“What are you suggesting?”
“You keep looking for Penny and Claire with your private investigator. I’m going to get someone who resembles Penny to make appearances in town and hope Frannie slips up.”
“Okay, say you’re right. What if you do that and she has Penny and Claire someplace and moves them? Or worse, hurts them?”
Evan’s face falls at my question and I don’t know if the thought of Frannie hurting Penny and Claire crossed his mind, but it should’ve—she hurt Ryley and her mom.
“Okay, so my James Bond technique needs some work, but we have to find Frannie and hand her over. And we need to find Penny and Claire, although I do believe that Frannie will lead us to Penny.”
“Why?” I question.
“Because our lives are nothing but a conspiracy and if we don’t think outside the box, we’ll never figure it all out,” Ryley says, stone-faced.
At night is when I feel the most alone. It’s the quiet calm that scares me. In my dreams I’m often running through bare hallways chasing the sound of Claire’s voice as she yells for help, only to find Tacito Renato with a bullet in the middle of his forehead, holding my daughter at knifepoint. Each time I try to step toward her, the floor gives way and I’m falling into a black pit of nothing.
The dream feels like its only minutes long, but it’s been hours since I’ve closed my eyes. And when I wake, I’m tired as shit and still hearing her voice. Every nine-year-old girl I see looks like Claire, even when she doesn’t. For days I sat outside her school on the off chance that Penny was still in town, ready to accept the fact that she wanted a divorce. I waited for my little girl to come down the stairs once the bell rang, hoping she’d see me and remember that I’m her daddy. Each day I was let down. And the next day I’d go to the next school and then the next, searching for my daughter.
I know Renato is dead. Archer killed him. It was the most beautiful shot I’ve ever seen him take. We had been searching for Abigail Chesley, and once we found her we stumbled upon Renato’s camp after finding a pile of little girl clothes not five to six hundred yards away. What we saw made us sick to our stomachs and before any of us could react, Archer leveled his rifle and put a bullet between his eyes. We had never heard of this guy until Abigail said his name, and from that point forward a shit storm ensued.
River was the one to radio it in, and we were told we could go home—only the extract didn’t come for us, only Abigail. We were ordered to find all the players in this sex ring we uncovered.
We weren’t supposed to kill Renato, which we learned after we finally came home. I think that triggered our downfall. Maybe the powers that be were thinking we’d kill ourselves, each other, or die before they brought us home and started asking questions. All I know is we were the ones who were supposed to end up dead. That seemed to be the story our families were told so why keep us alive? The risks far outweigh the rewards. Whoever is behind all this, whether its Senator Lawson, Admiral Ingram, or General Chesley, they’re keeping a dark secret that will destroy someone in power, a secret which frees the four of us—Archer, River, Rask, and myself—from this purgatory we’re living in.
I want all the answers given to me on a silver-fucking platter with my name engraved in gold. I deserve that at least. I’ve served my country. I’ve fought in wars protecting its freedom. It’s bullshit that the people who run the country I love so much are willing to shit on my team and me.
Going to bed angry is never my intention, and I find myself pacing the room I’m staying in. Evan and Ryley have opened their home and resources to me, helping me to find my family. Even the room I’m temporarily calling mine has pictures of Penny and Claire, giving me peace. I pray every second that they’re alive and waiting for me to come and rescue them.
The one person who can shed some light on all of this is Vice President Christina Charlotte, except she’s dead and no one is putting the pieces together. We were sent to retrieve her daughter, who Lawson had kidnapped, but Christina was killed before we came home. If that doesn’t reek of a cover-up I don’t know what does. General Chesley should be on our side. We saved his granddaughter, and brought her home to his son. Instead, he’s lurking on the base across the way from Archer’s house, coming in under the cover of darkness thinking no one will know. Maybe he’s the key to unraveling the mystery.
Tomorrow begins a new day, a new search.
“WHAT ARE YOU DOING out here?” Evan’s voice is quiet against the night air. It’s different in Seattle than it is in Coronado; the air seems thinner. Maybe it’s because Washington doesn’t hold life-shattering memories for me.
“Watching.”