Текст книги "Slaying the Dragon"

Автор книги: T.K. Leigh

сообщить о нарушении

Текущая страница: 3 (всего у книги 25 страниц)

“But you haven’t let her go, Tyler!” he exclaimed, catching up to me. Grabbing my arm, he forced me to stop. “You left to give her space. Three months is a long time to give someone space. Just…” He took a deep breath. “Just think about it and stop punishing yourself. This Tyler…” He gestured to me. “This is not the Tyler I remember. The old Tyler would have fought tooth-and-nail for what he believed in. He wouldn’t stand by and allow his brother to order him to stay thousands of miles away, instead of going after the one girl who finally taught you how to be human again.”

I sighed. “Carrying my guilt is the only thing that reminds me I’m human,” I admitted. “Without it, I’m empty. I’m nothing. I need the guilt. It’s the only way I can live with the lonely.”

Mackenzie

MY BRAIN WAS SPINNING as I flipped through page after page of a pregnancy book, the words starting to blur together. Since learning I was pregnant nearly two months ago, I got my hands on every book possible, hoping that, with a little bit of guidance, I would be able to get through this on my own. It didn’t help. I felt even more lost and confused about how to raise a little human.

I had put on a smile to assure Brayden and Jenna I was handling it, but the truth was, I was scared out of my mind. Cloth or disposable diapers? Bottle feed or breast feed? I was overwhelmed by the amount of books and advice, most of it contradictory. I felt like a fish swimming upstream, everyone else passing by, telling me what was best.

The stack of overdue bills had gradually grown higher and higher as I struggled to rub two pennies together. Every dime went to paying for the bare minimum of doctor appointments I could get away with. I was two months behind on my mortgage, my credit cards were maxed out, and my checking account balance was teetering on being overdrawn on a weekly basis. Jenna and Brayden had offered to help me out countless times, but I refused. I took after my father in that respect. I inherited his Irish stubbornness.

A loud knock on the door sounded, startling me, and I tore my attention away from one of the dozens of pregnancy books Brayden had picked up for me. Raising myself from my lush sofa, I walked through the living area and into the foyer of my ocean-front condo. I checked the peephole to see a man dressed in a messenger uniform standing there. I pulled back the door, praying it wasn’t the bank sending notice of foreclosure on my condo. Surely, I’d have to have missed more than two payments, right?

“Mackenzie Delano?” the stout man asked, eyeing the envelope in his hand.

“Yes. That’s me.”

“Sign here, please.” He handed me his scanner and I scribbled on the screen.

“Have a good day, ma’am.” He gave me the envelope and I retreated into my condo, plopping down at my kitchen table. I nearly threw the envelope on top of the large pile of unopened bills, but stopped myself.

Intrigued as to the contents, I tore at the tab, letting out a long breath when I saw it wasn’t from the bank…or a bill.

As I read the typed letter accompanying a church bulletin, guilt overwhelmed me for having ignored the only family I had left during the past several months.

Dearest Mackenzie,

I hope this letter finds you well. Many days have passed without your attendance at any of our services, including those which have been said to honor your mother. Even though years have gone since her passing, I understand the wound may never heal. But don’t carry the burden alone. Allow others to help shoulder it. We have set a celebration of your mother’s life at Monday evening mass this coming week. I do hope you will choose to honor her memory, as she so rightly deserves.

Peace be with you, child.

Father Baldwin

Call to me and I will answer you, and will tell you great and hidden things that you have not known. Jeremiah 33:3

I placed the letter on the table and opened the church program, noting a mass to be said in my mother’s memory on the day specified in my father’s letter. I had purposefully not shown up at each of our pre-arranged meetings over the past few months. I was angry at my father for getting himself into whatever mess he was in. I was angry at my mother for knowing what happened and keeping it from me. I was angry at Tyler for using me to get to my father. But I was mostly angry at myself, if for no other reason than I knew my anger toward other people wouldn’t make me feel better.

As my eyes remained glued to the postscript of the letter, I felt something I hadn’t in months. Hope. It could have meant nothing, but a small part of me believed my long-term absence from the church made my father reconsider shielding me from the truth of what was going on. I prayed he would come clean with all the secrets so we could go back to having a normal father-daughter relationship…or as normal a relationship as we could.

