Читать книгу Mission: Memory Recall - Virginia Vaughan - Страница 11
ОглавлениеSheriff Ken Mills was a burly man who epitomized the stereotypical small-town Texas sheriff. But he sat and listened—staring at Bethany’s credentials instead of looking directly at her—while she explained the situation and asked for his help. Technically, he didn’t have to offer any assistance to her since the CIA wasn’t supposed to be operating on US soil, but most law-enforcement agencies shared so many common experiences that camaraderie was generally expected and usually given.
When she was finished, Mills leaned back in his chair and surveyed her. “I’ll agree to this on several conditions, Agent Bryant. One, you don’t interfere with our investigation into the shooting and, two, you offer up any and all information you know about it.”
She nodded. “Of course. I will.” That was a given.
“How long do you think you’ll need to house this prisoner of yours in our facility?”
“Not long at all. One night. Maybe two at the most.”
“Fine. My last condition is that my detectives want to question him about what he knows about the shooting without interference from you or the Agency. I don’t want to hear that we can’t solve a shooting in our own community because the CIA deems it sensitive information.”
“I don’t think that’s going to be a problem, Sheriff. In fact, I would love to be kept informed about any information your detectives garner from Marcus.”
“I’ll let them know.” He stood and shook her hand. “It’s hard to believe that we had a fugitive from the CIA living right here in our community and no one knew it. Keep us updated and we’ll do the same.”
She left his office and was met by Detective Mercer, who told her they were still going through evidence and wouldn’t be talking with Marcus for several more hours.
Bethany took the opportunity to dial the number for Rick Eaves, her CIA department supervisor, to update him. When he answered, she spilled the news about finding Marcus.
She heard his sharp intake of breath. “Marcus Allen? You really found him?”
“I did. He’s alive. He was working as a fry cook in a town called Little Falls, Texas.”
“I’m in shock, Bethany. I confess I thought you were just chasing shadows. Are you certain it’s him? Maybe it’s just someone who looks like him.”
She remembered staring up into Marcus’s achingly familiar green eyes and mentally shook her head. She would never forget his face. “It’s him. I’m certain of it.”
“Okay, then we need to plan our next move. Do you want me to call in a team to bring him in?”
She’d gone against Agency protocols by not calling in a fugitive recovery team. But then, she hadn’t been acting in an official capacity, either. “That’s not necessary.”
“This is a dangerous man, Bethany. He’s been on the run for years. There’s no telling what he might do if you confront him.”
She grimaced, bracing for his reaction. “I already have.”
“You did what? Are you insane? You know our standard operating procedures for capturing fugitives.”
She couldn’t help the indignation that arose inside her. No one had believed her and now she was catching flack for being right. “I wasn’t operating under an official capacity, remember? I didn’t think I had the resources of the Agency to help with this.”
Rick took a deep breath as if realizing she was right and then continued in a calmer tone. “What happened?”
“Nothing. He claims to have amnesia. He says he doesn’t even know me.”
“Amnesia? Are you seriously buying that?”
She wanted to assure her supervisor she didn’t, but the image of Marcus’s green eyes looking at her so earnestly for answers as he’d sat across from her flashed through her mind and she couldn’t form the words. So instead of responding to his question, she moved on to the next issue. “We have another pressing problem. A sniper fired into the diner just after I approached him.”
“They’re trying to kill him before he can talk to us.”
Her mind spun at that notion. “Who is trying to kill him?”
“Bethany, you don’t think he’s been on his own all this time, do you? He must have been working with someone to stay under the radar.”
She didn’t bother reminding him that Marcus hadn’t managed to stay under her radar. “I haven’t gotten to officially interrogate him yet, but I will soon.”
“You do that. I’m going to start making preparations to get you both back here as soon as possible. I’ll call the Marshals’ office. I assume the locals will hold him until they arrive?”
“Yes, I’ve already spoken to the sheriff. He wants answers about this shooting just as much as we do.”
