Without hesitation, the figure waves back in the same way.
Darn. It is Henry.
Though I’m so very glad to be done dating two men, I still miss Henry. I know Lyncoln misses him too as he nods up to Henry on the roof and squeezes my hand.
I tried to save Henry from the Culling, yet somehow, he got thrown back in and is closer to winning it than ever before. But, the most any of us have left of this screwed up situation is five weeks. Five weeks to the end of the Culling. I can’t wait for Henry to just be able to do as he wants. We want our best friend back. Even though Henry and my relationship as a couple is over, I never expected our friendship to just end like this. And it hasn’t really ended per se, it’s just on hold because of Marisol.
Ugh. That girl.
“Are you cold yet?” Lyncoln asks with a smile.
How does he always know when I’m about to freeze? He knows me well, maybe too well. He knows my every fidget and exactly what each one is for.
“Yep,” I say truthfully.
“Would you like some hot cocoa?” he asks.
“What?! I mean, yeah! You can do that?” Hot cocoa is a rarity in Omaha. Mom typically only makes it for us on Christmas Eve, but it’s the good kind with milk instead of water.
“I can do that,” he nods with a smile.
“But, how can you do that? And you bring me cheesecake or whatever food I want? Who is your source?” I demand playfully.
“I’ll never tell,” he says with a grin and we head in for some hot cocoa. “I’m just that good, sweetheart.”
It’s in these little moments, when we don’t have responsibilities and Culling related stuff to do and we seem like any normal couple, I know we’ll be alright. Regardless of whether or not we are still in the Culling next week, I picked the partner I wanted for me, for life.
Chapter 15
Monday comes entirely too quickly. Sunday was surprisingly enjoyable. Neither Lyncoln nor I went to DIA. Instead, we got the group of us together (minus Marisol and Henry) and played card games, talked, ate food, and just enjoyed one another all day long. I don’t remember ever laughing so hard in one day. It was a nice calm before the storm of crazy this week. I know even seeing Lyncoln this week will be sparse.
As I get to DIA early Monday morning, Jamie and I head straight to Taggert’s office to get a game plan and an update so I know exactly what I need to do with Samson today, other than the obvious of getting his sketches and making the list of people to take down. When we get there, none other than Mr. Winters, the lie detector and verbal tester with the creepy matching grey hair and grey eyes, is leaving Taggert’s office.
“Mr. Winters.” I can’t help but smile as I greet him. It has been a long time since our last lie detector test. I think right before we knew that Isabella was the drifter was the last one.
“Ms. Scott,” he smiles and nods to me in return.
“Long time, no see,” I laugh. “I thought we were done with the lie detector tests.”
“Oh you are, but Alexander and I are still on the Board, if you remember. And the Board is voting this week along with everyone else,” he smiles thinking of something and adds, “Or ‘evil tester guy’ I guess, as you liked to refer to him as.”
HOLY CRAP! That’s right. The Board of Directors votes and their votes are weighted, counting for a fourth of our total. How could I possibly have forgotten that?! And from what Taggert told me after the Isabella situation, Hadenfelt has influence somehow with them, too.
Freaking Hadenfelt.
I laugh and try not to seem shocked that I forgot a valuable piece of information such as that. “Well, he doesn’t seem quite as evil anymore. There was a time I thought you were evil too.”
“And now?” he asks intrigued, smiling freely, far from the intimidating man I first met.
“Now I have bigger fish to fry.” I shrug with a defeated sigh.
“Yes, that you do, dear.” He nods, and I wonder if he is referring to the drifters or to the Hadenfelts or both. “Great work with Samson though. It’s been a while since I’ve seen someone be able to tear down walls in interrogation like that and I worked in interrogation for fifteen years.”
“You’ve been watching? And you did?” I ask, equally surprised by both of his statements.
“Ahh, Ms. Scott, you know the Board of Directors is always watching,” he smirks.
Awkward.
