Recall (4 page)

“I make one call and you're mine. We leave in the morning. Your choice.”

T
he cool six a.m. air stung the back of Red's throat as his breath came harder. Approaching the end of the morning run, he pushed himself down the ice-packed street, startling a neighbor wrapped in blue-plaid flannel bending over to pick up a paper. Winter was like death—the skeletons of leafless trees against the cold sky. At dawn everything seemed to bleed gray. Gray houses, gray cars, sidewalks, and lawns. However, this morning held some warmth, a little light, as the rising sun cast deep-pink streaks beneath black clouds.

Since the Walmart incident, morning runs helped clear his head. The time to himself, enjoying the heavy morning frost that held the beloved crisp scent. This was what he imagined the expanse of the Arctic must radiate when there's nothing around but frozen emptiness. He pictured himself running across the tundra, alone, breathing the heavy air. It had been six years since his discharge from the Air Force, but he kept fit. Just didn't feel right if he didn't push himself.

He settled into a slow jog, the warm-down, no faster than a brisk walk. Around the corner a white Chevy Malibu was parked in front of his house. It was not out of place in a middle-class neighborhood, but he didn't recognize it. He stalked up from behind to the driver's side, sliding his feet flat across the slick, packed snow, then peered in. A closed laptop was mounted in front of the armrest, an empty shotgun stand next to it. A clipboard was bungeed to the passenger headrest.

Unmarked police car.

Red ran across the clean snow on his front lawn and bounded up the porch steps, then stooped to grab the house key he'd laced in his shoe. Muted voices bled through the mail slot. The knob was unlocked. He trotted through the warm living room, trailing melted snow.

Lori's voice floated from the kitchen. “Sounds like him now.”

Matt Carter was leaning against the kitchen island. He straightened when Red came in, but said nothing. Red extended a hand. “Good to see you again.”

The creases on the detective's forehead disappeared, his countenance softening as they shook. “Sorry for the intrusion. Thought it'd be best if, well, there's been a turn of events.”

Red pulled a stool close and all three sat around the black granite counter where the family ate breakfast. Carter took Nick's usual seat. Where were the kids? Shouldn't they be up by now?

Red slowed his breathing, catching up from the jog. The warm air caused his pores to open further, sweat rolling down his beard, dripping to the counter. He took off his sweatshirt. The granite was cool as he leaned on an arm. The other he slipped under and squeezed Lori's knee. She tossed her hair over one shoulder, looking ready to give one of her sales pitches to a group of execs.

Carter's face reddened in anger. “The Walmart surveillance video went viral.”

Lori stared. “What does that mean?”

“It was leaked.”

“Great!” She looked at Red, grimacing. “Just great.”

“We don't know how or who, yet. Maybe someone from Walmart, or could be in our office. Yesterday it had half a million hits on YouTube. We found out when a friend of my deputy posted a link. The deputy recognized it and let me know yesterday. Around two o'clock.”

Red stared at him. What? How could the cops let that happen? Would the family be in danger? But Carter had said they didn't know who leaked it. Courteous, giving bad news in person.

The deep lines returned to Carter's forehead. “We don't have the resources to track those things electronically. Going to figure it out the old-fashioned way. I've put in for warrants. Hopefully get us past the gatekeepers at YouTube. The video should be pulled soon, but that won't matter. It's out there.”

Red leaned in toward Carter. “Do we need to be worried? Was any of our info leaked with it?”

“No. Not as far as we can tell. That's what put fuel on the fire. There're threads out there on a couple blogs where folks are trying to figure it out. Where it was. Who it was. The only detail we can see is the time-date stamp from the surveillance camera. I've put the fear of God and a gag order on the guys at Walmart. They won't be saying anything.”

“Won't someone connect the dots?”

“They could, but not without effort. We've kept the incident out of the papers for two weeks. The feds could figure it out, but no one on some random blog. But there's always Murphy's Law working against you. Someone from town could see the video and notice it looks like our Walmart. Could be as simple as posting, ‘I was at Walmart that night. There's my car.'”