“Don’t let them take over. He’s our prisoner, not theirs. Make sure they know that. Do you want me to call the sheriff?”
“That’s not necessary. I can handle it.”
“Okay. I’ll be in touch once the arrangements for the Marshals are under way.”
She hung up but instead of feeling proud of herself for finally capturing Marcus after all these years, she felt as if she’d just been scolded by her supervisor. And it rankled because she’d accomplished something no one else at the Agency had been able to do.
Rick Eaves and the rest of the CIA had underestimated her and now she’d proved them all wrong.
She should have felt vindicated. So why then did it feel like her heart was breaking?
* * *
The local cops paraded him inside like a common criminal. He didn’t like it, but he allowed it because Bethany was right about people wanting to question him. And maybe they could help him recover some of his memories.
Their sheriff offered his help and had a deputy escort Marcus to a jail cell. He sat on the cold, hard seat and waited. None of this had gone as he’d anticipated. He’d certainly not expected to be sitting in a county jail awaiting transport to CIA headquarters.
He closed his eyes and lifted a prayer to God. Surely, He hadn’t brought him all this way to make him a prisoner. Bethany had called him a traitor to his country. He didn’t feel like one, but how could he really know for sure?
Flashes of the past hit him. Gunfire and running. Pain bursting through him. A woman staring up at him, awaiting a kiss—He jolted awake at that last image, realizing he’d dozed off. The woman reminded him of Bethany, like it could have been her sister, but her eyes had been different, a deep brown color instead of the vivid blue, and her face and hair had been hidden under a tunic. But the resemblance was uncanny. He wiped his face, trying to rub away some of the fogginess that clouded his memories.
“What are you thinking about so intently, Marcus?” Her voice came this time not from his memory but from behind the wall of bars separating them. Her eyes were once again their bright glory blue.
“You, actually.” He stood and approached her. She held the answers to all his questions. “How do we know each other? I mean, I know you’re a CIA agent hunting me, but are we more than that?”
She chewed on her bottom lip in a telling fashion. “Why would you ask me that question?”
“I keep seeing this woman flashing before my eyes.”
“So you admit you remember me?”
“I guess I do. It’s just a glimmer, but I remember seeing you.” And kissing you. What was that about? “But the woman looked different...the eyes?”
Bethany gave a weary sigh. “They’re called contact lenses, Marcus. You know very well that I wear them when I’m on assignment.”
Her words flowed back to him, words she’d spoken years and several thousand miles ago. “Because who would believe an Afghani woman with blue eyes?”
She stared up at him, those same eyes flashing with anger. “So you do remember?”
He rubbed his eyes, pain shooting through his head as he tried to concentrate. “I don’t know. Maybe.” He saw the doubt on her face. “I’m not lying to you, Bethany. My past is a blank slate. You have no idea how frustrating that is. I remember how to walk, talk, drive a car, shoot a gun, but when I try to recall who I am or where I come from or what I’ve done, there’s nothing.”
“We’ll see. The CIA has methods to obtain information.”
“I’m sure they do.”
She waved her hand at the camera and the electronic lock released. “I have a few of my own methods right now. Will you follow me to the interview room?”
He allowed her to cuff him and lead him down the long hallway then turn right into an interrogation room. When they entered, Marcus saw what looked to be the content from the shooter’s nest.
“What’s all this?” he asked.
She motioned toward the weapon. “You tell me. Everything has been unloaded, of course.”
“Of course.” He picked up the rifle and checked the mag. “This is a .300 Win Mag sniper rifle with long-range scope. The most accurate sniper’s rifle on the market.” He glanced at the other equipment on the table. It was all top-quality gear. “Aside from the working on his own part, I’d say our sniper is a professional assassin.”
She nodded. “I agree. And you let him get away. Who’s after you, Marcus?”
He sighed, already weary of her not believing him, and sank into a chair. “Why do you think he was after me? You were in that diner, too, as were a handful of patrons. Any one of them could have been the target.”
