by L.T. Ryan
* * *
I waited in the hallway, halfway between Abbot’s study and the living room. Bear and Jessie talked quietly in between bites of pizza and swigs of beer. The heat cut off and the house fell still. I leaned back against the wall and closed my eyes. I felt calm and relaxed. For the first time in days I felt like I could lie down on the floor and sleep for six hours straight.
I paced the hall. Smiled at Bear from the end and turned back and walked the other direction. A series of pictures in a single frame hung neatly in the middle of the hall. Most were of Abbot’s daughter, Clarissa. The pictures were a chronology of her growing up. It had been five years since I last saw her, and she had been a gangly young teenager then. Half the pictures were from then or before. The last picture looked to be the most recent, and she appeared to be quite grown up now. Her bright red hair had darkened and the freckles on her cheeks and nose faded.
Bear called from the other room. I walked down the hall toward the sound of his voice. Thirty seconds after I stepped into the living room I heard a crash and the sound of glass breaking. I froze in place for what seemed like minutes. I turned to run down the hall. A gunshot rang out and echoed down through the house.
“Get her away from the windows,” I shouted to Bear.
I raced down the hallway, drew my gun and kicked open the door to the study. Immediately I rolled to my right and backed up to the wall next to the open doorway. I led with my Beretta and peeked around the corner, up the stairs.
“Abbot,” I called.
He said nothing. It was quiet and a cool breeze flowed through the open doorway.
I took each step slowly, one at a time. Once eye level to the floor, I scanned the room. The only person I saw was Abbot. He was on the floor in front of his desk. I looked to the wall and saw the broken window. A jagged hole in the middle told me that the gunman had most likely stood outside the window, jammed his gun through and fired. How long had he been waiting out there for the perfect shot? Was he there when I was in the room, my back to the window? I ran my hand over the back of my head.
Abbot lay on the floor. His eyes fluttered. His breaths were short and rapid. Blood pooled below him, leaking from a hole in his chest.
“Jessie,” I called down the stairway and through the open doorway.
I walked over to the window. A risky move, given that it was pitch black outside and light inside. Whoever did this didn’t stay around, though. They would have stormed the house if they were after me. I had the feeling that this was a hit on Abbot.
And it was my fault.
Bear and Jessie entered the room.
“Cut the lights downstairs and turn on whatever outside lights you can find, Bear.”
Jessie hunched over Abbot, applying pressure to the wound. “Call 9-1-1.”
I walked back to Abbot, dropped to my knees next to his head.
He sucked in air, his head bobbing an inch, and tried to speak. His mouth worked hard to form the words.
“Jack.”
I leaned in close to his head.
He took two short gasps.
“F-F-Find C-Clarissa.” He paused for more air. “Watch over her for…” The words trailed off.
I took his hand in mind and cradled his head with my other hand. “I will, Colonel.”
“Th-the desk.”
His body went slack.
“Help me perform CPR,” Jessie said.
I stood, looked around the room and then at the desk.
“Jack,” she said.
“There’s no point, Jess. Look at him.”
She ignored me and went to work trying to revive Abbot. The words “lost cause” meant nothing to her.
I stepped over her and moved to the back of the room and stopped and stood behind Abbot’s desk. What did he want me to find there? I went through each drawer one at a time not knowing what to look for. The drawers were organized, each having its own purpose. One had pens, markers, paper clips and other office supplies. Two were empty. The third contained a few file folders housing documents pertaining to the property. There was no actual file cabinet. The house served as Abbot’s weekend home and he likely did very little in terms of work while here.
My eyes scanned the desktop. Back and forth I looked for anything that wasn’t there when I sat across the desk from Abbot. Nothing seemed out of ordinary. There was his computer monitor, an award of some sort, his desk calendar, and a picture of Abbot and Clarissa when she was a little girl. He held two fishing poles and she held up a nice sized largemouth bass.
Jessie rose from the other side of the desk. Her blood covered hands hung by her side. Tear stained cheeks were red with frustration. She shook her head and looked down at the floor. She blew upwards to get a strand of hair out of her face.
“I’m sorry, Jack.”
“I know. Nothing you could do, Jess. This is my fault.”
“No, Jack. Don’t say that.”
“I called him. We showed up. Half an hour later he’s dead. Hard to ignore the damn pattern.”
She said nothing. Her eyes scanned the desktop.
“I need to get you someplace safe. You’re in danger with me.”
“What are you looking for?” she asked, ignoring everything I had just said.
“He said, ‘the desk.’” I gestured across the six-foot long, three foot wide desktop. “So I’m looking on the desk.”
“Maybe inside the desk?”
I shook my head. “I checked. Nothing that made sense in there.”
She started to speak, and stopped after letting out an ah sound.
