The Collective (45 page)

“Right here, Momma,” Jordan said from ahead.

She entered a kitchen to find him sitting at a small table, holding Leyla cradled in one arm while he gave her a bottle. Cheerios were spread across the table and scattered on the floor, but Cait presumed some had made it into the baby’s mouth. A wave of relief went through her and she exhaled, smiling at the sight of the strong, quiet soldier so comfortable with her baby in his arms.

“Sorry I panicked,” she said, going to them. Leyla’s eyes locked on her but the baby didn’t reach for her, which surprised, delighted, and saddened her all at once. Jordan’s warmth and the fresh bottle were apparently all Leyla needed.

“She’s all right,” Jordan assured her. “We thought we’d let you sleep. Now that you’re up, though, there’s coffee.”

Cait looked around, saw the coffeepot, and felt doubly grateful.

“What time is it, and where did you get this stuff?” she asked as she went to pour herself a cup.

Jordan glanced at her. “Not me. I woke up and Lynch was gone. Maybe fifteen minutes later he waltzes in with milk, OJ, and a box of Cheerios. He got some kind of baby oatmeal and some applesauce, too. I found a can of coffee in the cabinet. No idea how long it’s been there, but it tastes all right.”

Cait didn’t bother with sugar or milk, just took a sip of the black coffee and relished its bite.

“Want me to take her now?” she asked as she returned to the table.

“No, just enjoy your coffee. Wake up first. The little princess and I are getting to know each other better.”

Cait smiled and sat down. “Thanks. So, speaking of Lynch, where is the crazy fuck?”

Jordan must have heard the brittle fury in her voice, and he looked at her so kindly that it nearly made her cry. But she had done enough crying last night to last the rest of her life. She had been a soldier. She had seen friends and enemies and innocents die, had watched people bleed out, had watched life seeping from a young boy’s eyes, had seen a father blow himself to pieces. And she had killed. Her daughter had needed her to leave all that behind, to open her heart again after working so hard to shield it. But now Leyla needed the soldier as much as she needed the mother, so for the first time, Cait would have to learn how to be both.

“He’s watching all those news channels. He hasn’t said much. I think he’s embarrassed.”

“That’s something, at least. If he’s got enough brains to be embarrassed, it means he’s not as insane as I feared.”

“Are you all right?” Jordan asked.

The moment the words were out of his mouth they both realized how ridiculous the question was, and Cait snickered.

“Not even close. Lynch saved my life last night, probably more than once. But the guy
is
delusional. What ever organization used to exist is gone. Nobody’s riding to the rescue. He’s got his computer and his TVs and his list of baby-killers,
but I don’t know what any of that’s going to do to keep us alive.”

Leyla pushed the bottle away. Jordan tried to get her to take it again but she wouldn’t. Cait took a long sip of coffee and then set down the cup and reached for her daughter.

“Come to Mommy, sweetie,” she said.

Hoisting Leyla to her shoulder, she patted the baby’s back until she was rewarded with a tiny burp. She closed her eyes and inhaled Leyla’s smell, kissed her face and her neck, then just held her until the baby started to squirm. Then she sat Leyla on her knee and began to gently bounce her, eliciting a gurgling laugh.

She could hide her for a time, but it would be no life, always waiting for the moment when the doors would be broken down and the gunfight would begin again. They had been very fortunate last night, but she had no doubt that they would not get that lucky again.

“Poor Ronnie,” she said with a sigh.

Jordan nodded sadly. “Don’t beat yourself up, Sarge. I loved Ronnie, too. He was one of my best friends. But he should’ve talked to you first. What he did was stupid, and he knew it, or he would have told me about it before we got to you.”

Cait wrapped her arms around Leyla and rocked her back and forth. “I’m still going to miss him.”

“You and me both. But we can hurt over him dying after we figure out how to keep ourselves alive.”

She picked up the bottle. “You’re a good friend.”

“You’re not so bad yourself, Sarge.”