“When did you work in interrogations?” I ask. Having been on the other side of his intense questioning, I feel like he is better suited to interrogate than the group of sadists that Hadenfelt recruited. He’s way more intelligent and manipulative. Hadenfelt is just cruel.
“I had Hadenfelt’s position before he did,” he says emotionlessly but I can tell there is still animosity there. I have found myself another hater.
Welcome to the club. Pitch forks and torches coming soon.
Not knowing what to say to that, I think a moment before speaking. “I hope someday you can do it again. It takes a certain type of person to be able to do a job like that, and do it well. I know from how you were in our lie detector tests that you were probably great at your job.”
He laughs at this then jokes, “I think you will probably have that job, should you ever need it.”
What? Meaning if we don’t win? I could work in interrogations? Yuck. No thanks.
“Thank you for saying so.” I smile tightly.
Everyone seems to be impressed with my interrogations with Samson. Honestly, I think it has less to do with me and more to do with the fact that Samson really isn’t that bad of a guy. And he’s very bright. The combination of the two makes his interrogations a breeze. Plus, Samson knows that my role here isn’t to be an “interrogator” in the traditional sense. I don’t have the heart to hurt someone to get information out of them and both Samson and I know it. I can’t torture a person. I just don’t have it in me.
Just then Taggert peeks his head out into the hallway. “Herman. Quit your jibber-jabbering and let me have my interrogator.”
“Yeah, yeah, you old hoot,” Winters says back to him and then looks to me. “Good to see you in person, Ms. Scott.”
“You, too,” I say as he leaves down the hallway.
The board of directors is 25% of our votes. We obviously have Dougall. Do we have Winters too? What about Bennett, Zax, and Elle? And evil tester guy, Mr. Alexander? Those six people carry a lot of power. Is this good news or bad news?
I’m not sure.
****
“So, Lyncoln will be working with Grady and you with Samson. They’ll start using the same area outside you and Samson use. They’ll go for daily jogs there, but never at the same time as you until Thursday,” Taggert says.
I nod in agreement. This is the third time we are going over this in Taggert’s office, “Operation Red Hawk”. Everything has to go down Thursday morning before the vote so that Samson can “escape” before the results are in. If Lyncoln and I are out of the Culling, he needs to be halfway to the drifter camp by then. Our plan is solid. It will look a little funny and sound a little funny to Hadenfelt and his men but will be more believable and less suspicious than if they just waltzed out the front door at DIA like Williams did.
“So then Thursday, they will be finishing up a workout and Lyncoln will be called in for a fake emergency based on some bogus intel. He and Rodgers will leave immediately, Grady and his guard slowly following behind,” Taggert continues.
“And that’s when we move,” I chime in. “We will pass by them. At that point, Grady will take the gun from his guard and hit him over the head with it, making it look like he knocked the guy out. Then he will point the unloaded gun at us, demanding Jamie unties Samson and hands over his gun, which of course Jamie will do. Samson and Grady will then run off into the wilderness together. Thee end.” I end it with a smile.
Lyncoln is rubbing his temple with one hand and his jaw is clenched, which makes his neck muscles bulge. He doesn’t like this, obvious
ly.
“What, Reed?” Taggert snaps at him, missing nothing.
This is the third time we’ve been over this. We’ve left no stone unturned. Of the whole plan, this part seems the most solid and the least suspicious to Hadenfelt. What is his deal?
“I still don’t like that she has to have a gun pointed at her, loaded or not,” he points out angrily.
“It’s all just a show, Lync,” I try to assure him. “It’s fine. You know whenever I’m with Samson I wear my pistol anyway. I won’t be totally unarmed,” I remind him.
“Yes, but the same man I found pinning you to the ground will be holding a gun to you,” he says, shaking his head as his blue-brown eyes scan mine. “I don’t like it. In fact, I hate it.”
“But has Grady given you any reason to doubt him? Hasn’t he apologized?” I ask, already knowing the answer to my own question.
