Текст книги "Slaying the Dragon"

Автор книги: T.K. Leigh

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Текущая страница: 4 (всего у книги 25 страниц)

Mackenzie

THE FLICKER OF THE Television was bright against the darkness that surrounded me. I kept replaying the same national newscast I had seen at the bar, now able to recite each word from memory.

How? I kept asking myself.

How did the media connect my mother to the woman she became after we disappeared? Was it someone involved in the investigation? Or was it the anonymous source from whom the reporter was getting her information? I always knew my mother’s death wasn’t just an accident. Was the source the one who killed her? Or was it someone else? My questions were mounting with each passing moment.

In the pre-dawn hours on Saturday, I lay on the couch and continued to watch the news report. My brain was on overdrive, restless thoughts extinguishing any hope I had for sleep.

As footage played of the paramedics rolling the two gurneys down the driveway of the house I knew so well, the bodies of my former neighbor and her husband mutilated and destroyed beneath those crisp white sheets, something caught my eye.

Fumbling for the remote, I paused the television, backing up a few frames. I squinted at an out-of-focus man briskly walking through the crowd of concerned onlookers. I had seen the rhythm of that gait practically every day my freshman year of college. The brim of his cap was pulled down, obstructing his face, but I knew that strong jaw all too well. Wearing a pair of army fatigues, denoting the office of captain, he blended in. I wondered who he stole them from, and if the man was as unlucky as his other alleged victims. I surveyed the crowd, all eyes focused on the gurneys being loaded into the coroner’s van. No one realized the man accused of committing the crime was just inches from them.

I closed my eyes, leaning back onto the couch, and wrapped my arm around Meatball’s pudgy body. I didn’t want to believe Charlie had been responsible for such a brutal crime, but there he was at the place of a vicious attack attributed to him.

Since March, my life had slowly spiraled into a world I never imagined. Now, not only was I battling my feelings for the man who deceived me, I was faced with the reality that he may have been right about everything…about Charlie…about his motive…about my dad.

A loud chiming noise, foreign and unexpected, reverberated through the walls of my condo. I bolted up, blinking rapidly. Feeling breathless and dizzy, I stared down the narrow corridor to my bedroom, my eyes focused on a cell phone on my chest of drawers. It had only rung once before and, after the recent murders, the timing had me on edge.

Tiptoeing down the hallway, the wood cold on my bare feet, I entered my bedroom and stared at the phone as it began ringing once more. A blocked number flashed on the screen and my hand hovered over it. The rational part of me said to turn the phone off and avoid contact with Charlie at all costs. But that side was at odds with the small part of me that wanted to believe Charlie was a good person, that wanted to remember the gentle, caring man who doted on me, who treasured me…who loved me. I simply couldn’t forget about that Charlie.

Clutching the phone in my hand, the small object felt like it was burning my skin. The sound of my racing heart echoed against the gray walls as I held the small flip phone up to my ear, unsure of whether this was a smart move or incredibly stupid.

“Charlie?” I whispered.

“Kenzie,” he breathed, sounding relieved. “Thank god. I thought…” He stopped short, a heavy quiver in his normally even and tempered tone. “I thought they got to you.”

“Who’s they?” I asked, heading to the windows in my bedroom, the ocean illuminated by the mid-July moon. I didn’t know how much longer I could deal with his vague assertions that someone was setting him up.

“I don’t know. It could be a they. It could be a he. Hell, for all I know, it could be a she. I have–”

“Really, Charlie?” I interrupted him, my voice shrill. “It seems the only time I hear from you is when you’re being accused of committing another murder! That’s a whole lot of finger-pointing by one guy who keeps claiming his innocence!”

“Mack!” he exclaimed. “It wasn’t me! I’m–”

“I saw you!” I screeched. “You hid your face, but I’d recognize that walk and stature anywhere, Charlie! You were at my old house! You can’t deny it!”

“I’m not denying I was there,” he responded quickly.

“Why were you? What have you been doing this whole time that I haven’t heard from you? How many other bodies can I expect to learn about?”

“None, Mack! I swear to you. I’ve been looking for answers, but trying to stay hidden at the same time. I’m trying to find something that can clear my name…and your dad’s.”

“So you don’t think he’s guilty, do you?” I asked, no longer denying the truth of who I was.

