.” Jesse leaned against the railing and looked at Hawk. “When did you get home?”
Hawk set the kitten down. “Just a few minutes ago. I needed time to catch my breath.”
“You’re a hero,” Jesse said. “Abby and I saw you holding the bounty hunter down on the ground until Deputy Duncan came over and put the cuffs on him. When that guy’s gun went off, people were running and screaming. It was cool—in an awful kind of way, I mean. At least nobody got hurt. Natalie reminded me it’s classified and I can’t tell anybody. I want everyone to know you’re a hero.”
Hawk smiled. “You’re wound up tighter than a tick.”
“I know.” Jesses flashed a mouthful of silver. “It’s been crazy. I’ll bet you’re tired.”
“Not really. Worn out, maybe. It’s almost like I was on a movie set, and Director Romo told me what to do next. There was something intriguing and fun about it, before it got intense. I made friends with two of the FBI special agents, Gary Barron and Ryan Ziegler. They were really great guys. Romo wasn’t so bad either. I respected him when he was coordinating the whole thing, telling each of us what to do. And I got to witness to him a little before I left.”
“Romo?” Jesse said. “The same guy that told us we wouldn’t need to rely on God because we had him?”
Hawk smiled. “I think he got knocked off his high horse when Deputy Duncan came in and saved the day. It all played out the way God intended.”
“Come on.” Jesse grabbed both of Hawk’s arms and pulled him to his feet. “Everybody’s been waiting for you to come home. They’ll want to hear all this. Mama’s been holding dinner.”
Jesse picked up the kitten, draped it over his shoulder, and opened the front door. Hawk followed him inside, the smell of their mother’s pasta sauce permeating his senses. He had forgotten it was Saturday. It was one week ago, almost to the minute, that he had awakened to find Kennedy gone.
“Hawk’s home!” Jesse hollered.
A stampede of family members came charging out of the kitchen, and seconds later came the kisses, hugs, and tears of joy he knew awaited him. He was grateful for such lavish love but felt very undeserving. His choices had put them through an entire week of anguish, worry, and fear. And yet not one of them had complained or thrown it back in his face.
Hawk laughed and enjoyed the moment, thinking that this was how the prodigal son must have felt. They hadn’t prepared the fatted calf, but Mama’s spaghetti would do just fine.
Chapter 28
Just before ten on Saturday night, Special Agent Romo sat at his desk in the temporary FBI office in the Raleigh County Courthouse, waiting for a text. Special Agent Nadia Vaughn from the Milwaukee Field Office was the last FBI actor needed to complete this operation. But unless Herbod Abbas Jalili agreed to cooperate, everything they had worked for might be for naught.
He glanced at his watch. Special Agent Gary Barron assured him that he would get the video just as soon as the final cut was finished.
Romo got up and stood in front of the window. The courthouse grounds were lit up, and a surprising number of people were walking on the sidewalks. Traffic was heavy and noisy on Main Street. Virgil had told him that the population of the town tripled during tourist season, and got even higher on the weekends. And that even though fighting crime within the city limits was Police Chief Mitchell’s responsibility, Virgil’s department worked hand in hand with the police to help keep the peace, enforce the speed limit, and deal with traffic flow.
Romo’s phone beeped. He had a text from Gary: Done. Unbelievably realistic. Farsi approved by the FBI interpreter. Take a look.
“I hope you’re right,” Romo murmured. “I want to get home to Annie and Timothy.” Romo tapped the screen to open the video and then put it on full screen.
