The Faithful (24 page)

“Seriously?”

The corner of his mouth was twitching, but he didn’t look up from the newspaper. “Bon appétit.”

CHAPTER FORTY-TWO

Josh watched her eat over the top of his newspaper, trying not to grin every time she grimaced or sighed over the healthy breakfast he had provided. Although she managed to scarf down two muffins, a couple of handfuls of the nuts, and two bananas, one would have thought she was being tortured. She turned her nose up at the yogurt, claiming she couldn’t stomach the texture.

Josh couldn’t help but laugh at her look of childish glee when he presented her with the doughnuts he’d kept hidden beside him. She actually bounced up and down in her seat, as though he were a magician producing a rabbit out of a hat. He grabbed one of the honey-glazed and pushed the other three in her direction. She dug in with enthusiasm.

When she was on her second doughnut, Josh addressed her earlier question. “So, the first thing we have to do today is get our hands on as much cash as possible.”

“You’re not going to rob a bank, are you?”

“No, smart-ass. But we are going to have to clear out our accounts. Any idea how much you have?”

She shrugged. “A few thousand in my checking. Probably another five in savings.”

“Good. I’ve got about six grand I can lay my hands on. That should do, for now.”

“And then what are we going to do?”

“Well, I’ve been thinking about it. I don’t like being on the run; I don’t play well on defense. I’d rather be on offense, if you get my meaning.”

“Sure.”

“So the way I figure it, we could hole up somewhere and work on recovering your memory. See where that leads us. But I’d rather push forward on all fronts.”

“Right, that makes sense.” Her lips were glistening with sugar and he had to look away in order to concentrate.

“I want to go back to DC.”

“You mean where hit men are waiting to snuff you out?”

“It’s where all my leads are. Sumner Macey, the Department of Education. And there’s a certain deputy director I’d like to pay a visit to.”

“You can’t be serious.”

“Oh, I am,” he said with grim determination. “Deputy Director Warner has some explaining to do.”

“Josh, I told you before: he’s a dangerous man.”

“So am I.” He didn’t know what she saw in his eyes, but whatever it was caused her to swallow hard.

“Okay,” she conceded. “So, what? You’re just going to go storming into his office?”

“No. We’re going to have to fly under the radar from here on out. We’re being hunted; there’s no doubt in my mind about that.”

“I know.” Her face was grim.

“Ryanne, from now on, you need to follow my orders. Do you understand that?” Her eyes were so big, doelike, and full of anxiety. He continued anyway.

“You have to trust me, and do
exactly
what I say. This is not some macho bullshit. I’ve been
trained
for this. You have not.” He took her hand across the table, wanting to somehow soften the blow. “What you did yesterday, in Kahina’s house, was extremely dangerous. It could have gotten us killed.”

Her eyes filled with tears. “I’m sorry.”

“I won’t always have time to explain things to you, so you can’t question me like you did about dumping the FJ. I need you to trust me, and follow my orders immediately and without question. My top priority is your protection; the investigation is secondary. But I need your help to keep you safe.”

“I need to learn how to protect myself, too,” she said quietly.

“You’re right. I’ll teach you what I can.”

“Okay.” She snuffled back the tears. “So what’s our first move? After getting the money, I mean.”

“We’re going to need help, and I only know one person I can trust.”

“Who is that?”

“His name is Phil Lagrudo. He was the sheriff in Elkhorn when you went missing.”

Their first stop was at a Bank of America on the west side of Amarillo, where Ryanne withdrew all but five hundred dollars from her accounts. Josh explained that withdrawing every last cent would raise eyebrows, and it was best to avoid that. The next stop was a Wells Fargo near the airport, where Josh withdrew his cash. Then they drove south through Amarillo and filled up with gas just off the freeway on the edge of town.

“Why are we doing this?” Ryanne finally asked.

“We’re about to go dark,” he said. “I want it to seem likely that we headed south from Amarillo.”

He was marking out the winding route to Nebraska on a map he’d purchased at Walmart. “It looks like it will take about eleven hours, plus stops,” he muttered, pen in his mouth as he folded the map and smoothed out the page so Ryanne could easily refer to it along the way. There were a lot of twists and turns along rural routes until they reached Kansas, and he would need her to guide him.

“You know, I have Google Maps on my phone. Wouldn’t that be easier? Especially in the dark?” The sun was already low in the sky. They only had another couple of hours of daylight left.

“Shit! Turn off your phone. They can track you that way.” He had turned off his phone while leaving Las Cruces the previous evening, but hadn’t thought about Ryanne’s.

