No Return (35 page)

“Thought you might need a lift,” she said.

“How did you know I was getting out for sure?” he asked as they both climbed in.

“I figured you wouldn’t have asked me to get ahold of a U.S. senator if you didn’t have a very good reason. And if you did, he’d get you out.” She started the engine. “So, where are we going?”

A mixed team of NCIS investigators and federal cops were waiting when Lars and Janice arrived at Forman’s house. While Janice waited by the car, Lars joined the team as they walked up the steps to the commander’s front door.

Unfortunately, the only one home was Forman’s wife.

One of the team members took Mrs. Forman into a back room to question her, while the rest moved into the living room to wait. Lars paced near one of the windows for a moment, then walked over to the lead NCIS investigator.

“I can’t stay,” he said. As satisfying as it would have been to be present when Forman found out he was finished, there was a more important task that he needed to do.

“All right. But I’ve been told to inform you that although you’re out of custody, you are still under investigation. So no leaving town.”

“Of course,” Lars said. He’d been told as much by Admiral Hines, so it wasn’t a surprise.

He jogged back to the Mustang and got in.

“Well?” Janice asked.

“He wasn’t home. Just his wife.”

“So what are they going to do?”

“Wait until he gets back.”

“You don’t want to stay?”

He shook his head. “Can you drop me off at the Desert Rose Motel? You know, just the other side of the hospital?”

Ten minutes later he was standing in the motel parking lot, the taillights of Janice’s Mustang quickly fading into the distance.

He got Wes’s room number from the office, then proceeded there and knocked. When no one answered, he scanned the parking lot. Wes’s motorcycle wasn’t around.

Out
, Lars realized.
Damn
.

He settled against the wall, his gaze drifting across the parking lot toward the northeast, toward the base. He could see the emptiness that had once contained base housing. He remembered riding through those streets with Wes on the dirt bicycles they’d put together themselves. His had been painted red, while Wes had gone for a combination of orange and black. The Halloween bike, some of the kids had called it.

Lars remembered one time when they had ridden all the way to the Shopping Basket grocery store next to the indoor pool. There they ran into a couple of other kids they knew from junior high. For some reason, Lars had allowed one of the kids to talk him into shoplifting a candy bar. Since it was the first—and last—time he’d ever done anything like that, it was no wonder he was nervous. That was undoubtedly why the store manager stopped him at the door and made him empty his pockets.

“What’s your name?” the manager had asked. “I’m going to call your parents.”

Lars was terrified. More of his father than of the store manager.

“If you won’t tell me, I’ll just have to call the police.”

Lars tried to speak, but nothing came out.

“It’s not his fault.” It was Wes. He was standing a few feet away.

“Oh, really?” The manager held up the candy bar. “So this just jumped into his pocket?”

“No, sir,” Wes said. “I put it there when he wasn’t looking.”

The manager stared at Wes.

“He didn’t know,” Wes went on. “It’s my fault.”

The manager turned back to Lars. “Is that true?”

Lars stole a glance at Wes. His friend gave him a tiny nod.

“Yes,” Lars whispered, hating himself for it.

Unbelievably, the manager let Lars go, telling him he was banned from the store for a month. Outside, the other boys, having seen what was going down, were long gone. Lars wanted to leave, too, but he waited by the bike rack for almost forty minutes until his friend joined him.

“Did he call your parents?” Lars asked as they rode away.

“Nah,” Wes said. “He just took me back in the office and acted like he was going to. Then he told me I could leave.”

“He ban you, too?”

“Six months.”

“Whoa.”

Wes shrugged. “What do we need to go in there for anyway?”

They rode between the baseball fields and Murray Junior High, heading home.

“Thanks,” Lars finally said.

“Sure,” Wes replied. And with that they settled the matter, in the way only boys of a certain age could do.

Why had he ever doubted Wes? Not about the pilot, but years ago, when he’d been angry at Wes for leaving town? Angry at him for not showing up to Mandy’s funeral? Lars knew better. He’d just forgotten.

An SUV slowed, then turned in to the lot. Lars recognized the women inside as Wes’s crewmates from the shoot in Red Rock Canyon.

Lars raised his hand and waved as they got out. “We met the other day,” he said. “I’m Wes’s friend.”

“Yeah, we know,” the tall one replied. What had her name been? Adrianne? Alyssa?

The shorter one—Dione, he recalled—shut her door and moved around the front of the SUV. “You’re the one in the Navy.”

“Right,” he said. “Lars.”

“What do you want?” the tall one asked.

He looked at the women, confused by their tone. “I’m just waiting for Wes.”

“He’s not here,” Dione said. “Come on, Alison.”

Lars stepped in front of them. “I see that. Any idea when he might be back?”

“No.”

“Okay. Did he and Anna go to dinner or something?”

The women looked at him as if he’d suddenly gone crazy.

“What did I say?”

“Are you the backup?” Alison asked. “In case Wes didn’t show up?”

“Show up for what?”

“You know what.”

“No,” Lars said. “I don’t.”

“You’re working for Commander Forman, aren’t you?”

Lars tensed. “Forman?”

“You should leave,” Dione told him.

“You need to tell me what’s going on,” he said, now all business.

Without a word, the women started to walk away. Lars immediately took up pursuit. “What did you mean ‘working for Commander Forman’?”

“Like you don’t know,” Alison said without turning around.

Lars reached out and grabbed her arm, stopping her. “No, I don’t.”

“Let go of me!” she yelled, trying to twist free.

