The Soldier's Mission (8 page)

Laura's heart opened so wide she had to hold her rib cage tightly against her hands. What had this man suffered?

What had caused this house to become a sad replica of what it must have been when he'd grown up here with his brother? Had his mother raised them on her own after his father died in Vietnam?

So many questions she needed answering and so much hurt hidden behind smiling faces in faded photographs, in broken fragments of life covering the lonely, desolate yard.

And so much hurt hidden in the dark-as-night eyes of the man watching her now.

P
aco watched Laura gather the clothes he'd found for her. Holding the sweater and jeans close, she went into the bathroom and shut the door.

What did she think of this house? Of him? Did she see the love that still lived here in spite of the shroud of shadows surrounding the rundown, lonely dwelling?

Did
he
still see the love they'd all once known here?

He immediately called Buddy. “How's he doing?”

“You know Wíago. He's tough as nails. Surgery went fine and barring no complications, he should be okay. At least that's what the doctors say.”

His brother sounded tired, but Buddy had the same steely countenance of their grandfather. “Thanks for staying with him, Buddy.”

“No problem, bro. Everyone's been nice here. I've got what I need and my friend who lives here says I can stay at his apartment if I want. And I'm even flirting with this one cute nurse—”

Paco stopped him right there. “Too much information. Just watch over him. And don't come back here until I give you the all-clear, okay?”

“Got it, but you know I can handle things on my end.
Don't worry about us, Paco. Do what you gotta do and take care, too.”

They talked a few more minutes then Paco shut down his phone and went to the wide window of the little den to stare out into the dark night. A lone porch light was the only glow surrounding the midnight colors of the desert.

“It's been a while, Lord,” he said, closing his eyes as he rested his forehead on the still warm glass. “I know I talk to You now and then when I get desperate, but tonight I hope You're truly listening to me. Wíago is in the hospital, Lord. He is innocent in this. If I brought this to our house, I ask forgiveness and guidance. If You brought Laura to me, I thank You and ask for a clear understanding. Protect my grandfather, protect my brother and protect Laura and me, Lord.”

He opened his eyes, instincts forcing him to squint into the night. Was someone out there right now, just waiting? The desert, as silent and stoic as it seemed at times, was always alive and teeming with life. It could be a dangerous place, even when a person wasn't being tracked or stalked.

What human dangers lay out there?

He heard a crash in the bathroom and hit the floor running. “Laura, are you all right?”

At first, she didn't answer. He didn't hear the water running either. “Laura?”

His heart drummed like a warrior's cry against his ribcage. “Laura, I'm coming in—”

“No, don't. I'll be out in a minute. I'm okay.”

But she wasn't okay. He could tell by the tremble in her voice she was probably having the meltdown she'd
held at bay all day long. Paco respected her privacy while he paced across the expanse of the den.

When the door finally crept open, he hurried toward her. “Laura?”

She looked up at him, her eyes red-rimmed and swollen. “I'm sorry.”

“Why? What are you sorry for?”

“For ever coming here in the first place.”

Her sobs bubbled over and she put her hands to her face. “I didn't want to cry. I tried not to cry.” She was shaking all over. “But I've never killed anybody. I've never even seen anybody killed before today.”

Paco grabbed her up and took her to the old couch then found a patterned blanket to put around her. The clothes he'd found were a bit big on her, making her look even that much smaller.

“C'mon,” he urged, settling her down on a pillow. “Just rest. The soup's ready and I'll make the sandwiches.”

“I can't eat.”

“You have to eat.”

He started to get up, but she reached out to him.

“Don't go yet. Sit here with me for a minute.”

Paco sank back down on the far end of the couch. But Laura had other ideas. She scooted toward him then glanced up at him with those big blue eyes.

And he was lost.

With a resigned grunt, he gave in and tugged her close. “Shh. Just rest.”

Laura leaned her head into the nook of his arm, forcing him to settle against her. It had been a long time since he'd comforted a woman. A very long time.

