Kelsey studied him for a long minute. “You’ve been here a very long time. This hole is deep.”
He smacked his lips together. “Yep. Sometimes I can’t dig so much cuz I git tired, but I digged it extra deep anyway. Just for you.”
“Where are we?”
Raymond looked around the campsite. “In a bunch of trees, and you is in the hole I digged for you. Does you like it?”
“But exactly where is that? Are we in a park? The old woman’s backyard? Where is this bunch of trees?”
Wow. She asked a lot of questions. He scratched his scruffy chin, trying to recall the first one. “Umm, no, we ain’t in a park or nothing. It’s kinda like the trees down by the river only there ain’t no river. Only lots and lots of trees. And there is a tent and a ladder and....”
She took a step toward him. His nose twitched. He didn’t remember the hole smelling like flowers. Her hand stretched like she might want to touch him. Raymond peered closer, everything forgotten but Kelsey.
“Do you remember how we got out here in the trees?”
“Ah huh. I know. I know” He rocked harder, filled with the need to get another question right. This one was easy.
“How Raymond?” she asked sweetly, her fingertips on the back of his hand.
A little splash of something that felt like warm sunshine rippled from the pads of her fingers straight through him. No pointy fingernail stabbed him. No poking. No mean pinching. Just the soft sensation that an angel had reached down from heaven to touch him. He closed his eyes. His heart did a funny flip-flop that didn’t even hurt this time. Wow.
“Do you remember?”
He blinked. “Huh?”
“How did we get here?”
“In a truck,” he declared proudly. “In a big, blue truck. You and me got to ride in the back, and it was noisy and blue only it ain’t here right now on account a it’s gone. I got it right, huh?”
The barest hint of a smile tugged the corners of her mouth. “Very good, Raymond. You remembered. Did you see any road signs while we were riding together?”
He beamed. Kelsey made him feel smart. “No, cuz it was dark and windy, and she was driving real fast and I was a scared you was dead, so is you still gonna be sad?”
She stepped away, her brown eyes filled with tears. “Can you take me home?”
“Nope.”
Kelsey turned her back to him. Br-r-r. The magic moment ended. One thing he knew for sure. He was as lost as she was. The need to make amends surfaced. Raymond had never been confronted by a crying woman before. Scared, maybe. Angry, plenty of times. But as sad as this one? Never.
“Ah, Kelsey?”
“What?” She sniffed, but she didn’t turn around.
“I is really happy you is not a zombie, but if you was, I would let you eat a little piece of my brains if you was hungry.”
His apology fell flat. Her head bowed into her hands. Kelsey’s shoulders trembled.
“I gotta go,” he murmured. Very carefully, he covered the hole and secured the rocks until it looked the same as before. Raymond walked away. His stomach gurgled like always. It was time for the old woman to return. Maybe when she did, she’d bring him a nice bag of hot hamburgers. Fries would be nice. A soda, too.
Four
Damn. How’d I get back here?
Harley woke with a raging headache. The sun hadn’t moved at all. Black smoke still billowed overhead. Whatever was on fire, it had to be close. The stench of it seared his nostrils. In panic, he searched his shoulders and thighs. Where’s my rifle? My gear?
He had nothing. Worse, the path he’d taken didn’t make sense. How could he have walked so far only to end up back where it all started? For that matter, had he walked at all? It sure didn’t look like it.
Pieces of a nightmare flashed to life. Humvee hit an IED. Buddies blown away. Only he survived? No way. It had to be a dream. Couldn’t be real. So where was everyone if they weren’t dead? And where’d the blood on his hands come from?
God no. Please, let it be me, not my guys.
He checked for a bullet hole. Nothing seemed evident on his arms and chest. If it wasn’t his blood, maybe the dream was real then. Maybe his friends were dead.
Gulping against the possibility, he raked both hands over his head, his heart hammering. It didn’t take long to ease up on his skull. The moment his fingers came into contact with the grit-filled and tender flap of scalp, panic subsided. He brushed the dirt away from the bloody hole. Good. It’s me. I’m bleeding. Not them.
