Mark (In the Company of Snipers Book 2)

by Irish Winters

  Alex called me son.

  Mark stilled. It was Alex standing with him now, no one else. Right on cue, Alex gripped his shoulder. They stood eye to eye.

  “Come on, Mark. I can’t do this alone. Get your head back in the game. Focus. Let me work on Castor one more hour. He knows where Libby is. I’m sure of it.”

  Mark dusted the dirt off his pants, wiped his face with the tail of his shirt, and looked his boss over one more time. For the first time, he saw the wicked scar along the length of his boss’s left jaw line. Alex had obviously broken his nose once or twice, too. It was crooked as hell.

  “Okay.” Mark blew out a deep breath and planted his feet. “Let’s get outta here, Boss.”

  They turned toward the Yukon where sweet Kelsey waited for the men in her life.

  “Remember that equalizer you were telling me about at the picnic?” Alex asked before he opened the driver’s side door.

  “Yes,” Mark said quietly, still sniffing and wiping his face. Kelsey didn’t need to see him like this.

  “Good.” Alex leaned across the roof of the vehicle. “That just might be the best decision you ever made.”

  Twenty-Four

  A light!

  Libby jolted awake. Am I saved? Is Mark here? She hadn’t really seen a light, had she? It happened again. She chuckled. Maybe it’s Tinkerbelle? Hmm. So this is how insanity feels. It’s not too bad.

  When the air inside her dungeon turned colder, her skin grew warmer. Inhaling hurt as much exhaling. Sick. Delirious. Buried alive. It couldn’t get much worse. At least she wasn’t hypothermic. Shivering was supposed to be a good thing and she was doing plenty of that.

  Dreams and images invaded every prayer or poem. She was never sure if she actually slept anymore, the line between day and night non-existent.

  So this is how I’ll die – sick, alone, and insane.

  Like an out of control carnival ride, her fevered mind took her up through childhood memories and down into high school dances. The prom. One minute she was twirling like a top on the dance floor with Mark, and the next she was riding the tilt-a-whirl with Faith and Marie, screaming their heads off like they did every year when the fair came to town.

  Libby drifted. She was tired. And sick. She dozed, content to let the illness have its way.

  “Come on Peewee. We don’t have all day.”

  Faith?

  Libby awakened in the middle of the huge Clifton vegetable garden alongside – Faith? Nah. It couldn’t be?

  “You’re supposed to help me weed today, remember.”

  But Faith is dead. Isn’t she?

  Libby reached for her sister’s white gold hair to confirm this was only apparition. Instead of cold stone, she touched carefully plaited braids beneath her fingertips.

  “Hey! Get your mitts off my hair. I just washed it.” Faith tilted her head up to show off her hair. “Marie helped me with the braids. It kinda gives me a Jamaican look, don’t you think?”

  Libby couldn’t speak. The orange beads mingled in Faith’s braid did look exotic, but – Faith? Is this real? Am I already dead?

  Faith looked up from where she knelt weeding. She winked like they shared some wonderful sisterly secret. In a heartbeat, Libby believed. This was real. The darkness in her soul lifted as the wonderful Wisconsin sunshine poured down upon her.

  I don’t know how this happened, but I’m okay. She called me Peewee. I can do this. Weeding is fun with Faith.

  The normalcy of her surroundings confirmed her conclusion. As usual, they sang while they worked, simple silly songs that made the chore go faster. I’ve Been Working on the Railroad, and then Old McDonald Had a Farm, E-I-E-I-O. Libby sang her heart out. This was real, the most real thing she’d ever felt. Faith could call her whatever she wanted.

  The music lifted Libby’s heart. Her voice blended perfectly with her older sister’s. They were two crystal sopranos singing in the garden, her father’s own songbirds.

  Faith worked down her row of string beans so much faster than Libby. Further and further she went until Libby lost sight. All she could hear was, E-I-E-I-O just around the corner of the tall bean poles.

  “Don’t go so fast,” she complained.

  Like a little sister lost in the supermarket, she ran to catch up. Faith was already around the next corner of the tomato cages, singing like she hadn’t gone anywhere. E-I-E-I-O. The garden turned into a maze. Faith kept weeding and singing. Libby kept running to catch up.

