The Enforcer (14 page)

Dylan staggered out of Terrence
’s dark room with a crick in her neck. If his digital clock could be trusted, it was three in the morning. She’d fallen asleep in the armchair across from his bed where, thanks to the sleeping pills Dr. Richardson had prescribed for her, Terrence finally slept.

She needed as much rest as she could get if she hoped to make it through the coming day. Calling in sick was not an option, not when she and Ackerman were scheduled for counseling. Besides, she
’d missed a day at work just last week. The best she could hope for was a few hours’ rest before the sun came up. And if Ackerman dared to blow his bugle at oh-five thirty, she’d personally kill him.

Keeping Terrence
’s door cracked so she could hear him if he needed her, she drifted down the hall in a sleepy daze, only to pull up short as a shadow rose up the wall beside her door, whipping her heart into a trot. The vision of Tobias’s broad shoulders did little to calm her startled senses. He’d been sitting with his back against the wall, like a sentinel.

A beam of moonlight slipped over his face, illuminating his worried expression.
“How’s the XO doing?” he asked before she could take him to task for scaring her. 

“
Better.” She steeled herself from responding to his presence, but her blood already flowed faster. Her dulled wits revived.

“
I’m so sorry, Dylan.”

His genuine sympathy closed the distance she strove to keep between them. Misery and sorrow clogged her throat, making speech impossible. She groped for her doorknob intending to flee into her room and shut the door in his face.

“Hey.” His hand, warm and comforting, curled around her arm preventing her escape. “You don’t have to deal with this alone,” he said.

Yes, she did. She reminded herself that Tobias was bound to leave eventually. But when he stepped closer, folding her tenderly into his warm embrace, his comfort proved too consoling to reject.

Her weary head dropped on its own accord against his broad chest. His powerful arms enfolded her, making her feel safe and secure. The fullness of her impending loss tore into her like shrapnel, weakening her further. Hiding her face against the soft cotton of his T-shirt, she concealed the tears that flooded her eyes in a warm gush. 

“
Shhh.” He smoothed circles into the small of her back. To her relief, he didn’t offer up empty platitudes. He let her cry silently in his arms, her tears forming a wet patch on his T-shirt. When her eyes finally stopped leaking, she raised her head to pull herself together and realized he had moved them into her bedroom, without her realizing.

She couldn
’t remember the last time anyone had seen her in such a weakened state. “I’m sorry,” she muttered, pulling away.

“
Don’t apologize,” he told her curtly. With a hand still curled around her elbow, he led her to her bed and pulled back the blankets. “Time to sleep.” 

Why did he have to be so kind? Considering him through the gloom, she peered more closely at the message on the dark T-shirt he was wearing. In the shadows she could just make out the white lettering: TOUGH TIMES DON
’T LAST; TOUGH PEOPLE DO.

The words had her standing straighter.
“I can put myself to bed, Sergeant,” she informed him. She better had, before he took advantage of her.

“
Whatever you say, Captain.” In a deliberately insubordinate gesture, he wiped a late tear from her cheek, then swiveled on his toes and padded toward her door.

“
Tobias.” She’d said his name without meaning to.

He stopped and looked back, hope flaring in his eyes.

Her body ached for the fulfillment of her dreams. But Terrence was sick, and she was all but broken. It would do her no good whatsoever to set herself up for more heartbreak. “Good night,” she whispered.

He grimaced.
“‘Night,” he replied. Her door opened and closed, and he was gone.

***

Kevin Richardson’s salt and pepper hair looked as though he’d run his fingers through it countless times that day, which was probably the case. After all, his patients at the Martinsburg Medical Center were distraught and war-torn vets, who’d come to him for healing, just as Dylan had many months ago. The man had been counseling soldiers with PTSD going on thirty years. Clearly, the job hadn’t gotten any easier.

Leaning forward in his seat, he laid a gentle hand on Dylan
’s knee, interrupting her monologue about how much Terrence meant to her. “Dylan,” he said, “There’s nothing you can do.”

His simple words, uttered in his smoker
’s voice, were not what she wanted to hear.

She looked pointedly down at his long fingers, causing him to remove his hand and sit back.

An aching silence filled his office. The pressure in Dylan’s chest expanded like a helium balloon being overfilled. It cut off her airways. Her chest felt like it would surely split open, the pressure was so severe. A sticky sweat filmed her skin. PTSD sucked. Ever since the fateful night she’d collected her boys’ bodies off the battlefield, she had felt this way off and on. God in heaven, she could not face the loss of another person close to her! But, of course, she had no choice. Terrence was dying.

“
You’ve known of his condition for months,” Kevin Richardson reminded her, his words like fingernails on a chalkboard. “That will make his passing easier to deal with.”

She doubted it, but she gave a jerky nod just the same in the hopes that he would change the subject. A wave of exhaustion rolled over her. Given the angle of the sun
’s rays slanting through his blinds, their session was probably over, anyway. It was time to return home where she was needed.

“
Try to focus on the positive,” Dr. Richardson urged. “I mean, just think about it.” He sat back, folding his arms across his chest as he eyed her with pride. “A year ago you were a body of torment and self-doubt, weighing all of ninety pounds. Now, you’re a strong, beautiful, and respected leader. You’ve given others like you a clear sense of purpose. Day by day, you make the world a better place. This is recovery, Dylan!” He dropped his arms and leaned forward. “Give yourself some credit. The only thing you still need to work on is learning to leave your revolver behind.”

She heaved a heavy sigh.

“We’ll work on that next time.” He cocked his head and raised his eyebrows. “Did you bring it to work today?”

Her face grew hot.
“It’s locked in my desk, in my office,” she muttered.