Lori's cheeks reddened till they matched her lipstick. “But even if they figure out the location, they can't pin it to us. Plus, it's not like we did anything wrong.”

Red leaned back. “Yeah, but I don't want the headache. Father Ingram only lives two doors down. He'll be wondering why I haven't been to confession. I can have some fun for a while, but if it gets out, our friends will keep us at arm's length.”

“We've got great friends. They'll stand by us.” Lori lifted her chin. “On the other hand, my family has been waiting for you to accomplish something big. Now you have.”

Red rolled his eyes. Hadn't told her family yet, waiting for a more opportune time. He turned to Carter. “Sorry. Inside joke. You see, my wife is perfect. The youngest of three girls. Straight A's. No trouble. Never drank till twenty-three. Drop-dead gorgeous. Stiff-armed every guy that asked for a date. Ivy League college. Grad school at U Penn.” Red patted his chest. “Meets me at a bar. Way out of my league, but I trick her long enough to get married, then discover it was actually
she
who pulled one over on me. She'd hidden me from her parents . . . till rehearsal dinner. My self-esteem gradually gets chipped away as I get introduced around the table. Hell, I was the jock in high school. Did okay in college football. Big fish in a small pond. Only didn't have sense to know how small. Lori grew up in a much bigger pond.”

Lori put her hand on Red's leg and rubbed the inside of his thigh. It always turned her on when he bragged about her. “You're exaggerating, but that's okay,” she said, squeezing.

“Her father's a three-term state senator. Used to play for the Colts. Mother, concert pianist. Rest of the family just like 'em. Me? Building manager, two inches shorter than my wife. They call me
Lori's husband
. Keep me because we make cute kids.”

Lori's smile was contented. The way her hand was rubbing his leg, she was well pleased. Tonight would be a good night
.

“Don't let him fool you. My family loves Tony despite his shortcomings.”

Red grimaced. “Thanks. Now back to reality. The guy in ICU, still there?”

Carter nodded.

“If we get ID'd on the video, reporters might show up for a few days. I'll go on the talk show circuit and admit I don't have any recall, and we make a few dollars off the deal. Maybe write a book. It'll be forgotten quick as it started. Awkward with the neighbors, but I don't see any big deal. Though I appreciate you stopping by, the heads-up.”

Carter's stool screeched on the wood floor as he stood. “Just wanted you to hear it from me. Never know which way these things will turn.” He lifted the tip of one toe, then squinted at Red. “What did Dr. Sato say?”

“She thinks I'm a brain-damaged assassin.”

Carter's lip curled in a sneer.

Red laughed. “Yeah, the same look I left with.”

“Least the brain damage part made sense.” Lori bobbed her head playfully side to side.

Carter glanced at his watch. “Well, that's Sato. Anything else?”

“Said she does psych work for the military. Mainly PTSD.”

“Military? So she contracts with them, too.... She told me CIA. Makes more money in a week than I make all year. Moonlights for the county in her extra time. That's how we got you in.” Carter's eyes were bright as he looked back, walking to the door. He grabbed the knob as a loud knocking came from the other side.

Red put his hands into warm pockets. “Probably from next door. Post office gets confused. Neighbors get our mail. You can let 'em in. We'll talk again soon.”

* * *

Carter's grip on the doorknob tightened. He squared up and took a breath, focusing on the jamb. The paint on the door's edge was cracked and a chip revealed bare metal beneath. Why was an alarm sounding in his head? It was as if some random piece of the puzzle had fallen into place, but he didn't know which.

He resisted the temptation to throw the door open. Instead, he forced a smile and slowly pulled. The cold frost pushed into the warm room, bringing with it the fragrance of Givenchy.

Atop a snow-encrusted doormat stood a man in an Air Force long coat. He was as tall as Carter but more muscular, and had silver eagles on his shoulders. MAYARD was engraved on his blue name tag. Closely trimmed gray hair jutted below a flight cap. Sharp-jawed and steel-eyed, he could have been a recruiting poster in his younger years. Water beaded on his patent leather shoes and the hems of his well-pressed pants were wet.

