The Heart's Shrapnel (19 page)

“At my request. I’m an agent who investigates wrongdoing in the army. The last thing I needed was someone to recognize me when on a mission,” I explain.

“Explains a lot,” he adds almost sullenly. “But, it doesn’t explain why my best friend is dead and why you’re impersonating him. You said he was murdered?”

“Yes.” I explain everything to him. How Leonard thankfully saw Phillip before anyone else made it back to the house, how Leonard called me first, and since Phillip was shot only once, we decided I had a fighting chance to pass it off as if he just received a flesh wound. It’s obvious neither Mayfield nor the other guy checked to make sure Phillip was dead, or they’d have questioned my appearance much sooner.

“Shit, man. This is messed up.” Ryan rubs the front of his face and runs both hands through his hair. “I should ask how you’re doing. He’s your brother after all.”

“I’ll be much better when I catch the son of a bitch who killed him.”

“Who do you think it is? I’d say you could ask the general, but from the rumors I’ve heard, he was involved in some dirty work.”

I don’t answer.

“Wait. The general?” he asks incredulously before looking around the room as if to see if anyone overheard.

He doesn’t need to worry. This place is secure. “I can’t say much about the general in regards to the things he’s been dismissed for, but in regards to my brother . . . he definitely had a hand.”

“So, he didn’t kill Phillip, but he had someone else to do it? Is that what you’re saying?”

“Yes.”

“Jesus, what did Phillip do?”

I shake my head. “It’s what he found out.”

Ryan turns around and paces the room. “We have to find who did this.” He points at Phillip’s body. “And you’re going to let me help. He was my best friend.”

“Ryan, you can’t. It’s dangerous, and you have a future ahead of you. Think of Mandy.”

“I didn’t ask your permission. I’m helping. And don’t worry about Mandy.”

I want to argue, but don’t have it in me to fight.

“Suit up.”

Jane

Jets sound above me. The engines boom loud in my ears. It’s nothing out of the ordinary. I’ve grown accustomed to the sounds.

I finish patching up a soldier’s wounded leg when I hear a loud crash. My staff and patients all get in an uproar.

My legs hurry me to the opening of the tent and I peek out. Chaos. Everyone is running around. There’s thick smoke everywhere. Missiles. We’re being attacked.

“Jane!” a nurse shouts when she spots me. “Come quick.”

I don’t worry about gloves. Running out of the hospital, I head out to see what all I can do. There’s both wounded soldiers and locals all over the camp. Nurses and doctors frantically try to get them all in. Others have just improvised and made areas outside to accommodate everyone.

“Jane, over here!” she shouts again.

“Coming!” As I run to her, she stoops down and picks up something before turning around to me. My heart stops. In her arms is a baby of no more than five months old. It’s crying hysterically, and her arm is barely attached to its socket. From the explosion or something else? Gunfire? I can’t even tell.

People continue to rush around and shout. My heart thumps loudly and my ears feel like they’re full of water, and I freeze, panicked. I see no one but this baby.

In the distance, someone’s calling my name. “Jane!” The nurse jolts me out of my trance. “She needs immediate care. All the other doctors are busy.”

“Give it to me.” I take the baby, hold it close to my chest, and race to my station. More vehicles and choppers arrive. “I have empty beds,” I shout to those who can hear me before heading inside.

“It’s okay, baby. You are going to be fine.” I put her on the first clean bed I come to, which happens to be closest to the entrance. I’m able to make out that it’s a girl. She’s still screaming as she bites her small, untouched hand. I start to cry as I frantically search for morphine. I’m still on autopilot and can’t seem to snap out of it.

Her screams pick up. They’re almost piercing. Finding the right amount of morphine, I grab an IV and surgical tape. A sudden commotion next to me catches my attention. New patients are being rushed in.

“Where do you want them?” A nurse I’ve never seen before asks.

“Find a bed—an empty one—and place them on it. You”—I point at a nurse—“prep as many people as you can. Decide who can be saved, who can’t and who can wait.”

“Got it,” she says before scurrying off.

“You,” I point at two nurse’s assistants, one of which is mine. “Make sure that everyone’s station is securely stocked. I want someone on cleanup. Now clear my station. This is urgent.”

