Текст книги "Slaying the Dragon"
Автор книги: T.K. Leigh
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Текущая страница: 7 (всего у книги 25 страниц)
Mackenzie
THE SUN WAS SWELTERING when I stepped out of the car several hours later and made my way across the church parking lot, past the main building, and proceeded up the familiar path to the rectory. It had to be over a hundred degrees, the white material of my dress sticking to my skin.
As I approached, I tried to suppress my urge to turn around. I was apprehensive about seeing my father for the first time in over four months. So much had happened, I didn’t even know where to start. Between the drama with Charlie, Tyler’s deception, and the pregnancy, I had no idea how he was going to react. I prayed he would offer me some sort of guidance about what to do, like my mother would have if she were still alive.
I knocked on the door, fanning myself. It was nearly five in the evening, but the rays of the sun were strong and practically unbearable. The door opened and I felt a momentary relief when a rush of cool air escaped the house. I expected a nun to answer, as was normally the case. Instead, I stared into Father Slattery’s tired eyes.
“Good evening, Mackenzie.”
“Father Slattery,” I said, nodding.
He surveyed my appearance, his eyes settling on my stomach. Taking a timid step backwards, I pulled at the hem of my dress and stared at my feet. I didn’t know what to say. I thought about defending myself, but didn’t the church teach forgiveness, not judgment? I couldn’t really remember anymore.
“When’s the last time you went to confession, Mackenzie?” he asked in the same pacifying voice that calmed me when I was younger.
“It’s been a while, Father.” I shuffled my feet, staring off into the distance, feeling ashamed.
“I suspected as much. Please, come in.”
I shot my eyes to him. “But the mass for my mother… I need to–”
“Some things are more important and can’t be handled during a mass,” he interrupted, almost trying to tell me something with the way he stared at me, his gaze narrowed. “Please, Mackenzie. Come in.” For the first time in nearly fifteen years, I cautiously stepped foot in the rectory.
Being back here made my skin crawl with the memories I had struggled to forget over the years. It looked just as it did during the period of time my mother and I lived in a cramped room. Removed from the only life I had known. Forced into hiding. And why? I still had no definitive answers, only speculation.
“This way, child,” Father Slattery instructed, heading down a long, dark hallway and stopping outside a large cherry wood door. Reaching into his pocket, he produced a key and unlocked it, pushing it open.
I stepped into a spacious, dimly lit office, the smell of old books and wood finding its way to my senses. The walls were lined with shelves containing hundreds of hardbound books. In the center of the room sat a large desk, and several chairs were strewn throughout. The windows were covered with blackout curtains, although one was pulled back slightly, allowing a sliver of sunlight to filter into the room. Dust particles danced in the air and I smiled as a memory rushed forward.
“What are those, Daddy?” I had asked my father when I couldn’t have been more than three or four.
“Those are angels, mi bichito. They’re just here to check on you.”
I still thought of my father and angels whenever I saw dust particles being illuminated by sunlight.
The sound of the door shutting startled me and I jumped, spinning around to see that Father Slattery was no longer behind me, as I expected him to be. The door knob began to jiggle and I heard the click of a lock.
My heart began racing. I had never questioned Father Slattery’s intentions before. He was the one who helped us escape North Carolina, after all. He put his reputation on the line and hid us in this very house for nearly two years. Now I wondered if there was more to it than that.
“Serafina,” a voice cracked and I whirled around, my eyes falling on a familiar silhouette sitting in a reading chair by one of the large windows. Confused, I glanced over my shoulder at the locked door. “Please, come sit. There’s much to discuss.”
I remained speechless, my voice nowhere to be found. Eyeing him guardedly, I hesitantly put one foot in front of the other and sat in the reading chair opposite him, noticing a tray of cheese and crackers set out on a table between us.
“I’d ask if you’d like some wine,” he said in the husky voice that once lulled me to sleep, “but I suppose that question is not quite appropriate, is it?”
I looked up, almost expecting to see a disappointed look on my father’s time-worn face, but that wasn’t the case at all. He actually looked genuinely happy, perhaps even proud of the woman I had become. For years, the only conversations I’d had with this man were when he’d sit behind me in church, not face-to-face, for fear someone would put the pieces together of who we both truly were. Now that we were in the same room and looking into each other’s eyes, I didn’t want this moment to end.
