RAF Corporal Harris examined the IDs. “Where are you going at this hour, sir?”
“We’re headed to the EOD office, corporal,” Grant answered, noticing another guard stood inside the guard house with his weapon held across his body.
“Wait here, sir.” The corporal went inside the guard house, while the other guard stepped closer to the van.
Grant turned to Adler. “There’s usually only one guard posted. Gunny must’ve talked with Colonel Donaldson.”
“Here you are, sir,” the corporal said handing Grant both IDs. He saluted then waved them through.
They were only twenty yards past the gate, when one of the radios sounded. Adler reached behind the seat, then switched it on. “Adler.”
“Sir, Petty Officer Weaver at EOD. We got a call from the commander awhile ago. He said it’s urgent Captain Stevens contact him.”
“We’ll be there in five, Petty Officer. Out.” Adler tapped the radio against his palm. “The commander wants you to call him; said it’s urgent.”
“Oh, shit!” Grant stepped on the accelerator. “Hope he’s got some good news, Joe.”
As soon as they walked in, Weaver handed Grant a piece of paper with Henley’s home number.
Adler followed Grant into Henley’s office, then closed the door as Grant started dialing the number.
Henley answered, “Grant?”
“What’s happened, Jack?”
“Victoria… she’s home!”
“Is she all right?”
“Seems to be. She just had some bruises and needed a bath, but otherwise… Jesus, Grant.”
“I know. Just give me as many details as you can, Jack.”
“I couldn’t have been home more than ten minutes when Newquay cops brought her home.”
Henley slowed his breathing before he continued. “She’d gone out late-afternoon to get food for dinner. That’s her usual routine. It’s about all the exercise she gets, rain or shine. Anyway, she took a detour through the park. She says she still can’t remember what happened, but she must’ve slipped on wet grass. She took a tumble, landed between some brush, and was knocked out.”
Grant glanced at his watch. “And nobody found her during that whole time?”
Henley looked down the hallway. The bedroom door was closed, but he kept his voice low. “I questioned the cop who found her, and he said she was sitting on a bench, dazed. He wanted to take her to hospital, but she insisted on coming home.”
Grant remembered driving by a park on the way to Henley’s house. “Jack, is that the park we drove by, where you waited for us?”
“Yeah. Yeah it is.”
“Christ! We must’ve driven by that four times! How’d we not see her?!” Grant asked with surprise.
“Couldn’t have, Grant, not according to where she was found.”
“Do you…?
Henley interrupted. “Listen, Grant, I didn’t notify you sooner because I had to fill out a report. And… and we needed some quiet time. Do you understand?”
“I understand, Jack. Now, tell me if you need to stay home.”
“I think she’ll be fine. Besides, it won’t take me long to get back here if I have to. Can you have someone pick me up around 0700?”
“Sure. Sure I will. Look, Jack, we still need to think about getting her to Mildenhall.”
“There’s no way she’ll be able to travel right away, Grant. I’ll secure the house before I leave and ask our next door neighbor to check on her. If she feels better later in the day, maybe then we can think about Mildenhall.”
“It’s your call, Jack. Get some rest yourself. See you later.”
Henley put the receiver down. He looked into the mirror hanging above the table, and leaned closer. He ran a finger across pronounced dark circles under his bloodshot eyes. Even though his wife was home, he knew it still wasn’t over. He slapped at the light switch.
Continuing on into the dining room, he went to the liquor cabinet. He opened the glass door and reached for a bottle… any bottle, then he took out a glass. Managing to unscrew the bottle top with one hand, he poured till the glass was nearly full. Not even taking the time to replace the bottle top, he went to the living room and flopped down on the couch. He downed the gin in three long gulps.
Abruptly, he got up, went to the cabinet, poured another glass-full, then he walked to the window. He was blaming himself for the whole fucking mess. If he hadn’t gotten Colin Webb the job on base. If he hadn’t brought the folder home. If he’d only stopped her sooner. But she never told him who threatened her, or who threatened them. He realized now it had been someone much more important than Colin.
He gulped down the last mouthful of gin as he finally admitted he was wrong in not trusting Grant. Why the hell didn’t he tell him everything?
Backing up against the couch, he sat down heavily, trying to understand himself, his stupidity, his reason…
“Jack,” Victoria called quietly.
He sat up, seeing her standing in the bedroom doorway. She tucked her hair behind her ears, then tied the nightgown sash around her waist as she started walking toward him.
“Are you all right, Vicky? Do you need anything?”
“Can I sit with you?” she asked softly.
He patted the cushion. “Come on.”
She sat on the edge of the cushion, turning enough to look at him. Even with a limited amount of light coming through the window, he could see her eyes moist with tears.
He gently enfolded her in his arms, drawing her close. She burst into tears. “Oh, Jack! I’m so sorry! I’m so sorry! I don’t want anything to happen to you!”
There were no words for him to say. He let her cry until she finally fell asleep.
Holding her tightly, he stared blankly at the ceiling. There they’d stay until it was time to shower and dress, then wait for the ride to St. Mawgan. He’d already decided to take her with him, counting on Grant to get her safely to Mildenhall.
Then it would be time for him to spill his guts to Grant… and face the consequences.
Grant finished relaying Henley’s conversation to Adler, ending with, “Guess we can cross something off the list.”
“Yeah. One down and how the hell more to go?”
Grant pursed his lips and shook his head. Grasping the back of his neck, he squeezed and squeezed. “Something’s not right!”
“What’s wrong, skipper? That instinct trying to tell you something?”
Grant turned around. Resting his hands on the edge of the desk, he leaned back, as he looked down, shaking his head slowly. “Dammit.”
Adler raised an eyebrow. “What? She’s home, isn’t she?”
“I know. I know. But tell me, Joe. What do you think the odds would have been of her ‘disappearing’ during the same time we…?”
“While we were wondering where her brother was, and losing the ‘raincoat’ and, etcetera, etcetera,” Adler interrupted.
“Something like that.”
Adler went quiet, trying to wrap his brain around what Grant was intimating. “What are you gonna do?”
“Have to keep going and see where it leads.” He picked up the phone and dialed a number.
Torrinson pushed his chair back from the dining room table and went to the living room. As he wiped his mouth with a cloth napkin, he picked up the receiver. “Torrinson residence.”
“Sir, it’s Grant.” Before Torrinson could reply, Grant added, “I apologize for calling you at home, sir, but it’s important.”
“We’re just finishing a late dinner, Grant. What’s wrong?” Torrinson sat on the sofa.
“We’ve identified a major player, sir.”
Torrinson’s back straightened. “Where are you?”
“At EOD, sir. Do you want to call me back from a secure phone?”