“No. I don’t, but I have no concrete proof to back it up. All I know–”

“What do you remember about the embassy attack?” I asked, suddenly curious about Charlie’s side of the story.

“Why do you want to know?”

“Because maybe hearing what you went through will help me figure out what to believe.”

“Kenzie,” he countered, his voice distressed. “I haven’t talked about that day since I was released from the hospital and sent to live with my aunt and uncle.”

“Surely you had someone you could talk to.”

“No,” he said. I could hear the despondency in his voice. “I didn’t have anyone. My aunt and uncle considered me to be more of a burden and were counting down the days until I turned eighteen. When I wasn’t at school, I pretty much stayed locked in my room. If they knew my whereabouts, I’m fairly certain they’d have no problem turning me into the authorities.”

“Then talk to me, Charlie,” I urged. “I want to know what happened.” I leaned back onto the bed, throwing my duvet over my body. Rolling onto my side, I kept the phone glued to my ear in the darkened room, the sound of Charlie’s voice and breathing reminding me of all those years ago when we would fall asleep on the phone with each other.

“Every summer,” he began, nostalgia in his voice, “we would spend three or four months abroad. Mom was a legal aid attorney. Dad retired from the army and was a political science professor who specialized in African politics, mainly civil wars and international intervention. I thought it was completely normal to spend each summer vacation living in a small tent with my parents and sister, volunteering at whatever refugee or aid camp needed our help. My parents were the most selfless people I knew. The rest of my family always criticized them, saying if they stopped always trying to do for others and took care of their own family, they’d still be here. But that wasn’t who they were. They were only happy when they were helping others, hence why my mother worked in the legal aid office even after she had been offered a hefty six figure salary at one of the top law firms in Philadelphia. She didn’t care about money. Dad didn’t either, although teaching at Princeton was a good career.”

I got lost in his story, learning a side of Charlie I never knew…a side he hid from me the entire time we dated. Absorbing his words and listening to the torment in his voice made me wish he had shared this part of himself with me before. I found myself becoming upset he didn’t think he could trust me enough, but then I snapped out of it. I had done the same thing. It wasn’t intentional or malicious on his part, just like it wasn’t on mine.

Over the years, it simply becomes second nature to keep that part of yourself from everyone. One day, you wake up and forget what you’re trying to hide. You become a new person, almost a shell of the person you once were. You hide your pain, your heartache, everything. You find a routine and adhere to it because there’s less chance of a slip-up, but you never have that connection to another human. To have that, you’d have to share who you really are, and you don’t even know who that is. You never get to share your soul with someone else.

I thought I loved Charlie, but I now knew it wasn’t love. I had never opened my heart to him because of the secret I was guarding. But Tyler knew who I was and still loved me. That was why the pain of his betrayal hurt more than Charlie’s ever could.

“The civil war in Sierra Leone was winding down, but it was still dangerous,” Charlie continued, bringing me back from my thoughts. “We were working at a refugee camp in Liberia, trying to help the victims who had barely escaped with their lives. We were getting ready to head back to the states and were staying at the embassy before our departure. There were about a dozen or so families camping out there for the night, cleaning up and finally sleeping on something other than dirt. We were all gathered in a large ballroom, having dinner, when there was a sudden commotion. Embassy staff began running into where we were eating, then I heard a rapid percussive outburst. I had heard something similar to that noise in the movies, but nothing could have prepared me for the echo of nearly a dozen machine guns being fired simultaneously.

“There was screaming, crying, complete strangers holding onto one another. It was chaotic. I had no idea how I had gotten from the table I was sitting at to the center of the room. We were all huddled together, parents trying to hush the sound of their young children’s whimpers and cries. I remember being chilled to the core, my entire body trembling. I had no idea what was going on, but I knew I didn’t want to die. I was only sixteen. I hadn’t even gotten my driver’s license yet. I hadn’t asked a girl out to prom. Hell, I hadn’t even had sex. I hadn’t lived.”

“Charlie, I…,” I whispered, feeling his pain, his suffering, his overwhelming panic as if he were reliving that moment all over again.

“Yes?”

I let out a long breath, finally putting together the pieces of Charlie, wishing I had known all of this when we were together. Perhaps things would have ended differently.