“What is it?”
She hesitated and bit the left side of her bottom lip. She lifted her head and initiated eye contact. “202.”
“What?”
She reached out and pointed at the calendar.
“202.”
I followed her hand. There it was, 202, followed by a dash, three more numbers and another dash followed by three more numbers.
“202 is D.C.,” she said. “It’s a phone number. Missing a digit, but still a phone number.”
“And a name,” I said. “Look.” I put my finger down on the calendar next to the name and number. “Conners.”
“Who is that?” she asked.
“I don’t know,” I said. “It’s either who Abbot was talking to or who he was being referred to.”
“The desk,” Jessie said.
“I need to find him.” I tore off the section of the calendar with the name and number and stuck it in my pocket, then gestured to Jessie to follow me.
Bear met us in the living room. “We should go, Jack.”
I nodded. I had a feeling the police would show up soon. Whoever did this would try to frame me for it. My prints were all over the house by this point, and we had no time to clean up.
“Go start the car,” I said. “I’m going to take a quick look around.”
Bear ran to the door. His heavy steps reverberated through the floor. He left the house.
“Should I go outside?” Jessie asked.
“Stay with me.” I led her into the kitchen. “Look for bottled water and food we can take with us.”
She scavenged the kitchen while I checked the table, drawers and cupboards. A phone hung on the wall. A piece of paper was held in place behind a piece of plastic above the number pad. The paper contained a few names and numbers. My name was there, so was Keller’s. That wasn’t what I was looking for though. At the top of the list was the name Clarissa. Next to her name was a 212 phone number. New York City. I popped the plastic off the phone, grabbed the piece of paper and stuffed it in my pocket. I checked over my shoulder. Jess didn’t seem to notice.
“We can go,” I said.
I left the kitchen with Jessie following behind.
Bear stood in the open doorway blocking our exit to the outside.
“Everything all right?” I asked.
“Yeah,” he said.
“Let’s go then.”
“It’s
too all right, Jack.”
“What do you mean?”
“If you did this wouldn’t you do something to the car?”
I shrugged. “Yeah, most likely.”
“They didn’t.”
“What’re you thinking, Bear?”
“They didn’t even slash a tire to stop us.”
I said nothing. Bear’s brain was processing this in parts. I wasn’t sure where he was going with it.
“I half expected the car to blow up when I started it.”
“But it didn’t.”
“Yeah, I know.” He turned and crossed the porch.
I grabbed Jessie’s hand and led her outside with my gun drawn. The passenger side of the car was shielded to the woods. I opened the back door for her and then ran around the front of the Tahoe and got in the front seat. I shifted into drive and drove down the gravel driveway in the dark.
“Lights?” Jessie asked.
“Not till we’re on the road,” I said. “Might be an ambush.”
“They would have done it inside,” Bear said.
I nodded. “I’m not taking any chances.”
I eased onto the road and drove a half mile before turning on the headlights. I continued on to I-95 and took the northbound on-ramp.
Half an hour passed without a word being spoken.
“Jack?”
I looked over at Bear. He held his right arm tight to his chest.
“How’s the shoulder?” I asked.
“Hurts. I think the stitches came out. It’s bleeding.”
I focused on the road ahead at a steady stream of cars in tight lines heading northeast into the rising sun. The sky changed from dark blue to light blue to purple and orange as the sun peeked up over the horizon. I soaked the sunrise in. The colors calmed my mind.
“What the hell is going on, Jack?”
I searched my mind for the answer.
“I’ve got no idea.”
“All this, for beating up a couple damn CIA agents?”
“People are dying. We’re being framed. It goes beyond that, Bear.”
“They killed that family.” He paused and looked out his window. “Dammit, we stopped them and they still killed that family. Little kids. The wife.”
I said nothing. It had been on my mind the whole time. I felt responsible. Maybe Martinez had no intentions of hurting the family. But I stepped in and signed their death certificates in doing so.
“Maybe it’s that simple,” Bear said. “Maybe some other group killed the family ‘cause they were afraid the family talked to us. Easy enough to pin on us.”
The thought had crossed my mind already. But it was too simple, too clean. That would be easy to refute. “Doesn’t explain Delaney and Abbot. There’s something else going on here. Someone or some group behind this. And there’s a damn reason. We’re close to finding something out, and someone doesn’t like that.”
Bear leaned his seat back and crossed his left arm over his right. “What now?”
“I’m going to D.C.”
“We should be there in what, five hours?”
“Not we. Just me.”
“Like hell. I’m coming with you.”
“Look at you. You’ll weigh me down.” I hated saying it. If I had to run, Bear would be a liability. “Besides, I need someone to watch over Jessie.”
“Screw you, Jack.”