Sitting at that stop sign, no other cars around, Jed closed his eyes and began to weep. He was so small, so insignificant, and yet God cared enough about him to plan his life and orchestrate it down to the smallest part in the smallest of workings.
His soft crying awoke Lilly in the backseat. Tiffany stirred too.
“Dad, what’s wrong?” Lilly asked.
“Just worried about your mom, baby girl.” Jed wiped his eyes and drew in a long, deep shuddered breath. “It’ll be okay.”
“I know.”
“You doing okay?”
“Yes. Are we there?”
“It’s just right down the street here.”
Jed drove through the intersection and two blocks later parked along the curb in front of a two-story brick home with a small grassy yard and wide front porch. The landscaping around the home was neat and tidy, the mulch freshly laid, the shrubs meticulously trimmed. He surveyed the area around the home, the neighbors on either side and across the street. A few homes down, a shirtless man washed his car; farther down the street an elderly man rode a small riding mower in straight lines. Nothing appeared abnormal or suspicious. Just a quiet suburban neighborhood.
“Stay here,” Jed said. He turned to Abernathy. “When I get out, get behind the wheel, and if anything looks like it might go south, get out of here. Get to Front Street, hang a right, and it’ll take you to the interstate.”
Abernathy nodded.
Jed turned more in his seat so he could see Lilly. He reached for her hand. “I need you to pray, okay?”
“I will, Dad. God will be with you. And us. And Mom.”
He squeezed her hand. “Good girl.”
He then looked at Tiffany. “Thank you for your help. Protect my daughter, okay?”
She nodded. “Of course.”
Jed exited the vehicle and casually walked up the front sidewalk of the home to the porch. Brown wicker furniture adorned the porch along with brightly blooming flowers in hanging pots. Jed crossed the porch and stood in front of the door. He had no idea what he’d find on the other side. He had no idea if he’d find Karen or a team of armed men waiting for him. He fisted his hand and knocked sharply.
FORTY-ONE
• • •
An elderly man opened the door. Tall, thin, African American, with short dusty hair. Keeping one hand on the knob and the door open only a foot or so, he looked Jed up and down and said, “Help you?”
Jed tried to look past the man and into the home, but there wasn’t enough space between the door and jamb, and the man took up most of the height of the opening.
“Are you Joe Kennedy?”
“Nope.”
Jed had an uneasy feeling about this. What if they were wrong? What if Kennedy no longer lived there? What if he’d died or moved and the Internet database just hadn’t been updated yet? “Do you know him?”
The man didn’t move. He wore a solid green T-shirt and khakis with sneakers. And while he was thin, there was the hint of a very athletic, muscular build under his shirt. “Nope.”
Jed stood there for a few long moments feeling awkward and misplaced. He checked on the Acadia. Abernathy, Tiffany, and Lilly were still there, watching him. He turned back to the elderly man. “Well, look, I’m sorry for bothering you. I thought a gentleman named Joe Kennedy lived here, or did at one time.” He hesitated. The man stared at him silently, his face as still as stone. “I’m sorry.”
Jed made to leave and took only one step away from the door when the man stopped him. “Who’s looking for Kennedy?”
Jed turned back around. “I am.”
The man looked him up and down again. “Who are you?” He seemed unimpressed.
“Jed Patrick.”
For the first time, the man took his eyes off Jed. He looked past Jed at the Acadia. “They with you?”
“They are.”
“They have names too?”
“They do. Roger Abernathy. Tiffany Stockton. And my daughter, Lilly.”
The man studied the vehicle and its occupants again. “Lilly. That’s a nice name. Short for Lillian?”
“Yes.” Jed was beginning to understand what was going on.
“Lilly have a mother?”
“She does. Karen.”
He looked again at the Acadia. “Cute kid. She take after her mother?”
“Every bit of her.”
The man opened the door a little wider but kept his right hand out of sight. He glanced up and down the street, then motioned with his head for Jed to enter the home. As Jed stepped forward, the man eased back into the foyer area and revealed that he was holding a handgun in his right hand. He kept a distance of five feet between him and Jed at all times.