“For God’s sakes, Forman’s had me locked up since last night. You’ve got to tell me what’s going on.”

Alison stopped struggling. “Locked up?”

Lars let go of her arm. “Last night, Wes went with me to get some information that would prove he was right about the pilot of the crash last week. I found what I could and gave it to him. Then some of the commander’s men showed up and took me in. I wasn’t released until less than an hour ago.”

“That information came from you?”

“He told you about it?”

The women shared another look.

“So you’re not working with Commander Forman?” Alison asked.

“I’m the one who just turned him in. Base security is looking for him right now. Please tell me what’s going on.”

Again the women glanced at each other. Finally Dione nodded, and Alison told him about Wes’s plan.

“Once they’d left La Sonora, I called Dione to come pick me up,” she said.

Dione frowned in annoyance. “I’ve been told they decided it was best I didn’t know. So the first I heard about anything was from Alison just now on the ride back here.”

“If we told you, you would have tried to stop us.”

“Yes. I would have.”

“Then we did the right thing.”

“Wes thinks Forman has Anna and this Tony guy?” Lars said. “That doesn’t make sense.”

“But the stuff about the crash is true, isn’t it?” Alison said. “That means he must have them.”

Lars was impressed, but not necessarily surprised, that Wes had been able to put it all together from the scant information he’d given him the night before. But no matter what, this latest bit didn’t fit.

“Yes, the crash stuff is true, but kidnapping? No way. Huge risk, no reward. I don’t even think it would have crossed the commander’s mind.”

A motorcycle pulled in to the parking lot. Lars felt relief that his friend was finally here, but when the rider hopped off the bike and removed his helmet, it wasn’t Wes. It was the other guy, Danny.

“Shouldn’t you be following Wes?” Alison asked.

Danny quickly glanced around the parking lot. “They didn’t come back here?”

“No,” Alison said. “Why would they do that?”

Danny looked puzzled. “I
was
following them, and I could see Wes in the backseat talking to that commander guy, but then all of a sudden Dori just took off. I got lost a few minutes later, so I thought they might have come back here.”

“She lost you on purpose?” Dione asked.

“Of course not,” Danny said. “I think she was trying to be cautious. I just couldn’t keep up.” He glanced down at the bike. “Only the second time I’ve ever driven one of these.”

“Who’s Dori?” Lars asked.

“Danny’s girlfriend,” Alison scoffed.

“I don’t remember meeting her. Is she part of the crew?”

“She’s a local,” Dione said. “Danny met her at a bar.”

Something in the back corner of Lars’s mind began poking at him.

“Dori who?” he asked.

Danny took a step back. “What business is it of yours?”

“Tell him, Danny,” Dione ordered.

“Fine, okay. It’s Dillman. What’s the big deal?”

Dori Dillman. Lars had heard the last name before, but it had been years ago. And it was a guy, wasn’t it? Mark or Mike or something like that.

“Do you know her?” Alison asked.

He started to shake his head, then …

He thrust his hand out at Danny. “Give me the bike keys.”

“What?”

“Give them to me. Now!”

Danny jumped. “Okay, sure.”

He’d barely got them out of his pocket when Lars grabbed them and jumped on the bike.

“What are you doing?” Danny asked.

Lars kicked the bike back to life, then looked at Alison. “Call the police,” he said. “Tell them …”
What?
“Tell them I know who has your missing friends, and that I’ll call them as soon as I know where they should go. Tell them they need to be ready to move.”

Without waiting for a response, Lars raced out of the parking lot and into the night.

AT 7:25 P.M., AS LARS WAS WALKING OUT OF THE
building where he’d been held overnight, Lieutenants Jenks and Wasserman were climbing aboard the helicopter they’d commissioned and were strapping themselves in. Up front the pilot and copilot were going through a final check so that they’d be ready to lift off at 7:30 on the dot.

Wasserman was carrying the GPS tracker, already pre-tuned to the chip the commander was carrying in his shoe. According to the display, the commander had just arrived at the rendezvous point in town.

Both lieutenants watched the screen as the dot representing Commander Forman began to move at a much slower rate than it had been.

“He’s on foot,” Wasserman said.

Jenks checked his watch: 7:29 p.m. He touched a button and spoke to the pilot. “Let’s go.”

There was a momentary delay, then the engine began to ramp up. Jenks put a hand on the seat, anticipating the rise, but at the moment the engine reached the liftoff pitch, the rotors suddenly began to cycle down.

Jenks pushed the mic button again, “Why aren’t we in the air?”

“You’ll have to ask them,” the pilot said, pointing outside. “We were ordered by the control tower to power down.”

Three men were walking purposefully toward the helicopter.

“Who the hell are they?” Wasserman asked.

“I’ll check,” Jenks said.

He disconnected his restraint, opened the door, and hopped out.

“I don’t know what you think you’re doing,” Jenks said, “but we have a mission that’s supposed to have us in the air right this very minute.”

“Are you Wasserman or Jenks?” one of the men said.

“I’m
Lieutenant
Jenks. What’s going on?”

The two other men moved past Jenks to the open door of the helicopter.

“Sir, you’ll come with me now,” the first man said to Jenks.

“The hell I will.”

“Sir, if you’d rather, I could place you under arrest right here.”

“Arrest? Who do you think you are …?” He was about to address the man by rank, but realized for the first time the man was not wearing a uniform.

“NCIS, Lieutenant. Turn around and put your hands behind your back.”