Not Just an Echo (Piper Anderson Legacy Mystery Book 3)

by Danielle Stewart

  “That’s the real irony of all of it. It isn’t until a man like me says it’s happening that the powers that be will listen. They think photographs can be doctored. People involved can be politically motivated. A boy like Amal, who has so much to lose, he needs someone like me to be his voice.”

  “You said they find you,” Cosette continued. “Were you bagging groceries and they just happened into your check-out line?”

  “I was Special Forces,” he said, closing his eyes for a long beat as he thought of how long ago all of that felt. “I had some successes that got me noticed. They convinced me this job would be safer. All recon. Just gather the information and I’d have the power and responsibility to change the world. I could help stop some of the troubles before they started. The best part was no team. No one else to worry about but myself.”

  “Is that how it worked out?” Cosette asked, seeming to know the answer.

  “No,” he chuckled humorlessly. “I’ve been the catalyst for war. I’ve been unsuccessful with recon and because of that resources were not sent to places that were later proven to have needed them desperately. I’ve led people like Amal, good people who are trying to do the right thing, right to their deaths. The risks they take shouldn’t be asked of any regular person.”

  “Amal doesn’t strike me as a regular person. And if it weren’t you here to help him, I’d imagine he’d be doing exactly what he was anyway. But without your help and support. You may have saved his life by making contact with him.”

  Aiden laughed again. “I’d forgotten what misguided optimism sounded like. It’s been so long since I’d heard it.”

  “Did you miss it?” she asked, smiling through a situation calling for anything but tears.

  “I did actually.” He positioned his chin on the top of her head and sighed. They were tucked in together out of necessity, but he wondered if things were different would he have found himself holding her for another reason? “It’s comforting to think if I just turn everything I know to be true on its head, that I can repaint the picture the way I want to see it. I miss that.”

  “I think I ended up here for a reason,” Cosette said in a far off voice.

  “Oh, I forgot about that too. Fate. I used to hold on to the idea of fate.” He wasn’t trying to be cynical or a dick. Stomping on a shiny happy person like Cosette wasn’t a hobby of his. He didn’t get any joy out of robbing someone of their hope.

  “It’s probably stupid,” Cosette said, shaking her head a little. The road grew bumpy and their bodies banged together as Amal slowed the bike down.

  “I’m sorry, I’m being a jerk. Tell me. Why do you think you ended up here for a reason?” He could still hear the skepticism in his own voice, but luckily she overlooked it.

  “Our travel agent had picked out this other cruise for me. It was supposed to have more single people on it. A younger crowd. She was convinced I’d love it. The day before I was supposed to get on that boat, I called the cruise line and changed plans. I don’t know why. Something just told me this was the ship I was supposed to be on.”

  The bike took a sharp left hand turn and the cart nearly toppled over, going up on two wheels and then slamming back down with a thud.

  “Come, come,” Amal was calling to them and Aiden practically threw Cosette out of the back of the wagon as he grabbed the gasoline and matches. They could be comprised. This could be it. His gun had six bullets. Knowing what the Kitu would do to a girl like Cosette, it crossed his mind that if after the first five he couldn’t save her, she’d be begging for the sixth to be hers.

  When he jumped out of the wagon himself he saw a small house with a roof made of scrap metal hobbled together. The cement structure looked like a good gust of wind could topple its crumbling walls.

  “Where are we?” Aiden whispered, angry for the sudden change of plans. “Why are we stopping?”

  “There was gunfire up ahead. I will go and check it out, but you must stay here. This is the house of a friend. She will keep you hidden.” He charged toward the door. “Margo,” he called, knocking loudly but the door barely hanging on its hinges swung open from his banging. “Margo. It’s Amal. I need your help.”

  Whether he was born with it or it had been forged in him over time, Aiden had a sense that could not be articulated by science. His hair didn’t stand on end; his body didn’t tingle. But a throb would pulse in his jaw, and he knew something before his eyes ever saw it. Margo would not be answering.