“Shut the door,” he said.
Jed turned and took one last look at the SUV. He made eye contact with Lilly and blinked. Then he closed the door behind him.
Inside the home, the man said, “You carrying?”
Jed reached behind his back and retrieved the pistol from his waistband.
“Give it here.”
He handed it to the man. “Is Karen here?”
“Yup.”
“Are you Kennedy?”
“Yup.”
“Can I see her? My wife?”
Kennedy led Jed into the rear of the house, where the kitchen was. “Sit here,” he said, motioning toward a barstool at the counter.
Jed did as Kennedy instructed. Kennedy crossed the kitchen and opened a door that led to the cellar. Karen emerged, made eye contact with Jed. Tears sprang to her eyes and rolled down her cheeks, and she ran toward him. “Jed!”
Jed stood and accepted her into his arms. The feel of her body against his, her hair on his face, her arms around his chest was enough to make his knees nearly buckle. He wanted to hold her and never let her go again.
After several seconds, Karen pulled away. “Where’s Lilly?”
“She’s outside waiting for you. Are you okay?”
Karen dragged her hands over her cheeks, mopping up tears. “I’m fine.” She ran her eyes over Jed and stopped at the incision just above his ear. “What did they do to you?”
“That’s a long story for later. Do you still have the drive?”
Karen shifted her eyes to Kennedy, then back to Jed and nodded. “We have a plan. But first I need to see Lilly.”
They walked through the house to the foyer and the front door, Jed holding Karen’s hand, liking how it felt in his. Kennedy opened the door, and Jed and Karen stepped onto the porch. Lilly was in the car, facing them. Almost instantly, the concussion of gunfire tore through the peacefulness of the neighborhood. The windshield of the Acadia exploded into a million shards while at the same time something hit Jed hard in the left shoulder, pushing him back and into Karen. He knew what it felt like to be shot. Instinct took over. Ignoring the pain like fire in his shoulder, Jed told Karen to stay down and rolled to his right. Kennedy was gone from the doorway but emerged only a second later and tossed Jed his weapon. The area was silent for the moment, and Jed wondered what the situation was in the Acadia.
God, please let them be okay.
Another shot sounded, and the porch light by the front door popped and rained glass onto Jed.
Just feet away, Kennedy knelt near Karen. He leaned over her and hollered to Jed, “She’s been hit, but I’m not sure where.”
With all the commotion and buzz caused by his own adrenaline rush, Jed hadn’t even noticed. Suddenly he felt nauseated and weak. Forcing himself to move, he rolled to his knees and came upright in time to see one of the shooters approaching the Acadia. Jed aimed, fired, and hit the gunman in the side of the head. But as he did so, another shot fired and another. Both missed Jed, but barely. Two other gunmen advanced across the small front lawn. Jed fired, clipped one in the right hip, knocking him to the grass, then squeezed off a shot at the other man, which missed its mark.
Kennedy continued working on Karen.
The gunman advanced quicker now, fir
ing as he came. The shots pushed Jed to a prone position, and before he could right himself, the man was on the porch steps, pointing his gun at Jed. A shot fired. Jed flinched, expecting the shock of a bullet piercing his flesh, but it never came. The gunman’s face went slack, his arms lowered, and the gun slipped from his hand. He wavered back and forth in a strange marionette dance. Finally his knees buckled, and he collapsed onto the steps.
Tiffany stood on the sidewalk, weapon drawn.
In the distance sirens sounded. One of the neighbors must have called the police.
Jed scrambled to his feet and crossed the porch to where Kennedy was frantically working on Karen. Her face had turned an odd shade of gray-blue and her lips were as pale as oysters. Kennedy held a cloth to her neck while at the same time applying compressions to her chest. Jed dropped to his knees beside her. The sirens grew louder. He didn’t care. Let them come. He thought of Lilly, turned, and found her in Tiffany’s arms, crying softly on the sidewalk.