She smiled as Leyla reached for the bottle, and guided it to her mouth. “You know I hate it when you call me that?”

“I’m aware,” he replied, one corner of his mouth lifting in an amused grin.

Cait shook her head, forcing her smile away. “You haven’t called me ‘Sarge’ for a really long time.”

“We were home,” Jordan said, his own smile slipping. “Now we’re back at war.”

Cait couldn’t argue. It just seemed to be taking her longer to adjust to their new reality than it had taken Jordan.

“You’re right,” she said. “And it’s time to start fighting
back. I’m going to need Lynch’s computer. And I’m guessing he’s got a whole lot of guns stashed around here somewhere. We’re going to need those, too.”

Jordan leaned toward her, brow furrowed, all seriousness now. “You saying you have a plan?”

Cait thought about that. What few traces of lightness she had mustered in her heart vanished.

“Not a good one. This thing is so big, there’s no way to know who is and isn’t a part of it. We could join Lynch’s hunt, but my face has gotta be on every TV and computer screen in the United States by now. My life is over. And there’s only one way I can think of to get it back and make Leyla safe.”

Jordan leaned forward and gave the baby a little tickle. She kicked at his hand and he laughed softly. Then he looked up at Cait, his grim expression returning. “Just tell me what you need me to do.”

“Let me think on it for a little while,” Cait said. “I have to speak to Lynch and make a call, and then we’ll talk.”

Leyla pushed the bottle away and Cait set it on the table. She stood up, holding the baby against her shoulder, and bent to kiss Jordan on the cheek. He actually blushed a little.

“Thank you,” she said. “Really. You being here helps me remember that the whole world hasn’t gone crazy. Whatever happens next, I couldn’t deal with it without you.”

“You don’t give yourself enough credit, Sarge.”

“Hey.”

“Sorry. Cait,” he said, gazing at her. “Listen, I just … I’m here for you, okay? Like you said, whatever happens next. You and Leyla, you’re not alone.”

A long moment passed between them before Cait stepped back, holding Leyla close.

“Speaking of not alone, I should go talk to Lynch. I’ve got to break some bad news to him.”

“What’s that?” Jordan asked.

“All these years he’s been hunting the people killing War’s Children,” Cait said. “It’s time to tell him he’s been thinking too small.”

Detective Monteforte sat across the conference table from Sarah Lin, worried that she might be wasting her time. Sleep had been hard to come by and when she had called in just after seven a.m., the sergeant on duty had offered his sympathies about Jarman’s death and then told her that Lieutenant Hoffmeyer had given the case to Teddy Sacco. Monteforte had nothing against Sacco, but she couldn’t let that happen.

Jarman had been her partner. Policy dictated that she should have time off for bereavement or at least be riding a desk, and part of her wouldn’t have minded that. There would be a wake and a funeral and a lot of pain. But she couldn’t let the pain sidetrack her yet. Not without knowing who was really responsible for Jarman’s death, and why he had died.

“And you’re sure she didn’t say anything about her brother’s death that wasn’t in the taped interview?” Monteforte asked.

Sarah Lin shrugged. “Nothing huge. When we got there, she prepped us with the rundown of what had happened to her brother, but it was more about the abduction attempt than her brother’s death.”

“And what about the cameraman who did that shoot with you?” Monteforte asked. She glanced down at the paper in front of her. “Jordan Katz. He served with Cait in Iraq?”

Sarah frowned. “I guess I knew that, yeah.”

“Any idea where he might be at the moment?” Monteforte asked. “We’re having trouble tracking him down.”

The reporter shrugged. “I don’t know Jordan that well. We haven’t been paired up much in the past. So, no. Sorry, but I have no idea where he might be.”

“There’s nothing else that struck you, during the interview?” Monteforte asked. “Anything strange?”

Sarah Lin had a beauty and obvious intellect that were vital elements for anyone hoping to make it as a TV reporter, and the charisma and confidence that might make her an anchor someday. Despite the extraordinary nature of the things they were discussing, she remained cool and professional.

