The Enforcer (25 page)

“
Stand at ease,” she called, and the soldiers snapped their arms to their sides.

A moment of awkward silence ensued as she considered them with gravity.
“The inspection and the march will commence shortly,” she announced. “I know you are as eager as I to prepare for our protest at the fusion center in Woodlawn next Saturday. This being the final exercise of the year, I would like to share a word with you first.” She glanced over at Toby, who pondered what she was about to say. 

“
As you all can see, Lt. Ashby is indisposed this morning. Most likely, he will not be joining us again. Your prayers for his health are requested.” Her voice wobbled and she took a moment to tether her runaway emotions. Pressure descended onto Toby’s chest as he considered how hard it was for her to watch her friend decline.

“
I would like to remind you that my term as your captain ends this December,” she continued, probably unaware that she wrung her hands as she spoke. “It has been an honor and a privilege to lead you.” An air of expectancy hovered over the crowd. “However, I will not be running for re-election.”

Murmured protests mimicked the sound of swarming bees. Dylan held up a hand.
“Without the aid of my executive officer, whose health does not permit him to continue in his office, I would not be the kind of leader you deserve.”

Once again, the soldiers objected, turning to their neighbors to voice their dismay.

Dylan raised her volume to be heard over the din, which promptly died down again “
If
I am not in attendance at the fusion center protest next weekend, it must go on.” A profound silence fell over the yard, as soldiers eyed her curiously. “You know what to do. Bring your signs from home and carry them peacefully.”

“
Where will you be?”

Dylan stiffened at the question that was called out from the back.

Toby pitied her. “You don’t have to tell them,” he murmured for her ears only.

In an admirably steady voice Dylan answered,
“The FBI believes I’m responsible for the murder of General Treyburn, which occurred two nights ago.”

A shocked hush emanated from the assembly.

“Those of you who knew my father,” she pressed on, her voice gathering strength, “know that I was raised to value the sanctity of life. I had nothing to do with General Treyburn’s murder.”

Shouts of indignation erupted without warning, turning into a roar of solidarity.

“You will carry on without me,” she shouted. “Until a new captain is elected, I am still your leader, and as your leader I command you to cooperate with the FBI’s investigation. You may defend my innocence with your words alone and continue to trust in a justice system, which assures us that every man and woman is innocent until
proven
guilty!”

A roar of support followed her exhortation. With a nod of thanks, Dylan pivoted to inspect Toby
’s uniform through tear-bright eyes. Finding nothing out of place, she choked out, “Proceed with the inspection and the march,” and retreated to a distance to collect herself.

Torn between wanting to comfort her and fulfilling his duties as the acting XO, Toby stepped forward to inspect the three sergeants, urging them under his breath to rush their own inspections. A brisk march to the firing range, followed by rigorous training, would give the militia an outlet for their rising resentment. He could tell by the speculative talk that, as a body, the militia saw circumstances only one way: their leader was being falsely accused by a government they already held in suspicion and contempt. 

“Run them,” he suggested to Dylan, who pulled herself together sufficiently to set a swift pace to the range.

But, even there, tension continued to ebb and flow. Toby worked hard to retain an air of normalcy. But with their ire and their anxiety levels raised, the soldiers were quick to quarrel. It was all he could do to keep brawls from breaking out.

At last, Ackerman sounded the retreat on his bugle. The soldiers slung their packs on their backs, hefted their rifles, and fell into line for the return march back to the house. Seeing Dylan move to the front of the pack, Toby quickened his pace to catch up to her.

“
You hanging in there?” he inquired with a sidelong look.

“
Sure.” She tossed him a quick-to-fade smile. “It’s weird to think that this is my final exercise.”

They walked together, briskly, in comfortable silence.

“What are you going to do with yourself when you’re no longer a militia leader?” he asked her, brushing aside the issue of her still having to defend her innocence.

She squinted off into the distance.
“Well, I’ll always be a doctor, but I was also thinking of farming the orchard again.”

“
Really?” He felt a grin split his face. “I think that’s a great idea.” The picture in his head warmed him from the inside out.

Some of the tension in her face disappeared.
“You think so?”

“
I know so. You’ve got all the help you need to do it, too.”

“
Does that mean you’ll help?”

Her question hit him like a right hook coming out of nowhere. He fought to keep his smile in place as regret vied with poignant longing for things to remain just the way they were.
“We’ll talk about it,” he promised. “There’s something I need to tell you first, as soon as the CPX is over.” He’d put it off long enough. He wouldn’t blame her, either, if she hated him afterwards and never wanted to lay eyes on him again.

The muscles in her face tightened all over again.
“Why can’t you tell me now?”

“
I just can’t.” The phone hidden in the lining of his jacket emitted a sharp electric charge against his hip, distracting him. Why the hell would Ike be calling him now, when he couldn’t possibly answer? His pulse kicked at the suspicion that there’d been a breakthrough in the investigation.

“
Who’s that?”

Dylan
’s sharp tone pulled him out of his preoccupied state. Following her stare across the swale separating two hills, he recognized the unmistakable form of two FBI-owned Tahoes pulling up to Dylan’s front porch. The doors of the black SUVs popped open, and a total of six special agents sprang out of them, either blithely unaware or too arrogant to care that an army was about to come marching up over the adjacent hill.

Toby drew to a startled halt. What was the FBI thinking, showing up on Dylan
’s property while her militia was in training?

Suddenly, the screen door flew open, and Lt. Ashby tottered onto the stoop, his crutch under one arm and his rifle in the other. He heaved it upward, pointing the muzzle squarely at the approaching special agents.
Oh, shit
, Toby thought.