The sirens arrived, their wails giving voice to the agony Jed felt. His left arm was heavy and ached, but he didn’t care. His head spun in a million different directions.
An ambulance stopped in the street, its lights blinking, flashing.
Cops drew close. Jed didn’t want to fight them. He was tired of fighting. Tired of the violence, the killing. Tired of the lies and conspiracies. It had cost him everything.
He willingly surrendered to the police as the medics swarmed around his wife.
FORTY-TWO
• • •
Jed awoke disoriented and with his mind stuck on Karen. The way her face looked the last time he saw her. The lifelessness that colored her flesh. Her lips.
He peeled open his eyes and at first thought he was back in the dungeon below Alcatraz. Panic put beads of sweat across his forehead. He tried to move, but his left arm was deadweight.
“Daddy.”
It was Lilly. Jed turned his head and found his daughter and Tiffany in chairs by his bed.
Lilly stood and held his right hand. “You’re in the hospital. You’re okay.”
Jed looked at his left arm, heavily bandaged and supported by pillows.
“The bullet split your humeral head in half,” Tiffany said. “The surgeon said he was able to pin it all back together, but you’ll be in an immobilizer for at least six weeks.”
Jed didn’t care. He could be in an immobilizer for the rest of his life and he wouldn’t care.
Lilly leaned over his bed and kissed him on the cheek. She smiled. “Dad, Mommy’s alive.”
Jed reached for his daughter’s face and cupped her cheek. “What did you say?” The last time he saw Karen on that porch . . .
“She’s alive. Mr. Kennedy saved her.”
Jed looked to Tiffany, who had tears now trailing down her cheeks. She nodded. “She survived.”
“Where is she?”
Tiffany wiped at her eyes. “Here. In the hospital.”
“Where is here?”
“Hershey.”
Jed tried to sit, but his head swam and pain jolted through his shoulder. “Help me up.”
“I think we should get a doctor in here first,” Tiffany said.
Jed pushed up with his right arm, wincing against the pain. “Help me up, please. I have to see her.”
Tiffany and Lilly helped him to a sitting position, and he unplugged his leads from the monitor beside his bed. There were IV lines attached to his arm, but they ran to a portable tower. Jed slid his legs over the side of the bed and waited for the room to stop spinning around him. Eventually his head settled and the fog cleared. “Help me with the sling.”
Tiffany got the sling from a table in the room and helped Jed into it. Every movement of his arm, no matter how slight or subtle, sent electric shocks of pain along his arm and into his neck.
Once the sling was securely in place and his arm was as comfortable as he could get it, Jed slid off the bed and supported himself on the IV tower. “Where is she?”
Lilly took his right hand. “This way.”
Outside the room a young nurse stopped them. “And where do you think you’re going?”
Jed straightened up. “To see my wife.”
The nurse turned to a man seated on a chair in the hallway and nodded to him. The man rose and adjusted his pants. Jed didn’t miss the earpiece and tiny wire that ran beneath the guy’s collar. He wore black slacks and a gray golf shirt.
He approached Jed and offered his hand. “Bloom. Secret Service.”
Jed shook Bloom’s hand. “I need to see my wife.”
Bloom did not smile. “I know you do. I’ll take you.”
The nurse brought a wheelchair around, and Jed sat in it while she transferred the IV bag to the tower attached to the back of the chair. When she was done, she rested her hand on Jed’s shoulder. “Agent Bloom will take you to your wife.”
Karen’s room was on another floor in the hospital. When they arrived, Bloom parked the wheelchair in the hall and another nurse transferred Jed’s IV to a portable tower. When Jed was standing, she pushed open the door to the room and allowed Jed to pass.
Inside, Karen lay in her bed, her neck heavily bandaged. Her skin was still pale but not nearly as blanched as it was the last time Jed had seen her. She appeared to be asleep, the sheet pulled up to her chest. IV lines ran to her arm; gray wires connected electrodes from her chest to a monitor beeping quietly.