  “No,” Amal cried, his voice childlike and defeated. “No, Margo.”

  “What is it?” Cosette asked, her eyes wide as saucers. She was in the habit, Aiden realized, of asking questions she already knew the answers to. It was as if she just needed to hear the truth spoken out loud by someone else.

  Gunfire rang out again in the distance, and Aiden pulled Cosette in the house. “Close your eyes,” he ordered, spinning her away from the black hole of death that couldn’t be unseen if her eyes captured it. “Just face that way and get down.”

  “They are killing the families of the opposition now,” Amal said, pulling a sheet down from the bed and laying it gently over Margo. “It is not enough now to kill the men who might be president, their sisters must die too.”

  “I’m sorry, Amal,” Aiden offered, but it was hollow. “We should let them move farther ahead before we get back on the road.”

  “We won’t leave again until it is dark,” Amal declared. Aiden opened his mouth to protest but Amal shot him a look. “We will wait until it is dark,” he repeated.

  “Okay,” Aiden agreed, looking around the small house again. “They’d have no reason to come back here.” Cosette was shaking, hunched over on her knees. “You can turn around now. She’s covered up.”

  Shaking her head, Cosette refused to turn around. There were so few people Aiden met anymore who hadn’t seen a dead body. Who hadn’t seen bloodshed and murder right on their doorsteps. Or disease and neglect up close. He’d almost forgotten what it meant to be as unaware as Cossette, as untouched by pain as she was.

  Amal broke into a song, low and simple; he sang the words to Margo. Aiden wasn’t sure what he believed happened after you died. The song might never reach Margo, but he still understood why Amal must sing it. It was the same reason Cosette had to stand up, eat something, wash her face, or continue to breath. Because no matter what befalls the people to your left and to your right, you have to keep going if you can.

  “Stand up Cosette,” Aiden said firmly. “Stand up and come have something to eat.”

  “I can’t,” she forced out through a ragged breath. “I can’t move.”

  “That’s the point, Cosette, you can move. You can still move and breathe and talk and eat, and you have to. Whatever place you get your strength from, rally it now. A woman is dead. That’s frightening. But you are alive. Stand up and remember that.”

  “I can’t do this,” Cosette said, shaking her head again. “I can’t.”

  “Cossette,” Amal said, crouching down next to her. “Margo believed in something. She helped me find things I needed to stop all this. She was brave and kind.”

  “And she’s dead,” Cosette bit out. “So what was it for?”

  “We don’t always get to see the end of the story,” Amal said, taking Cosette’s hand. “It doesn’t mean we shouldn’t write any of it.”

  “How do you do this, Amal?” she asked, finally turning half way around. “How do you keep going without being afraid?”

  “I am always afraid,” Amal explained with a playful out-of-place smile. “I am afraid for my brother, for my friends. But my mother was a very smart woman. She read many books, and she would tell me things. There was a quote from Albert Einstein that she found fascinating. It said, ‘be a voice not an echo.’ I am Kitu. The easiest thing for me to do is to follow them. If I were not risking all this, and maybe telling the world the truth of what is happening, their plan would probably work. My people, the Kitu, would be in power again. I could hav
e anything I wanted. My brother and I would live like kings. But I am not just an echo of bad men. I am a voice. My own voice, and if I want to be heard, I have to stand up.” As he said the words, his hand still in hers, he stood and she followed.

  Pulling him into her arms they embraced, shrouded in the most honest understanding of each other Aiden had ever seen. She was ivory colored, he was dark; their contrast so great but their limbs tangled up and their tears ran together.

  “I’m sorry about your friend,” she said, her eyes still going nowhere next to the sheet on the floor. “I’m sorry for all you’ve had to do.”

  “I will only be sorry,” Amal whispered, “if in ten years, some other child has to do the same.”

