The Enforcer (15 page)

Toby plowed ahead.
“She has no idea where that pipe came from. You’re the supply sergeant. Any thoughts?”

Ivan
’s deer-in-the-headlights stare immediately aroused Toby’s suspicions. The man knew exactly what Toby was talking about.

“
Well, yeah, I think so.” Ackerman shrugged and looked down at his foot. “I found the pipe lying in her yard one day. Thought it might come in handy, so I stuck it in the shed.”

“
You sure about that?”

Ivan laid down his fork abruptly.
“Sure I’m sure,” he said, pushing back his chair and getting up for seconds.

Noting the others
’ curiosity—no doubt they wondered why Toby even cared, he let the subject drop. But Ackerman’s guilty reaction raised more questions than answers. Where had the pipe really come from? Had Ivan planted it in the shed? Why the hell would he do that unless he was Nolan’s killer?

“
Captain’s gotta be hungry by now,” Morrison commented in a clear attempt to change the subject.

“
I’ll go relieve her so she can eat,” Toby offered. Excusing himself, he rinsed his plate and dashed upstairs to check on Dylan. The first thing he saw when she answered his light knock was her bloodshot eyes.

“
Your supper’s waiting downstairs,” he said, “I’ll watch him for you while you eat.”

“
I’m not hungry.”

He edged through the opening, lightly grabbed her by the arms, and forcibly but gently ejected her from the rom.
“You need to keep up your strength, ma’am. The men are waiting for you. Go on.”

She opened her mouth to protest then closed it with a snap.
“Disinfect your hands,” she ordered, whirling toward the stairs.

Rubbing hand-sanitizer into his hands, Toby sank into the armchair next to Ashby
’s bed to listen to the XO’s uneasy snores. Doubts circled him like Indians surrounding a wagon train.

What if Ackerman had conspired
with
Dylan to target the Secretary of Defense? That would also explain his agitation when Toby brought up the FBI’s investigation. Toby scrubbed his face with his clean hands. Why was he so reluctant to believe in Dylan’s culpability?

Protect the Captain
. Lt. Ashby’s words played like a broken record in his mind.
The Feds…they’re trying to frame her for murder.

From Toby
’s perspective as a government agent, that was absolutely false. Why would the FBI intentionally frame her? They wouldn’t. And yet their preconceived notions about her as detailed in her psychological profile may have predisposed them to believe in her guilt. Maybe that pipe was simply from the same manufacturer as the one used in the bomb, and the fact that Dylan had it on her property was pure coincidence.

Recalling the look of guilt on Ackerman
’s face, Toby tended to doubt that. Which meant that Dylan was either guilty or someone really was framing her.

Dylan forced herself to linger in the kitchen. Sharing words with the men, she assured them that they always had a home with her, regardless of Terrence’s prognosis. After they’d eaten dessert and cleaned up, she put together a tray for her XO and carried it upstairs, hopeful that he’d at least take a bite. The pain meds had robbed him of an appetite, not to mention that they upset his stomach. 

When she entered his room, she found Terrence sitting up in bed, chuckling over something Tobias had just told him. In her joy, she almost dropped her tray.
“Look at you!” she exclaimed.

His crutch, now propped next to him, suggested he had used it to make his way to the bathroom. Tears of relief pressured her eyes as she quickly laid the tray aside and touched a hand to his forehead. His fever was gone.
“You must be feeling better.”

“
I am better,” Terrence insisted.

“
The swelling responded to the Retrovir,” she marveled, feeling a great weight lift off her shoulders. She sank weakly onto the end of the bed, grappling with her emotions, highly conscious of the peculiar way Tobias was looking at her—almost like he’d never seen her before. 

Terrence picked a baby carrot off his plate and crunched it between his strong teeth. Pleased to see him eating, she ignored Tobias
’s scrutiny and kept her eyes on Terrence, who picked up his burger, took note of her rapt stare and said, “You two aren’t going to sit here watching me all night, are you? I thought we had plans this evening to reconnoiter the area where we’re grabbing Hendrix.”

Dylan shook her head at him.
“
You’re
not going anywhere.” 

He shrugged.
“Who says I intend to? Take Sergeant Burke with you.”