“
That’s okay.” He sent her an encouraging smile. “One step at a time. Right now I’m more concerned with the way you’re managing your stress.”

Dylan rubbed her temple. It had to be apparent she wasn
’t managing her stress well at all.

“
Tell me about your plans your militia is making to right certain wrongs.” Behind the lenses of his glasses, the doctor’s hazel eyes glinted with concern.

Dylan
’s tired brain drew a blank. What was he talking about? But then it came to her that Ivan Ackerman, who’d had his session earlier in the day, must have mentioned the militia’s plan to target Dr. Hendrix.
Damn it all, he was supposed to keep mum about the militia’s intent!

“
Don’t worry.” Dr. Richardson seemed to read her anxious thoughts. “Your secret is safe with me, but I have to tell you that I don’t condone your plans. The FBI already questioned you in regards to that bombing in D.C. You have to know that they’re keeping an eye on you at all times,” he added anxiously. “Are you sure that teaching Hendrix a lesson is the right solution?”

Dylan felt her patience wearing thin.
“What am I supposed to do? Let his abuses go unchecked like the director has? Should we all be passive citizens and let selfish jerks like Hendrix do what they want? No, we should take a stand against it!”

Her impassioned reply brought a wry smile to his lined face.
“You have a point,” he conceded.

Ten minutes later, Dylan left her counselor
’s office. Seeing Ivan Ackerman sprawled on the bench by the double glass doors, she took her time collecting her purse and her coat from her own office. And then went to wake him up.

“
Ivan.” His even snores masked the sound of her tentative voice.

She cautiously nudged his toe with her foot and he jumped like a startled squirrel, lunging at
Dylan with a feral cry and wild eyes.

She startled back.
God, is that what I look like when I’m caught off guard?

Ivan
’s harsh breathing filled the quiet corridor. His craze-glazed eyes cleared by degrees. Considering what had happened to his wife and daughter, Dylan couldn’t blame him. “It’s okay,” she soothed, giving him time to compose himself.

Only it wasn
’t okay, was it? Ackerman had PTSD, just like she did. And for him, it would never be okay again, no matter what kind of outlet for his pain her militia offered him.

The same was true for Terrence. His wife had divorced him while he was in the service. He
’d lost his right leg and his job as a helicopter pilot. And now leukemia would take his life. There was nothing okay about any of it. “You ready?” she choked out.

“
Yeah.”

Wrestling with her unwieldy emotions, Dylan led the way outside. As she drove them home, she mulled over the consequence she would impose on Ivan for violating the code of silence her NCOs were sworn to uphold. As much as she pitied him for the loss of his wife and daughter, it was vital that her leaders be circumspect. Otherwise, the militia
’s endeavors would fail. He would have additional chores, she decided. His Sunday leave would be revoked.

Luckily, his big mouth had caused no lasting harm, since Dr. Richardson—in spite of his disapproval—had promised to be circumspect. Still, it might be wise to advance the operation to an earlier date before Hendrix got wind of her intent.

The 31st of October—Halloween—fell on Thursday of next week. Hendrix was about to get tricked.

****

According to Toby’s phone, the text from Ike Calhoun had arrived just before noon. As Toby was working outside without his jacket on, it went overlooked until sunset when he dashed up to the attic to change his shirt for Wednesday’s supper. He had spent the day sawing and laying oak planks to replace the rotting ones on Dylan’s porch. Swapping out his dusty T-shirt for a fresh one, he checked his cell phone on the off-chance that he’d received a message, and, lo and behold, he had.

Pipe is a match
.

His heart seemed to stop as he stared at the cryptic phrase before resuming its beat with a heavy thud. A match? He stood there, struggling to grasp the ramifications for Dylan. What would happen to her now?

Withdrawing to the farthest corner of the attic where his voice was least likely to be overheard, he placed a furtive call to his team lead.

After two days of misery, Lt. Ashby still lay in his bed just under Toby
’s feet. Dylan, who’d arrived home early from work, was likely fussing over him right now. Tonight was supposed to be the night they reconnoitered the place where she hoped to ambush Hendrix, but those plans may have gone out the window with Terrence’s illness. He sure as hell hoped they had.

Ike answered on the first ring.
“Home plate.”

“
What’s this mean?” Toby murmured, not bothering to encode his speech. Was the FBI en route to Dylan’s compound, even now, all set to arrest her?

“
It means the pipe found on her property came from the same manufacturer as the one used in the bombing. That’s still not enough to implicate her.”

Toby breathed a silent sigh of relief.
“Why not?”

“
Arco Iron Works produced hundreds of yards of that same piping last year.”

“
What about the surveillance pictures? Anything come up on the Datamark Environment?”

“
Negative. None of the militia members are known terrorists.”

Toby briefly closed his eyes.
“Okay. Thanks.” Thumbing the call to a close, he returned his phone to its hiding place. Without sufficient evidence to convict, the FBI wouldn’t arrest Dylan, which meant she was still in the clear—for now. But what were the odds it was just a coincidence that the pipe found on her property and the one used to bomb Nolan’s car came from the same manufacturer? 

With doubt re-rooted in his mind, he went back downstairs for supper and saw that not only had the evening briefing been canceled, but Dylan was postponing her meal to stay by the XO
’s bed.

The four NCOs ate their burgers and beans in gloomy silence. Taking advantage of Dylan
’s absence, Toby decided to question Ackerman. “So, Ivan, I was talking to Captain Connelly the other day and she mentioned that the FBI found a pipe in the barn, and they seized it thinking it was evidence for something.”

The table fell quiet, and four sets of eyes, including June Lee
’s, regarded him curiously.