My eyes scanned my father, trying to imprint everything about him to memory. His face showed signs of his age. His brilliant blue eyes no longer exuded the vitality I remembered growing up. Scars still covered the entire left side of his body, reminding me of the purpose of this visit. I wanted to know precisely how he1` got those burn marks, and whether his side of the story corroborated Charlie’s.
“I see you got my letter.” He poured wine into one glass and water into another. “I’m sure you have a thousand questions.”
“I–”
“But,” he interrupted, “this works both ways. Full disclosure from this moment forward. I will tell you everything, Serafina. However, I expect reciprocity from you. I want you to understand where I’m coming from and why things have to be the way they are. But I need to know exactly what’s going on in your life. I need to know you’re okay, that you’ll be okay knowing the truth.”
“Full disclosure?” I repeated, surveying him. I couldn’t help but wonder whether this was a double-edged sword. I had been waiting sixteen years to know who I really was, why my father had been hiding, and why the man I loved felt the need to use me to get information about my father. However, I feared learning the truth may change my perception of everything. Sometimes ignorance was bliss. I just prayed this wasn’t one of those situations.
“Yes,” he reiterated. “No more secrets. No more lies. Just the truth from this moment forward, regardless of the consequences. You deserve that much.” He stared at me, catching my gaze, regret covering his demeanor. I wondered how difficult it must have been for him to keep his existence a secret from me for all those years. I didn’t know what to think, but I knew the only way to move forward was to learn to trust my father again. And the only way to do that was to finally learn the truth.
“What about all the talk for years that it wasn’t safe for me to know?”
He picked up the knife on the serving tray and sliced a piece of cheese, placing it on a cracker and handing it to me before preparing one for himself. “At the time, I thought that was true. However, things have been brought to my attention, making me think it’s no longer safe for you not to know.”
“How can I be sure you’re telling me the truth? I’ve heard so many stories. I don’t know which way is up anymore.” I placed the cracker on the plate in front of me, feeling sick to my stomach.
“I wish I had told you everything years ago.” He took a deep breath, his shoulders dropping slightly. “If I had, maybe it wouldn’t be so difficult for you to trust me now, but there were reasons for it.”
Straightening my spine, I strengthened my resolve. I went there for answers and I refused to let my apprehension get in the way of them.
“The embassy fire?” I asked in an even tone.
“Was not me.”
“Then who was it? How come you left for Liberia right before it happened? It looks suspicious–”
“Serafina,” he interrupted, “I joined the army the day I turned eighteen. I left my house and rode my bike thirteen miles to the nearest recruiting center. My parents didn’t want me to go into the army, or any branch, but I had wanted to be a Ranger as long as I could remember and nothing was going to stand in my way. I wanted that Ranger beret and I was lucky enough to spend many years wearing it. I love the army. I love my country. I devoted my life to protecting it, so much so that my superior officers noticed I had a knack for seeing things no one else could. Before I knew it, I was working in Army Counterintelligence. I was thrilled. But my ability to see things no one else could ended up being my downfall.”
I scrunched my eyebrows. “How so?”
“I started noticing patterns. Our weapons were being used against us. Our intel was being used against us. Someone on the inside was betraying their own country for profit. For months, maybe years, I tried to find out who, but I was always one step behind whomever it was. Then, one day, I thought I caught a lucky break. I unscrambled an encoded message confirming the U.S. Ambassador to Liberia would turn his head and allow a large stockpile of our weapons to disappear in trade for a substantial amount of diamonds.”
“Blood diamonds?”
“Most likely. The civil war in Sierra Leone was winding down, but there was still a great deal of corruption in the area, and Liberia borders Sierra Leone. I was permitted leave to go to Liberia to see if I could stop the arms deal, or at least find out who was behind it all, without causing an international incident. When I got there, I went to the embassy to speak to the ambassador about what was going on, but whoever was behind these deals, whoever the traitor was, beat me to it.”
“It was a setup?” I asked, staring at my father’s forlorn expression, recalling Charlie’s words from just a few days ago.
Swallowing hard, he didn’t answer. He simply continued with the story I could sense he had been wanting to share with me for years. His gaze was fixed on the bookcase behind me, as if he were watching a movie of what really happened and was simply narrating it for me.