Dylan continued to ignore Tobias.
“I’m not leaving you alone tonight,” she insisted.

Terrence took a bite out of his burger.
“I’ll be fine,” he insisted around a mouthful. “Take Burke and go. The others will keep an eye on me.”

Dylan glanced at Tobias, who was keeping unusually quiet. Leaving Terrence in his sickened state felt wrong. But then again, if Hendrix
’s abduction was going to take place next week, she had a lot to do by way of planning. The militia couldn’t afford to be careless. 

But did she dare venture out alone with Tobias, especially in her present vulnerable state? Perhaps some other NCO ought to tag along as chaperone. But Ackerman had already proven himself a liability, Morrison talked too much, and Chet Lee preferred spending his evenings with his wife. That left her and Tobias reconnoitering the countryside alone.

Her palms moistened at the prospect of him seeking to deepen intimacies between them.

Be honest, Dylan. You hope he will.

From the corner of her eye, she considered him as he pushed to his feet, arched his back and stretched.
“I guess I’ll get ready then.”

Drawn to the message on his green T-shirt, she couldn
’t resist reading it.  

ALL OPINIONS ARE WELCOME, BUT MINE
’S THE ONLY ONE THAT COUNTS.

In this particular case, that much was true. She couldn
’t coordinate her plans for Hendrix without Tobias’s input. If he made a move on her tonight, she would have to find the strength to resist him.

Chapter
Nine

“This is where we’ll set up our road crew,” Dylan explained, stopping the Suburban at the intersection of Route 20 and Rigby Road. The roads divided the dark countryside into the shape of a cross. This late in the evening, the land lay quilted in dusky shadows that clung to the memory of sunlight.

Milly panted in the back seat relieving the silence as Tobias frowned at the inverse cones of their headlights, saying nothing. He struck Dylan as distant and preoccupied. Her concern that he might try to seduce her seemed depressingly unlikely.     

“John says his road crew will be filling potholes,” she explained, hoping to rouse his enthusiasm. “You can see some right up there. Whenever cars pull up, he’ll wave them through—all but Hendrix’s gold Taurus, which he’ll put behind a detour van. The van will lead him this way.” Accelerating, she turned left onto Rigby Road. “Then one of John’s trucks pulls out behind them and Hendrix is boxed in.”

Out the corner of her eye, she saw Tobias fold his arms across his chest. She thought he might finally say something, but he didn
’t.

“
I need you to tell me the best place to assault his vehicle,” she reminded him.
She
wasn’t the expert at ambushing;
he
was. And if he didn’t start contributing soon, her plans would never be realized.

Rigby Road, even more rural than Route 20, was barely wide enough for two cars to pass. Deep ditches hemmed them in on either side.
“With Ackerman’s squad stopping traffic at the other end,” she rambled on, hinting at her desire for feedback, “there shouldn’t be any witnesses to what happens next. Very few people actually live down here.”

The road curved to the right. 

“Here,” Tobias finally said, and she braked abruptly.

She described what would happen next. The assault team, wearing ski masks, would swarm out and surround Hendrix
’s car with weapons drawn.

“
What if his door is locked?” Tobias’s curt tone conveyed disapproval. “Then I’ll have to break his window.”

“
Right.” She hadn’t thought of that.

“
So much for no damaged property.”  

Ignoring his cynicism, Dylan reviewed the way they would cover the target
’s head with a sack, place him in the van, and drive him to Baker’s. “What should we do with his car?” she inquired. “Take it all the way to Baker’s place?”

“
No. Park it somewhere out of sight, not far from here. You don’t want leave tire tracks from Hendrix’s car on Baker’s property.”

“
True.”

They found a deserted hunting track just up the road. Tobias lapsed back into silence, making Dylan want to demand what the hell his problem was. Except she didn
’t want to argue with him, not with her emotions so highly charged, her self-control so tenuous.

Two miles later, they turned down Baker
’s driveway. The dairy farmer sat on his porch smoking a cigar. Coming out into the yard to greet them, he saluted Dylan and offered Tobias a handshake. Patting Milly on the head, he led them all toward his cellar, accessed via doors at the foundation of the house.