  “Not fair!” She plopped down, digging her bare toes into the warm garden soil. “You’re not playing fair, Faith.”

  In the midst of her pity party, a yellow dandelion, dirt clod and all, sailed over the high tomato cages and bonked her on the head. She jumped to her feet. “Faith. Come back.”

  Peeking through the tomato vines were the glorious blue eyes of the older, wiser sister. Like a beacon from home, they met the searching blue eyes of the younger sister who had been left behind.

  “Don’t leave.” Libby stretched to touch Faith—one more time.

  In the clearest voice, her sister answered in her usual I’m-so-much-smarter-than-you voice, “I’m gonna tell Mom if you don’t stop following me.”

  Libby woke to the cold dungeon of her reality. It was only a dream, but the heavy fragrance of sun-warmed tomato vines and good loamy earth still filled her nose. She drew a deep breath, pulling it into the deepest part of her lungs.

  Faith is going to tell Mom.

  How many times had Libby heard that in her short life? Those were her older sister’s real words, exactly what Faith would have said if she’d actually been there. Any other time they would have stung, but now they wrapped around Libby like a comforter sent from home.

  She shook the chill off her arms. She understood now. Faith had gone on ahead. It wasn’t Libby’s turn to follow.

  Not yet.

  Alex surprised Mark.

  It was Kelsey in that interrogation room.

  “I don’t know about this.” Mark brushed a hand over his head.

  Alex hadn’t taken his eyes off his wife. “Kelsey’s good with people. Give her a chance.”

  And then what? She was in there all by herself with a cold-blooded murderer. The poor woman’s feet tapped a relentless beat on the linoleum the second she sat down. She had taken two things in with her, a folder and a hair clip. The clip kept snapping opened and closed.

  Mark held his breath, calculating how fast he could get in there if Castor made one wrong move. The man had gone from a slouching deadbeat to an all out pervert, looking her up and down like she was in anyway a possibility in his pathetic life.

  She’s way out of your league, dirt bag. Touch her, you die.

  From the moment she entered the room, Castor did sit up a little straighter and paid attention a little differently. He smoothed his hair off his face, at least the portion he could reach with his hands still in cuffs and chained to the table. He didn’t exactly volunteer information, but he did look her in the eye, which was more than he had done with Alex.

  Kelsey offered a tentative first move. “Do you, umm, mind if I talk with you for awhile?”

  “Knock yourself out,” Castor snorted. “I ain’t going nowhere.”

  “Would you like some coffee? I could get a cup for you if you‘d like.”

  “Yeah, right,” he muttered. “You Feds are pretty dumb if you think I’m falling for the good cop, bad cop routine again.”

  “I’m not a Fed or FBI.” Kelsey glanced at the two-way window, trepidation written all over her face. “I’m just Kelsey. I teach kindergarten.”

  Mark growled. “I don’t like this, Boss. What if—”

  “Knock it off.” Alex stared at his wife. “She’s just getting started. Let her be.”

  She shifted her feet, crossing them at the ankles and uncrossing them again. The clip in her hand snapped open and closed a few more times. “Okay, so, umm, the reason I’m here is because I think you’re a nice person. Deep down inside, y
ou’re a good guy.”

  “You don’t even know me, lady.” Castor looked away.

  Mark’s heart went out to her. Round one had definitely gone to Castor. What was Alex thinking?

  Instead of saying anything more, she swept her hair up and clipped it high on her head so only a few tendrils hung down. Castor glanced at her, and did a quick double take. Pulling her hair up like that made her look elegant, but it also revealed the scars on her forehead and her left cheekbone. Want to or not, he watched her a little closer. She had Mark’s attention, too.

  “Anyway.” She blew out a big breath like that simple act of putting her hair up took a lot of courage. “I can tell you’re a good man by the way you talk. It’s in your voice.”

  “You been listening to me talk a lot, have you?” he snarled.

  Round two, Castor. Kelsey, zip. Mark grimaced. She had better come up with something more than her opinion if she intended swaying this dirtbag.

  She shook her head. “No, but like right now, just the way you looked at me when you said that, I can see it in your eyes. You don’t have a mean bone in your body. Not really.”