“I remember walking in the front doors of the embassy, immediately halting in my tracks. There were no staff members at the front desk and the reception area was empty. As I made my way through the entry area, I heard a loud voice giving a speech about a circle of trust.” He tore his gaze back to me. “That was something I used to do in the field whenever I had new team members. It was a way to make them remember we had to work as one cohesive unit.”
He shook his head, almost like he was frustrated that he didn’t see the signs of it being a setup. “I stepped toward the source, trying to keep my presence unknown. The voice grew louder, more impassioned, and my heart dropped to the pit of my stomach as I listened to my own words. I physically felt sick and had to fight back the nausea. This guy took what I said verbatim and was repeating it to a huge room full of frightened people.” His lower lip trembled and I could sense he was back in that room on that day.
He avoided my eyes, staring past me once more as the memory washed over him. “The smell of gasoline was overpowering,” he said, his voice soft. “I knew it wasn’t going to end well, but what could I do? It wouldn’t do much good for me to go in shooting. It was twelve against one. The odds were not in my favor. So I did what I thought to be the best tactical decision. I hid my presence in the hopes I could save at least one person, even if it cost me my life.
“As I watched those traitors terrorize their hostages, I mentally began to sort through all the intel I had amassed, wondering what I could have missed. That’s when it hit me this was part of the plan all along. This guy wanted me to find everything. He wanted me to go to my superiors to tell them what I found and ask for leave to come here. Then, when word of my trademark fire spread, they would put two and two together and name me as the culprit to this attack, along with all the arms deals I had been investigating. Hell, one of the first things you look for when trying to find the person responsible for a crime is to see who tries to ingrain themselves in the investigation. I had made myself into the perfect suspect.”
“So you hid? You abandoned your family? You watched as over sixty people were murdered and did nothing?”
“I didn’t do nothing, Serafina!” He ripped off the hat he wore that shielded most of his face. “Do you think this is the result of nothing?!” he bellowed passionately, gesturing to the permanent scars covering the left side of his body. “I tried to save them, but I couldn’t! By the time whoever was responsible made his escape, it was too late! The flames were out of control, bodies were on fire! Their screams and shrieks plague my dreams every night! Have you ever smelled burning flesh?!” he exclaimed, tears welling in his eyes.
I stared in shock, shaking my head.
“It’s scorched in my memory, Fi! Every day, I’m reminded that I failed to protect people from a monster. A real life dragon!” He reached for his glass with shaky hands, the trauma of that day all those years ago still wearing on him.
“I did everything I could,” he continued after sipping his wine. “In the end, the only person I could save was a boy who couldn’t have been more than sixteen or seventeen. Someone must have shielded him from getting doused with the gasoline. His burns were minor but the smoke got into his lungs. He was barely breathing when I pulled him from the building. When I was about to go back and see if I could rescue anyone else, a convoy of Liberian soldiers pulled up. I knew it was probably cowardly of me to run, to hide from them, but I couldn’t risk being detained. At that point, my sole mission was to try to get home to you and your mother. I feared I would be painted as a monster and I couldn’t let you think that of me.”
“Where did you go?” I asked, still trying to wrap my head around his story. It seemed so unreal, so far-fetched, but it complimented Charlie’s version of what happened perfectly. All the puzzle pieces were falling into place.
“I found a church. I didn’t know what else to do. I had burns on over fifty percent of my body and was convinced I wasn’t going to make it.” He reached across the table, squeezing my hand. I took a quick breath at the contact. It had been years since I felt my father’s flesh on mine. His hand was scarred, rough, and warm. I choked out a loud sob at the gesture. It was so simple, yet it brought back memories of my life before it all fell apart.
“I wasn’t thinking clearly, but I knew I would do anything to try and get a message to your mother that I loved you both. I guess I hoped God would listen and give you that message.” Sincerity covered his face as his eyes locked with mine, the turmoil he had been living with over the years evident.
“But he answered my prayers in other ways. The nuns at the church treated my burns as best they could without modern medicine. I kept asking about the boy I pulled from the fire, but I think they thought I was delirious. They drugged me with medication to help with the pain. I half expected to wake up in a detention center, but that never happened. Finally, after several months, they said I was well enough to leave. I had no idea how to repay the debt I owed. These women took me in and cared for me without asking for anything in return. They even lied to the authorities and said they never saw me. I don’t know how they knew I wasn’t responsible for the tragic fire, but they did.”