Folding the letter and bulletin, I hid them in one of my kitchen drawers and spied the time. I groaned, not really feeling like going to our traditional Friday evening girls’ night, but I couldn’t break from my routine. The last time I strayed from the normalcy of my life, I ended up heartbroken. I needed to find comfort in my routine once more, regardless of how tempting curling up in my bed sounded at the moment.

I made my way down the hallway toward my decent-sized master bedroom, then stripped off the yoga pants and tank top I had put on when I got home from work earlier. June had come and gone too quickly for my liking. It was now the middle of July and I was seventeen weeks pregnant. It seemed as if my stomach had grown overnight. What was just a small bump last week was now more pronounced. My small and slender frame made it even more noticeable, and I knew I couldn’t cover it up much longer.

Turning on the shower, I allowed the hot water to wash over me, cleansing me of everything as I tried to clear my mind. All the books I’d been reading told me to maintain a low stress level so my baby didn’t become stressed. I couldn’t help but think he or she had nothing to be stressed about…no paying bills, running a restaurant, or finding the father of the kid growing inside you. Brayden was right. Tyler needed to know. I just worried he would want to be a part of my baby’s life, and I wasn’t sure I wanted that because that would make him part of my life. I was certain I didn’t want that. That was what I tried to convince myself anyway.

After an invigorating shower, I headed toward my closet and picked out a long maxi dress that was tight around my chest, then flowed to my ankles. It was comfortable and hid my stomach. I towel dried my hair and placed a touch of gel in it to tame the waves. Putting a bit of powder on my dark complexion, I then added a hint of blush and some dark eyeliner, giving my hazel eyes a dramatic feel. After applying some pink gloss to my lips, I stepped back and surveyed my five-foot, four-inch frame, satisfied I didn’t look how I felt…

Shattered.

Broken.

Lost.

Putting on a smile that masked my true feelings, I rushed down the hallway and was met by a chubby gray cat meowing at me. “Ready for dinner, your majesty?” I asked Meatball. He rubbed against my leg, purring in appreciation. “Okay. Let’s get you fed.”

I bent down, grabbed his bag of kibble from the cabinet, and poured it in his bowl. Giving him a quick scratch on his tail as he ate, I made my way from the condo, taking the elevator down twelve floors to the lobby.

“Hey, Mackenzie!” Paul, the security guard, said when he saw me emerge. He was in his late fifties or early sixties, and had distinguished gray hair and brilliant blue eyes. He had been retired from the police department for ten years, but he still kept in decent shape, apart from the occasional cheeseburger. He was like a father to me, probably more so than my real dad, who I only got to see once a month at a pre-arranged time and couldn’t even tell anyone he was still alive. “How are you feeling?”

“Okay, I suppose. Tired.”

He nodded. “I remember those days. Poor Angie was exhausted through all three of her pregnancies.”

I groaned. “Don’t tell me that. I’m sleeping more than I have in my life, but it’s still not enough. I constantly wake up exhausted. Having to give up caffeine hasn’t really helped, either.”

“You work too hard, sweetie. I see the hours you keep at that restaurant. At some point, you need to start taking better care of yourself.”

“I will. I promise.” I leaned down and placed a soft kiss on his temple.

“Good. You better get a move on. I’m sure Brayden and Jenna are waiting.”

I glanced down at my wrist and checked my watch. “Shit!” I exclaimed when I saw it was quarter after six, bolting from Paul. I was usually the one waiting on them, not the other way around.

“Drive carefully!” Paul yelled.

“I will!” I responded as I dashed out the doors and into the parking lot of the condo building I lived in on the north end of South Padre Island.

The sun was still shining brightly as I took quick steps toward my car. Clicking on the key fob to unlock the door, I was startled by the sound of glass breaking and I swung my head toward the front gate. A chill washed over me when my eyes settled on a dark sedan idling on the street, the driver wearing darkened sunglasses. His expression remained fixed, never looking at me…or anything else, for that matter.

Part of me had hoped the glass breaking was Charlie making an appearance, but he was too smart to do anything that would draw attention to himself. Nearly four months ago, he had disappeared from my life when his photo was splashed all over the news as the only suspect in a rash of murders spanning close to a decade. Murders he claimed he had nothing to do with. I didn’t know what to think, although I secretly wanted to believe him. But months had gone by with no communication at all. Not even a phone call on our secret spy line, which was what I named the cell phone he left me the night he disappeared. I worried the worst had happened, that he was silenced forever, leaving me more confused than ever about whether I was simply naïve to want to believe him, given our past, or whether Charlie was another pawn in the bigger picture.

