by David Berens
Harry’s legs were gone; the bomb had torn them off. Troy’s ears rang with the sound of the blast and he felt a sharp pain in his knee. He looked down and saw his old desert camo soaked with blood. Shrapnel.
“We’re gettin’ outta here, Harry,” he said to a figure lying on the ground.
He hooked his hands under the person’s arms and heaved. Another boom came as he hauled his companion up onto his shoulders, their arms wrapped around his neck. He sloshed through the sand toward the…chopper? No, it wasn’t the chopper…a Humvee? No, it was a pickup truck.
Strange to see one out here in the desert, but he didn’t care. They were taking fire and Harry needed a medic.
“Hang on, buddy,” Troy said to the figure slumped on his shoulders.
He trudged through the last few dunes and jerked open the door of the white truck. He threw his friend in and slid in behind the wheel. He reached down to start it and another flash hit close. The thunder was deafening. Fear sliced through him. He wasn’t sure if it was rain, sweat, or tears in his eyes.
He reached for the ignition. No keys. Dangit. He checked his pockets. Nothing. He had no keys for the truck. Another flash and boom and he fell down behind the wheel, huddling as low as he could under the dashboard. He checked the slumped body of his friend beside him. Harry? He couldn’t tell if his friend was still alive or not, but he knew he needed attention right now.
Out the window of the truck, the rain eased up enough that Troy could see down the sand. Water? The river, he thought. We must’ve made it to the Panj River. He scanned the shore and could see a small rowboat. It was a long shot, but it might be the only way they’d get out of here alive. He waited for the next flash and bang, but it never came. Maybe the enemy had gone past, thinking they’d killed them all.
He cracked open his door and slunk out. He crouched low and ran around to the passenger door. He pulled his friend out, still unconscious. They must’ve got Harry bad.
“Don’t worry. I gotcha.” Troy hauled his friend up, this time like a sack of potatoes over his shoulder. “Hang on. I’ll get us out of here.”
The sand was loose here and his footing was hard. Somehow, Troy saw he’d lost his boots and now had only sandals on. He must have gotten them from a local. No matter. He hiked down the beach to the shore and found the rowboat. He dumped Harry in and shoved it out into the water. He wasn’t sure where he was going, but he knew they had to get away.
A distant boom sounded and he flinched. It wasn’t as close…they were moving away. He rowed hard, his muscles straining. He did his best to point the boat north and rowed as hard as he could. The effort was oddly relaxing and he began to feel confident they were going to make it. Rain still pounded down on them making visibility next to nothing on the rough water.
He rowed for what seemed like an hour and suddenly the small boat thumped hard onto something. He turned and was shocked to see another, much larger boat. It was dark and there was no sign of anyone on board. He grabbed a rope that must have been attached to the boat’s anchor and hauled his rowboat up close.
This bigger boat had a tall mast and a white hull. It looked like a sailboat. Strange for this part of the world. In another distant flash of light, he saw a ladder hanging off the back. Slowly, he pulled his smaller dingy around to the rear and tied it off on the ladder. With his last bit of strength, he picked up his unconscious friend and climbed aboard the sailboat. He slipped in the rain and the person he’d been carrying tumbled down on the deck.
She moaned when she hit the slick wood.
She? Troy squinted his eyes. It wasn’t Harry. God, something weird was going on here. The body lying in front of him was decidedly female. He shook his head trying to clear his mind. He fell to his knees and flung his hat off. He buried his face in his hands and cried.
This wasn’t Afghanistan at all. Harry was long gone. He was in Nags Head, North Carolina. For a long time, he sat there letting the rain wash the episode away. That was a bad one. He couldn’t remember the last time that had happened. A chill raced through him. He reached down and cradled Meira’s head in his hand. He felt her pulse in her neck and could tell she was still breathing. If he’d done something to hurt her, he’d never forgive himself.
She took in a deep breath and moaned. “Can we go inside?”