“How did you get back home?” I asked, engrossed by his story.
“It wasn’t easy. I did some things I wasn’t proud of. I stole to barter for transport, then spent weeks aboard a cargo ship, trying to get back to you. Every day was torture, never knowing if I’d make it to the end of the day. Finally, we pulled into the Port of Miami and the captain smuggled me ashore. Days later, in the middle of the night, I finally arrived home.
“I sought Father Slattery out and he told me what happened after the attack. How an investigation had been conducted, naming me as the mastermind behind everything, but they didn’t pursue any course of action because it was presumed I had died in the fire. Before my trip over there, I had a bad feeling, so I had gone to him and made him promise if anything suspicious happened, he’d do everything to keep you safe until the threat passed. He assured me he had done what I asked, made arrangements for new identities for you both, and that you were well-protected and in hiding. And that was when I had to make the hardest decision of my life.”
“What was that?”
“I told him to have your mother tell you I was dead.”
“Why?”
“You were only a little girl. I had agents, some specialized in intelligence training, who couldn’t always keep a secret. To protect you, I needed you to believe I was dead. I needed you to forget the life you once had. It was the most difficult decision I ever had to make, but my saving grace was the possibility that, one day, I would find out who was responsible for everything and finally come out of hiding.”
“Charlie,” I said softly.
He looked at me, a confused expression on his face.
“The boy you pulled from the fire was Charlie.”
“Charlie?” he asked. “Your Charlie?”
I nodded slowly.
“How do you know?”
I knew I couldn’t avoid this forever, although reliving those two weeks in March was the last thing I wanted to do. But my father had shared what was arguably one of the most difficult times in his life with me. I needed to do the same.
“Full disclosure,” I murmured.
“Yes, Serafina. Full disclosure.”
“Well, I suppose I should start at the beginning.”
A smile on his face, he said, “That’s usually a pretty good place.”
I grinned, a feeling of hope washing over me as I shared a moment with my father. This was what a father-daughter relationship was supposed to be like. Sharing our troubles, our triumphs. After sixteen years, I finally had that. So, instead of closing up, I shared a piece of my soul with my father, telling him all about Tyler, the break-ins, Charlie’s reappearance, Whitman’s murder, Charlie’s disappearance, and the day I found out the truth of who Tyler really was.
When I was done, I expected him to want to know more about Charlie, but I was mistaken.
“It’s clear you love him very much,” he commented.
“Who? Charlie?”
“No, Serafina,” he responded quickly. “Tyler.”
“I don’t love him,” I lied. “I was just an asset, nothing more. He used me to find out your location. That’s all I was to him.”
He spread his arms. “And, yet, I’m still here.”
“The fact you’re still here doesn’t change that.”
“I think it does, Serafina,” he contested. “I think it proves that, at some point, you switched from being an asset to being something so much more.”
I avoided his eyes, trying to ignore the same argument I had made to myself over the past few days. “That still doesn’t mean I love him.”
“It’s normal to be defensive about your feelings. I can imagine how confusing it must be for you. Your mother fought her feelings for me, too, because I was much older than she was, but you can’t always control who you fall in love with.” He glanced at me with a twinkle in his eye. “You look so much like her. Every time I see you, I see more and more of her in you.”
“Do you miss her?” I asked softly.
“Every minute of every day, Serafina,” he choked out, his words barely audible.
“How do you get through it? How do you go on breathing when that love has been ripped from you?”
“You go on,” he replied, placing his hand over mine, caressing my knuckles. “It’s not easy. It’s never easy. Love isn’t easy. But you carry the memory of those happy times with you and those moments remind you of the beauty of life. And you just hope to find that beauty once more. I beg you, Serafina. Don’t let your stubbornness deprive yourself of something you deserve.”
“And what’s that?”
“Love, Serafina. You deserve to feel love.”
Mackenzie
“SO,” I SAID, TAKING the keys to Brayden’s SUV from Wyatt as we stood just outside the same gas station as yesterday. “Did it work?”
He paused for a beat before he nodded. “Yes. He followed me.”
“Who?”
“His name is Clinton Evers and he is an FBI agent.”