Of course Grady apologized. He’s been begging Lyncoln to put him back to work. Furthermore, he admitted that the Hadenfelts were behind what happened with Elizabeth as well. Grady was to scare Elizabeth within an inch of her life. Mission accomplished. Leave it to grabby Grady to use his body to do the job. I don’t like the guy and never will, because he is just too touchy-feely, but I don’t honestly think that he would purposefully harm anyone. He isn’t a murderer by any means. I don’t think anyway. But don’t get me wrong, I will definitely not be befriending him like I did Samson. Other than this mission, I want nothing to do with Grady.
“I can understand why you don’t like it,” Taggert offers.
I agree. None of us like it. I haven’t seen Grady since what happened, and I still don’t like it. I’ll do it, but I don’t have to like it. I guess I’ll never feel fully comfortable around him because of what happened. Remembering my black eye and how tender it was, I fight off the urge to want to beat the crap out of Grady myself. An eye for an eye, right? But, he’s our best shot. Do I think he will get the job done? Yes. Absolutely yes. His record in the military is flawless except for the Elizabeth fiasco. He is clueless about women and what is and is not appropriate, but his career means everything to him. And he wants to do this just about as bad as we need him to. He is willing to put his life on the line for us, and that should count for something. A small sliver of redemption at least.
“Do you really, now?” Lyncoln snaps at Taggert and they exchange a look.
“Reed,” Taggert warns. Not very often does Taggert pull his rank over Lyncoln or any of his other top men, but this is one of those rarities.
Lyncoln gets up, storming out of the room and down the hallway without another word before even being dismissed by Taggert.
Taggert curses and looks to West, who says, “I’ll go talk to him.”
“No, please let me,” I plead. I need to make sure he’s okay with all of this. It’s my silly plan. And it’s also because of me that he isn’t going to be with the team to take down some drifters. I know that’s also weighing on his mind. First, though, he needs to cool off. “Give him a few minutes. Anything else?”
They all look at one another and then Taggert nods to Becker.
“If Samson is deceiving us all…” he warns me.
“Then people lose their lives. You don’t think I get that?” I snap annoyed, sounding like Lyncoln in his current mood.
The doubt over whether or not this plan will really work keeps gnawing at me. It’s like a dark shadow trying to grab at me, but I keep jumping out of its reach at the last minute. This has to work. We really need this to work right now. I stay up at night thinking of ways it will go wrong. There is about a gazillion of them.
“Just making sure,” Becker says more quietly, rubbing his bald head nervously.
“Look, I realize a lot is riding on my gut instincts, if Samson is as good of a person as I think he is. I get that. And I have no interrogation training whatsoever, so that is even more concerning, but do you think I would have even suggested it if I hadn’t really mulled that over? Saturday you were all singing my praises, and now you are doubting me? Has something changed that I’m not aware of?” I’m both annoyed and demanding by the time I finish.
“No.” Taggert shakes his head.
“Then what gives?” I snap again, unable to keep my temper reined in. Now I’m just as bad as Lyncoln, about to throw a fit and storm out of here. The stress of this mission is getting to us all and it hasn’t even begun yet.
“We just wanted to make sure you thought everything through,” West shrugs apologetically. “Taggert assured us you did and now we see that too.” He pauses for a moment. “We just have a hard time understanding how someone, woman or not, can fit in so well with our military affairs, interrogations and strategizing both. Someone who has had not even the minimum of training. You seem like our equal in here. You don’t even come from Denver, so you aren’t even a military brat. See how that is alarming? And intimidating as hell? In case you didn’t notice, other Culling candidates are not doing this. You’re much more… hands on.”
“Okay. I don’t see myself as your equal, but I get what you’re saying,” I shrug. Weird, but okay. I’m sick of everyone being surprised by my actions just because I’m a woman. “All I’ve ever done is the thing I felt was the right thing to do. Doing the right thing had nothing to do with if I was a woman or not. My conscience is not dependent upon me being a woman, it’s dependent upon me being human.”