Milly refused to descend the narrow stairs. Wading into the cold, musty cellar, Dylan could
see why Milly was too spooked. Even blindfolded, Hendrix would sense the creepy atmosphere. If any basement was haunted, this would be the one.

Baker snapped on a naked light bulb and gestured to the metal pillar supporting the home
’s central crossbeam. “You can cuff him to that.”

Envisioning Hendrix bound and gagged and whimpering in fear, Dylan reckoned this wouldn
’t be a lesson he would easily forget.

“
Who’s going to talk to him?” 

Tobias
’s terse question canceled out her satisfaction.

“
Obviously, you can’t do it,” he pointed out when she just looked at him. “He’ll recognize your voice.”

She had planned on letting Terrence have a go at him, since his voice was by far the most intimidating, but if Terrence wasn
’t up to it, then who?

Hendrix could identify Morrison and Ackerman, both former patients of his. Lee
’s voice was too soft-spoken. “I need you to do it,” she realized out loud. When his jaw hardened, she quickly added, “I’ll tell you exactly what to say. I’ll even write it down for you.”

Without another word, Tobias turned and exited the cellar, signaling his noncompliance. Mumbling an apology to Ron Baker, Dylan chased after him.

Tobias and Milly were both in the car by the time she jumped into the driver’s seat and hauled on her seatbelt. Too unsettled to speak, she started the engine, backed up, and drove off Baker’s property. At the first stop sign they approached, she braked abruptly and gripped the steering wheel, unable to withhold her thoughts. “If you have something to say to me, Sergeant Burke,” she bit out, “then why don’t you just say it?”

Milly whined. Toby opened his mouth to talk, snapped it shut again, and shook his head.
“Not a good idea,” he said.

“
What is it, exactly, that you object to? If it’s stamping out corruption, you joined the wrong militia.”

“
It’s not that,” he said flatly.   

“
Oh, really? I’ve seen your expression when we recite the
Defender’s Creed
. What are you even doing here if you don’t ascribe to our beliefs?” With emotions that were already raw, she braced herself for his answer.

Please, don
’t leave me
.

“
Look, I believe in a citizen’s militia,” he told her dully. “What you’ve done for the locals is all good. I’ve told you that.”

“
Then what haven’t you told me?” He’d been holding something back. From the day they’d met, she’d sense that about him. The fear that he would abandon her now, with Terrence so ill, squeezed her chest making it hard to breathe. He’d been a breath of fresh air. How would she move forward without him? 

He pinched the bridge of his nose.
“I’m just wondering if you’ve really thought this thing with Hendrix through, that’s all.”

She
’d mulled it over for months. “Of course I have.”

“
Have you?” He turned and frowned at her. “We’re talking about a forced abduction with the use of firearms. That’s two felonies, Dylan.”

This again?
“Not if the police are in on it,” she reminded him. “Plus the weapons will be loaded with blanks. I told you, no one’s getting hurt.”

He gestured with a hand.
“You can’t guarantee that. How do you know one of your civilian soldiers won’t bring his own ammo just for the thrill of it? How do you know Hendrix won’t have a heart attack? Hell, he could even die down in Baker’s basement, and then what?”

“
That isn’t going to happen!” she protested. In an effort to rein in her runaway temper, she jammed down the accelerator and peeled out of the intersection, heading for Route 20.

“
You’re a doctor,” Tobias persisted. Now that she’d pried him open, he wouldn’t shut up. “You know that stress can prompt a heart attack. Don’t you see how quickly this plan could blow up in your face? And where will you be, if and when it does? You’ll either be riddled with guilt for inadvertently killing him or sitting your ass in jail along with the rest of your followers.”

A vision of Wesley Hendrix having a heart attack speared her with sudden doubt. He was a middle–aged male, not in the best physical condition. Stranger things had happened. Damn it, why was Tobias undermining her confidence when she
’d been so certain this was the way to go? 

“
Doesn’t that worry you?” he pressed.