  “What do you know about mean? Ask that guy who was just in here.” Castor nodded toward the door. “He’ll tell you. All Marines are mean bastards.”

  “Well, umm.” She gulped. “I know the difference because I used to be married to a mean man.” She traced a line over her eyebrow and down her cheek, exposing the side of her lovely face to this predator. Her hand shook, and Mark groaned. This was such a bad idea.

  “What happened?” Castor’s tone softened when he actually looked at her.

  “W-w-well,” she stuttered under his close scrutiny. “I guess you could say he didn’t see me like I was a real person. I was just something he used to make himself feel powerful.”

  Castor shifted in his seat. “He hurt you? Bad?”

  “He was a coward, Mike.” Kelsey spoke more confidently now. “He wasn’t like you at all.”

  Mark’s ears perked up. She had just called Libby’s kidnapper by his first name.

  “But you don’t know me,” Castor whispered.

  Mark saw it now. Kelsey was playing to his good side, like he actually had one. In her gentle way, she was helping him remember the man he might have been.

  “No. You’re right. I don’t know you. I mean I’ve never met you before today, but I can see it in your eyes. I really can.”

  “What?” Castor asked sincerely. “What do you think you see?”

  Kelsey leaned across the table and locked eyes with Michael Louis Castor. Mark froze. She had just put herself in the danger zone.

  “I see a very strong man who doesn’t know who to trust,” she said softly. “I see a good man who wants to do the right thing. He just doesn’t know how.”

  Mark held his breath. She sure saw something he didn’t.

  “But I need to know something, and maybe you can tell me,” she continued. “How can a man as handsome and strong as you hurt someone like me?”

  Castor gasped. The hard look flashed back over his face. Mark cringed. Why on earth did she have to go and ask something like that? She had just blown it with that question. Big time. Game over.

  Kelsey leaned across the table, still searching Castor’s ugly face for what Mark didn’t know. She hadn’t asked that question with any anger in her voice. Instead, it came across like a sad curiosity. It hung there unanswered between the abuser and the abused, between the strong and the weak. Now it was Mike’s turn to shift nervously in his chair as Kelsey put a face to his crime. Mark held his breath while the drama unfolded between a sweet angel and a man headed to hell.

  “I don’t know,” Castor finally whispered.

  “I don’t know either,” she said quietly.

  “Why are you asking me crap like that, lady?”

  Kelsey blew out a small sigh. “I guess because he killed my little boys, Mike, and sometimes it’s all I think about.”

  “Damn it, Kelsey. Not that.” Alex stood with his arms crossed, one fist raised to his chin, and his eyes locked on his wife. Mark never thought he‘d live to see the day. Alex was biting his thumbnail.

  She kept going, her voice filled with quiet anguish. “I guess there doesn’t have to be a good reason to hurt another person. It’s kind of like a snowball. Once it gets pushed down the hill, it just keeps rolling, doesn’t it?”

  Castor readjusted his sitting position, straightening one leg, and then the other until they were both pushed to the end of their shackles.

  “Why’d he do that to you?” he asked quietly. “How could anyone hurt you?”

  “I don’t think he meant to at first.” She wiped her eyes. “He always said he was sorry afterwards, but it’s like he was broken inside, like he never knew what a happy family was about.”

  “Like hell he didn’t,” Alex muttered. “He had her and the boys until he—” He froze, straining to hear the conversation from the other room.

  “I’m sorry.” Castor’s voice had softened. “I mean it. I’m sorry.”

  Mark stepped back from the window. He couldn’t watch Kelsey anymore, so he watched Alex instead. The man was wound tight as a drum. The depth of his love for his wife radiated from him like an ocean wave, but there was something more. Mark blinked as the truth hit him. At some deeper level, Alex believed he was a lot like Mike.

  “Me, too,” Kelsey whispered. “Losing a child is the worst pain in the world. I used to ask God to let me die, it hurt so much.”

  “She’s got five more minutes, and this is over,” Alex muttered.

  “I don’t see how anyone could hurt you.” Castor shifted nervously again.

  “Are you married, Mike?”

  “No. I’ve been kinda busy.” He calmed as the conversation turned to a more normal topic. “You know, I was a Marine, and work and all.”