“That’s highly unlikely. You’re a fugitive on the run. I feel certain you were the mark. Besides, he didn’t target anyone else as they were fleeing the building, only you.”
“Well, I haven’t been targeted until today. Believe me, nothing like this has happened to me before you arrived in town. I was hoping you could provide me answers, but it seems you provided a lot more than that.”
Anger flashed on her face. “Are you implying that I led someone to you who wanted you dead?”
She stood and walked to him, opening a folder. “Are you aware that all but six of your army ranger team died in an ambush in Afghanistan two years ago? All including you...or so everyone believed.” She leaned over him, speaking directly into his ear. “You had us all fooled, Marcus. They all thought you’d died that night on that mountain. These men were your teammates, your friends.”
He glanced at the file. “I didn’t lie to anyone,” he insisted.
“Then tell me what happened over there.”
He dug through his memory, but only flashes came. Firefights. Cries of pain. And the soft skin of lips caressing his. She was all jumbled up in there, but even those fragments didn’t provide the answers he needed. “I—I don’t know. All I know is I was injured. The first thing I remember clearly was waking up in a hut. The villagers took care of me and treated my wounds. They sheltered me. But they kept saying I was in danger, that someone was hunting me, that someone in the CIA was after me.”
“Why weren’t they afraid of you? The CIA was the good guy.”
“They didn’t think so. They seemed frightened, so I was frightened, as well. I figured they were the ones who knew the good guys from the bad guys.”
“Why didn’t you report to a US military base? You would have been safe there.”
“I had no idea who I was. For all I knew, I was on the run from the US government. I thought I would be arrested, or worse, killed.”
She gave him a disgusted look and shook her head. “You have a US army ranger’s tattoo on your left shoulder. No one could mistake that. You had a duty to return to the base when you were able and let someone know you were alive.”
He pulled up his sleeve and showed her his shoulder. There was no army ranger tattoo, but the scarred flesh suggested that something had once been there. He’d never thought about it being a tattoo of any kind. Had just chalked the scarred flesh up to his injuries. Had someone burned off his tattoo to keep him safe? “I depended on those people to keep me alive. I did as I was told. Besides, they were right. The CIA was after me.”
She stood and gathered the items, placing them back into an evidence container. “Tomorrow, the US Marshals will arrive to transport you back to CIA headquarters, where you’ll be fully briefed about what happened the night of the ambush. There will be a lot of questions about how you survived and why you haven’t come forward. I suggest you come up with a better story than this amnesia one.”
“I can’t tell you anything that isn’t the truth, Beth.”
She stopped, turned and glared at him. “You don’t get to call me that.”
Her words held a bite that chilled him. He’d hurt her. Badly. In his heart, he knew it hadn’t been on purpose, but how could he prove it? How could he exonerate himself from a jail cell?
“I’m sorry.” He spoke softly. “I don’t mean to cause you more pain. I don’t know how to prove to you that I’m not lying, but I promise you I’m not.”
She folded her arms and gave him a stern look. “You may have made a fool of me, but don’t worry, Marcus, you never hurt me.”
She opened the door and called to a guard who grabbed him by the arm. He couldn’t miss the pain simmering behind her eyes as he was led out of the room and back to lockup.
* * *
She was in her hotel room when her phone rang and she looked at the screen. It was Dillon Montgomery, her former partner in the CIA. They’d worked many operations together, including the one they’d been on when the ambush occurred. Dillon was one of the few agents in her division who hadn’t forgotten about her when she’d accepted a desk job and he was the only one who still called her regularly and tried to encourage her back to field work.
She noticed she’d had several missed calls from him. She pressed the on button. “Dillon, hi.”
“Where are you? I’ve been phoning you all day. I was starting to get worried.”
These days, it was nothing for her to wake up to a text or email from Dillon that he was going on assignment. He could be called to a mission at a moment’s notice and be gone for days or weeks. Bethany knew the routine well—she used to live it. But since she’d stopped doing field work, her job kept her closer to home, so her disappearing without a word was considered unusual by Dillon.