Not listening to any more people, I fix the baby with an IV and plenty of fluids. She’s severely dehydrated. I give her just enough morphine to calm her down before I prep her for surgery.

Someone comes up beside me. “How’s she doing?” The woman is Afghan. Her hair is a mess, her clothes torn, and she’s covered in black soot.

“Not well I’m afraid.”
She’s going to lose her arm.
“Do you know her or who her parents are?”

The woman bows her head. “I’m her mother.” She swallows. “Her father didn’t survive. I tried to hide her behind some big rocks until I could get some help to bring me here. She was covered in dust from the explosion. But . . . I couldn’t protect her from it.”

“You did all you could,” I say while placing my hand on her arm.

She nods and looks down at the little girl who is now sleeping. “You’ll let me know how she is doing?”

“Yes,” I assure her. “I’ll have to ask you to step outside now. I need to get started on her surgery.”

The mother’s eyes fill with tears. “You’ll save her, won’t you?”

“I’m going to try.”

It’s not what she wanted to hear, but it’s all I could offer. Once she leaves, I take a moment to calm myself. My hands are shaky, and I wonder how I’m going to perform this operation. I’ve only done a few by myself since I’ve been sent here, and this by far is the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do.

Scrubbing my hands and arms, I glove myself and get ready to put on my protective mask. “I need a nurse!” I yell.

“I’m Suzy. I’m a nurse a couple of tents down. I’m here to help.” She’s old enough to have plenty experience and looks to know what she’s doing.

“Okay, I just need you to hand me my tools as I ask for them.”

“Yes, ma’am,” she says.

We quickly get to work. I’ve been at this surgery for over an hour trying to safely remove her arm, and eventually I do. The monitor beeps. Her vitals are quickly dropping with every second that passes, and I’m not sure I can do anything about it. She’s lost too much blood.

“There’s nothing else you can do,” Suzy says as she places a sympathetic hand on my shoulder.

I nod my head. She’s too young to die, but her immune system and little body can’t handle the stress of the wound. But I have to move on.

“Give me some more morphine,” I say to the nurse.

She gives me an understanding look before she retrieves the medicine. It’s the only thing I can offer her.

“Thank you.”

Reluctantly, I move to other patients. It’s a while before I can get back to the baby.

Taking the bed, I bring the girl to the equipment room in the back, trying to escape the madness out front.

She looks so peaceful, almost like she’s sleeping. I remove my gloves, toss them in a nearby trashcan, and wash my hands before placing a finger in her tiny hand. Her eyes open just barely as she lightly squeezes.

“It’s okay, honey. It’s okay.”

The little girl hiccups and her fingers unclench as her hand falls. I’m in my own personal nightmare as I watch this baby’s life fade. What I’m experiencing right now can only be described as being separate—outside from my body. Time stands still.

Without warning, my knees buckle from under me as I keep a firm, steady grip on the side of the bed, and I cry. I cry so hard I can barely catch a breath. I won’t be able to handle telling her the babies’ mother.

And like the sun shining through a dreadful storm, I feel him. Then I hear him.

Wes!

He’s shouting for someone to tell him where I am. But, I can’t move. I’m numb.

Footsteps approach, a shuffling of hurried feet. They stop completely before taking measured steps toward the bed where the lifeless child now lays. I hear an intake of breath before a muttered curse follows.

“Oh, Jane,” he says while coming over to my weeping form. He squats down in front of me, and I can only make out his black army boots.

“Hey.” He wipes the tears from my cheek, and the dam opens. I’m so happy he is here.

“I . . . I couldn’t save her. I tried, but I couldn’t!”

“It’s okay, baby. I got you. It’s all right.” He scoops me up into his arms not seeming to care about any of the blood. Moving over to a bench where we keep various items, he clears a spot and sits down with me on his lap as he rocks me. His hands rub my back in a loving caress while the world continues to fall apart around us. “I’m so sorry.” He holds me until I am able to calm down.

“They need me out there,” I say while trying to climb off his lap.

He takes my chin in his hand so I’ll look at his face. Worry lines crease his forehead. “You aren’t going anywhere until you assure me that you are okay.”

“I’m fine.”