The crazy pounding in his chest slowed while he self-diagnosed. No wonder he couldn’t think with a softball-sized bump on the back of his head. Life got more complicated when he tried to stand and couldn’t. His leg was numb. Loosening the belt, he readjusted the ragged bandage he vaguely remembered applying. Relief flooded his lungs, the blood fully explained by the gash on his leg and the divot on his head.
He froze, his mind overcome by a strobe light kind of a movie in his tired brain. The image of a gun safe flashed, quickly followed by a bolt-action tactical rifle. Leupold scope. Two pistols. Boxes of ammo. Brass shells. Reloading equipment. A sleek leather sofa with cashmere-scented candles aglow on the glass coffee table. A black dog with a jagged patch of white on her chest. A woman’s soft lips on his neck. American-style food cooking. Somewhere....
His nose twitched to take in the pleasant aroma, but the rancid stink of burning diesel set him straight. No, it was just imagination. He was U.S. Army. No candles. No girls. Not yet.
Groaning at the wicked trick of his mind, he pushed the nonsense away. A man relied on cold, hard facts to strategize, not daydreams. But that dog, a feisty Labrador bitch -what was her name? The elusive memory faded as others bombarded him. The Military Police Brigade at Fort Hood, Texas. He’d wanted to be a Ranger. Ended up a military working dog handler. Affection. It was all about affection for the dog... The children... And her....
Explosions in the distance brought his mind back to zero. Shielding his face with his hand, Harley stared at the fire in the distance. Funny. It didn’t seem so near anymore, maybe two klicks away. Looked like the Army was holding a major meeting. They’d even brought a shiny red fire engine, its siren screaming as much as the pain in Harley’s head. He would’ve taken a step in their direction if the engine hadn’t looked odd, along with the caravan of camels lumbering toward the smoking wreck.
He blinked, not believing his eyes again. The mirage had turned into enemy soldiers, not camels. It wasn’t the U.S. Army come to help at all.
Harley turned his back on the puzzling disaster behind him to face the dilemma before him. The time for dreams and stupid questions was done. He needed to get out of sight and he needed weapons. That hidden arsenal was in the city might be the safest bet.
He was dizzy and thirsty, but alive. The best part was that all of his buddies were alive too. They were out there in the desert. He’d catch up with them if it was the last thing he did.
“Honey, I’m home.”
Judy set the two grocery bags on the kitchen counter as she kicked off her comfortable work shoes. She was exhausted, weary to the bone. After an excruciatingly difficult graveyard shift, she’d ended up staying six hours into the next shift to assist with the victims from the rollover disaster. Walking through her apartment door never felt so good.
She planned on a few minutes under a hot shower, but not until she had her hands on the handsome man she loved with all her heart. Maybe he could join her? She hoped. His workload had been fairly quiet lately. For the first time since she’d known him, he’d agreed to take the afternoon off just to attend a concert at the Kennedy Center. Tonight was the night. She had a titanium ring in her purse. If he was too shy to ask, by heck, she wasn’t. Harley Mortimer was going to get the surprise of his life—a marriage proposal.
She’d promised to fix his favorite dish, peppered shrimp Alfredo with heavy cream. That ought to set the stage. After all, the way to this man’s heart was definite
ly through his stomach. Yes, it was terribly unhealthy, but he never put on an ounce of extra weight. Harley was one of those people who burned their extra calories as soon as they ate them. And tonight, she intended to indulge.
“Harley,” she called. Opening the refrigerator, she put the fresh cream on the top shelf next to the bottle of white wine. Thinking about that lanky male body of his brought a smile to her lips. He wasn’t the big bruiser like his buddy, Mark Houston, but he was just right for her. She’d always wanted to marry a man who was taller. Harley fit the bill by three inches over her five-foot, eleven-inch frame.
All he had to do was look down at her with those teasing hazel eyes, and her heart skipped a beat. How he did that she did not know. He just did, turning her into a silly girl who’d moved across country to be with him. Sometimes, it seemed a mistake, but the moment he cranked up the sexy Mortimer charm, all was right with her world. She’d do it again. In a heartbeat.
