Out of the Storm (30 page)

He brushed the tears aside and watched her image fade and disappear. “Good-bye, Elaine.”

“Hey, where’d you go?” Ashley called to him. She and Kylie lay in a heap, still giggling on the soft sand. “I thought you’d left us.”

He swallowed, looking back for the last time to where her spirit had been.

“Never. You two are stuck with me. Forever.”

It was dark. Eric needed to open his eyes. They refused. He pushed himself forward in the recliner. He tried a second time. They cooperated reluctantly.

The room was as quiet as...death. A frightening analogy. It was dark. Very dark. Eric grabbed the arms of the large chair and stared. He checked his watch: 3:10 a.m. It came back to him—slowly. He’d been thinking about Ashley…then a pinprick in his neck. Barely noticeable. Where was Ashley? Her bed was empty. The electronics had gone dark. The covers looked neat, well-ordered—as if she’d slid out of them to use the lavatory.

Eric stood. He swayed but kept his feet. He scanned his surroundings once more. Cold terror engulfed him as he staggered to the door. He pulled it open quietly. The policeman on watch sat in his chair, facing away from Eric.

“Officer,” he whispered, not wanting to disturb the other patients or alert the bad guys if something sinister was going on. No response.

Closing the small distance between them, he touched the man’s shoulder lightly. Still nothing.
Asleep
, Eric thought as he moved close, facing the man. The cop sat, eyes wide open, staring straight ahead, a blank look on his round face. His forehead was pierced neatly by a large, single bullet hole. As Eric watched the young officer fall forward, a large exit wound appeared in the back of his skull. The wall behind him had been split by the large caliber bullet.

He pulled out his cell as he spotted a second victim slumped at the nurse’s station. The young woman who’d been so concerned, so helpful. The one who reminded him of Elaine. Was it true? Only the good died young? He found Carson’s number on his cell. Eric was about to hit dial when the phone jumped to life.

“Eric?” Carson asked, his voice sounding subdued, heavy with stress.

“Yeah,” Eric answered. “I’m at the hospital. We’ve got serious trouble.”

The older man exhaled deeply. “You don’t know the half of it.”

Chapter Forty-Two

“I need you to meet me at your place—
ASAP!
” It was an order. “No time for debate. Just get there!”

“All right,” Eric answered, desperate to know what was going on.

Eric hurriedly shared his part of the story. Ashley’s disappearance, the dead cop, and night nurse he’d found.
Enough talk
, Eric thought. He needed to find the girl he loved.

“Eric,” Carson whispered. “Stay in control. Don’t do anything crazy.”

“You gonna tell me what the hell is going on?” Eric demanded.

“I’d love to, but I’m still assessing the situation.”

“The situation,” Eric said, voice raised in anger. “You’re
assessing the fucking situation!
I lost one woman I loved. I don’t intend to lose another! How did this get so far out of control?”

“I don’t have the answer. It shouldn’t have. Look, you’re a pro. I need you to stay in control,” Carson repeated. “Get to your house. Now.” He added a quiet, “Please.”

Eric closed his cell. After his frustrating, abbreviated conversation with Carson he was boiling. But the old man was right. Stay in control. That was the mantra. He ran down the stairs to ground level two at a time, stopping to throw open the second floor door. Nothing. A few nurses and a cleaning man. Eric needed to find Ashley, Jack, or some sign of where they’d gone.

Eric held out hope. Jack was the consummate pro. Maybe he’d surprised the intruder and taken him out, or frightened him off, since there was no evidence of a struggle or blood. He could have taken Ashley downstairs in hopes of protecting her and finding backup. But Jack had his phone and a walkie-talkie. And if they’d left ICU, would they leave him unconscious in Ashley’s room? Not likely. But, Eric rationalized, even experienced pros do strange things under stress. Eric prayed he’d find them on the first floor.

When he arrived in the lobby it was deserted save another big cop on watch. This one looked as imposing, fit, and professional as his predecessor. But his stare blanched, and he sat open mouthed when Eric described the grisly scene in ICU.

Eric rushed outside, quickly interrogating the other police and agents on site despite Carson’s instruction to the contrary. Thanks to Carson’s team, all had been notified by the time Eric saw them. They were as confused as he was, swearing they’d seen nothing suspicious.