“Why didn’t you say anything before? When we were together? Maybe–”

“I didn’t want to burden you with my past, Kenzie,” he explained. “I knew who you were and that you were trying to deal with your own past. The last thing I wanted to do was saddle you with the trauma I was still dealing with.”

“I remember you having nightmares.” My voice was barely above a whisper as my brain rewound to waking up to Charlie flailing in bed, screaming about being burned. I had always thought it was simply from his time with the army. I never would have guessed it was something bigger…something so much worse.

“My dad saw how scared I was,” he said, clearing his throat. “How scared we both were.”

“You and your sister?”

“Yeah,” he choked out. “Brooke… She was two years younger than I was. She… She didn’t make it.”

“But you did,” I said, trying to encourage him to finish his story.

“I remember my dad wrapping me in his coat, shielding me as a liquid was poured over everyone. A man with a deep, throaty voice was shouting about trust. How without trust, we would all be left burned, scarred…the bond incinerated. I felt a heat unlike anything I had before. It was an inferno, a distinct smell surrounding me, and I knew… That liquid poured over us was gasoline. This sick bastard was burning us alive.”

I gasped. Although Tyler had told me bits and pieces about what happened, hearing someone relive it was so much more intense than I could imagine.

“I don’t know how, but I remember being pushed from the flames and crawling under the cover of heavy wool or tweed or something. I was fighting for clean air, choking on smoke, my lungs on fire. I remember craving water, something to put out the inferno raging inside me. My vision grew blurry, my legs weak, and I collapsed, praying my death would be quick and painless. Suddenly, an arm grabbed onto mine and I looked up, unable to focus on the face. For years, I searched my memory trying to recreate that face but I couldn’t.”

“But…,” I prodded, able to sense there was more.

“After college, I enlisted and eventually got reassigned to Cryptology. It didn’t take me long to realize nothing is what it seems. When a friend of a friend started asking about a girl named Serafina Galloway, I looked up the file. I was hesitant to go any further once I realized who Serafina Galloway really was. The daughter of the man responsible for my family’s death… The dragon. Of course, it wasn’t public knowledge, but it was fairly well-known within the intelligence community that Colonel Galloway was responsible for orchestrating hundreds of arms deals and the attack on the embassy.

“As I scanned through photo after photo in his file, I noticed something…a black onyx ring on his right hand. I remembered that ring. I had clutched onto that hand as I was pulled from the smoke. It was such a unique piece, I knew he had to be the person who rescued me from the fire. I pulled up all the files pertaining to the investigation into Galloway after the embassy attack, then reached out to the agent in charge. He indicated he had the same concerns but his hands were tied. He was told to close the case and keep his findings classified. Apparently, the army didn’t want a black mark on its face and wanted to keep Galloway’s alleged activities buried. They were all convinced he had died in the attack anyway.

“I contacted other people named in the investigation, but they all gave me the same response…almost to the word. This didn’t sit right with me, but I had exhausted all my resources. Then I realized there may be someone else who could help answer some of my questions.”

“And who’s that?”

He sighed. “Your mother. I went to talk to her.”

I closed my eyes, remaining mute.

“It was a few weeks later that she…” He trailed off. “I am so sorry, Mackenzie. I can’t help but think if I didn’t… Someone may have been tipped off that I was looking into Galloway, and maybe they followed me to her. I don’t know. It wasn’t until the night I was taken away that I realized I was being set up and someone was tasked with silencing your mother, too.”

Listening to him speak about those last few weeks reopened old wounds I never allowed to fully heal. But as much as I wanted to blame Charlie for it, like I had done for years, I just couldn’t. Not anymore. “What did you talk to her about?” I swallowed hard, trying to hide my unsteady tone.

“The time leading up to the attack on the embassy. Your father. It was during this conversation I realized he was still alive.”

“How? I didn’t even know he–”

“It was the way she spoke of him,” he interrupted. “I’ve studied human behavior and responses. People respond a certain way when speaking of someone who’s no longer with us. Your mother displayed none of those characteristics when speaking of your father. She responded as one may when talking about someone they see on a somewhat routine basis. She spoke of him in the present tense. That usually only happens when someone just died. However, at this point, he had allegedly been dead for eight years. Surely, she would have been speaking of him in the past tense. I pushed her to disclose his location and she denied he was alive, just as you did. A few days later, she called, asking me to meet her at a location several hours out of town. It was the same day I was taken away. The same day she…” His voice grew quiet. “All I can think is someone knew about us and was trying to keep us from helping each other figure out the truth of what really happened all those years ago.”