Her eyes were still closed. Troy found the strength to pick her up and cradle her in his arms. He eased down the steps, opened his stateroom door, and laid her onto his bed.
He fell down on the floor beside the bed and darkness took him.
Meira Carr woke to the gentle sloshing sound of waves hitting the side of the boat.
“The boat!” she called out in surprise, jerking upright.
She then immediately grabbed the sheet that had been covering her, as she realized she was completely naked. No one else was in the room, but even with her runner’s body, she was still demur. She stumbled out of the bed careful to wrap the sheet around her. Phone, phone, phone, she thought, where the hell is my phone? She found it sitting on the bedside table. Clicking it on, she found that she still had plenty of battery life, but absolutely zero signal. She tried to put a call through to Riley anyway, but of course, it wouldn’t connect.
“Okay, calm down, Meira,” she said to herself. “Assess the situation.”
Her fears last night about Troy possibly being the killer and trapping her out here on his boat were suddenly back. Glancing around the room, she searched for something to use as a weapon. A couple of pillows, a small table lamp, and her flip-flops, there was nothing that could do any damage. She jerked open a nearby closet and found only a few T-shirts and one navy windbreaker. Propped in the back corner she found an old wooden tennis racket. She grabbed it and swung it a few times to test the weight. Shrugging, she gripped the racket tight in her right hand, held her sheet up in her left and crept to the door.
Pressing her ear up against it, she could hear the sound of music playing low and a man singing along…poorly. Steeling herself, she took a deep breath and jerked open the door. At the same time, she screamed and raised the racket above her head. A man standing over the tiny stove fell back, stumbling over a nearby chair. He had on a pair of khaki shorts, no shirt, and a straw cowboy hat. Things began to come back into focus.
“Holy dangit!” the man said as he picked himself up.
In one hand he held a spatula, in the other, a fork. Both of them were raised in a defensive gesture. Meira realized she still had the racket raised over her head.
“I take it you don’t like pancakes,” Troy said.
“Huh? Oh, uh, sorry,” Meira lowered her tennis racket of death. “I forgot we came out to your boat. My memory is kinda hazy from last night.”
“Well, you probably don’t remember it ‘cause you were passed out. I was gonna take you home, but…I couldn’t…find…the…”
His voice trailed off and Meira saw a strange, hollow stare take over his face.
“Troy? You okay?”
He shook his head and his broad smile came back.
“Yeah. Yeah. I’m good. I hope yer hungry, cause I made a mess of pancakes, bacon, eggs, and mimosas.”
She felt a throbbing suddenly pop up in her head, now that the rush of adrenaline was easing. Her stomach rolled and she dropped the racket.
“Mimosa,” she groaned and held out a hand.
Troy took two red solo cups off the counter, handed her one, and they clinked them together. She took a sip and a new panic jumped at her.
“Riley! It’s a school day. I have to get home to get her to school. What time is it? I need to get in to shore!”
“Calm down, Meira,” Troy said. “It’s half-past nine. She’s probably at school already. If she ain’t, she can play hooky for one day. It’ll be okay.”
“Troy, this is my thirteen-year-old daughter we’re talking about here. I have trouble getting her to school on normal mornings. She’ll probably be a zombie until noon.”
“Well, there ya go. S
he’ll likely be hangin’ out doin’ kid stuff until you get home.”
“Phone. I need to call her. Now!”
“Ain’t no service out here, but I do have a CB to talk to the shore.”
“Good. Where is it?”
Troy pointed up to the deck. “Upstairs.”
Meira walked to a set of stairs and hopped up them two at a time. She spotted the receiver near the wheel and yanked it out of its holder. She clicked the dial to a familiar law enforcement channel.
“Nags Head P.D. anyone listening?”
For a second, nobody answered.
“Nags Head police, anyone on the line?”
What the hell? She thought, nobody on the radio? The line crackled and a voice broke through the static.
“This is Officer Duffy of the NHPD. Who is this?”