She pulled her iPhone out of her purse and turned it off without further comment, but he saw her gaze dart around the gas station, looking for danger.

“Let’s get out of here,” he said gruffly.

They watched the sun rise over the Platte River in silence, both lost in their own thoughts. Josh was remembering fishing trips with his father, camping by the river on summer nights, and, in later years, male bonding over bonfires and beer.

He wondered what Ryanne was thinking, if any memories were sparking for her. Her expression was unreadable, deep and sad, as the gold light of dawn kissed her skin through the windshield. Josh opened his mouth, and then closed it again without speaking.

When the last streaks of pink gave way to morning light, he started the car and drove slowly into Elkhorn.

It was just before seven a.m. when they pulled to a stop in front of Phil Lagrudo’s beige stucco house on Honeysuckle Drive, less than two miles from where Ryanne had disappeared over twenty years before.

CHAPTER FORTY-THREE

Phil Lagrudo had aged since Josh last saw him. His hair, once salt and pepper, was wispy and white. His chest was smaller than Josh remembered, his midsection rounder.

“Hey, boss,” Josh said, and watched the former sheriff do a double take.

“Holy shit on a shingle.
Metcalf?
”

They went through the typical male greeting, ending with a manly clap on the back.

“Son, you look like hell.”

Josh could feel the grin spread across his face. “Can we come in?”

“Of course!” He shuffled back from the doorway to let Josh and Ryanne pass. “Damn, it’s good to see you! What’s it been, five years?”

“Five or six,” Josh replied. “It’s good to see you too, boss.”

“Is this your lady?” Lagrudo extended his hand. “Phil Lagrudo, ma’am.”

Ryanne blushed but shook his hand.

“This is Dr. Rowan Wilson,” Josh said.

“Doctor?” He winked at Josh. “Well done. Would you like some coffee?”

“Oh, yes please,” Ryanne said.

“If it’s not too much trouble,” Josh agreed.

“No trouble at all.” Lagrudo was already moving into the kitchen, and they followed. He filled the pot with water, ground some fresh beans, and set the machine to brew. “Please, have a seat. Have you had breakfast?”

“We didn’t come here to be a bother,” Josh said.

“It’s no bother! It’s not every day I get a visit from one of my favorite officers and a beautiful young doctor. Speaking of which, you probably get this all the time, but I’ve got this thing on my foot—”

Josh coughed.

“I’m a doctor of astronomy, actually,” Ryanne said. “And I’m starving, thank you.”

“Have we met before?” The former sheriff asked. Ryanne looked stricken by the question, and Josh jumped in.

“It’s a long story, boss. One best told on a full stomach.”

“I’m intrigued,” Lagrudo said as he pulled open the fridge door. “I’m sure you remember Marcy O’Donell?”

Josh could feel his cheeks warm.

“She’s Marcy Johnson now,” Lagrudo continued. “Married Matt Johnson about fifteen years back.”

“I heard,” Josh said, and the tone of his voice caused Ryanne to look at him curiously.

“Had themselves a few kids, too. Anyway, this is her quiche. She’s taken it as her mission to keep me fed since Aileen passed last year.”

“I’m sorry, boss. I didn’t know.”

Lagrudo shrugged. “How would you? She lived a good life, and didn’t suffer at the end. Just went to sleep one night and didn’t wake up the next morning. I hope I’m that lucky when my time comes.”

As the quiche was warming, he washed some grapes to go with it. He poured the coffee into mismatched mugs and set down the cream and sugar so they could doctor their coffee as they wished.

Lagrudo served up three wedges and handed over forks and napkins. Josh and Ryanne dug in with enthusiasm. The quiche disappeared quickly, and they polished off the grapes as well.

When they all had a second cup of coffee in hand, Lagrudo sat back and, with a tone that said “Let’s get down to brass tacks,” said “So what’s the deal, Metcalf? You in some kind of trouble?”

Josh gave him a wry smile of acknowledgment. “You could say that.”

“I figured as much. What I’m wondering, though, is what kind of trouble would lead you away from that fancy office in DC and land you on my doorstep instead.”

“If you saw my office . . .” Josh joked, but then turned serious. “The truth is, we’re in some serious danger, and you’re the only person I know for sure I can trust.”

“Well, I’m flattered.”

Josh knew what he was thinking. If he couldn’t trust the Bureau Boys, as Lagrudo called them, then whatever danger they were in was serious indeed.