“I’m in Texas,” she told him. “I decided to take a few days off.”
The hesitation before he responded meant he knew why. Her obsession with finding Marcus was a constant source of tension between the two of them. Dillon had been the only one in the department to encourage her to follow her gut when it came to her investigation into Marcus. Everyone else had considered her obsession with finding him nothing more than a hopeless pursuit. But even Dillon’s encouragement had waned recently.
“When are you going to give this up, Bethany?”
“I’m not giving up, Dillon. In fact, I found who I came looking for.”
“What do you mean you found him?” His voice perked up. “Are you serious? Marcus Allen? You found him? Are you sure?”
“I am. It’s definitely him.”
He gave a low whistle. “Unbelievable. You always believed it, Bethany, even when the rest of us tried to dissuade you. Impressive. I’m so proud of you.”
“Thank you, Dillon. I still can’t believe I found him after all this time.”
“A soldier presumed killed in action discovered alive? I, for one, can’t wait to hear his story.”
“Well, there won’t be much of a story. He has amnesia.”
Dillon snickered. “Amnesia? Really?”
“That’s what he’s claiming. Right after I confronted him, someone started shooting at us. He insists he has no idea why someone would try to kill him and no knowledge of who the sniper is.”
“Of course he would say that,” Dillon stated. “He’s wanted by more than the CIA.”
She frowned. Rick had alluded to something like that, too. “What do you mean?”
He laughed. “Come on, Bethany. What do you think he’s been doing all this time? He must have been working for someone. Probably weapons traders, if I had my guess. If he’s back in the States and someone is trying to kill him, he probably betrayed them, too.”
“But why did they wait until I arrived to take those shots?” she asked. “Were they following me? Did I lead the shooter to him?”
Dillon gave a disgruntled sigh. “I doubt anyone in the CIA was following you around on the off chance you found a presumed-dead army ranger.”
When he said it, it sounded so implausible that she blushed even thinking it.
“And who else would know about your investigation? I don’t mean to put you down, Bethany, because you did it, you found Marcus Allen. But your investigation into this matter has been like a wild-goose chase. No one in the Agency or any other government agency gave your conclusions any merit. Certainly there was no one here waiting around to see if you found him.”
He was only stating what she already knew to be true. It was silly to even think differently. Marcus was a target and had been for a while. He’d probably gone into hiding to begin with because someone was after him and thus had been dodging bullets for years. That certainly made more sense than that she’d led someone to him. She grimaced to think she’d let him plant doubt in her mind.
“Of course. You’re right.”
“Tell me where you are,” Dillon said. “I’ll hop a flight and be there in a few hours to help you bring him in.”
“That’s not necessary. I’ve already made arrangements. He’s being held in the local jail and Rick has arranged for the US Marshals to escort us back to Langley tomorrow morning.”
“Are you sure? I don’t mind making the trip.”
“No, it’s fine. I’ll see you when I return.”
“Okay...have a safe trip,” he said. “I’ll see you when you get back. We’ll celebrate this victory. Steaks on the grill at my place. Sound good?”
“That sounds nice.”
“Seriously, Bethany. Good job.”
She felt her face redden. She and Dillon had become very close over the past year. He’d indicated he wanted more than to be just friends but she’d put him off several times. She just didn’t believe she was ready for that even though deep down she knew he was a great guy.
He was handsome and charming and one of the more successful agents in the terrorism division. They were well matched and she knew the job often caused trouble in marriages, but marrying a fellow agent meant being with someone who understood the job. And he was the one who continually encouraged Bethany to return to the field.
She hung up with Dillon, still pondering the state of their relationship. She’d spent months putting him off because of her obsession with finding Marcus. Now that’s she’d done it, was it time to give Dillon the attention he deserved?
She sighed.