“If you need to have a minute—”

“I don’t have a minute.” I stare him in the eyes. He knows I’m right, he just came from outside. “My God, Wes. What the hell is happening?”

He shakes his head, perplexed. “I’m not sure,” he says honestly. “All I know is I wish you’d already gone home.”

“But, I’m not. And now I need to suck it up and get back out there. Are you okay?” I ask, realizing for the first time that he may have been caught in the crossfire. I take a moment to scan his body while running my hands over his chest and down his arms.

He grabs my wandering hands. “Jane, I’m fine. There were sudden gunfire and explosions near base. I got here as fast as I could, but I had to make sure everything was being handled back there first.”

“I know. I’m just glad you’re okay.”

He cocks his head to the side, looking past me. “Go. I’ll take everything from here,” he says.

“But, her mother will—” Before I can turn around to look at the girl, he stops me.

“Jane. Don’t do that to yourself. I’ll make sure the baby is taken care of.”

I want to argue. I want to tell him I’ll deal with it. But there’s no time. And, I trust him.

“Okay.”

Not looking back, I head out into the madness. It’s going to be a long night.

Wes

After Jane leaves to take care of things outside, I make a few phone calls and wait around until someone comes to take the baby to a safe place. I was able to speak to the mother. She was devastated, naturally, but she asked me to thank Jane for trying to save her daughter.

My phone rings as I start toward my truck. “McClintock.”

“Wes, it’s Dylan. I think I found the place where they’re keeping the women.”

My steps falter briefly before I climb into my vehicle.

“Where?” I ask and start the engine

***

As soon as I hung up with Dylan, I had called Ryan. Without Leonard, I needed all the help I could get.

“You think this is it?” Ryan asks as we near the suspected hiding place where the women are kept hostage.

“I’m not sure, but it’s worth a shot.”

We park far enough away from the site to avoid detection. This place is literally out in the middle of nowhere. It looks abandoned with its cracked walls and sunken in roof.

“It seems too small,” Ryan says.

It couldn’t be more than 500 square feet.

“He’s not 100 percent certain, but has reason to believe this could be it.”

As we get closer, I signal Ryan to crawl on his hands and knees as we scope the perimeter.

“Boss,” Ryan calls in a hushed voice and waves me over. I’m stunned he still chooses to call me boss. “Look at this.” Right where Ryan is standing is a loose board. He steps over it and taps his foot, a hollow sound echoes back. It’s not solid ground. We both look at each other before bending down to lift the whole thing.

There, underneath, is a latch.

“Hold this while I try to get this open,” I say.

The latch is a little rusty and difficult to push back, but eventually, it gives. Ryan moves the board aside and helps me open it.

Stairs, lights, and walls. An underground layer. Just as I suspected.

“I’ll go down first,” Ryan says. “I trust you better to back me up.”

As I descend the stairs, I listen for any sounds. Nothing. There’s just the smell of wet dirt. This is not what I would call high-quality work, but for the materials used, it’s pretty impressive. It’s rather large down here, but ventilation is non-existent. My whole body is drenched in sweat within five minutes.

Dylan, you better get here fast.

Ryan checks one tunnel, and I search the other. I come to a metal door with a little glass window in the center. It’s so dark on the other side, I’m unable to see anything.

“See you found the place okay,” Dylan says behind me.

I jump. “Jesus. You scared the hell out of me. Yes. Where were you?”

“Sorry. I was trying to get a signal. You can’t get anything down here,” he says looking around.

“I think they might be behind this door if they’re even here at all. But, judging from the secrecy of this place, and its setup, I’d say there’s a pretty good chance they are. I’m going to see if there’s something I can use to break open this lock.”

“I’ll see if I can get it open,” he says as I search for a tool. I’m not sure where Ryan is, but maybe he’s found something.

“Got it, Wes,” Dylan shouts as the door opens.

I immediately move toward it. “That was fast. Let’s see if we find what we’re looking for.” Moving past Dylan, I carefully walk into the dark space. It’s so black, I can’t see anything. “We’re going to need to get some flashlights so we—” My words are cut short by the slamming of the door.

“Dylan, are you all right? What happened?” No response. I’m immediately on high alert. Someone got to him, which means they probably got Ryan as well.