“And what’s that?”

He sighed. “I still don’t have a fucking clue. I’m trying, Mack, but I’m no closer to finding out who’s behind it than I was years ago. All the physical evidence still points–”

“To my father.”

“Yeah.”

“Maybe he is behind it all,” I offered. As much as I didn’t want to think my father could be capable of committing such a heinous crime, I couldn’t disregard what years of investigations had concluded. “I have no idea what evidence there is either way, but I can’t help but want to put faith in our criminal justice system.”

“Well, you shouldn’t, Mack. The decisions made in law enforcement offices across the country…fuck, the world…are nothing but power plays done for political gain. It’s all about public appearance in the press, making the concerned citizens believe that something’s actually being done to put a stop to rampant criminal behavior. So they find someone to pin crimes on…”

“You expect me to believe everyone who is arrested is innocent?” I asked, my voice heavy with disbelief. “I highly doubt that, Charlie.”

“I’m not saying that, Mack. I’m just saying that, in high profile cases, ones with a lot of public attention, you have to take everything you learn from the media with a grain of salt. Hell, they think I’m responsible for killing over a dozen people. Their only evidence? A web blog and some phony visitation records. Anyone with decent computer skills could have faked that.”

“But why?”

“Maybe because I was getting too close. Maybe because someone figured out I knew who you were and wanted to try to protect you. Until I know the answer, please promise me you’ll be safe and will stick close to Tyler.”

My breath hitched and I debated how much I should tell Charlie.

“I can’t,” I whispered. “We… We’re not together anymore.”

“What? Why? What happened?” His voice was panicked.

I considered telling him everything. How Tyler had only dated me to find my father, just like Charlie had, but it made me seem simple-minded and gullible.

“It just didn’t work out between us, Charlie, and that’s all I’m going to say about it.”

“Shit, Kenzie,” he muttered. “If I had known…” There was a heavy pause and I could picture Charlie’s strong face, his vibrant blue eyes illuminating his dark features.

“I’ve been fine, Charlie. It’s been over for months now.”

“Months? And you didn’t tell me?”

“How could I?” I shot back. “I have no way of getting in touch with you!”

“It’s a necessity. I’m sorry. I have to do everything I can to make my movements untraceable.”

“I’m being careful,” I offered in consolation, able to sense his unease. “I’m–”

The sound of sirens blared through the phone, growing louder and louder, and my heart sank in my chest.

“I’ve got to go,” he whispered.

“Wait! Charlie?”

The line went dead.

Mackenzie

THE CLOCK ON THE far wall of my bedroom struck eight as the alarm on my phone sounded, but I continued staring at the ceiling. I was at the point of exhaustion where I was wide awake. I wasn’t sure if I had actually slept or not. All night long, my eyes were glued to the national news, waiting for a breaking report that Charlie had been apprehended. Since he hung up on me, an unsettled feeling had grown more and more intense, leaving me with more questions than answers, and I needed to do something to ease my restless thoughts. There was only one thing that would give me the peace I needed. My routine.

Swinging my legs to the side of the bed, I padded to my dresser and pulled out some running shorts and a loose-fitting tank top that was no longer quite as loose-fitting. After lacing up my sneakers and eating a banana, I headed out of my condo to get to the gym.

“Have a nice workout, Miss Delano,” a formal voice said as I exited the elevator.

I looked over my shoulder to see the new security guard, who started a few months ago, sitting at the desk. He was easily in his early sixties and, from his tone and stature, I could only assume he was retired military. I expected him to start saluting the tenants of the building at any time now.

“Thanks, Wyatt.”

As I approached my car and was about to duck into the driver’s seat, I saw the same black sedan as the day before idling on the street, the sole occupant keeping his eyes trained forward. I wondered if it had some connection to Charlie. Or maybe it was it someone looking for my father. I immediately grew suspicious and recalled Charlie’s words from months ago, urging me to stray from my routine because it made me a predictable and easy target. As much as I cringed at the thought, I knew he was right.

Pulling my iPod out of my bag, I clipped it to my tank top and put in my earbuds, lowering the volume so I could hear the traffic around me. Feeling surprisingly composed with the break in my routine, I threw my bag in my car, locked it, then stored my keys in my pocket.