“Ms. Scott, do not misunderstand. My men would readily follow your lead to the ends of the earth. It’s just peculiar that someone who is only eighteen-years-old, has zero training, and is just a Culling candidate, is competent enough to lead them,” Taggert supplies with a smirk.
“I’m only more involved than the other candidates because I decided to save Samson that day and then you put me in charge of his future interrogations. I never asked for your men to follow my lead. I never even said I wanted to lead anything military related,” I argue with a shrug.
“Yeah, and that’s what makes you so damn good at it,” Becker offers. “You’re a freaking natural.”
“Whatever.” I shrug again. I have shrugged at them with attitude more in the last five minutes than the average teenage girl does in an argument with a parent. “One minute you are doubting me, and the next telling me I’m practically military leadership material. That’s a bit confusing and I need to go find Lyncoln now.” I stand. “Are we done here, or do we need to waste some more time talking about my womanly assets?”
West is apparently a blushing man because he blushes. Taggert grins and Becker smirks.
“No, ma’am. We are done,” Taggert says to me with a wink.
I don’t hesitate to grab Sarge and get the heck out of there.
They really think I’m naturally talented, military-wise? I think of the night of the attack and Lyncoln dumping me into Henry’s arms and running into danger. I am far from his abilities. Far! It’s a great compliment but comparing Lyncoln and me are like comparing apples to oranges.
Lyncoln knows exactly what to do in sticky situations, and I just want to run. Or pee my pants. Or both. He is the one with the natural talent. I like to problem-solve and strategize, sure, but that’s a far cry from being able to handle myself in dangerous situations. The only thing I am good at is people. So if that makes me good at military things, then whatever.
I find Lyncoln at the range, where he has shot five shots straight to the heart, straight in a row.
“Hey,” I say timidly as I try to scale his level of angry.
“Hey, Regs,” he says back. He doesn’t sound mad anymore, or he isn’t mad at me at least.
“Are you going to tell me what’s really bothering you?” I ask.
He looks at me not understanding, putting his gun down to unload it and talk to me.
I grab his hand and lay it all out there. “I know you don’t like the whole gun to my head thing, but you know it won’t be loaded at the time. So that makes me think that alone wouldn’t make you lose your cool with Taggert. What’
s really going on? We both know you are keeping something from me.”
He tenses. I see his look of anguish before he closes his eyes, taking a deep breath.
He wants to tell me? But can’t?
“You can’t tell me,” I offer.
With his eyes still closed he nods twice, although it looks like it almost pains him to do so.
“But can you tell me that something else is going on and I’m not just imagining things?” I ask.
“Something else is going on,” he confirms with his eyes still closed, squeezing his hand in mine.
“And you can’t tell me what it is even about?”
He opens his eyes and his blue-brown eyes pierce mine. “No,” he says firmly as he clenches his jaw.
I sigh. “Okay.”
“Okay?” he asks.
“I trust you,” I offer. “I just wish I could help, or if I can’t I wish at least Henry could. Someone.”
“I know. I wish Henry was here to help us with Red Hawk. I wish he could be there when Grady has a gun aimed at you. He’s the only person I would trust to be there because he’s the only person I know that cares about you as much as I do,” he pauses. “But, give me two weeks.” He looks at me deeply. I feel like he has a straight shot to my soul when we look at each other eye to eye like this. “And then no more secrets, promise.”
I sigh. Two weeks is a long darn time. Feels like an eternity, especially in the Culling. And I don’t do well with two-week deadlines, obviously.
“Okay.” I try not to sound as disappointed and frustrated as I feel. I’m not mad at him, but this is eating at me.
I have full “clearance” now, so what is it he can’t tell me? Granted I don’t need to know, or even want to know, every detail of every meeting or mission he has, but what is so important he is keeping things from me? He hates it when I do that to him, so why does he do it to me? I need to get away from him so I can think clearly. Why can’t I figure this out?
The Fracturing: Book 2 (The Culling Series) Page 21