Shit. Think, Wes, think!

Taking careful steps to my left until I meet a wall, I search for a light switch. It takes a while, but eventually I come across one. The light is dim, but I’m able to see where I am.

Someone definitely lives down here in the center, at least part-time. There’s furniture, electricity, a bed, kitchen supplies. Everything.

I hear movement to my right. Retrieving my gun from my back pocket, I go in search of the noise. The lights flicker as I get closer, but the noise stops.

“Hello,” I call. “My name is Wes McClintock. I’m with the CID. Is there anyone down here?” When there’s no response, I call again. “Hello?”

A sudden flurry of shouts erupts. “Help us! We’re in here. We’re in here.”

The hostages?
It has to be. For some odd reason, one of the voices sounds vaguely familiar. I move closer.

As I near, there’s a human-sized cage with about a dozen women inside. They’re huddled together and frightened except one.

“Mandy?” I ask in disbelief.

Her clothes are dirty and torn. Her hair is matted to her face, and her eyes are swollen, but it’s her.

“Phillip? Phillip!” she shouts. “Oh my God. Help us. Get us out of here.” She starts crying and yanking on the steel bars.

Holstering my gun, I near the cage and yank on the door. I already know it’s locked, but I want to see how loose it is. The door rattles. Perfect.

I search the group of women and stop when I see Lily, who is huddled in the far corner, hugging her knees. Her eyes are vacant.

“Lily,” I say.

“She hasn’t said anything since we’ve been here,” Mandy answers.

“What happened? How long have you been down here?”

“Just a few days after Jane left. We were asked to come here to help out at the general’s request.” She laughs, “We jumped at the opportunity to be with Jane again. Only thing is, we never made it. As soon as we arrived, some soldiers brought us to a secluded place in the desert. Then a group of men in turbans transferred us from one vehicle to another. We had to lay underneath a tarp. The damn thing was a sun soaker.”

How could I have missed that? That day we saw women being yanked from those vehicles it was Mandy and Lily inside. If we had waited longer, we would have seen them. Ryan is going to be pissed. Not to mention the army. One of their own is to blame for this. But why involve these two? They have nothing to do with Phillip.

Since they were asked and agreed to go, their absence would be explained. No one was expecting them, and no one was looking for them. And they didn’t expect to walk into a trap.

“I’m going to get you out,” I assure her while looking around for something to pick the lock.

“Where’s Ryan? Is he with you?” she asks, hopeful.

I find a kitchen knife and work the lock. “Yes, but we got separated and now I’m locked in here. Dylan’s gone, too.”

“Dylan?” She immediately lets go of the bars, taking a step back.

Surely she remembers he’s my friend. “Yes. Remember him? He and Lily—”

“Yeah, I remember him,” she cuts me off. “Can’t wait to get my hands on his throat.”

I stop picking at the lock. “What do you mean?”

“You don’t know?” she asks incredulously.

“No. What are you talking about?”

She walks back to the bars, getting as close as she can. “Son of a bitch threw us down here after some of the other girls were traded off. There’s no telling what he’s done to Lily. Keeps taking her from time to time, disappearing for a while before bringing her back.”

She must be delusional from being down here in this dark place.

My first instinct is to defend Dylan. He’s been my right arm for five years now. He’s valued at the CID. Was that why General Mayfield used him to “scope out” possible attack sites. There were more men qualified to do the job, including me, so it would make sense.

Could Dylan be the mole my boss was talking about? Mayfield always seemed one step ahead of me when I had been extra cautious about everything. Plus, Dylan would disappear at random times.

“Are you certain that it was Dylan you saw and not someone else?”

“Yes. Positive. I wouldn’t lie about something like this.”

“I know you wouldn’t, I just—”

“Wait a minute. You called yourself Wes earlier.”

“Long story. I’ll fill you in later. Right now, I have to get you all out of here.”

“I’m sorry. I can’t let you do that,” Dylan says from behind as something hard presses against the back of my head—a gun. I’m disappointed for about a second, and then I get angry.

“So, is it true?” I ask him—the man I thought was as loyal as they come.

“Yes. You couldn’t just let it go. I tried to steer you in other directions, but as always, you figure everything out.”

Didn’t seem to figure this out
.