Jalili was looking into the camera, holding up a copy of the Wall Street Journal with today’s date. In the background could be seen the side view of a young woman kneeling, her hands bound behind her. She was crying and looked very upset. Jalili picked up the camera and walked over to the woman. He held the camera in front of her face and said something to her, presumably in Farsi. She lifted her head, a tear trickling down her cheek. Special Agent Nadia Vaughn! She was striking, and looked remarkably like the pictures he had seen of Nameless, right down to the almond-shaped eyes. She faced the camera, her lips quivering, and spoke in Farsi for half a minute or so. When she finished talking, she hung her head. Jalili went back and set the camera down, then walked over and stood behind Nadia, who was quietly weeping. Jalili straightened his arm, held the gun to the back of her head, and fired. He turned and walked back to the camera, wearing a smug grin, then pulled up a chair and sat so his face took up the entire screen. He began talking again, this time looking arrogant and sounding bold and confident. He ran
ted for half a minute, then wrote something on an index card and held it in front of the camera. It was a series of numbers that appeared to be a bank account number. Finally, Jalili picked up the camera, walked over to the victim’s body, and pulled her head back by her hair, displaying the exit wound, which was the size of a walnut. He said something that sounded derisive and then laughed.
Romo sat back in his chair and exhaled. He stared at the woman’s lifeless face and wondered how horrible it would be for her father when he was forced to view the tape. He keyed in Gary’s cell number.
“What did you think?” Gary said.
“Honestly? It took my breath away, even though I knew it was staged. Nadia was perfect and very believable. Great job.”
“Thanks,” Gary said. “We’re all beat and ready to pack it up. But we’re pleased.”
“I know how you staged the shooting,” Romo said. “But how in the world did you create the exit wound?”
Gary laughed. “They were two different women.”
“You’re kidding?”
“The first woman was Nadia. She’s a dead ringer for Nameless. According to our interpreter, her Farsi was impeccable. She looked into the camera and condemned the Iranian regime, told her father she loved him, and didn’t blame him for the action of these barbarians. After Jalili shot her, he went back and set the camera down. He put his face in front of the camera to hide the background and talked just long enough for us to make the switch.”
“Clever,” Romo said. “So when he went back and exposed the victim’s face, who was it?”
“That was Molly Isaac from our office. She’s a pretty gal with a similar body type and the same dark hair. And with a little makeup and an authentic-looking exit wound, she made a believable victim. Let’s hope the CIA will be able to get word to Nameless’s father that this was staged. He can never know what really happened.”
“He won’t,” Romo said. “Okay, Gary. Get this to Langley immediately. Ask them to let me know when it’s done. Then go home and hug your wife. I’m going to crash for a few hours and then head back to Fayetteville first thing in the morning. I promised to take Timothy swimming.”
“Will do, Chris. Enjoy tomorrow. I’ll see you Monday.”
Romo disconnected the call. He sat back in his chair and put his feet on his desk, watching the slow-moving traffic on Main Street. Mission accomplished. He had brought in Jalili unharmed, and Jalili had cooperated to fake Abrisham Kermani’s execution. Now, when the five million dollars was transferred into Jalili’s bank account, that would signal the Iranian officials’ belief in the video’s legitimacy. The young woman’s execution would then serve as payback for her father’s treasonous act of giving Iranian nuclear secrets to the United States. What would happen to Jalili after that was classified.
A knock at the door caused him to jump. “Come in.”
“I saw the light on,” Virgil said. “Just checking to see if you were really here. Don’t you guys ever sleep?”
Romo laughed. “About every other day. I’m just sitting here waiting for a phone call. Why don’t you sit with me for a few minutes. I’m going to have a cup of coffee. Can I fix you one?”
“Since I’m up, why don’t I get them both?” Virgil said. “You drink yours black, if I remember right.”
Romo nodded. “Thanks.”
Virgil went to the Keurig in the back of the room. “So why are you still here? You took the bounty hunter into custody hours ago.”
“We had to complete a couple more steps before we leave.”
Virgil handed Romo his cup of coffee, then sat in a chair next to his desk. “I suppose those ‘couple more steps’ are classified?”
“They are.” Romo took a sip of coffee. “But I think you deserve to know in generalities what’s going on.”
“Thanks. I’m all ears.”
“I trust you will keep this between us,” Romo said. “For his own safety, Hawk can never know.”
“Understood.”
“Virgil, Nameless was the daughter of a double agent who works for a foreign government, one not friendly with ours. This double agent has been feeding vital information to the US. He was compromised. And in retaliation, this foreign government hired Jalili to kill the double agent’s daughter and send proof of her death, after which they would have five million dollars transferred to his bank account. Jalili is more than a bounty hunter—he’s a professional assassin.”