Sighing, I got in behind the wheel of my Mercedes convertible. I knew it was only a matter of time before I had to think about how I was going to afford a bigger car. I certainly couldn’t put a baby seat in the back seat of my two-door coupe.

I pulled out onto the main road and, within minutes, arrived at the wine and tapas bar Brayden, Jenna, and I had been going to for our Friday girls’ night for the past several years.

I threw the valet my keys, then strode into the restaurant and toward the bar, Jenna and Brayden sitting at the counter.

“There she is!” Brayden exclaimed, spinning on his barstool and facing me. “Come on, Mack. I saved you a seat.” He winked.

I glanced around the empty bar, rolling my eyes. “Yeah. Thanks. I don’t know what I’d do if you didn’t save me that seat.” I sat down beside him and smiled at Jenna, who was sitting on the other side of him. It was a popular place, but mostly for dinner. The dining room was packed with locals, businessmen, and tourists, but the small little bar remained relatively vacant.

I hung my purse on the hook underneath the counter and my eyes darted to the opposite end of the bar where a mystery man sat one night months ago. His stool was empty, which was exactly how I felt. I had been pretending I was over him and all the lies he told, but I wasn’t. I had hoped if I kept saying I was over him, I had moved past him, I didn’t need him, I didn’t love him, it would be okay.

I needed it to be okay.

“Hey.” Jenna broke into my thoughts and I snapped my head in her direction, meeting her small blue eyes. A gentle smile crossed her face, her pale skin taking on a pinkish hue from spending some time in the sun. “Stop thinking about him. He’s not worth it. He could have at least called or something.”

Biting my lip, I nodded and struggled to mask my real feelings from my friends, wishing I could convince myself they were right. “I’m fine, guys. I swear. For all I care, he can drop off the face of the earth, which he pretty much did.”

“What can I get you?” the bartender interrupted, leaning on the counter. “The usual? Cranberry juice with tonic and a piece of lime?”

“Yes. Thank you.”

I sat forward and avoided both Brayden’s and Jenna’s eyes, knowing they would ask me the same question they asked every Friday. Smiling in appreciation when the short blonde bartender placed my new cocktail of choice in front of me, I took a long drink, missing being able to enjoy a glass of wine.

“So…,” Brayden started, his voice cautious.

Exhaling in annoyance, I refused to face them. “Yes, I called again, like I do every Thursday, more so out of obligation than an actual desire to speak with the prick. His phone was still disconnected, and I got the same speech from the same receptionist at his company. That Tyler has no role in the security company.”

“How are you doing with all of this?” Jenna asked.

I shrugged. “No better than yesterday, and I’m sure tomorrow will be the same. I’ll wake up and go to the gym, spending the entire time worrying about how the hell I’m going to do this on my own. I see parents struggling to raise a baby all the time. The constant diaper changes. The midnight feedings. They’re exhausted, but they have each other to lean on for help. I don’t have that.”

Brayden slammed his fist on the bar. “Have you not been listening to us at all the past few months?! How many times do we need to tell you we’ll help with anything you need?!”

“I know,” I conceded, exhaling and leaning back in my chair. “And I appreciate that, but you guys are both young with your entire lives ahead of you. I hate to saddle you with my problems. I got myself into this mess and I shouldn’t count on other people to shoulder the burden.”

“Mackenzie Sophia Delano!” Jenna shouted, her voice high-pitched and shrill, taking me by surprise. She was never one to raise her voice at anyone. “Did you ever stop to think it’s not a burden to us? That we want to help because we care and love you? That we want to be part of this kid’s life? So, for crying out loud, stop being a stubborn ass and just let us in!” She took a deep breath, calming herself. Lowering her voice, she met my eyes. “You’ve been pushing us further and further away since you came back from Boston. Don’t let your pain become who you are, Mackenzie. Please.”

Her words cut me, leaving me speechless.

“We both love you, Mack,” Brayden said softly. “We’ll do whatever you need. Hell, I’ll even change dirty diapers for you.”