Mostly it just pissed her off. She whipped her face in his direction.
“You think I’m scared of going to jail?” she raged. “Do you really think I care about what happens to me?” The hoarse, stricken quality of her own voice made her clamp her mouth shut. She hadn’t meant to reveal how flat, how meaningless her life was without
The Creed
to give it purpose. All of her hope for the future had ended on the day her boys were taken away. She had no right to be happy when they were dead. The militia life was just a charade, a game she played to give her life direction.

Whether she was imprisoned in the end made no difference.

Well, hell
, Toby thought, recoiling at Dylan’s words. If she held her freedom in such low regard, then maybe she
had
bombed Nolan’s car. The evidence certainly pointed to her guilt.

But his gut refused to believe she
’d killed anyone. In the fractured starlight that illuminated his surroundings, he could see tears sparkling in her eyes, suggesting that she did, in fact, care.

“
Where does it end, Dylan?” he demanded as she drove like a bat out of hell through the countryside. “What if Hendrix refuses to change his ways? What will you do to him then—kill him?”

She cast a horrified look at him.
“Of course not!”

“
Who’s next after Hendrix?” he persisted.

“
I don’t know. Whoever betrays the people they’ve sworn to protect!”

“
And would that include elected officials pushing us toward war with Syria?”

Her knuckles shone white against the steering wheel.
“So, you’ve heard about the FBI’s suspicions. Is that what this is about? Why would I have bombed the Defense Secretary’s car? That’s ridiculous.”

“
I’ve read one of your anti-war essays. I saw it online. It’s pretty obvious that you’d oppose a war with Syria.” There. He’d revealed that hand of cards, at last.

She cast him a baffled look.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she said on a half-hysterical note. “I’ve never written any anti-war essays.” 

“
Find me a computer with Internet access and I’ll show them to you.”

“
I’m telling you, I never wrote anything like that!” she shouted, losing her cool completely.

Milly barked, scolding her for shouting.

Struck by her vehemence, Toby filed away Dylan’s denial for later pondering. “Forget that. My point is where does this vigilante business end? How far up the food chain do you go?”

“
What the hell does it matter?” Suddenly, the Suburban began to drift from one side of the road to the other, back and forth. 

“
Dylan, focus,” Toby warned, as they crossed the yellow line.

She didn
’t even seem to notice that they were now driving in the oncoming lane.

With a quick push of his thumb, Toby shook off his seatbelt. But he was too slow. Even as he slid across the bench seat, the driver
’s side tire dropped onto the opposite shoulder. He grabbed the wheel, fighting to pull the vehicle back onto the pavement, but the back tire followed suit, and the six thousand pound SUV lumbered down into a ditch. In the back, Milly lost her footing as it lurched up the other side, heading straight toward a line of sumac trees.

“
Shit,” Toby cried, throwing a leg over Dylan’s to stamp down on the brakes. The SUV swerved to a shuddering halt, just yards short of plowing into the tree trunks standing in their path.

The dog bounced off the rear seat and recovered.

Dylan roused with a gasp. “Oh, God!” she cried, staring at the trees in shock.

“
You almost killed us,” Toby stated, half angry with her, but mostly with himself.

She clapped both hands to her face.
“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry!” she cried before bursting into tears.

“
Shhh. It’s okay.” The excess of adrenaline dumped into his bloodstream left his extremities tingling. “Here, trade places with me,” he invited. Freeing her seatbelt, he hauled her up and over his lap before moving to take her place behind the wheel. Taking a moment to let his pulse settle, he threw an arm over Dylan’s shoulders and pulled her gently against him. 

“
I’m sorry,” she cried again.

“
It’s not your fault.” He could see it clearly now. Once again, he’d pushed her too far.

For a long moment, they just sat there, breathing in and out and clearing their minds. Dylan finally wiped her face and sat up straight.
“That’s what you call an episode,” she informed him.

“
I know. I’ve been there, remember?” The words made him wince because they weren’t exactly true. He’d never had PTSD as bad as hers was. “It’s my fault. I shouldn’t have grilled you like that. I just…I just want to know what makes you tick. What happened to you to make you think your future doesn’t matter?”

Maybe he was unwise to pry, having pushed her too far already. She went perfectly still at his question, so still that he could hear the crickets chirping in the grass outside.
“You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to,” he quickly amended. “But if you think it would help to talk about it, I’d like to listen.”