“So he is a fed,” I replied. “What did he want with me? The same as everyone else? To find my father who, according to most of the world, is actually dead?”
“Not exactly, ma’am,” he said and I raised my eyebrows.
“Really?”
“Yes. I drove Mr. Weller’s car out to Austin and Agent Evers showed up approximately five hours later. I confronted him and asked what he wanted with you. He showed me his badge and indicated he was working a case.”
I sighed. “So he was after my father.”
“No, ma’am. I got him to tell me what he was working on. He said it was off the record. Unofficial. Just him and another agent. One of their colleagues took a leave of absence several months ago and hasn’t been heard from since. They believe something’s happened to him, that someone’s abducted him and are using him for his…unique skills.”
“Which would be?”
“Apparently,” Wyatt began, eyeing me, “he’s one of the most skilled hackers out there. The knowledge he has, in addition to his skills, makes him a powerful weapon in the wrong hands.”
“Who is this guy?” I asked, my mind spinning.
He studied me, almost as if gauging whether or not he should tell me. After a protracted pause, he said, “His name is Damian Mills and, if I’m not mistaken, he grew up next door to you when you lived in Fayetteville.”
My jaw dropped, not expecting to hear that name. “They think I have something to do with his disappearance?” I asked, confused about why they would follow me and put a tracker on my car.
“They do not believe you’re responsible. Apparently, they were two of the agents who had arrested Mr. Mills nearly a decade ago when he hacked into the FBI computer system trying to find the location of one Serafina Galloway.”
“He was arrested?” Despite my shock at that news, my heart warmed a bit with the knowledge Damian had never forgotten about our friendship, just as I never did.
“It appears so. I’ve looked into his story and it all checks out. Mr. Mills was given a choice. He could either go to prison or work for the FBI. He chose the latter and has been there for almost a decade. Agent Evers said he and Damian had grown close over the years. He talked about you, your childhood, stuff like that. Then, just a day before he took his mysterious leave of absence, Damian made Evers promise to do everything he could to find you and keep an eye on you if anything ever happened to him. I checked the timeline and this coincides to around the time Mr. Montgomery was named as the man behind all those murders. After months went by, Evers couldn’t help but think something is wrong, especially with Damian’s mother’s recent death.”
I absorbed his story. “So they weren’t tracking my car to get to my father.”
“No, ma’am. They were tracking you to keep an eye on you, as Evers promised Damian he would.”
I nodded.
“But I’ve assured him I have that under control. He won’t be bothering you anymore.”
I couldn’t help but feel slightly deflated at the thought. Agent Evers knew Damian, had worked with him. He may have been the only link I had to him. I wished I had confronted this agent myself. Maybe he would have told me what he was doing and I could ask all the questions I had about the person Damian had grown up to be.
“I’m sorry, Miss Delano. Even though I checked out his story, it’s still too risky to have him tailing you. You understand that, right? I’ve been tasked with your safety, and it’s a job I take very seriously. My decisions may be extreme, but I’d rather be safe than sorry…at least until we can neutralize the threat to you.”
“Fine,” I hissed, feeling as if Wyatt was trying to decide what was best for me without my input. It was like dealing with my father all over again. How many more people would I have to convince I didn’t need them to decide what was best for me?
I spun around and jumped into the SUV, trying to focus on my upcoming doctor’s appointment instead of the idea that Damian could be in trouble.
~~~~~~~~~~
WHITE WALLS SURROUNDED ME as I surveyed the waiting room, children running around playing or fighting with each other. I felt bad for their mothers, who were trying to wrangle not only the infant in their arms, but two or three older kids, as well. By the look of things, some of these women barely gave their uteruses a break between popping out kids. And this was what women wanted? I didn’t get it. I guess I never had that maternal instinct. I never saw myself wanting children, but here I was, forced into a situation I never expected.
My eyes shifted to the far corner and I spied a woman with beautiful red hair who couldn’t have been much older than I. I was captivated, watching her cradle a newborn swaddled in a blue blanket, rocking him gently. Something about it spoke to me in a way the other puking, screaming, mauling rugrats running carelessly around the waiting room didn’t. I saw something strange between the mother and child. I saw a bond. It wasn’t just one-way, either. The baby was no more than a month old, but was staring into his mother’s eyes as she hummed a song, swaying him.