I giggled, picturing Brayden’s upturned nose the first time he had to follow through on his promise, but he would. He would walk through fire for me. They both would.

“I’m sorry, guys.” I grabbed each of their hands in mine. “I know I’ve been a bit of a bitch lately. I’ve just always done everything on my own and I hate the thought of–”

“Asking for help isn’t a sign of weakness, Mack,” Jenna cut in. “It’s a sign of someone strong enough to know when she needs a helping hand. We’ll start with this.” She released her grasp on my hand and reached into her purse, pulling out a card.

“What is this?” I asked, giving them a cautious look as I surveyed the light blue envelope.

“Just open it!” Brayden shouted, bouncing up and down on his barstool, his lips turned up into a sly smile.

Eyeing my two friends, I slid my thumb beneath the flap of the envelope and pulled out a card. Opening it, my jaw dropped. “Guys…,” I started.

Brayden held his hand up. “I don’t want to hear it.”

“But you have student loans to pay back, boo. And Jenna… This is too much.” I placed the card back on the bar and pushed it toward them.

“No, it’s not,” Jenna countered, pushing it back to me. “You need to take care of that baby, which means you need to take care of you, too. I know it’s tough with the restaurant just starting up. Richard was supporting us on his income alone before we even started the restaurant, so that money is just an extra bonus for us. I wish it could be that way for you, too. So, please, take the check, deposit it, and pay some of those bills sitting on your kitchen table. It won’t cover everything, but at least you’ll be able to buy groceries instead of trying to survive on ramen noodles. I’m tired of tricking you into eating healthy meals by ‘testing’ out new recipes at the restaurant. I’m running out of ideas.”

I stared at the check, speechless. “It’s just too much. You guys work so hard for your money.”

“So do you,” Brayden offered. “Consider it years’ worth of back rent for letting me crash at your place when I was too drunk to drive back to mine.” He winked.

“I’m not going to be able to persuade you otherwise, am I?”

“Not a chance in hell,” Jenna said, crossing her arms in front of her chest, a satisfied smile on her face.

“Fine.” I shoved the card into my purse and raised myself off the barstool, walking between them and hugging them both. “I love you wholes.”

“We love you, too,” Brayden soothed. “We’re in this together, Mack.”

I kissed both their cheeks and slid back into my barstool. Returning my attention to my very boring non-alcoholic drink, I took a sip of the tart cranberry, my eyes catching a news broadcast on the large screen mounted on the wall of the understated bar. Ghosts of my childhood flashed before me and my breath caught. I was unable to make sense of the scene being displayed.

“Can you turn that up, please?” I asked the bartender, my mouth becoming dry.

She finished making a drink and grabbed the remote, raising the volume.

“What is it, Mack?” Jenna asked, her voice heavy with concern.

“I’m not sure,” I replied, my tone even. “But I know that house.” I gestured with my head to the blonde reporter, her hair perfectly coifed, her makeup heavy, standing in front of a large white colonial. Reading the subtitle saying Double Homicide Outside Fort Bragg, I tried to wrap my head around what was going on.

“How do you know that house?” Brayden asked. I could feel his eyes examining me, penetrating my soul, reading all the secrets I could no longer guard.

“I grew up in it,” I muttered, the words leaving my mouth before I could stop them. “Nearly every night, I sat in that tree between the two yards with my best friend, Damian, who lived next door.” I instantly began to regret that I never tried to find him after I disappeared in the middle of the night all those years ago. I was warned not to because it could put my family’s life in jeopardy.

“I thought you grew up in San Antonio,” Jenna interjected. She tilted her head, scrunching her eyebrows.

“No.” I shook my head. “We moved there when I was ten. Before that, my dad was stationed at Fort Bragg.” I had probably already told them too much, but if I couldn’t trust my two best friends with the truth of who I was, who could I trust?

“New orders?” Brayden asked.

“Something like that,” I agreed, straining to listen to the newscast.

“Tragedy struck this tight-knit neighborhood in Fayetteville, North Carolina, just outside of Fort Bragg early this morning. This is a community of servicemen and women where people watch out for each other, but nothing could have prepared them for the horror they woke up to.”

The live broadcast cut to previously shot footage of a medical examiner rolling two gurneys down a driveway I remembered playing hopscotch on, the bodies covered with a sheet, distraught neighbors looking on with sorrow and condolence.