  Chapter 17

  “It’s so quiet,” Cosette whispered against Aiden’s chest as they sat in the corner of Margo’s house. She wasn’t sure how she found herself in his arms. In the wagon of the motorbike they had no choice but now it had just happened. Maybe he reached out for her or she just fell against him, she couldn’t remember. The gun was still in one of his hands, his free arm wrapped around her.

  “Quiet is a good sign. I haven’t heard any gunfire in over an hour. We’re only about ten miles from Torrella Bay. We can make it there, and this will all be over.”

  “What do you think is happening to everyone from the cruise ship?” Cosette asked, unwilling to close her eyes. That would be giving her mind permission to picture the worst.

  “I believe Amal is correct. Nothing benefits the Kitu more than four thousand people believing they are heroes. I’d imagine they came to the shore and offered protection to the people.”

  “Even though they are the threat?”

  “No one there knows it. It’s actually quite brilliant.”

  “But how will the people evacuate?”

  “By now the Coast Guard has thrown everything they have at this. Once they had the shore secured, they likely tasked commercial or private ships in the area to help evacuate everyone.”

  “And they would?” Cosette asked, suddenly fascinated by people running toward danger rather than away from it. The examples were growing by the minute here.

  “They’d have to. It’s international maritime law. All ships at sea are required to help others in distress. You saw it on 9/11 during the evacuation on Manhattan. The Coast Guard called, and people came.”

  “Can you imagine that?” Cosette asked, nestling herself closer to him. “Can you imagine if the whole world worked like that? If we were all bound to help when others needed it. The call goes out, and everyone shows up. Everyone has a responsibility. Everyone is compelled to assist.”

  Aiden hummed out his agreement but didn’t look as hopeful. “When I was doing some training at sea, learning all of this for the first time I realized how different it was from the way the rest of the world worked. A lot of times you never knew who it was who needed help. They were just stranded, and you had an obligation to assist. Where they’re from, how they pray, who they love, no clue. You just know it’s your duty. The law literally says the master of the vessel has an obligation to render assistance to those in distress at sea without regard to their nationality, status, or the circumstances in which they are found. You must proceed to them with all possible speed.”

  “The law says help,” Cosette said simply. “It says waste no time, and go and help. And yet on land we can walk right by. The homeless person on the street doesn’t get a second look. I can turn the news off and forget a place like Corinti even exists.”

  “It’s better on the ocean I guess. Maybe that’s why my sister always wanted to be a mermaid,” Aiden joked, and the levity was welcomed but didn’t diminish the profound awakening in Cosette.

  “Why does it work on the ocean, but not in the rest of the world?” Cosette asked, imagining Aiden would have some profound insight.

  “I’m not sure,” he shrugged. “Maybe there are plenty of times when someone breaks that law too. I don’t know.”

  “I can’t even get on my high horse and say if we all had some moral fortitude that told us to help anyone and help them fast, a law like that would be unnecessary. I’ve helped no one of any consequence in my life. I’m the reason they need a law like that.”

  “You’re not,” Aiden said, squeezing her tightly. “You can’t feel bad for the things you didn’t know.”

  “I’m not an idiot,” she countered. “I may not have known specifically about Corinti, but I knew there were people in the world suffering. I’ve been living with my eyes closed. I knew I was privileged, having everything I could ever need and then some. At least you are out trying to make it better. I’m at home complaining that no one has invented a chip-proof nail polish that isn’t hell to try to remove when you want to change the color.”

  Aiden laughed, and her head bounced a little, up and down on his chest as he chuckled. “They still haven’t invented that?”

  “Maybe it works in the ocean because everyone is equally vulnerable,” Cosette said thoughtfully. “Look at us, our ship was bigger and had plenty of food. There were water slides on it. Yet all it took was a storm to knock us off course and a fire to make us every bit as susceptible as someone out there drifting on a raft. Maybe the great equalizer of it all is that in the ocean it’s easier to end up needing help, so people are more willing to give it.”

  “Could be,” Aiden agreed. “But don’t be so hard on yourself about trying to save the world. It’s not possible. If anyone knows that, it’s me. Plus, it’s pretty easy to see you’re a good person.”