“What’s this about, Josh?”

They had worked together for nine years, and Josh could only remember a handful of occasions when the sheriff had called him by his first name. One was at Josh’s dad’s funeral.

“The case. It’s always been the case. All those missing kids. Almost eight hundred of them now.”

“You’re still just as obsessed as you’ve always been.” It was a statement, not a question. His old boss knew, perhaps better than anyone, how that blood-covered backpack had changed the course of Josh’s life.

“I’m much worse, actually,” Josh said. “But I’ve finally had the break in the case I’ve been waiting for all these years.”

“No kidding?” The sheriff’s eyes settled on Ryanne with newfound interest.

Ryanne’s skin had turned ghostly save for two spots of color high up on each cheekbone, like stoplights. She looked so much like Sherry, it made Josh’s heart squeeze painfully in his chest. Another moment and Lagrudo would put the pieces together, but Josh beat him to it.

“Boss, say hello to Ryanne Jervis.”

CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR

Sheriff Lagrudo was looking at me across the table as if I’d sprouted a nose in the middle of my forehead. He’d gone gray around the mouth, and I silently wished for a doctorate of medicine. My ability to calculate the speed of a main-belt asteroid would be of little use if he had a heart attack.

An older man, he had the bony shoulders and thick paunch of someone no longer in the best of health. I watched him nervously for signs of medical distress, only half listening as Josh brought him up to date on the investigation, explaining how he had figured out the kidnappers were using the PSST to find kids with ESP potential.

Josh told him about Jack Barbetti and Leora Wylie. The former sheriff settled into Josh’s story; there was clearly a sharp mind ticking behind those faded-blue eyes.

“And that’s how I found Ryanne,” he said. “She tried to stop Leora Wylie’s kidnapping, and got herself run over in the process.”

“Then you know who the kidnappers are!” Lagrudo exclaimed.

I shook my head. “I don’t.”

“Then how did you know this girl was going to be snatched?”

“She has ESP, boss. She had a dream . . . or a vision, or whatever you want to call it. And you’re right, I think she does know who the kidnappers are, but she doesn’t remember.”

“I don’t understand.” Lagrudo frowned.

“Her head’s been seriously messed with. She doesn’t remember anything before the age of eighteen, when she started at MIT. Obviously, she must have been well educated wherever she was, because she was able to get a degree in . . .” He stopped, embarrassed, and looked at me.

“I got a master’s from MIT in aeronautics and astronautics, with a minor in astronomy, and I just completed my doctorate at NMSU.” Phil Lagrudo whistled in admiration and Josh nodded in agreement, which made me squirm.

Clearing my throat, I told him about my loss of memory, my visit to Kahina, and Leora’s kidnapping. Josh jumped in and explained how he found me in the hospital, and described the hypnosis session with Kahina. It was the first time I had heard in detail what had happened while I was in the black. When he finished, I described the hit man Josh had subdued. Lagrudo’s bushy eyebrows became one with his hairline at that little nugget of information.

Josh finished with the details of Kahina’s death, squeezing my hand under the table. He mapped out his plan to head back to Washington, and his desire to find Sumner Macey, the missing director of the PSST Division.

“I really want to find him; I suspect he holds a huge piece of the puzzle. I also want to pay Deputy Director Warner a visit.”

“I’d imagine you do,” Lagrudo said with a grim smile. “I’m guessing this is where I come in. Do you want me to watch over Ms. Jervis while you head back to DC?”

“I’m going with Josh!” I chimed in, afraid this had been Josh’s plan all along. If he thought he was going to stick me out of the way with a retired sheriff as a babysitter, he had another think coming, and to hell with following his orders!

Thankfully, Josh shook his head. “No, I need Ryanne with me.” He squeezed my hand again—a gentle promise that we were in this together—and I relaxed marginally.

Lagrudo seemed to think poorly of the idea. “You’re putting her in danger by bringing her with you, Metcalf.”

Josh shrugged. “She’s in danger no matter where she is. Don’t worry, boss, I’d lay down my life to protect her.”

Lagrudo looked at him strangely. “I’m sure you would, but . . .”

“I need her with me. She knows things, and at any time she might remember something crucial.”

Lagrudo looked like he was going to continue arguing, but he nodded instead. “All right. So what do you need?”

“I need a vehicle, something untraceable. And I need you to get rid of that Ford Fusion out there. I also need a couple of bulletproof vests, some more ammo, and at least one more gun. Really, any kind of weaponry would be great.” As he spoke, his jaw tightened and his eyes became hard.