“The decapitated bodies of a married couple in their sixties were found at approximately nine o’clock this morning at the house behind me, which has been vacant for the past several years. A real estate agent stumbled on what is being called a ‘horrific, ritualistic killing’. The victims have been identified as Lucian and Emily Sheperd.”

A photo of a happy couple surrounded by an extended family appeared on the screen and I gasped, my trembling hand covering my mouth. It had been years, but I’d never forget the woman who was like a second mother to me when I was growing up… Damian’s mom. I didn’t recognize the man at her elbow. All I knew was it wasn’t Damian’s father. They must have divorced.

“Emily Sheperd was known as Emily Mills before she married her second husband approximately five years ago. She and her first husband lived in the house next door, but it is unclear whether that has any connection to her and her current husband’s murder. The Sheperds, who lived in Raleigh, were scheduled to return from an anniversary trip to the Outer Banks. According to the preliminary medical examiner’s report, they suffered blunt force trauma to the head, leading to the conclusion they were knocked out elsewhere, then brought here and decapitated in the early hours of the morning, their heads found just feet away from the remainder of their bodies. The family has requested privacy during this difficult time.

“Curiously, this neighborhood isn’t new to the headlines. Over fifteen years ago, Francis Galloway, a highly-decorated colonel, who lived in this same exact house, died during a gruesome and fiery attack on the U.S. Embassy in Liberia, which cost over sixty people their lives.”

A dated photo of my father in his dress uniform flashed on the screen. I could barely recognize him, his face clear of any scars or burns.

“Just hours after the attack, his wife and daughter were reported missing and were never found.”

My fears realized, old photos of both my mother and me appeared on the screen, my mother wearing the jeweled cross I had worn nearly every day until I ran from Tyler, leaving it at his house in Boston.

“There were always suspicions of a connection between the two events, although no suspect was ever brought in for questioning and the case has been left unsolved for the past decade-and-a-half.”

I could feel both Jenna’s and Brayden’s eyes on me as they glanced from the television to me. They had been in my bedroom and had seen the portrait that hung above my vanity, the jeweled cross clear for anyone to see. It was such a unique and remarkable piece. There was no way for me to deny who I was anymore.

“Mack…,” Brayden began before I hushed him, listening to the broadcast once more.

“The police here feared another unsolved case, but were able to lift hair fibers found at the scene. They were identified as belonging to one Charles Patrick Montgomery, who is on the FBI’s Most Wanted list in connection with over a dozen other murders spanning the better part of the past decade.”

A photo of Charlie wearing his Ranger beret appeared on the screen, his blue eyes brilliant as he smiled. That was before the madness ate away at him, before he dug into something he shouldn’t have…if his version of events could be believed.

“Law enforcement officials have not speculated on the connection between Montgomery and the Sheperds, but an anonymous source informed us that it is believed Mrs. Sheperd’s former neighbor, Mr. Galloway, isn’t dead, and that he’s the one responsible for orchestrating the attack on the U.S. Embassy all those years ago. The source indicated Galloway has teamed up with Montgomery to silence anyone who could possibly be a witness against him. Perhaps Emily Sheperd knew something she shouldn’t, considering she was his neighbor during the years in question. The source went so far as to mention that several of the victims Montgomery is accused of murdering were people thought to have been on Galloway’s team when he orchestrated the attack on the embassy. Regardless, it goes without saying that Montgomery is a danger and needs to be brought to justice to give this community of patriots the closure they need after this horrific crime.”

I sat in silence, feeling the burn of my friends’ eyes on me. I kept my gaze trained forward, my heart thumping in my chest, thousands of questions circling in my head. Questions I was certain I would never get the answers to. Questions I wasn’t sure I wanted the answers to.

“Ummm… Mack?” Brayden said, breaking the silence once the broadcast was over and moved on to a public interest piece on top swimwear for a flattering figure.

“Yes, boo?” I responded, trying to ignore his wide, disbelieving eyes.

“That’s not…? You’re not…?” He leaned toward me, lowering his voice. “You’re the little girl, aren’t you? Because, correct me if I’m wrong, that was your mother. I’ve seen her portrait thousands of times, Mack. And that cross the woman in the photo was wearing is the cross you wear, and–”

I inhaled quickly, a sudden chill washing over me. Brayden and Jenna noticed my reaction, still eyeing me cautiously, concerned.

