Internal Threat (32 page)

I have a son named Sam
, Larsen thought when he saw the name on the screen. What was he like, he wondered. Did he love baseball or hate it? How old was he when he took his first steps, formed his first sentence? He closed the window out before looking for anything else. He did not deserve to know any more than the name until he had made his pilgrimage.

The hallway he was walking down now seemed interminably long. Each step brought him closer to Julie’s door while also kicking up his heartbeat until it was hammering in his chest. He stood in front of the door. For some reason, he crossed himself before stretching out his hand to lightly knock. From behind it came the muffled tap of shoes on a tiled floor followed by a “just a second!”. The knob turned as the breath froze in Larsen’s throat.

And then she was there. Larsen marveled at how she had not aged a single day. In fact, she looked better than he had ever known her. The lines of worry that he had undoubtedly caused were gone. Her eyes were bright, the way they were when he first met her. Consternation flooded her features.

“Holy shit,” she whispered. “David, is that you?”

“It’s me,” he croaked before clearing his throat.

“What are you doing here?” she asked, wary now.

“I, um,” he fumbled for the words he had practiced in the mirror for days but his mind kept coming up blank. “I wanted to just say that I’m sorry.”

She leaned in the doorway, crossing her arms. “Seven years and that’s all you’ve got?”

“No, I actually have a lot more to say but I kind of pictured you already slamming the door in my face by now.”

“I’m thinking about it,” she said.

“I wouldn’t blame you, Julie. Not one bit. I just…I’ve been through a lot lately and there’s no excuse for what I did or how I’ve acted. And I know it may take you forever to forgive me, if that ever happens at all. I was a lowlife piece of scum.”

“Go on, I’m agreeing with you so far.”

“I’ve been sober for a long time now. The man you grew to hate, and you had every right to, he’s gone. Dead and buried.”

“Good,” she nodded. “So who’s this guy standing at my door right now?”

“He’s the guy who, for whatever reason, got a second chance at life. And since I got it, the only thing I’ve known that matters is you and the child that we made.”

A sigh whistled through Julie’s lips as she ran her fingers through her hair. “I’ve changed a lot since I left, David.”

“I understand that.”

“So I know that people don’t stay the same and that maybe you mean everything you just said.”

“I do,” he insisted.

She held up a hand. “You took the first step just now. But this is going to be a long, difficult road.”

“I’ll do whatever you want me to, I swear.”

Julie nodded, mulling something over. She turned, calling out into the apartment, “Sam, come here for a minute.”

“Okay,” a voice rang out from down the hall.

Larsen’s heart jackhammered as he heard a pair of feet scurry across the floor. A shadow came, followed by long brown hair and two questioning hazel eyes. A Nintendo Wii controller was clutched in one hand, blue light blinking.

“Samantha,” Julie said. “This is Mr. Larsen. He’s…an old friend of Mommy’s.”

The young girl stepped forward and offered a half-hearted “hi” as her questioning eyes took in the man in her doorway.

“A girl,” Larsen said in an awed whisper. Julie nodded. Larsen managed to kneel down to get at eye level with Sam. “Nice to meet you, Sam,” he said.

Sam gave a small smile. “Nice to meet you, too” she replied, then pointed at Larsen’s cane. “Are you hurt?” she asked.

“No, sweetie,” Larsen said assuredly. “Not anymore.”

“L
uke, be careful!” Matt called out, trying to chase after him but finding it impossible with his leg brace. Up ahead, Luke was narrowly avoiding people’s bodies with ease as he clopped across the wooden boards of the Santa Monica Pier. Matt did not remember it being this crowded the last time he took Luke here, but then he realized that was several years ago.

“Let him go. He’ll be fine,” a voice said behind him.

Matt smiled, turning to see Ashley appear behind him with two puffy pink sticks of cotton candy. She handed him one. “Can you believe these are five dollars apiece? I should open a side business here.”

“You’d put all the other vendors out of work in two weeks.”

“One week,” she countered, grinning as she took a bite.

Matt felt his pocket shift with the buzzing of his cell phone. He reached for it but Ashley’s hand stopped him.