  “That’s too bad.” She studied the grain in the tabletop with her index fingernail. “I bet you would be a good husband. A good father, too.”

  He shrugged, offering a sad smile. “I had a girl once.”

  “You did?” Kelsey brightened. “What was her name?”

  “Juliette. She left me.”

  “Oh, no.”

  Her sincerity surprised Mark. She wasn’t playing this guy. It sounded like she really felt bad for the jerk.

  “How about you?” Castor asked. “You got a good man now, someone who treats you right?”

  “I do.” She nodded to confirm her words. “I don’t know what I would do without him. He’s taught me what real happiness is about.”

  “You love him?”

  Castor’s question surprised Mark. It sounded like he cared.

  “I do. With all my heart, Mike. He’s my reason for living.”

  Alex glanced at Mark again, his eyes bright with emotion. “This is not what I expected when she asked to talk to him.”

  “But he’s talking,” Mark said. “She’s doing better in there than we did.”

  Alex shook his head. “Yeah, but two more minutes, and—”

  Right on cue, Kelsey opened the folder in her hand. She slid an eight-by-ten photo of Libby across the table, one that Murphy had taken during the picnic. It showed Libby snuggled under Mark’s arm, smiling with a look of total adoration in her eyes.

  Castor glanced at the photo, and then at Kelsey, his eyes narrowed in suspicion. “Yeah. I seen her. That’s the gal I grabbed at the airport.”

  “Her name is Libby Clifton, Mike. I talked with her mom.” Kelsey brushed a tear off her cheek. “Rosemary’s scared that she might never see her little girl again.”

  Castor bowed his head.

  “Libby likes hummingbirds and cardinals. She’s a competitive swimmer, and she’s in love with—”

  “That guy, that Mark Houston guy.” Castor remembered. “Right?”

  Mark stood at the window again, his heart in his throat.

  “What did she do to you?” Kelsey asked.

  “Nothing. Yuri poin
ted her out and ....” He shoved the photo back across the table. “Look lady, this wasn’t personal.”

  She rubbed the scar over her brow. “It was personal to me.”

  Mark blew out a deep breath right along with Castor. “Please tell Kelsey where Libby is,” he whispered. “Be the man she thinks you are. Please.”

  Castor scratched his ear, tugging on his earlobe and then his chin like he needed to deliberate. “I want to help you. I really do, but I can’t.”

  She leaned toward him. “But you’re the only one who knows where Libby is, and she’s just a little girl. She won’t last much longer in this cold. I don’t think she even has a coat.”

  “She had a light blue sweater,” he said quietly. “Least, she did the last time I saw her.”

  When Kelsey didn’t respond, he looked around the room, his eyes darting back to her as he bit his lower lip. He leaned toward her. “Really, I want to help you. I do, but it’s not that easy. They’ll kill me the minute I walk out of here.”

  “They won’t kill you, Mike. I’m sure—”

  “No, not your folks. I’m not worried about them.”

  “Is it your friend then, the one they call Yuri?”

  “He’s not my friend,” Castor snapped, his eyes suddenly hard. “He’s a cold-blooded killer. Did you see what he did to those folks in West Virginia? And that little boy? Every time I close my eyes, I see that poor little boy with his throat cut, and—”

  Kelsey gasped. She blanched white, and Mark glanced sideway at his boss. Apparently, Alex hadn’t told his wife about the gruesome details of what happened in West Virginia.

  Alex was already out the door. Mark followed. When they burst into the interrogation room, Castor had hold of Kelsey’s hand. They both looked up in surprise.

  “We’re still talking,” she said simply, not moving her hand.

  Alex shook his head. “No. You’re done.”

  “But Alex—”

  “He’s your husband?” Castor gasped. “He’s the guy you live for?”

  Kelsey nodded, her eyes bright with tears. “He is.”

  “Enough,” Alex ordered. “Let her go. Now.”

  Castor looked to Kelsey, several emotions playing across his face as he held onto her fingers. Mark noticed she squeezed his fingers, too, but he also saw the different look in Castor’s eyes. He wasn’t scared anymore. He’d changed into a drowning man holding onto a lifeline that he couldn’t bring himself to let go of. Not yet.