“I also need any kind of surveillance gear you can get your hands on, and some untraceable cell phones. I’ve got the money to pay for most of it. Well, maybe not the car.”

“I’ve got deep pockets,” Lagrudo said with a dismissive wave. “You know what they say about old dogs and new tricks? It ain’t true. I’ve been sharpening my teeth on PI work since retirement. It keeps me up on all the latest and greatest. Let me see what I can do.” With that, Lagrudo eased himself up from the kitchen table, purpose straightening his spine, and left the room.

I looked at Josh. “Are we supposed to follow him?”

He shrugged, and then smiled at me. “Why don’t you finish your coffee first? You look like you need it.”

“You’re one to talk.” But I did as he suggested.

The former sheriff of Elkhorn proved to be an excellent source for semilegal and contraband stuff. By lunchtime, he had amassed an arsenal of surveillance and countersurveillance equipment, most of which looked like weird doohickeys attached to tangles of wire.

He laid it all out on the coffee table in his living room, along with several guns of varying sizes. Josh seemed pleased with what he saw, and they began an in-depth discussion about the benefits of one caliber versus another.

“Have you seen this one before?” Lagrudo was stroking the barrel of a big black handgun.

“Oh, look at that.” I could hear the reverence in Josh’s voice.

“This beauty is a Fabrique Nationale Five-SeveN semiautomatic. It works on delayed blowback, and it’s got a twenty-round detachable box magazine and sound suppressor. It uses a five-point-seven by twenty-eight-millimeter cartridge, so it’s got less recoil and better accuracy. It’s designed to have excellent penetration and range, so it’s ideal against Kevlar protection.”

“What does that mean?” I asked.

“It means it can better penetrate a bulletproof vest,” Josh answered, sighting down the length of the barrel.

“Oh. Great,” I said faintly.

“This one’s for you.” Lagrudo picked up a smaller pistol from the table. “It’s a Glock twenty-seven Gen-four, in forty caliber. It’s lightweight and easy to use, and it has a grip that can be adjusted to your hand. Many people in law enforcement use it as a backup weapon. This one is brand-new, courtesy of the Elkhorn Sheriff’s Department.”

“Great. Thanks,” I said, but made no move to take it from him.

He smiled. “It’s not loaded, but I’ll let Josh teach you how to use it.” Josh nodded in agreement.

“Here, try this on.” Josh approached me with a dark-blue vest. He helped me to take off the sling before securing my vest, tightening the Velcro straps until it was snug against my chest.

“Sexy,” I commented, and he smiled.

“Alive is always sexy.” He eased my arm back into the sling. “It’s better worn underneath your shirt, but I figured you might not want my help with that.” He returned to the table with the excitement of a kid at Christmas.

I tuned them out as they continued to work their way through the contents of the table, and snapped to attention only when they left the living room.

“Hey! Where are you going?” I jumped up and hobbled after them.

Apparently, they were going to the garage, which was off the kitchen. I found them standing in the doorway, admiring whatever was in there. Josh turned, overcome, and hugged his former boss. The two men disappeared into the dimness, and I followed, stopping in the doorway.

It was a black Chevy Suburban with tinted windows, a bit dinged up but still in decent shape. It was a nice vehicle, but I couldn’t quite understand Josh’s extreme reaction.

“Are you absolutely sure?” he was saying.

“Of course I’m sure. It’s a 2005, but it runs well. I bought it a few years ago; it’s just been sitting here collecting dust.”

“But it must have cost you a small fortune!” Josh was protesting.

“I got a good deal on it. I cashed in on a favor. It only cost me twenty grand.”

“Twenty grand for a 2005 Suburban?” I couldn’t help but chime in. “You got ripped off.”

“It’s not just a Suburban,” Josh corrected. “It’s an armored vehicle.”

“With all the gadgets,” Phil Lagrudo added, and I got the feeling he hadn’t enjoyed himself quite this much in years. “It’s got a navigation system, front and rear cameras, an outside listening device, hidden strobe lights in all four corners, front and rear stealth buttons, and a remote starter. It’s also got a pretty good stereo.”

“Seriously boss, this is too much. I can’t take it.”

“You can and you will. What good is it going to do me sitting in the garage, when it could be saving your life, and that of Ms. Jervis here? You said you’d do anything to protect her,” he pointed out.

Josh met my gaze. “You’re right, I did.”

“Well then, discussion over. Let’s get your gear loaded in.”