“And your job was to keep Jalili from finding Nameless?” Virgil said.
“Technically, my job was to bring him in unharmed.”
“I see.” Virgil took another sip of coffee. “Of course, Jalili couldn’t have found her anyway, because you said she was dead.”
“I did say that.”
“And that there was no public record of her death,” Virgil said.
“Yes, I said that too.” Romo stared at Virgil and studied his demeanor. “This is crazy. Give me your word that this stays between us, and I’ll show you why we had to bring Jalili in unharmed.”
“You have my word.”
Romo handed his phone to Virgil. “Open the video.”
Virgil tapped the screen and watched with great interest. When it was done, he handed the phone back to Romo. “I see why you were so adamant that the bounty hunter be brought in unharmed. I assume his making this video was part of the ‘couple more steps’ you referred to?”
“Very perceptive, Sheriff.”
“That’s an Oscar-winning production,” Virgil said. “Very convincing.”
Romo nodded, the corners of his mouth twitching. “That’s the goal.” Romo’s phone beeped. He looked at the text message. Congratulations. And thank you. We shall all sleep well. He smiled. “Well, Sheriff. Everybody’s happy. The operation was a complete success. When I file my report, I will make sure Deputy Duncan is given his due and make it known that your department’s help was invaluable, even though you never did say just how it was you were involved.”
“How? I never even said if.”
Romo laughed and shook Virgil’s hand. “I hope our paths cross again. Just think what a good team we’d make if we could actually talk straight to each other.”
“I would like that, Chris. I’ve enjoyed getting to know you. You’ve got a bright future. A beautiful family. And unusually good taste in hot dogs.”
Romo smiled and picked up his briefcase. “It’s been a pleasure. See you around, Sheriff.”
Chapter 29
Virgil watched from the window as Christopher Romo’s car pulled out onto Main Street and disappeared in a jungle of red lights. What a crazy and confusing few days it had been.
He owed Mitch. Without the information and personal analysis he had shared, Virgil would truly have been operating in the dark.
And Billy Gene … how many times had his instincts been right on? Too bad Virgil couldn’t brag on Billy Gene, at least to his peers, but the FBI covert operation would remain classified. There would be no newspaper article, no spot on the news, no interviews given. What had happened at Angel View today would be known only by those who were directly involved. The guests who were aware of a gun going off were told by a quick-thinking FBI special agent that it was a training exercise for law enforcement involved in crowd control, and that the gun, loaded only with blanks, went off by mistake. It was a nonissue within five minutes.
Virgil smiled. He doubted it was a nonissue at Kate and Elliot’s. He knew how relieved they must be that the ordeal was over. He took his phone out of his pocket and keyed in Kate’s number.
“Hello, Virgil,” Kate said. “I was hoping you’d call. What a day. I can’t thank you enough for sending Billy Gene up here to keep you informed. I would love to have seen the look on that arrogant Romo’s face when he realized it was one of your deputies who had saved his operation.”
“For what it’s wo
rth, he was humbled and very appreciative. Romo’s not such a bad guy once you get past the surface.”
“Really, Virgil? I’m surprised to hear you, of all people, say that.”
“Opinions can change. You really never know what people are made of until you see them in action. He did an amazing job of coordinating every aspect of the operation. I prejudged him, and that was a mistake. And he was great with Hawk. He had his people watching him carefully. Hawk is the one who wanted to ramp things up and draw out the bounty hunter. He said it was less stressful than sitting around waiting with a target on his back.”
“Hawk told us the same thing,” Kate said. “I’ll take your word for it. Maybe when Romo left, he regretted saying that there was no need to rely on God because his people were the best and they would protect Hawk.”
Virgil smiled. “Oh, I’m quite sure that he ate those words.”
“Did he ever tell you who the bounty hunter was and why the big effort to bring him in totally unharmed? Or who the shooter was? Or who killed Kennedy Taylor? Hawk told us that he’s known about her death since he agreed to help Romo. He’s been through so much, and now he’s grieving on top of everything else.”