“Where’s Ryan?”

“Yeah, where’s Ryan, you prick!” Mandy shouts.

“That pansy ran off,” he answers. “Now, sit in that chair.” I take my chances and sit in the one next to the cage. I want to keep an eye on the women.

He immediately starts tying my wrists behind the back of the chair and quickly moves to my ankles. I can barely look at him.

“Dylan, what are you doing? You don’t need to do this. If you’re being coerced . . .”

“I’m not being
coerced
to do anything . . . at least, not now. I was at first,” he says as he walks around to face me. “You know my mom is sick. I need the money.”

What?

“You could have come to me if you needed extra cash.”

Dylan laughs. “Like I would go to you for money. You think I’m that low to stoop and beg?”

“Are you listening to yourself? You’ve messed up, Dylan. This will put you away for a long time.”

“Then you understand why I have to kill you. I can’t let that happen,” His hands shake. His eyes lower. “I’m sorry, Wes. I’m so sorry.”

Wait a minute . . .

“Tell me you didn’t.” There’s no need for elaboration. “Phillip?”

“He knew too much.”

Scrunching my eyes shut, I tip back my head and let out a strained moan. I’ve never known despair like this. My own friend, my partner . . . my brother’s killer.

“Why?” I ask, barely able to get any sound out.

He looks at the women in the cage. Mandy glares. Ignoring her, he looks down at Lily, who is still huddled in a corner. His look turns solemn.

“I don’t even know how it happened. I was investigating the drug usage on post back in Baumholder with Leonard. Started sniffing around the area to see who all was possibly involved. That’s when I saw your brother. He and General Mayfield were having a heated discussion. I tried getting closer to hear when I accidentally knocked something over, alerting them to my presence. Mayfield didn’t want to “get rid of me,” so he contacted me the next day after doing background information on me. Of course, my involvement with the CID, as well as yours and Leonard’s, were erased for our protection. But my history wasn’t. He found out about the debt I was in because of my mother’s cancer . . . and the rest is history.” He opens his arms wide.

“You are not saying my brother was involved in all of this because I won’t believe you.”

“No, Wes. He wasn’t involved. Just an unlucky soldier who saw and heard things he shouldn’t have. You and I both know it’s a big deal stealing army weapons and selling them to terrorists.”

“Shit, Dylan. You didn’t.”

“Unfortunately, yes. The general was already in over his head. He couldn’t have another person get killed on his watch. So, he hired me to take out your brother and said he would give me a third of his earnings if I helped him ship the guns quietly. That’s where the big money was. Made over a hundred grand myself.”

“He was using you, Dylan. Couldn’t you see that? And what about the women? Where did they all go? And why use American women? Women we know, I might add. That’s more dangerous.”

“These women,” he gestures with his head, “were a distraction. More for leverage, in case we needed it. Mayfield’s idea. Yes, some were sold, but we had to throw you off. Didn’t work, but we thought it would. The locals were convenient because no one gives a shit about anyone in this place. It was the perfect solution. So was Kevin,” he adds.

“What?”

“Kevin . . . Jane’s ex. I’m sure you probably suspected he was in on this, well, not directly. The prick is nothing but an abusive dominator.”

My mind works to put together what he’s trying to tell me. What a big mess.

“You told Mayfield about Jane and I; then you got him to bring back Kevin, whom he just sent home to keep me busy?”

“Yes. You were messed up from your ex cheating on you even after all these months. When I saw how affected you were with Jane, there was no denying you’d do anything to keep her safe. Found out from Ryan that Mandy here had seen bruises on Jane’s body, so I put the pieces together.”

“Go to hell!” Mandy shouts.

“Now, Mandy, let’s not be mean,” Dylan scolds.

“I don’t think you grasp the concept of what you’ve started here. Those guns are going to be used to kill numerous lives, and you’re part of the reason why. And my brother . . .”

His look goes from smug to sincere with regret. “You have to believe me, Wes. I didn’t want to kill him. Shit. It was like killing you. It was your body I saw sink to the ground. When I heard Leonard say you were going undercover as your twin, I panicked. I now had two people to cover things up with. Imagine telling Mayfield you are dead, only to see you back alive. He was furious.”