As I trotted through the parking lot and ran south along the beach, I noticed the dark sedan driving along the main drag of the island in the same direction I was heading. Trying to shake off my paranoia, I took several calming breaths, running through dozens of possible scenarios as to why the sedan that had mysteriously appeared in front of my building had left at the same time I did. I was on alert, perhaps more than necessary. It could have all been a coincidence, but I was beginning to learn there was no such thing.

Running at an easy pace, thanks to my doctor’s admonition that I not overexert myself and keep my body temperature low, I basked in the morning sun, the humidity causing sweat to drench my tank top after a mere five minutes. The beach was relatively empty, apart from a few people enjoying a morning walk or jog. A few dogs were chasing balls their owners threw and seagulls were flying overhead, looking for their next meal.

A smile crossed my face and my usually tense shoulders relaxed. It was invigorating to be outside and not in some stuffy gym. After everything with Tyler, I had become diligent to never stray from the safety of my routine, as I had with him. But perhaps a new, better routine was exactly what I needed to give myself a renewed outlook on life. Everywhere else on the island had been tainted with Tyler’s presence. My condo. The gym. The tapas bar. The restaurant. They all held memories of him. But the beach held none of that. Out here, I could have the new start I needed and deserved. Out here, I could sever the chains binding me to the lies he fed me to get what he wanted.

What was that anyway? I thought, slowing to a stop as a golden retriever darted past me, chasing after a ball his owner had thrown into the ocean. I closed my eyes, the ghost of Tyler dancing in my mind, replaying a scene I had suppressed the past few months.

“Hurt me! Hate me! I want you to! I deserve it! I deserve everything you can do to me, Mackenzie, but you need to know something… I didn’t say anything. When you found me last night at the dedication dinner and I was distant, that’s because my brother asked about your father. He asked me if I knew where he was, if you had told me. And you want to know what I said? I said nothing, even after he warned me I could face potential prison time, or worse, if I withheld that information. So you can hate me all you want. You can bleed me dry and I will still bleed for you.”

Feeling lightheaded, I lowered myself to the ground, lying on the sand. It was refreshing against my sweat-drenched back, temporarily cooling the heat running through me at the possibility I had been too stubborn to consider all the shades of gray that made up Tyler’s lies. Yes, he led me to believe he was genuinely interested in me, but at what point did I become a priority over his job, his mission? Or was his plea to me that day all part of the act? I ran my hand over my face, trying to make sense of it all. I didn’t know what to believe anymore, but I knew one thing…

“He really didn’t say anything,” I mumbled to myself. I told Tyler everything. How I knew my father was still alive. How I knew where he was. How I still saw him on a regular basis at the church I attended when I lived in San Antonio.