He thought he was a funny guy, but she saw through the self-deprecating humor. More boy than man, he was simply a recovering addict who’d evolved from the chaos of self-medication to the healthier addiction of running. He worked hard, trained for the next marathon, and spoiled her rotten. Yet beneath it all, he suffered too. Night sweats and bad dreams still haunted. Judy didn’t know which hurt him worse; the things he’d survived or what he’d put his body through while trying to forget. She only knew she loved him.
If she had her way, he’d find a less dangerous job, but Alex Stewart was his hero. That was the only fly in the Mortimer ointment. Alex could get Harley to jump in a moment’s notice and ask, “How high?” Her influence did not strike the same cadence, not yet anyway. The man had some kind of mind control over Harley. It was always, ‘The boss this and the boss that.’ He didn’t seem able to complete a sentence without bringing Alex into it.
The overseas operations in Afghanistan had to stop too. Harley and Mark were out of the country for weeks at a time. How did Mark’s wife, Libby, put up with it, especially now that they had a newborn baby? And the danger? Fear clutched Judy’s heart every time Harley kissed her goodbye.
Glancing at her china cabinet, she pushed Alex out of her mind and selected a pair of crystal candleholders with scarlet tapers. Tonight was the night. After she and Harley indulged in the perfect evening, maybe they’d find something else they could indulge in. Somewhere between the peppered shrimp Alfredo and dessert in bed, she’d tell him when he was going to get married. He’d smile his sexier than heck smile, probably drawl his usual, “Whatever you say, darling,” and their future together would be planned and perfect.
“Harley,” she called, wandering out of the kitchen and straightening things as she went.
The odd floor plan of his bachelor’s pad had always puzzled her. It felt like a racetrack as the small entryway dumped visitors nearly into the kitchen at the right. From there, a person could walk around the breakfast bar into the living room, and in a few steps, end up back in the entry hall.
The living room led to a small hallway complete with a closet and two bedrooms with the bathroom in between. The bathroom was another puzzling feature. While kitchen was more the size of a kitchenette, the bathroom sported a king-sized shower with three showerheads and a built in tiled-bench. Not that she minded.
Headed toward that very spacious bathroom with Harley definitely in mind, the sight of his open and empty gun safe startled her. Both pistols were missing. The locked station for his sniper rifle stood empty.
Alarmed, she checked the hall closet. The door was shut, but when she pulled it open, the inside light had been left on. Olive-drab ammo boxes lay scattered on the floor. Empty. Her first thought was she’d been robbed, but no. She’d used her key. He had to have been here and locked the door behind him when he left. By the looks of it, he’d been in a hurry.
Judy checked farther. His gear bag was gone, which stood to reason. He’d need some way to carry all the ammo. She dialed his cell phone, her toes tapping at the odd scene before her. He had some explaining to do. Harley might leave his socks and shoes in the living room, but he was meticulous when it came to his gear.
His voicemail answered promptly. “You want me? You got me. Leave a number.”
Anxiety crept into the hallway with her. She did the only thing she could think to do. Judy called his buddy.
“Good morning. Mark Houston.”
“Hi, Mark. This is Judy. How are you doing?” She tried to sound calm.
“Judy? What’s wrong?”
“I’m sorry to interrupt you at work, and if you’re busy, I’ll understand, but—”
“What’s going on? Is it Harley?” As usual, Mark got right to the point.
She blurted her question. “Have you seen him today? Do you know where he is?”
“We were hoping he was with you.”
“He isn’t. I’ve been at the hospital all morning. We’d planned to take the afternoon off together. I thought he’d be home by the time I got here only he’s not. It looks like he’s taken his guns and—”
“What guns?”
“The ones he keeps in the safe, his sniper rifle and both pistols, the SIG and his Glock.”
“Is the ammo gone too?”
“Yes. Everything. It looks like he left in a hurry.”
“Are you sure you weren’t robbed? Look around. Is anything else missing?”
