“Are you looking for me?” a female voice said behind him.
He whirled around to see Jennifer Steele smiling with leaves clinging to her jacket and dirt covering her face.
Matt grabbed her and squeezed her until she squealed, “I’m okay.”
Relief flooded his system. His vision blurred and he wiped his eyes to clear it.
“Hey,” Steele said, “you’re not getting moist on me are you?”
“What the … why didn’t you call me?”
“Sorry, I dropped my phone in the car as I rolled out.”
“Rolled out?”
“Well,” she said, “you always taught me to watch for booby traps with these guys. I saw a bump in the road which looked like an IED, so I jammed a rock on the accelerator and rolled out and down that incline.”
“Are they gone?”
She nodded. “I couldn’t raise my head to see what they were driving, Matt. Sorry.”
He gathered her in his arms again. “It’s okay.”
The back door opened and Walt said, “You better get in here.”
Before they even reached the kitchen Matt could smell death in the air. Luke sat in a chair, his arms hanging limp, his head slumped down. When Matt circled around the deputy, he could see the long slice mark across his neck. The blood had drained out and left nothing to hope for.
Nick leaned over and kissed Luke on the forehead, then turned and put his hand over his mouth as he paced a small oval.
On Luke’s chest was a piece of paper jammed into his torso with a boning knife. The note read, “You’re next.”
“Shit,” Matt said.
Nick’s pace quickened as he simply shook his head and murmured obscenities.
Walt looked at Steele. “You okay?”
She nodded.
“You see them leave?”
“No,” she said, with a tinge of shame on her face. “I had to take cover.”
They seemed to stay quiet while Nick worked things out in his head. Finally, he turned to Steele and pointed. “Call the State Police and get roadblocks up on 60 and 260. Maybe fifty miles out. Did you get the color of the vehicle?
“It was a white SUV. Maybe a Suburban?”
“Give them what you know. Tell them it’s a long shot, but prepare them.”
Steele fished her hand into Matt’s pocket and pulled out his phone, then went outside for the call.
Nick pointed to Walt. “You need to get to L.A.”
Walt cocked his head in apparent confusion.
“Because,” Nick said, “if I’m wrong about LAX, they’ll crucify you. And right now I can’t afford to have anyone else I care about get hurt.”
Walt didn’t argue. He had a family to feed as well.
“Besides,” Nick added, “you go over there and cause a big ruckus, it might give Barzani a false sense of security. Like we’ve lost their scent.”
Sirens blared nearby.
Nick adjusted his arm sling. He looked down at Luke with a tight chin. “Walt,” he said, “before you go, get Stevie Gilpin on the red eye. Have him bring his bag of toys with him.”
Walt crossed his arms. “Aren’t you forgetting something?”
Nick squinted.
“You’re the Sherriff of Gila County, Arizona. I can’t exactly be giving you access to all this confidential FBI stuff.”
Nick’s eyes roamed around the room as if searching for something. “Then reinstate me,” he said.
From his inside jacket pocket, Walt pulled out a worn leather badge case. He handed it to Nick with a sad smile. “I thought you’d never ask.”
Chapter 14
Julie Bracco packed the last of her things and dropped her bag on the living room floor. She looked at Matt and Jennifer Steele cuddled up on the couch watching the evening news.
“Anything else on?” she said, pulling her hair back into a tight bun. A local Payson reporter stood a distance away from the abandoned KSF safe house. The news crew had illuminated the scene for the viewers and offered Nick’s written statement announcing the terrorists’ escape, the death of Deputy Luke Fletcher, and the possibility of Kurdish militants still operating in the vicinity. Nick had given the news media FBI’s hotline number to report any suspicious behavior. Meanwhile, he had the Baltimore Field Office e-mail over pictures of Temir Barzani and a couple of his known soldiers.
Matt sat with his hand on his forehead seemingly in complete disgust with the report, as if being forced to relive the day was too much for him. He pushed the remote and found a college basketball game on ESPN.
Steele yawned. “Well, I’m about ready for bed.” She looked at Matt with raised eyebrows and held out her hand.
“You need real sleep,” Walt called from the kitchen with his paternal voice. He was scraping up the remains of a salad Julie had made for dinner.
Matt grinned mischievously and took her hand. He looked at Walt and said, “Yes, Dad.” Then he followed Steele into the guest bedroom.
Julie frowned. Even though her house had bloodstains and a bullet hole through her bedroom window, she was sad to leave. The front door opened and Nick came in with shoulders slumped. He’d just met with Luke Fletcher’s family.
Nick came over and brushed a loose hair from Julie’s face.
“I’m going to miss you,” he said.
“You take your meds, understand? Dr. Morgan said you can regress if you miss any dosages. I have them all laid out on the bathroom counter,” she said. “And I already have the coffee machine set to go at six. Make sure you-”
Nick placed his index finger on her lips. “Shh. I know that’s your way of telling me you love me.”
Julie looked surprised. “You’ve been reading that book I gave you, haven’t you?”
“Every word.”
“Then you know how important it is to listen to your wife when she’s giving you instructions.”
Nick leaned over and kissed her on the tip of her nose. “I love you.”
“Love you, too,” she said.
Walt washed his salad plate in the kitchen sink, then took a circuitous route to the front door and lingered there, obviously waiting for Julie.
“I really need to leave?’ she asked.
Nick nodded. “I just don’t have enough people to keep you safe, sweetie. I had to beg for a couple of deputies from Globe to watch the office while we figured out what to do with Semir.”
She wrapped her arms around her husband and whispered, “Please be careful, baby.”
“Don’t worry,” he said. “I’ve got it under control.”
She pulled back, looked at his bandaged shoulder and almost said something.
Tommy’s voice came over a radio sitting on the counter between the kitchen and living room. “We have visitors.”
Nick and Walt immediately pulled out their pistols as Matt flew out of the bedroom, shirt off, gun ready.
“Relax,” Tommy said. “They’re friendly.”
It was Tommy’s turn to watch the perimeter of the house. A chorus of engines could be heard coming up the driveway. Walt opened the door and smiled.
“You’ll want to see this,” he said.
Nick and Julie walked over to the doorway. Idling in the semicircle gravel driveway were three camouflage Humvees. Their headlights pierced through the night with intimidation as dust from their tires floated over their beams. A thin, wiry soldier jumped from the passenger seat, pulled off his cap and saluted the trio in the doorway.
“Major Flynn, Special Forces, Fort Benson, Arizona,” he said, dropping his hand after the salute. “I’m looking for Nick Bracco.”
Nick walked out onto the porch and stepped down the two steps to shake the major’s hand. “I’m Nick,” he said.
The three Humvees sat motionless, their engines simmering with power, like a heard of rhinos waiting to charge.
“Mr. Bracco, sir,” Major Flynn said. “I have orders from the Commander-in-Chief to make our squadron available to you for any duty necessary.”