“I’m sorry, Detective,” she said. “The whole thing was strange. Someone had tried to take Cait’s baby. I’ve already shown you the unedited interview. Cait was pretty much at her wit’s end, but she kept it together. What she said to us off camera was just more of what you saw on camera. She definitely thought someone had been watching her aunt and uncle’s house, and there’s no question she thought they were the same people who tried to grab her baby, but all this other stuff … I have no idea.

“But I can tell you one thing,” Sarah added with a defiant glare. “Cait McCandless is no damn terrorist.”

Monteforte took a deep breath and sat back. “I agree.”

Sarah seemed surprised. “You do?”

“I do. I don’t know who spun that bullshit, but it won’t stick. I know people are always on TV saying ‘She seemed like such a nice person,’ but this is different. The people who tried to take Leyla … that was real. I’m convinced Cait is the victim here, but amazing as it may seem to you, there
is
some kind of terrorist connection. Maybe it has to do with her brother dying down in D.C. I don’t know. But I intend to find out.”

Sarah Lin tapped her fingers on the table. “How can I help?”

“I think the best thing you can do for your friend is keep telling her story,” Monteforte said. “I’m going to be pulled off this case the second my lieutenant finds out I’m still working it, and then it’s going to be in the hands of a detective who never met Cait McCandless and her daughter. None of this is going to matter to him, especially because we’ve basically been told by the FBI that we should butt out.”

Sarah stared at her. “Are you saying all of this on the record?”

Monteforte smiled thinly. “Sure. But if you want to dig deeper, there are some other things you should know—
off
the record. Like how many DOAs there really were at Cait’s house last night.”

What are you doing, Anne?
she thought to herself. But she knew what, and why.

“Why would you be pulled off the case?” Sarah asked.

Monteforte looked at the clock, wondering how long before the lieutenant figured out what she was up to and shut her down with a direct order.

“The detective who died last night was my partner. He and I were working the McCandless case together.”

Sarah made a small sound that might have been surprise or sympathy. “I’m so sorry.”

“Thank you,” Monteforte said.

“No, thank you,” Sarah said, wearing a sad smile. “Cait really needs people to believe in her right now.”

Monteforte frowned. “Do you mean you’ve heard from her?”

Regret clouded the reporter’s face. “No. I tried her cell—I mean, obviously she’s not home. I’ve left a few messages, sent her a couple of texts.” Sarah studied the detective. “Where’s all this headed? Are they going to be all right? Cait and Leyla?”

“I honestly don’t know,” Monteforte said. “People are dying all around them. They’re in a lot of danger. How they come out of it, I have no idea. But like you, I’ll keep asking questions.”

Sarah sighed. “I hope so.”

Monteforte slid her business card across the table. As Sarah took it and began to rise, her cell phone rang. With a look of mild annoyance, she unclipped it from her belt and looked at the screen, frowning at what Monteforte assumed was an unknown name or number.

“This is Sarah,” she said.

Monteforte knew immediately. The way her eyes widened with surprise and then narrowed in concern, she could practically see Sarah’s heart leap.

“Hey,” Sarah said, trying and failing to stay cool. “How are you? Are you okay? No, of course I didn’t.… Are you kidding? I’m glad you called … no, it’s not a problem. Whatever you need.”

Sarah nodded as if to say good-bye and went to leave the conference room, pretending this was just another phone
call, something she had to deal with. She gave Monteforte a little wave and then started to open the door.

“Ms. Lin,” Monteforte said, and she put it all in those two words, in her tone.

Sarah froze, unsure, looking like she wanted to run. Monteforte rose and hurried around the table. She could hear the murmur of a voice from Sarah’s cell phone.

“Let me help,” Monteforte said. “Please. I
can
help.”

“Cait,” Sarah said. “No, listen. Hold on a second.”

Monteforte reached for the phone and Sarah relinquished it. Her heart pounded as she lifted it to her ear.