The truth was that she’d never felt the spark with Dillon that she’d felt with Marcus. She knew it was silly to feel this way. Dillon was perfect for her.
She reddened again, remembering that what she’d felt for Marcus had been fabricated. It hadn’t been real, only a con she’d fallen for.
That was enough. It was time to stop focusing on Marcus. She took some satisfaction in knowing she’d been right...that she’d been vindicated. Now her life of living in limbo was over. Though, what did that mean exactly? She’d spent so much time and energy hunting for Marcus that it had consumed her life for the past two years. It would take a while to adjust to her new normal.
Blowing out a breath, she grabbed her keys and headed out to her SUV. She wasn’t going to sleep tonight because she was too keyed up. She might as well go over the evidence obtained from the rooftop. Because if someone else was after Marcus, as she suspected, they would have a fight on their hands to keep him out of harm’s way.
* * *
When Bethany parked her SUV in the parking lot of the police station and got out, she was immediately approached by Marie and Milo.
“Why did you have Marcus arrested?” Marie demanded. “He wasn’t the one shooting. He was helping people get to safety.”
Bethany could see their deep concern for their employee. He’d obviously made an impression on them, but then, he was good at getting people to trust him then running out on them. She decided they needed to know who it was they were putting such faith in.
“I’m sorry to be the one to tell you this, but he’s not the man you think he is.”
“He told us all about his past...or rather that he didn’t know his past.”
Bethany narrowed her eyes at them. “He told you he didn’t know who he was yet you hired him, anyway?”
Milo nodded. “He needed help. That was obvious. We met him when he first arrived in town. He attended a service at our church. He seemed lost and alone, but a decent fellow. At first we gave him small jobs around the diner but he kept going above and beyond what was asked of him. We soon realized he was a decent, hard worker, and wanted to know more about him, so we had him over to supper.” He took a breath. “That’s when he told us about the amnesia and how he was looking for answers about his life. We encouraged him to stay here in town and let us help him.”
“And you truly believe he can’t remember his past?”
“Sure. Why would he lie about something like that?”
“When you said you knew him, I was thrilled,” Marie stated. “I couldn’t wait to tell him. Now I’m regretting that a little bit. I had no idea you would arrest him.”
“You said yourself you had no idea who he was or what he’d done. You can’t be too shocked to discover he was on the run.”
“No, ma’am. No idea,” Milo reiterated. “That boy was trying to be found by someone. He contacted the news station in Dallas, hoping they could spread his story around but the producers wouldn’t help him. Apparently, it didn’t make good news. He also had the local PD fingerprint him and run his prints, but they came back without a match.”
Bethany wasn’t surprised about the fingerprints. Military files weren’t usually included in local print searches. Those were generally limited to the criminal databases. But she was shocked to hear Marcus had made attempts to try to be identified. What sort of game was he playing?
“So am I the first who’s come looking for him? Have there been other instances like the one today?”
“Not a one. As far as we know, he’d never been to Little Falls before. He just ended up here. We never expected this. Marcus arrived in town seven months ago and nothing like this has happened. Are you sure the person who was doing the shooting was after him?”
“Who else would he be after?”
“Well, you’re CIA, aren’t you? Don’t you people have enemies?”
Bethany wanted to quickly reassure Marie that this shooting had nothing to do with her, but she tamped down the thought before she voiced it and said instead, “We’re investigating all possibilities.” She hadn’t done field work except for her time spent tracking Marcus since the night of the ambush. She’d immediately requested and been granted a desk analysis job. It wasn’t unusual for agents to opt out of field work for a brief time, but her reprieve had turned into a permanent position a long time ago. No one except Dillon had brought up the idea of her going out into the field in over nine months’ time. And the chances that someone was targeting her on the exact day she’d located Marcus seemed much too impossible to be true. Marcus had to have been the target of that sniper’s bullet.
She turned her focus away from the incident and to the couple in front of her. They’d been around since this morning and it was now pushing 8:00 p.m. Had they been here all day waiting on news for someone they hardly knew? “What are you two still doing here?” she asked. “Visiting hours have been over for quite a while.”