“Duffy, this is Meira Carr.”
“Hello, Meira. Um…what can I do for you?”
“I’m on a boat with no reception, need to get in touch with my daughter.”
“Wouldn’t she be in school right now?”
Meira sighed. Really, Duffy, you’re judging me right now? She clicked the handle.
“Yes, she would be. But I spent the night…away…unexpectedly and I don’t have cell service to check in on her. Can you call her or something, please?”
“I suppose I can do that. What’s the number?”
Meira rattled off Riley’s cell number.
“Gimme a second. I’ll call her right now.”
A minute passed and Duffy came back on the line. “No answer. Tried it twice. Went straight to voicemail both times, but that would be right if she’s in school. They make ‘em turn off their phones when they get in class.”
Meira took a deep breath. “True, but could you maybe just do a quick drive by the school to see if she’s there? I know it’s a lot to ask, but…”
“Where does she go? I’m a ways out, but I’ll get by there as soon as I can.”
“First Flight Middle,” Meira said.
“Got it. I’m down by Sandspur. Probably take me a few minutes.”
“Oh, wait, you’re down by my place. Can you check there?”
“Meira, you know that this is not part of my regular duties, right?”
“Please, Duffy. I owe you one big-time.”
Silence.
“Duffy?”
“Okay, okay. Give me the address.”
Meira recited it as Troy appeared at the top of the stairs.
“I’ll radio when I get there.”
“Thanks, Duffy,” she said and turned to face Troy.
“You get a hold of her?” he asked and then turned his head away quickly.
“Well, I got Officer Duffy to run out and check on her. Her phone was off. She’s probably in school…thank goodness.”
Troy sniffed, but didn’t look at her.
“Troy? What’s the deal?”
“You, uh…you lost somethin’ there.”
She looked down and realized that she’d forgotten completely about holding her sheet up. She was completely naked.
“Oh, shit, sorry.” She bent down and grabbed the ruffled sheet at her feet.
“Not a problem,” he said and she could see a smile forming under his dark beard.
“How much did you see?”
“I’ll never tell.”
“Well, I guess you saw more than that last night when you undressed me.” She laughed as she said it.
“To tell ya the truth, I don’t remember much at all.”
“Do you remember what you did with my clothes?”
He turned to look at her with a sheepish grin on his face. “Um…nope.”
Meira looked around, scanning the open water around them. The sun was warm and she was starting to feel normal again thanks to the mimosa and Officer Duffy checking on Riley. She let the sheet fall loosely over her shoulder, barely covering her.
“I suppose I don’t really need clothes out here anyway…right?”
The sheet fell the rest of the way off and she saw Troy’s eyes widen. He blushed…a cute reaction for someone his age. God, how old is he? She thought, but then, why do I care?
“How about another mimosa?” She winked as she asked. “And I’ll look around for my clothes.”
“Comin’ right up,” he returned the wink and dashed down the stairs.
Feels like it’s going to be a great day, Meira thought.
15
All My Bags Are Packed
Karl Duffy had been at the Nags Head Police Department for five years and hadn’t made any house calls in all his time on the force. But this one was easy. It was on his way back to town and he’d pass by the Carr house anyway. He eased his cruiser into the driveway of the cottage and found it charming…charming enough to make him wonder if he had chosen the wrong career. How hard could it be to work as a private investigator? From the looks of her place, it looked like Meira was pulling in some serious cash.
“Maybe she needs a partner,” Duffy muttered as he opened his door and stepped onto the flagstone driveway.
It all looked quiet, but he touched his pistol – a reflex from his awareness training. Make sure you have your piece and make sure someone knows you’re here. He glanced down at the radio and wondered if he should call his location in to the station.
Nah, he thought as he closed his door. Won’t be more than a minute anyways. Knock, wait, and leave. That should be about it.