  “How do you know?” she asked, not accusing but truly curious. She didn’t care what he answered, she just wanted to kiss him for saying it.

  “Not everyone gets into a situation where they have to think about more than just their nail polish problems. But I’ve seen a lot in the world. And when they do get thrown into something like this, very few have the courage to do what you’ve done so far.”

  “I’ve done nothing but get bitten by a spider and cry on the floor about a woman I’ve never met.”

  “If that’s all you think you’ve done,” Aiden began, “you’re still living with your eyes closed.”

  “I think we should go now,” Amal said, looking over at the sheet on the floor one last time. “It has been quiet long enough. We must make it the rest of the way. Wilkie and your friends will be worried. I’m sure they expected us to first return with Cosette and then try for Torrella Bay again. The sooner we can get back to them the better.”

  “Amal,” Aiden said when he stood, and Cosette could tell he was trying to keep her out of earshot. That was hardly possible in a structure this small. “Are there arrangements?” he asked, quietly. “Were you able to—?”

  Amal waved him off. “Come, it’s not important now. We must do what we set out to do.”

  “You could stay here,” Aiden said, stopping in the doorway. “If you stayed hidden, when we have security we could come back for you. The Kitu have done all they planned to in this house. They’d have no reason to have to come back.”

  Cosette looked down at her shoes, drew in a breath, and looked back up at him. Maybe she just didn’t want to be alone with Margo’s body. Maybe she felt safer with Aiden around. Or maybe he had been right about her. There was a chance that Cosette could rise to the occasion. She’d never be Aiden. She’d never be Amal. But she was positive she would never go back to being the Cosette who stepped foot on that cruise ship days ago. “I’m coming with you.”

  Chapter 18

  Michael had been the first to see the plume of smoke rising through the trees about a mile away. It was in the direction Cosette, Aiden, and Amal had headed to get her to the doctor. The worry for their safety was quickly replaced by the fear for his family.

  “What is it?” Jules asked, sidling up to him and following his gaze to the smoke.

  “I don’t know,” he said. “I didn’t hear any kind of detonation, so it could be something as harmless as a campfire.”

>   “That’s pretty close,” Clay said, coming up on them suddenly and sending Jules jumping. “Sorry about that,” he apologized. “There’s no door to knock on up here.”

  “It’s all right,” Jules said, her nails still clamping down tightly on Michael’s arm. “Just jumpy. Is my mom all right down there?”

  “She sang the boy to sleep on her lap,” Clay said, smiling, then his mouth shooting downward suddenly. “If we survive, this will kill her.”

  “They’re going to come for us, and Wilkie will be safe. I’m not proposing we adopt him or anything,” Jules said cautiously. “I’m sure there are plenty of options for him.”

  “There are thousands of people on this island, Jules,” Michael explained, hating to be the person to dash her hopes. “Many have suffered and struggled. They are in danger. They aren’t going to pluck one boy out just because we ask them to. It doesn’t work like that.”

  She shook her head in disgust. “I am not going to leave this place knowing he doesn’t stand a chance. Who knows if his brother is even alive right now? That smoke might be them or the people who killed them. If they rescue us, Wilkie is coming too. I won’t take no for an answer.”

  “If that smoke is the end of Aiden, Amal, and Cossette, it won’t matter. We won’t have to make that choice. We’ll be trapped here.” Michael scanned the tree line for any movement—a flutter of birds suddenly racing toward the sky or the shaking of a tree.

  “They’ll make it,” Clay said disarmingly. “They’ll make it, and we’re safe here until then. Even if the Kitu come this way, they could walk right by this place and never notice it. They surely wouldn’t know we were in it or how to get in themselves. The entry is covered.”

  “Unless someone told them how,” Michael said, imagining how little it might take to force Cosette to talk. A trained man like Aiden had likely taken ample guidance on torture and hostage situations. Amal was tougher than all of them combined, but Cosette would hardly have a chance if they wanted her to divulge anything.