“I don't think—”

She shook her head against his chest. “It's all right,
Paco. I'm not…we're not…I don't expect anything. I just needed something to hold on to for a little while.”

And she'd picked him.

Paco didn't know how to react. She only wanted comfort. And he didn't actually understand how to give anyone comfort. He was rusty in that department. But he knew all about respecting women, so he held her there and let her cry on his shoulder just to prove to her that she could trust him, that she was safe with him.

He had somehow become this strong, brave woman's reluctant protector.

God truly did work in mysterious ways.

 

Laura woke up, her breath heaving in her chest. She'd dreamed about a snake. Then she remembered everything that had happened, including the snake.

Sitting up on the couch, she looked around and saw Paco watching her from the tiny kitchen table. “Soup's still warm,” he said, getting up to ladle her some into a big cup. “It's just tomato soup so you can sip it.”

“Thanks,” she said on a raspy voice. She'd sobbed every ounce of emotion out of herself and now she felt torn and raw, sore and empty. “How long did I sleep?”

“A couple of hours.”

She took a sip of the warm soup. “Have you heard anything from your brother?”

He nodded. “Wíago got through the surgery. The doctor thinks he'll pull through unless we get any surprises such as blood clots, a stroke, or cardiac arrest. My grandfather is tough so I'm counting on that.”

Laura could see the worry in his eyes. “And Buddy? Is he coming back here?”

“No. He's staying with a friend near the hospital. I
told him it might not be safe to return here by himself.” He shrugged. “And he reminded me he was a weapons expert in the army.”

Laura sat up and drank more soup. The spicy tomato taste washed over her throat and warmed her insides. “I should call my folks, let them know I'm okay.”

“Already done.”

“You called them?”

“No, Warwick did. He gave them only the necessary information—that we thought you had a stalker and you're with me until we can get you either back to Phoenix or to Eagle Rock.”

“How are they?”

“Upset and concerned, but glad you're okay.” He got up to come and sit on the split-log coffee table. “I have information that might explain a lot of this.”

“I'm listening.” She sat her soup cup down on the side table. “Tell me.”

“We've found a pattern regarding the two people who've died today. They were both your patients at one time and they both have connections to Lawrence Henner.”

“Even the one I shot?”

“Yes. He came to you about two years ago with post-traumatic stress syndrome. John Rutherford, retired marine. Ring a bell?”

Laura closed her eyes, nodding as she put a hand to her temple. “Yes. He was high maintenance, with major anger management issues. He abused his wife and even after we'd counseled him, he kept right on abusing her. He went to jail.”

“And got out about two months ago.”

“I can't believe I didn't recognize him.”

He gave her a level look. “I'm pretty sure he disguised himself.”

“What's going on?” she asked, pushing at her hair. “Is every patient I've ever failed coming after me now?”

“Looks that way on the surface,” he replied. “Here's what we know for now—they both had emotional issues of some sort and they both came to your clinic for help. We're pretty sure Rutherford was the first shooter. When he failed the first time, he high-jacked the delivery truck. The driver was found unconscious on the road. He can't remember much about his attacker, but he described Rutherford. Rutherford's record fits the mode but his aim was a bit off today. And you probably didn't recognize him because his hair was longer and almost completely gray. He'd lost weight, too.”

“I should have realized—”

“Laura, somebody out there doesn't want you to realize anything. They're playing mind games with you. I checked the two cards and rubbed a pencil over the indentions we thought we saw—links to Bible passages in Revelations.”

“Revelations? But why?”

“Who knows? The person or people behind this aren't exactly rational. The first one is from chapter one, verse eighteen: ‘I have the keys of Hades and Death.'”

“That's the Lord talking through John.”

“Not in this case. Some madman is using the Lord's words to taunt us.”

“What kind of keys?”

“We don't know. It might not mean anything.”

“What about the second one?”

“From the second chapter, verse two: ‘And you have
tested those who say they are apostles and are not, and have found them liars….'”