“How did they get that photo?” I asked softly. “She didn’t get that cross until after we…”

“After you what?” Jenna prodded.

“After we left the church we were hidden away in for nearly two years when we fled North Carolina,” I exhaled, feeling a weight lift off my shoulders when the words left my mouth. I hated having to keep such a huge secret from my friends. “But if they showed that photo, someone involved in the case knows who my mother was, knows her changed identity. That means they could know who I am. No one knows that except for…” I trailed off, glancing down at my stomach.

“Holy shit,” Brayden whispered, not taking his eyes off me. Narrowing his gaze, he was able to put all the puzzle pieces together. “That’s what Tyler lied to you about, isn’t it?”

I took a long sip of my drink, wishing there was alcohol in it. “He was working on an assignment for the security company. That’s why he approached me. Not because he liked me, but because it was his job to get close to me. He was only dating me to find out where my father was.” I stared at my cocktail, twirling the ice with my straw. “No other reason.”

“So what the news said about your father… The source is right, isn’t he? Or she? Your father’s not dead, is he?” Brayden asked.

I raised my eyes to his and slightly shook my head.

“Fuck…” Brayden and Jenna exhaled in unison, sinking into their barstools.

“So all of this,” I began, waving at the television screen displaying the news, “is confusing. Everything’s just spiraled out of control since I met Tyler.” I lowered my voice. “Then Charlie mysteriously reappeared in my life and I found out he’s supposedly systematically killing people and I’m on the list, as is my dad. He has no idea where my dad is and I’m the only one who could lead him there. I just… I don’t know which way is up anymore, especially considering Charlie was the sole survivor of the attack on the U.S. Embassy. The news conveniently left that out, probably to make their accusation that he and my father were working together more believable.”

My mind was spinning as I kept talking, both Jenna’s and Brayden’s eyes wide. “Tyler thought Charlie wanted revenge and was going after the people responsible for his family’s death, but I don’t know…” I sighed. “I just can’t help but feel he’s being set up. And my father, well… He’s not the monster people think he was…or is. I can’t believe he’s responsible for what they say he is. Maybe Charlie and my dad are both victims of something so much bigger. Maybe they’re too close to blowing the lid and that’s why my dad had to go into hiding. Now Charlie has been forced into hiding, as well.”

“But what about the hair fibers?”

I shook my head. “I can’t explain that, but I know Charlie. Maybe I’m naïve, but I want to believe he wouldn’t hurt anyone.”

Brayden placed his hand on my shoulder, squeezing affectionately. “Mack, I know you always want to see the good in people. I do, too. But you’re obviously a target. Does Charlie know who you really are?”

Taking a deep breath, I nodded. “He said he was looking into something for a friend of a friend when he was working Cryptology and that’s why he originally approached me. Then we started dating and, according to him, he didn’t care about any of that anymore. However, something happened toward the end of my freshman year and it all went to hell. He was manic, desperate for me to admit who I really was. Looking back, all I can think is that he knew someone was coming for him, that he needed to find my father for some reason, but it was too late. They took him away and locked him in the psych ward, almost like they knew he was close to figuring out what was going on, who was really behind the embassy attack.”

“Or maybe he wanted you to lead him to your father, Mack,” Jenna offered. “I don’t think you should be so quick to trust Charlie. And even if that were the case, if they were worried about Charlie opening his mouth, they must have known who you were, don’t you think?”

I sighed. “This is just so complicated and I have no answers. The only person who does is my father, but he’s refused to tell me anything about what happened all those years ago. There are so many possible explanations for everything. I have no fucking clue what to believe, who to trust…who I really am,” I quivered.

“Do you really think you need to know what your father did or didn’t do to know who you are? I know who you are, Mack,” Jenna said. “I’ve known that for years. You’re one tough bitch. You have a hard exterior, but you love with your whole heart, although you refuse to show when you’ve been let down by those you care about. You always put others ahead of yourself. You always push to achieve greatness, and because of that, because of your influence, I’m a better person. Your past, your roots have no bearing on who you are. Maybe everything you’ve been through has turned you into the woman you are today, and I’m thankful for that because I love who you are, Mack, regardless of the skeletons lurking in your closet.”