“You can sit over there,” the nurse said, pointing to a chair by the head of Karen’s bed. “She sleeps a lot but mostly that’s the medication. She’s stable and that’s what’s important.” She put her hand on Jed’s arm. “When she wakes, just know she has some trouble talking.”
Jed sat in the chair and Lilly climbed into his lap. Tiffany sat in a chair at the foot of the bed.
Jed reached for Karen’s hand. It was cold and clammy and felt lifeless to him. But the monitor showed a steady heartbeat and respiratory rate, signs of life. Tears blurred his vision, so he blinked them away.
“God has her in his hands,” Lilly said.
Jed squeezed his daughter tight. “I know, baby girl.”
A soft knock sounded on the door, and Agent Bloom entered the room. “Sir, there are some men here to see you.”
“Are these men more important than my wife or daughter?”
Bloom didn’t miss a beat. He clasped his hands behind his back. “No, sir. Not nearly. But I think you’ll want to talk to them.”
“Okay.”
Bloom left and moments later two men entered. Both were dressed in slacks and dress shirts and one had his arm in a sling as well. Jed immediately recognized the other as the man who helped them escape Kill Devil Hills. But he’d never seen the injured man before.
The agent shook Jed’s hand. “Mr. Patrick, I’m Greg Carson—”
“I remember you. Thank you for what you did.”
“You’re more than welcome.” He turned to Lilly. “Hey, little sister.” She ran to him and wrapped her arms around his waist. Carson patted Lilly’s back. “I knew you’d be okay.”
Carson then gestured toward the other man. “And this is Jack Calloway, CIA.”
Calloway stepped around the end of the bed and shook Jed’s hand. He had a firm military shake.
Jed noticed Tiffany hadn’t stopped smiling since the men entered the room. “You two know each other?” he said, motioning to Tiffany.
Tiffany jumped up and gave Calloway a hug. “Jack’s my boss,” she said. “But more than that.”
“What’d you do to your shoulder?” Jed asked.
“Wrong place at the wrong time,” Calloway said.
Carson stared at Karen. “The doctor said she’ll most likely make a full recovery.”
“I haven’t had a chance to talk to any doctor yet,” Jed said.
“Oh, I’m sorry.” Carson glanced at Calloway, then to Jed. “May I call you Jed?”
“Sure.”
“Thank you.” Carson paced the floor at
the foot of Karen’s bed. “Jed, I think you deserve to know the truth of what has transpired.”
“I’d like that,” Jed said. “For once.”
Carson took a step back from the bed. “Jed, we have the thumb drive. In fact, we have two now. They’ve both been inspected. Joe Kennedy worked for the CIA for thirty years and still has connections. Jack here also had some insight and information to share.” He paused and sighed. “Jed, that information has caused quite a firestorm over the past day. Nothing’s hit the fan yet, but when it does, it’ll go public and it will rock this country like nothing has since Watergate.”
Jed said nothing.
Carson began pacing the room again. “Here’s the nutshell of it. The roof’s been blown off the Centralia Project. It’s been discovered that Director Murphy is heavily involved with the project. He is responsible for a number of highly illegal and unethical activities. He will be arrested along with a dozen or so of his colleagues in the CIA. The president was part of the project as well. Privy to all that went on. He tried to distance himself and even now is denying knowledge of it, but facts are facts and proof is proof, and he can’t lie his way out of this one. He will be impeached and forced to resign. Maybe even arrested.”
Jed shifted Lilly on his lap. “So it was Centralia again. All along.”
“And CIA. And NSA. And a score of other agencies and departments. Centralia is a parasite, Jed. It was alive wherever it could find a host.”
“And Connelly?”
Carson sighed again. “Murphy wanted Connelly out of the way because Connelly had caught wind of Centralia and had secretly set up a committee to investigate it. He was getting too close to the truth for Murphy’s comfort.”
Kill Devil Page 25