“
No!” Dylan broke into a sprint, prompting Toby to give chase.

“
Dylan, wait!”

“
Terrence, it’s fine,” she shouted, racing ahead of Toby, who fought to overtake her.

Down the rest of the hill and up the long slope to the house she ran, her long legs keeping her in the lead. Two hundred yards narrowed to a hundred, then fifty. Toby sent a harried glance over his shoulders. More than a dozen civilian soldiers were just now cresting the hill behind them, confusion registering on their faces as they beheld the official-looking vehicles at the house and the stand-off taking place.

This is going to get ugly
, Toby thought, with a burst of speed.

Suddenly, a rifle went off. The sound of it echoed off the surrounding hills followed immediately by the sound of a bullet punching through the windshield of one of the FBI
’s SUVs. “Get down!” Toby yelled. Dropping his own rifle, he hooked Dylan with his free arm and tackled her into the grass.

As he rolled to break their fall, he craned his neck for the source of the shot. It wasn
’t Lt. Ashby, who’d lowered his shot gun with a startled look. The FBI agents, seeing an army headed in their direction backed cautiously toward their Tahoes.

Dylan squirmed beneath Toby.
“Stay down,” he ordered, afraid that some random bullet might yet come their way. “Hold your fire, god damn it!” he bellowed at the soldiers running in their direction, looking more confused and angrier by the moment. “No one shoots. Put your weapons down, now!”

The sound of his own pounding heart drummed within his ears as, one by one, members of the militia, recalling Dylan
’s earlier orders to them, rested the butts of their rifles on the ground. Standing shoulder to shoulder, they formed a wall of distrust. Eyes darted here and there as they sought to determine who had fired in the first place. A tense hush fell over the land, broken only by the cry of a hawk soaring high above them.

“
Let me up,” Dylan insisted. “I need to handle this.”

Reluctance weighted Toby
’s limbs. He didn’t want to let her up, didn’t want to let her go, not now, not ever. The FBI wasn’t here to talk to her this time. Armed with the evidence Hooper had gathered, they must have decided they had enough proof to convict her. Ike must have been trying to warn him with that phone call.

“
Keep your weapons lowered,” Toby repeated as he levered himself off Dylan and helped her to her feet. Everything was coming to a head faster than he’d thought it would.

Dylan pointed a finger at her soldiers.
“Hold your fire,” she repeated. Slapping the dirt and grass off her uniform, she adjusted her beret and started uphill.

Crack!
Thunk!
Another bullet shattered the tense silence, piercing the fender of the second Tahoe. Special Agent Palmer gave a roar of outrage, audible even from a distance.

Toby tackled Dylan to the ground a second time. Adrenaline juggernauted through him, making his head pound with frustration.
Jesus Christ! Who was firing on the freaking FBI?
He craned his neck trying to pinpoint the culprit. Whoever it was, his behavior was influencing the soldiers to do likewise. Two at a time, they came to a consensus, picking up their rifles and shouldering them in an effort to chase off the interlopers.

Ugly isn
’t the right word for this.

Lt. Ashby
’s booming voice reached Toby’s ears. “If I were you, I’d leave right now,” he cautioned the agents.

Toby agreed.
Good idea
.
Get the hell out, now.

A brief discussion between the FBI special agents ended with the slamming of car doors and the revving of engines. Then the Tahoes took off, spinning up clods of dirt in their haste to hightail it off Dylan
’s property. Toby breathed a sigh of relief and rolled off Dylan to cast a grateful gaze at the robin’s egg sky.

Her pale face reclaimed his attention as she kneeled next to him.
“Talk about poor timing,” she exclaimed in a shaken voice.

“
Idiots,” he agreed, drawing his knuckles down one side of her ashen face.

“
You lying son of a bitch!” A rusty, furious voice intruded on their momentary interlude as Cal Fallon pushed through the line of soldiers to confront Toby.

Aw, hell
, Toby thought.
Here it comes
. And he could only blame himself for putting off the truth when he should have come clean. He rolled to his feet, snatching up his rifle out of pure reflex. 

“
You liar,” Cal roared. His face ruddy with fury, the Sheriff of Harpers Ferry barreled into Toby, shoving him hard. “You said you’d protect her, you son-of-a-bitch!”

Toby staggered back a step.
“Easy, Cal. Don’t do this, now.” The odor of smokeless gunpowder clung heavily to the man’s cammies, leading Toby to assume that he’d been the one firing on the FBI, but then, they’d all just come from the firing range. Fallon had tossed his rifle aside to free his hands, but he still had his side arm, a 9 mm pistol, in the holster under his arm pit.

Dylan scrambled to her feet and leapt between them. Toby swept her behind him, out of
harm’s way. He clutched his rifle indecisively. Between Fallon’s pistol and the roughly sixty or so armed soldiers standing behind him, he didn’t stand a chance to defend himself with it.  

“
I’ve kept quiet long enough,” Fallon snarled. “You want to know who he is?” he asked Dylan while pointing an accusing finger at Toby’s chest.

“
I was going to tell her myself, right after the CPX,” Toby grated. “Don’t make things worse.”

“
He’s a god-damn Fed!” Fallon spat, ignoring Toby’s words entirely and gesturing in the direction of the fleeing agents. “Just like them.”

“
What?”

The anguished question wrested Toby
’s attention from his accuser. He turned his head to plead for her understanding. “I work for the federal government, Dylan. But I know you’re innocent, and I’m working with Fallon and Hooper to prove it.”

The indignant mutterings of the soldiers gathering around them raised the hairs on the back of Toby
’s neck.