Double-timing it to his Jeep, Eric speed-dialed Carson again, probing, hoping for more information.

“Are you gonna tell me what the hell’s going on?” Eric demanded again as he continued scanning the parking lot.

“Look, son. Just get your ass over here.” Carson stone-walled him again. “And stop playing detective at the hospital. We have agents who can handle that. I need you
now!
”

His phone went dead as he hopped into the Jeep. He reached into the back, unlocking the special cabinet under the rear seat that housed his weaponry. Eric took the Glock, chambered a round, and shoved it into his waistband. He added the commando knife.

As he sped the eight miles that separated him from Lu and Kylie, the icy fear that had begun in the hospital continued to spread. Eric knew it all too well. He practiced a technique that he’d learned and had served him well in the Middle East, a TM thing, refusing to allow any negative images into his consciousness.

So many questions and loose ends: Ashley, Ralph, Carson, and the one that continued to nag at him despite his attempts to avoid it. His friend Ron Lipton. Where was he?

The questions grew and festered. Answers did not.

As he pulled into the small gravel side road that his house fronted on, a local policeman held up his hand. Eric brought the Jeep to a halt. He was growing impatient, very impatient.

“Mr. Montgomery?” the officer asked, shining a powerful flashlight in Eric’s eyes and raising his voice to be heard over the engine.

“Yep.” Eric nodded.

“They’re expecting you.” The man stepped aside and waved him on with military precision.
Former MP
, Eric thought as he passed. Eric spotted a cruiser hidden in the small grove bordering his house. He could just make out another officer with a heavy weapon—an M-16 or shotgun.

Carson’s massive SUV was parked next to two others. All were flanked by two Dennis Police cruisers and…an ambulance.

Eric turned off the engine and dismounted the Jeep at warp speed. The outside lights blazed and several people moved in the bright white halogen glare. Eric knew none of them.

Ian approached and put his hand on Eric’s chest. “Can you wait here a minute, laddie? I think
he
wants to speak to you.”

Eric strained to catch sight of Lu, Kylie, or Ashley. No luck.

Carson approached rapidly. For someone into his fifties, the large man moved with a fluid grace despite a slight limp. Carson hadn’t spent his years of service riding a desk. Eric felt a grudging admiration.

He moved across the wide front lawn toward Carson. The older man held up his hand. “Stay put, son. No one hurt that you know.” He looked back, then found Eric’s eyes again. When he did Eric saw a mix of anger and regret in Carson’s face.

“Wish I could say the same,” he said as he swallowed hard and exhaled.

“Where are they?” Eric demanded. Any remnants of patience draining as he scanned the scene.

Carson gave him a stare that hovered between anger and concern. Deep concern. “I honestly don’t know. That’s why you’re here.”

“What do you mean. How would I…?” Eric stopped as he followed Carson’s eyes. A gurney appeared on his back porch. His throat grew tight at the sight of a body covered by a sheet. Eric thought he’d left this behind, half a world away. Yet it kept coming back to haunt him.

Carson took his arm as they met the stretcher. The old man pulled back the sheet. A stranger. Dead. A pretty woman Eric had never seen. Carson’s breathing took on a labored, shallow sound as he studied the young, dark face staring up at them.

“Phoebe. Phoebe Wells,” Carson whispered. His eyes clouded over as he touched her limp hand. She’d been shot three times, twice at close range in the chest. Her head rested on dark residue. Another blood stain.

“Execution style,” Carson observed coolly with a light cough. He swallowed hard again. “She was the best,” he said. “That’s why she was here.”

The older man shook his head. “It never gets any easier.” Uncharacteristically, he rested a hand on Eric shoulder. “But you lost your share, didn’t you, son?”

“Yes, sir. I did and no, it never gets any easier,” Eric agreed as the gurney rumbled down the three steps to the brightly lit lawn and worked noisily across the uneven ground to the ambulance.

The sound of another stretcher’s wheels caused both men to turn toward the back porch and the kitchen door again. As Eric caught sight of Carson, he could see the older man’s eyes glistening. They held a sadness he hadn’t seen in Carson before.