He walked up the steps to the porch and saw the hammock swaying back and forth to his right. A black cat was curled into a ball in the middle of it. When it saw him, it jumped up and scrambled off the porch. Probably a stray, he sniffed. Beside the hammock sat a table with three empty Corona bottles and an almost completely melted candle. The window behind the hammock was closed, but the curtains were pulled back. He walked over and peeked inside.
The room looked like a sitting room or an office with a white wicker chaise and wicker rocking chair. The hardwood floors were vintage and a multi-color braided rug covered the middle of the room. To the left climbed wall-to-wall shelves with books and magazines piled on sagging shelves. An adequate desk with a laptop and an antique brass lamp with a Tiffany shade took up the space on the opposite wall under another small window.
Nothing doing in there. He shrugged his shoulders as he walked to the window on the opposite side. This room was obviously the living room. It had a tasteful futon with a floral cover for a couch and an older, but nice-looking leather recliner. The hardwoods here looked the same as the office and had a similar braided rug. A decent sized flat screen TV perched on a glass-topped stand across from the futon. A matching glass coffee table held four more empty beer bottles. The far wall had two white, French doors swung open to reveal the kitchen beyond.
Best he could tell, there were no lights on and nobody was home. But due diligence being his M.O., he knocked on the front door. Nothing. Yup, he thought, nobody here. Riley’s gone to school.
He opened his mouth to call out her name as he knocked again a little harder. But he didn’t say anything as the door swung open and his hand reflexively jerked down to his holster. He didn’t draw the gun, but he unsnapped it for easy access.
The door lazily drifted back until it was wide open. Still no sound from inside. Wait…is that a radio playing? Okay, Duffy, he thought as his pulse began to speed up, get a hold of yourself. Kid’s not used to leaving home by herself. She probably ran out and forgot to lock the door.
He took a step into the foyer and could easily see into the office on his right and the living room to his left. Stairs led up in front of him and a hallway passed them on the left toward the back of the house.
“Riley?” he called.
He circled through the rooms on the first floor and found each room was empty.
Clear, he thought as he walked back to the stairs. He almost called for backup, but decided against it. If he made the call on an empty house, he’d be the laughing stock at the department. Instead,
he eased up the stairs that creaked loudly with every step. Stealth was not an option.
“Riley?” he projected his voice up to the next level of the house. “It’s Officer Duffy with the NHPD. Are you here?”
As he topped the stairs, he pondered what a ridiculous question that was…there was only one possible answer to the question. If she wasn’t here, she couldn’t say no. Nobody here but us chickens, he heard the punch line to some old joke in his head.
The second level appeared to be two bedrooms and a bathroom. He checked the first room to the left and found it decidedly adult—Meira’s bedroom. It had a queen size bed, a white wicker headboard and matching dresser. A vintage bedside table held a similar lamp to the one he’d seen in the office. He knelt, pulled up the bed skirt and peeked underneath. Nothing but a couple of long, flat plastic tubs with sweaters crammed inside.
He stepped over to the bathroom and found a claw foot tub, pedestal sink, toilet, tastefully tiled floor, and a cabinet above the sink overflowing with all manner of women’s beauty products. He touched the curling iron hanging from the door of the cabinet and found it cold. Not likely it would still be warm from Riley using it this morning, but he checked anyway.
The last door made him nervous. It was closed, but ajar. He could see light coming through the crack and took a deep breath. He swung it open quickly and ducked down.
“Freeze!” he yelled and suddenly realized that he’d drawn his gun.
Nothing. The tinny sound of a radio playing on her bedside table. He walked over and tapped the snooze button.
Now the room was empty and quiet, so he shook his head and holstered his pistol. The twin bed’s patchwork quilt was thrown over two pillows and for a second he wondered if Riley was still sleeping. But he pulled it back and realized that she’d just thrown the cover over her bed in a quick teenaged attempt at making it. Everything looked normal: her desk, the dresser, and the clothes all over the floor. Again, he checked and found nothing under the bed. He was about to walk out when he heard the whooshing sound of a car going down the street.