She paused. It certainly looked like a robbery. “No. I used my key to get in, and nothing else is missing. He isn’t answering his cell either.” Her heart stalled. She could feel it. Something was very wrong.
“He didn’t show for a mandatory briefing this morning. We’ve had some trouble here at the office.”
“What trouble?”
“Haven’t you seen? Turn on your TV. Kelsey was abducted last night.”
Judy gasped. “No, not Kelsey! I’m sorry. I was busy with the victims from the tanker rollover on the freeway. Did you see that?”
“We’ve been following both stories, but mostly we’re watching for updates on Kelsey. Alex is still down at the police station. Seems like all hell broke loose today.”
“Where could Harley be if he’s not at work? He’s got most of his gear.”
“The last time you saw him was this morning, right?”
“No, last night before I left for work. I work graves. He mentioned he had a meeting, but he planned to ask for the rest of the day off. We were supposed to go to a concert tonight.”
“Listen, I’ll have Mother track his GPS. Maybe she can pinpoint his location. It’s probably nothing. Call you right back.”
“Thanks, Mark.” Judy hung up and checked the rest of the apartment to make sure she’d spoken the truth. Nothing else was out of place. When she pulled the safe door open wider, the handle was sticky. She jumped as the ringing phone startled her. Dark red stained her fingers and the palm of her hand. Blood. Her very practical heart stuttered. Harley was bleeding.
“Judy, Zack and I are on our way over. Ring us up. We’ll be there in twenty.” Mark’s calm and very much in command tone did not ease her anxiety. She used the same voice when she had to deliver bad news to loved ones at the emergency room.
“Harley’s injured,” she blurted out. “There’s blood on the safe. He had to have been here in the last couple minutes. It’s still sticky. What aren’t you telling me?”
“Stay put. We’re in transit. Don’t—”
The doorbell rang. At the same time, someone pounded on her door.
“Oh, for heaven’s sake, what now? I’ve got company. Wait a minute, Mark.” She was only half-listening because the doorbell rang again. The pushy person on the other side of the door was getting on her last nerve. “I’m coming,” she called.
“Judy!” Mark’s voice shouted through the phone.
“Hold on. Someone’s at my door.”
“Don’t answer it,” he ordered.
Too late. Two men dressed in black business suits, white shirts, and with very offici
al FBI badges in their hands stood in the hall. One had his pistol drawn, the barrel pointed at her. The other instantly placed his foot inside the door, his palm pushing it open wider. He took a menacing step into her home and lifted the cell phone out of her hand.
“We’d like to speak with Harley Mortimer. Is he here?”
Five
“So I’ve been reading up on Conway and Winston to see if they have anything in common,” Connor offered as he and Roy walked the National Mall. Stretching from the Washington Monument all the way to the United States Capitol building, it was a huge public gathering place for protesters, tourists, citizens, and now—one sniper.
Roy eyed his junior agent with interest. Connor was wet behind the ears, but smart and good with computers, a definite plus for a covert operator. They’d left their office after the unexpected Saturday meeting with Alex. Both were casually dressed; the only thing in common their matching black polo shirts with the gold insignia of The TEAM on their chests. They could have been any two of the thousands of visitors enjoying the spring morning. Their ex-military life showed in their ramrod straight posture, as well as their bearing. It made Roy proud; his love of country only bested by his love for the men and women he served with.
“And what did you learn while you were doing all your studying?”
“Well, for one thing, neither of them did any military time,” Connor stated.
“Shouldn’t matter. The military must always bow to the civilian in our republic,” Roy said knowingly. “Founding Fathers planned it that way.”
“True, but that’s not my point. Not only did they not serve in the military, they’re also two of the most vocal politicians against the military. They’re the extreme left of the extreme left. They don’t want to approve any defense funding, not even for the guys who are already deployed. They want everyone brought home, and they don’t care where they are, even the troops on friendly soil. Can you believe that?”
“They sound like a couple of isolationists. It takes all kinds.”
Harley (In the Company of Snipers Book 4) Page 4