“We brought something for Marcus, only that Patrolman Dwight won’t let us see him to give it to him.”
“Well, he’s not really allowed any outside belongings.”
“But surely his Bible isn’t included in that,” Marie proclaimed. She reached into her bag and pulled out a large, well-worn, leather Bible. “I know for a fact he reads from it every night without fail. Maybe you could get it to him?”
The pleading in the woman’s voice was something Bethany couldn’t ignore. “I suppose I can.”
“Thank you,” she said as she handed it over.
Bethany watched the couple load into a pickup, wave and then drive away. She stared at the Bible in her hands. Was this really Marcus’s Bible? When she’d known him, he hadn’t been religious.
She flipped through the pages and noticed writings and markings with notes in the margins. Whoever this belonged to had used it, studied it. She shook her head. Another thing about this entire situation that didn’t seem to make any sense. As she turned to go into the jail, a piece of paper slipped through the pages and landed on the ground. She knelt to pick it up. The paper, too, was well-worn, but it wasn’t a page from the Bible. It was a napkin with a drawing of a woman’s face...a woman with long hair and full lips, in head garb. She recognized it immediately.
The drawing was of her.
Anger burned through her. He claimed not to remember her and now she’d found something like this? But if his feelings for her hadn’t been real, then why the ploy to pretend he cared about her?
The events of the day had left her confused and frustrated. Nothing about all this made sense and she was beginning to wish she’d never discovered Marcus was still alive.
Bethany walked inside, past the on-duty officer—the skinny guy named Dwight who wouldn’t allow Marie inside with the Bible. He was the only one on duty and was engrossed in something on his computer.
“This place really shuts down at night, doesn’t it?” she asked him.
He nodded her way. “We don’t have much activity downtown at night. We usually only keep one or two officers in the precinct while the rest patrol.”
She thought about what Marie and Milo told her about Marcus’s attempts to discover his identity but hesitated asking Dwight about it. Finally she voiced the question. She did need to cover all her bases. “Officer Dwight, before I arrived in town today, did Marcus ask anyone around here to fingerprint him?”
“I heard he asked the sheriff about running his prints because he said he couldn’t remember his name, but I don’t think anything turned up.”
“Do you know if they ran his prints through the military system?”
“I don’t know. I wasn’t on duty at the time.”
She thanked Dwight then walked down to the jail area and pressed the automated button that opened the door. Marcus was the only prisoner. The hall was dark but she spotted a small light in the back cell so she knew Marcus was still up. When she approached the cell, she was shocked to see him on his knees, by his cot, head bowed and praying.
The image caught her off guard and she suddenly felt like an intruder. Through the bars, she placed the Bible on the shelf then turned and left, leaving him alone in the private moment.
A feeling of unease coursed through her. She should have been resting easily having proved once and for all that Marcus Allen was alive and that all the suspicions she’d had were true. But her mind was working overtime, trying to process everything, but the events of today were like pieces of different jigsaw puzzles. Was it possible Marcus was telling her the truth? That he’d suffered amnesia and had no idea what had happened to him the night of the ambush?
Bethany closed her eyes and sighed wearily. She’d thought when she’d found him, everything would finally make sense.
Now, nothing did.
She walked back into the bull pen and approached Dwight. “I’d like to go through the evidence gathered today on the rooftop.” She’d watched Dwight bag and tag each item earlier and place it inside the locked evidence cabinet for safe keeping.
“It’s kind of late, isn’t it?”
“Not for me.”
He shrugged, pushed to his feet and headed for the evidence locker, keys in hand.
Bethany followed behind him and watched as he pressed the key into the lock. It gave without turning and she immediately saw him tense.
“The lock is busted.” He pulled open the cabinet door.
The shelves were empty.
The sniper’s rifle and all the evidence of the rooftop shoot-out were gone.