Carson mounted the steps and stopped the gurney as he lifted the sheet and looked down for a long moment. He sighed and descended while the EMTs moved their sad payload toward the waiting ambulance. Its bright rotating lights competed with the illumination from the stark halogen bulbs in Eric’s spots.

As he stood watching this strange, poignant scene, someone tapped on Eric’s shoulder. Ian stood behind, staring at Carson, then followed the second gurney. He shook his head as it passed. “Jake Connelly.” He whispered. “A fine lad. One of the best field agents I’ve ever seen.”

All Carson’s agents were apparently the best.

“But then the Admiral doesn’t suffer fools. All our people are top notch,” Ian observed in answer to Eric’s thoughts. “The old man was very close to him. Trained him personally. Took the kid under his wing and…”

Ian’s explanation stopped abruptly as Carson approached. “Great kid,” the older man offered softly, shaking his head slowly.

“Sorry, Admiral. Real sorry,” Eric sympathized. “But where are Louise and Kylie?” Eric asked. He knew Carson had lost agents. Good people he was close to. But he needed to know what was going on and where the people that he cared about had gone.

“We got a call about an hour ago,” he nodded toward his second in command. “From Ian. When the team didn’t call in on the half-hour, he came to check. He discovered this.” Carson’s thick arm made a sweeping gesture.

“But where are Lu and Kylie?” Eric repeated with growing anger and frustration.

Carson looked at Ian then back at Eric. “That’s the problem, Eric.” For the first time Carson’s face showed his age. “I have no damn idea!”

Chapter Forty-Three

Eric checked his watch: 4:40 in the morning. The ambulance had departed on its solemn mission a few minutes earlier. Carson had just hung up after having an abbreviated talk with Stacy. She was on her way to Eric’s house. Carson did his best to explain what she’d discovered after a night’s work on the debris from the explosion.

Carson paced back and forth, raising his eyes toward the entry road every time a car went by.

As Eric watched, Ian came up behind him. “Never seen the old man like this,” he whispered as his eyes studied Carson. They showed a mixture of admiration and sympathy. “Blames himself for the way this got bollixed up.” Ian sighed and shook his head.

Eric wasn’t feeling the love. After discovering that Carson’s massive team had no idea what had happened he’d lost all sympathy. “If the shoe fits,” he offered with no attempt to hide the sarcasm. “Why are we just sitting here doing nothing, for God sakes?”

“I don’t think you understand the import of this mission. These blighters were determined to blow up thousands of people across the country. Men, women, children…all innocents just watching the
Fourth of July fireworks.”

Eric must have looked quizzical.

“They have a device—a detonator that’s incredibly sensitive. It uses sound waves to set off an explosion. We’ve been working on that technology for years. Like the glass-break detector in your home alarm, only a hundred times more sensitive and with the ability to discriminate. It can actually be set to detonate based on the frequency and sound quality of a noise.” Carson had said that this was one of Ian’s special skills. He sounded like a high school quarterback watching Tom Brady. “Amazing technology.”

“Very exciting,” Eric said with a definite edge to his voice. He heard Ian’s grudging admiration. All he cared about right now was doing something, anything to find Ashley, Kylie, and Louise.

Carson had been talking to one of the agents in the back of a Tahoe. For the first time in this endless night, the older man’s face showed a glimmer of what might be hope. He showed Ian thumbs-up as he closed the thirty feet between them.

“We picked up her signal!” he told Ian like a happy child on Christmas Eve. A smile spread across Carson’s creased, broad face.

Could it be? Was there something they’d kept from him? Something that held out hope? “What are you talking about?” Eric demanded. He wanted action.

Carson reached them. Ian’s face wore a smile, too. “That’s great, Admiral.” He paused and looked at Eric. “Knowing that something like this could happen we had an implant placed in Ashley’s arm. Did it when she was in the hospital a few weeks ago. She doesn’t even know about it.”

Eric was hearing but not believing. “So you can track her. Like a GPS in a cell phone?” he whispered, shifting his gaze between Ian and the Admiral.

Carson nodded, looking tired but pleased. “Within fifty feet they tell us.”

“So, when do we get going?” Eric asked anxiously.