“Uh uh,” she warned him. “You promised Luke. No business today.”

“You’re right,” he said, pulling back. “Speaking of my son, where is he?”

Ashley pointed and Matt followed her finger to see Luke gaping in wonder at a carnival game stand. Two people held out rifles that shot thin streams of water at elusive painted ducks on a track. Matt watched them fail miserably and groan before walking away. Ashley and Matt joined him. Luke looked to his father with an expectant expression.

“How much?” Matt sighed and asked the worker, who informed him the cost was three dollars. Matt handed the money over, then picked up one of the rifles. He sighted down the barrel as the ducks rolled by with mechanical quacking. He knocked one down but his other shots widely missed the mark. They stopped moving and his gun jammed to a halt. He found Luke staring at him with disappointment. “Something is wrong with the barrel,” Matt mumbled.

“Seriously, Weatherly?” Ashley wondered as she stepped up next to him. She handed money to the worker who started up the ducks again. Ashley aimed and rattled off three quick bursts which knocked the ducks down. “Line them up again,” she said, forking over another three dollars. The worker did and Ashley repeated her performance.

An ecstatic Luke pointed out which of the prizes he wanted. Ashley chose a pink teddy bear for her own prize and handed it to Matt, who shook his head in admiration as they walked towards the towering Ferris wheel. “I don’t know, Matt. Usually it’s the guy giving this to the girl on a date.”

Matt stopped short. “Is this a date?”

“Hmm,” said Ashley. “I don’t hate you anymore.”

“That’s a good start,” he replied.

“And you did save my life a couple of times, which puts you ahead of half the guys I’ve dated in Los Angeles.”

“I also put your life in jeopardy a few times.”

“True. But at least you offered to buy me dinner afterwards.”

“The offer still stands. As soon as both our schedules open up.” He left it unspoken that much of his recent time had been spent at the funerals of people he had known and cared for.

Ashley reached out and placed her palm over Matt’s heart. “I know what you’ve got in here, Matt, and I don’t think I’ve ever met a man who has what you do.” Matt placed his hand over hers and nodded his thanks.

The moment was broken by the buzzing of his cell phone.

“Not again,” she said with a roll of her eyes. Matt withdrew the phone and looked at the screen. “What about your promise?”

“I know, I know,” he said. “But this is an international number and it’s the fourth time it’s called me. Could be an eager new client. Let me just take it real quick.”

Ashley put up her hands in mock surrender as Matt stepped slowly to the railing and brought the phone to his ear. “This is Matt Weatherly.”

Static assaulted his ear.

“Hello?” he asked into it. The crackling softened before a woman’s voice cut through.

“Matt?”

Matt’s mind scrambled.
No
, he thought.
It can’t be
. “Katie?” he said aloud.

“Matt, is it really you?” his dead wife’s voice asked. “Find me. Please. I’m-”

The line cut off abruptly. “Katie,” Matt said, knowing he would get no response. The phone dropped from his numb hands. He turned to look back at the pier. Across the way, Luke met his father’s eyes and waved. Matt returned it and then looked back out at the ocean.

After picking up the pieces of his life for the past seven years, and then the last three weeks, Matt Weatherly once again found it in shatters.

THE END

I
could not have produced this book, or practically any creative endeavor, without an amazing group of people that support me. My eternal cheerleaders begin with my amazing wife Morgan and daughter Sibyl, the dual lights of my life. I would also like to thank my mother-in-law, Cynthia, for being the best editor I have ever had the pleasure to work with. Thanks to my father-in-law, Phil, for military research assistance. And the incredible Jon Kaya of Kaya Designs, whose book covers have been a gift from heaven. More gratitude goes to mega-producer Geoffrey Klein for his tireless efforts on behalf of THE FOUR HORSEMEN, my ever-loyal manager Jonathan Hung and my fellow novelist Cheryl Holt. Proper thanks for writing inspiration goes to Shane Black, James Rollins, Steve Berry, Dan Brown and James Patterson. And, finally, to all the amazing fans I have gathered and met since I began this journey - a giant thank you. Keep reading!