Laura's stomach roiled with each word. “Do you think this person is talking about me?”

Paco sat with his hands on his knees. “Again, we don't know. But we do know that these two men recently became employed by Lawrence Henner. You said he's a wealthy businessman? Well, we found out he owns his own security company—listed under some sort of corporation—a shell company. I think you mentioned something about that, too.”

She let out a gasp. “No, I mentioned that Alex Whitmyer worked for a security company. What if it's Henner's company?”

“That could be bad. Very bad. Just one more connection though.” He tapped into his phone. “I'll put Kissie on it.” After explaining a possible connection between Henner and Whitmyer to Kissie, he hung up. “If they're working together, we can stop them.”

“Could Alex be in this thing with Henner? That would mean they're both more unstable than I realized. Henner could be fueling Alex's obsession with me so he can come after me for my part in his son's death.”

Paco looked grim. “According to data we've found underneath all the corporate logos, Henner does things in a much different way from CHAIM.”

Laura could believe that. “He struck me as being demanding and unyielding, and honestly, I think that's why his son killed himself.” She couldn't say anymore. Or maybe she should. “Paco, he verbally abused his son. And now he blames me for Adam's death. I never could prove that he was the one at fault because his son
never told me the complete truth. But I believe that in my heart.”

“So he's coming after you for justification?”

“Or to ease his own guilt?”

“Then why the card tricks?”

Laura shook her head, fatigue and alarm warring inside her mind. “He could be sending assassins, thinking we'd never trace it back to him. The first one didn't kill me, so he sent another one. Maybe the cards are his way of telling me what I've done wrong. Or his way of sending a message that there'll be more killings and attacks to come.”

Paco got up, rolled his shoulders. “Except you didn't do anything wrong. He never demanded any type of settlement? Never came after you or the clinic with lawyers?”

“Lawrence Henner doesn't believe in lawyers. He always told me he liked to handle things his own way. And his son Kyle confirmed that over and over by refusing to open up to me. He was afraid of his own father.”

“That's a big clue,” Paco said. “He's obviously handling this in his own way. And controlling a possible small army of followers.”

“And two men are dead because of it. Not to mention your grandfather almost dying, too.”

“It's not your fault. You have to remember that.”

“So what do we do now?”

“We keep putting the pieces together. Kissie's got the whole CHAIM team on this one. They've all gathered early at Eagle Rock for the so-called retreat, so they're brainstorming ways to get to the bottom of this.”

“The whole team. I don't merit that, but it's good to know.”

“You do merit that, Laura. You've helped countless people find better lives, grow stronger in their faith. This lone black sheep has obviously strayed from the flock, sweetheart.” He whirled to stare down at her. “Or he was never part of the flock to begin with.”

Then he sat down again and took both her hands in his. “But make no mistake. He brought this to my door and I won't stop until I have him behind bars.”

“That could be very dangerous, Paco.”

“Nothing for you to worry about.”

“Right. Good one.”

He touched a hand to her face, his smile sharp-edged.

“We can't locate Henner. He's not in Phoenix and he's not in Austin. He must be out of the country, as you said.”

“But someone's sending these men after us. Alex, maybe?”

“He might be Henner's right-hand man. It might take a while but if he's hiding something, Kissie will find it.”

“
He's
hiding while he sends these killers. His paranoia would certainly fit that mode.”

“Killers who aren't very highly trained—bad for them but a blessing for us.”

“Or the curse Henner wanted on us,” she replied, a shudder gripping her with dread. But underneath that dread, a sense of dignity and integrity took hold of her. And a sense of justice. “They won't get away with this, Paco.”

“No, sweetheart, they won't. I promise you that.”

Laura took a deep breath then looked across at him.
“I'm done with falling apart. I'm done with crying. We have to stop this, you and me. I won't let you hide me behind the gates of Eagle Rock. I want to help find this man. I'm not scared anymore. And I refuse to be a victim.”