He knew exactly how to find my father, yet he was still a free man. Tyler continued to safeguard my secret, regardless of the possible repercussions to his own livelihood. I thought I did what was right, what anyone would do after learning the person they loved wasn’t who they said they were. But I was now more confused than ever, wondering whether my obstinacy had cost me the only man who would ever make me swoon.

~~~~~~~~~~

AFTER MAKING THE DECISION to cut my run short, I headed back to my condo to get ready for my day. I went through the usual motions…shower, dress, makeup…but Tyler was on my mind more than usual today. As I was preparing a cup of coffee, I couldn’t help but think there was a reason for this.

Lost in my thoughts, I jumped when there was a light knock on the door. My heels clicking as I made my way to the foyer, my heart dropped to the pit of my stomach as I pulled open the door, all the memories of the life I was trying to move past rushing forward.

“Mrs. Burnham…,” I said, unable to hide the surprise in my voice as I stared at the petite woman with short platinum hair.

“Please, dear.” She took off her large white sunglasses and put them in her purse. “Call me Colleen,” she said with a genuine smile.

Nodding and in a daze, I stepped back. “Won’t you come in, Colleen?”

Her eyes shot to my stomach as she took in my side view. Today would be the day I chose to wear something that showed off my figure, including the baby bump, instead of one of my flowing maxi dresses. The black sheath dress I wore made my stomach rather pronounced.

“I see,” she said, walking through the foyer and into the living area.

Nervous about why she was here, I headed toward the kitchen area of my open living space. “Can I get you anything? A coffee? Water?”

“I’m fine, dear.”

I nodded, grabbing the cup of coffee that had finished brewing. Adding a bit of sweetener and some milk, I tried to ignore the unsettled thoughts floating through my mind. This was the story of my life. Just when everything seemed to be back on track and I thought I’d get over my past, a reminder of what I had been through would show up on my doorstep. I didn’t know how many setbacks a person could possibly endure before it became too much.

I walked to the living room, noticing her eye the stack of bills on my kitchen table, a look of sympathy on her face. I didn’t want her empathy. It would just be another reminder of how naïve I was.

“Won’t you have a seat?” I gestured to the couch as I sat down in the spot that had always been mine.

“Thank you,” she said, sitting down on the opposite end. She glanced to my stomach again, a forlorn expression crossing her face. “Well, you’re probably wondering what I’m doing here.”

I laughed nervously at the light tone of her voice. “You could say that. In all honesty, I’m scared to know.” Raising my cup to my lips, I took a much needed sip of my coffee, despite the fact it was decaffeinated.

“May I ask you a question?”

“Certainly,” I replied, my voice guarded. Placing my mug on the coffee table, I braced myself for whatever she was about to ask.

“How far along are you?”

“Seventeen weeks.” I glanced at my stomach, placing my hand over it. “Almost eighteen.”

“During those almost eighteen weeks, how many times have you tried to get in touch with Tyler?”

“I’ve lost track,” I admitted, trying to swallow the lump in my throat. I didn’t want her to see how much her son’s actions affected me. “I told him to stay away, but I didn’t think he would.”

“I know, dear,” she said, scooting across the couch and grabbing my hand in hers. The contact was comforting and soothing.

“I started to think I made him up. I went to his house and…” I turned my gaze from her, the memory of that day still fresh, the feeling I was losing my mind resurfacing.

Placing her hand on my shoulder, she said, “I can imagine how difficult it is to see the reminders of him–”

I shot up. “No! It’s so much more than that. After I was home for a week, I finally stopped being stubborn and decided to go over there to talk to him about everything. You know who answered the door?”

Her eyes narrowed. “Who?” she asked cautiously.

“A man who knew my name, who tried to convince me he had been living in that house for years!” I began pacing in front of her, reliving that day from hell. “It was exactly as I remembered. The décor the same. The cars the same. Hell, anchored out back was the same yacht I remember! I was so confused. I was convinced I imagined everything between us! I searched for some sort of proof that what we had was real, that we did know each other, but there was nothing. Photos had been manipulated on my phone so he was no longer in any of them. Not one trace of his existence in my life was left. I couldn’t help but think I made it all up! Even after all the assurances my friends had given me that he was real, that he did exist, I still questioned it. Until…”

I stopped in my tracks, my hand settling on my stomach. “Until I found out I was pregnant. This is the only proof I have that I’m not fucking crazy and I hate it. I hate that he lied to me. I hate that he did this to me. But mostly…” I fell onto the couch, finding my way into her nurturing arms. “Mostly I hate that I miss him. I hate that I told him to stay away and he listened. I hate that I can’t stop thinking about him. And I hate that I think I still love him, even though I’ll never be able to trust him again.”

“Shhh,” she soothed, kissing the top of my head like my own mother used to do. “It’s going to be okay. He went after you, ya know.”

I pulled out of her arms and stared at her. “What do you mean?”

“He tried to stop you at the airport, but couldn’t get to you in time. Hours later, I found him sitting on a bench along the Charles River. I watched him for a good twenty minutes before I approached him. You know what he was doing the entire time?”

I studied her through the tears in my eyes. “What?” I asked, almost nervous to know the answer, fearful it would cause an overwhelming feeling of regret.

“He was staring at the most beautiful diamond ring I’ve ever seen.”

I gasped, the memory of that weekend rushing back. “He asked me to marry him right before the dedication dinner,” I whispered. “I said I didn’t want a ring…”

“I taught my boys better than that.” Colleen smiled, then sobered. “But I must confess, I feel partly responsible for why you haven’t heard from him.”

“Why is that?” I wiped at the tears on my cheeks.

“I’ve been where you are. I’ve been hurt by the one person I thought I loved. I told my own husband to get out and stay out of my life.”