Carter stood in the opening like a bouncer and scanned the front yard. Nothing moved behind the blue-coated man. A blue Ford Taurus was parked ahead of his squad car, bumpers almost touching. Fresh footprints slogged in a straight line from it to the front door, despite the walkway being shoveled. The colonel's gaze seemed to pierce Carter and focus on Red. The man raised an eyebrow. “Red! Long time, old friend!”

The blue-coated colonel stamped his feet hard, knocking the snow from his shoes. “Pardon me,” he muttered, brushing against Carter, as if noticing him only now, forcing his way into the living room.

Red's mouth drew into a grin. “Jim!” He extended a hand and, after a firm shake, they ended up in that awkward yet manly hug that happens when one encounters a close friend from the distant past. Red's body language seemed at ease. Carter studied Lori, but her smile was only slight, nothing he could qualify as an unconscious signal.

Red made the introductions. “Jim, this is Matt Carter, a detective from the sheriff's department. New friend of mine. He stopped by to let me know I'm about to be an Internet star.”

“What?”

“Long story. Tell you later. Carter, Major Jim Mayard, a very,
very
old friend, from a previous life.”

“Colonel,” Carter said, glancing at Jim's shoulders. “Full bird.”

“Has it been that long?” Red asked.

“Four years. Just pinned on. Only three as a light colonel.” Mayard's words were clipped, but his smile revealed the pride of his accomplishment.

“And still haven't figured out you're a waste of oxygen?”

“Only rumors.”

“I can speed up the dishonorable discharge. Remember what we made you do when you couldn't hold your liquor against that female staff sergeant?”

Jim laughed and slapped Red on the shoulder hard enough to make him stumble. A subdued warning entered his voice. “You haven't changed. The prodigal returns and it's like I never left.” He leaned close to Red's ear, but spoke loud enough for all to hear. “The only thing that said
female
about her were the dog tags.”

Lori cleared her throat.

Jim turned to her with arms outstretched. “The
real
reason for my visit—this sexy lady. How's the woman in my dreams?”

“Still waiting for you to ditch your wife.” Lori gave him a hug, standing on her tiptoes. His embrace lifted her from the floor, her frame dwarfed by his. He put her down and straightened his back as if called to attention, gray eyes aimed at Carter. There was a story behind that look, Carter sensed. Jim was smiling. The mood of Red and Lori, bright. No distrust he could discern. But Jim's eyes . . . their whites were cold and the irises, hard as granite.

“What's this ‘Internet star' thing? Red's got me curious,” Jim asked.

Carter extended his hand as he took a step toward the door. “I'll let Red fill you in, sir. Nice meeting you. Gotta run. You two catch up. Red, we'll be in touch.”

Carter stepped outside and shut the door behind him, forcing himself to not look back. His mind was unsettled, thoughts bouncing.

He'd grown fond of Red over the last couple weeks. Harmon was the kind of guy you could only say good things about. Everyone in town knew him, even the grain farmer with the dental bridge at the diner. He'd sat next to him when Carter had met Red there for lunch. The farmer had pointed to one of his front teeth, explaining how Red had knocked it out in a football game. The guy had even slipped out early and paid for their lunch.

Fresh snow was frosted over a rough layer of ice on the handle of Carter's cruiser. He tried it, but it held fast. He pulled up harder and it broke loose with a
crunch
. His grip slipped off and the handle smacked back down.

“Son of a bitch!” He cradled throbbing fingers with his other hand. Two nails were folded backwards in the middle. The blood seeped into his cold palm. A snowflake dropped into the middle of the red pool, its pure white contrasting with the steaming deep red. Apart from the pain, a beautiful, delicate sight. The blood pushed its way up between the flake's crystals, which melted it as quickly as it had appeared.

An idea floated to the surface. He stared at the blood, just a few drops now, hitting the perfectly white snow beneath the car door. He tried to hold the thought, not wanting it to slip away. What had eluded him about Red? How did such dissimilar pieces fit the same puzzle? He now realized he'd been distracted. The mystery wasn't the pieces, but the material from which they were made. Seeing Red with the colonel . . . within Red, then, Carter sensed—
danger
.