I placed my hand over my own stomach, excited and nervous about meeting the little person growing inside me. Regardless of this baby’s connection to what I still considered to be one of my biggest mistakes, I wanted that same bond with my baby and my heart warmed.
“Mackenzie?” a sweet voice called. I tore my eyes from the young mother and saw a woman dressed in scrubs standing in the doorway leading to the exam rooms. “We’re ready for you.”
I raised myself from the chair, wondering how much longer it would be until that became difficult, and made my way across the waiting area, dodging toys that had been left on the floor. The nurse gave me a comforting smile as I approached her, but I knew what she was thinking. The first few appointments, they had asked if my husband was going to join me. They stopped asking at my last appointment. Part of me was happy I no longer had to answer that question. The other part of me felt pathetic, stupid…and ashamed.
I went through the usual routine of getting weighed, giving them a urine sample, and having an ultrasound. Every time I looked at that machine, I didn’t see my baby. I saw overdue bills. I saw sleepless nights. I saw my world falling apart around me. I knew it was only a matter of time until the bottom dropped.
“Do you want to know the gender?” the ultrasound technician asked enthusiastically, cutting through my growing unease. I snapped my head to her and looked into her vibrant brown eyes. “You’re eighteen weeks along, so I can tell you the gender with certainty.”
Tearing my eyes from her warm face to the screen, the sound of the little heartbeat echoing in the room, I nodded. “Yes.”
She smiled at me. “Congratulations, Mama. It’s a boy.”
I sighed, letting out a breath. “Brayden will be happy. He’s been convinced it’s a boy.”
“Is that your husband?” she asked, pressing a few buttons on the machine and producing yet another printout to add to my collection.
Shaking my head, I swallowed hard. “No. He’s just a friend.”
After being assured my baby was developing well and my health was on track, despite their concerns that I hadn’t gained as much weight as they would have liked to see, I grabbed my things and proceeded to the desk.
“How can I help you?” the girl asked when she saw me approach.
“I was wondering if you offer any sort of payment plan for my bills. I know I’m overdue on a bunch of them and I wanted to see if there was a way to pay over time. My name’s Mackenzie Delano.”
Nodding, she turned to her computer, typing feverishly. She stared at the screen and scrunched her eyebrows. My heart sank in my chest, worried the amount was so much, it wouldn’t make a difference anyway.
“You did say Mackenzie Delano, correct?” she asked, turning to me.
“Yes…,” I answered cautiously.
“I’m sorry. I don’t understand. What exactly do you need to work out?”
“My bill. I have an unpaid balance from my last several appointments. It’s at least a few thousand dollars from all the ultrasounds and the testing. I know it doesn’t sound like a lot, but I can’t pay it all at once. I–”
“You’re not showing any unpaid balance, dear,” the woman said, interrupting me. “It’s showing your bill was just paid on Saturday. There’s a note to send a copy of all future bills to a Colleen Burnham in Massachusetts. She has asked to be listed as the guarantor of any and all medical bills.”
Confused, moved, and relieved, my mouth fell open. I wanted to pinch myself to make sure this wasn’t just a dream. Covering my mouth, I let out a small sob, elated.
“Is that your mother?” the woman asked, a genuine smile on her face.
“No. My baby’s grandmother,” I replied, placing my hand on my stomach.
“Well, your baby is very lucky.” She returned her eyes back to the computer screen. “We have you scheduled to come in for your twenty-two week appointment in the middle of August, so we’ll see you then,” she said, handing me an appointment card.
“Thank you. Thank you so much.” I nearly had to restrain myself from leaping over the counter and hugging her. I was overjoyed and wanted to share my good fortune with someone else.
“See you next month.”
A grin on my face and a spring in my step, I hopped into my car and made the short drive back home, feeling like a weight had been lifted off my shoulders. Pulling into the parking lot, I was about to swing my car into my assigned spot, only to see it was occupied by an Audi SUV. I cursed under my breath and proceeded toward the back of the lot.
“There she is!” Paul exclaimed as I entered the lobby, irritated.
“Paul, someone else is parked in my spot,” I said, my tone annoyed at the inconvenience. “Can you look into it for me, please?”
A mischievous grin crossed his face, his reaction confusing me. “Someone else isn’t parked there, Mackenzie.”
“Yes, there is. I just tried to park my car and I couldn’t.”
