Lieutenant James Bennett was up on the flight deck, unloading his turboprop Greyhound. At least that was his excuse. Really he just wanted to be up there in the quiet of the night, in the open air. Sammy used to spend time up there after everyone else was gone, just watching the stars, thinking. No stars out tonight, though. Nothing but fog, stilled planes, and loneliness.
Ever since Sammy went missing, Bennett had been little more than a hollowed-out shell. The news that his friend had taken his own life shattered his world. Sammy had always been the stable one of their relationship. James was prone to drama; he was the first to admit it. Sammy was a rock.
But…murder? And a serial murderer? That had freaked him right out. Try as he might (and he had! oh, he had!) he could not shake the sense that he was next on the psychopath’s list.
Bennett glanced around. He was completely alone. Flight ops had been canceled and only a handful of aircrew and pilots were up top. Somehow the rest had already gone in ahead of him.
The fog caught the full moon’s illumination and scattered it over the flight deck, diffusing the light in such a way that despite the brightness, visibility was little more than a few meters.
He checked the chocks on his Greyhound one more time, then began crossing the deck to the catwalk.
The fog seemed to muffle the sounds of his footsteps.
After he’d gone about ten yards he stopped, craning to listen into the murk.
Heard nothing but his own ragged breathing.
He walked another eight or ten yards, then stopped again. Now there was no mistaking it.
Footsteps.
Not his.
A bubble of panic rose up and burst open, and he broke into a run, bolting the last ten meters to the edge and scrambling down the short ladder to the catwalk, his unseen pursuer’s footsteps practically in his ears.
Miscounting the steps, he lost his footing and toppled headlong.
Slammed against the catwalk railing.
Felt his collarbone snap.
He let out a scream—in pain but even more in terror—and felt two strong hands snatch hold of him and set him upright. He shut his eyes to avoid looking at his captor.
“Bennett!”
He opened his eyes.
Master Chief Jackson stared at him like he’d lost his mind.
Olivia sat at her editorial desk deep inside the inner office at Public Affairs. Working late; last-minute edits on the next edition of the Penny Press. Thinking about their SEAL guest, how she’d known the moment they’d met that here was a man with a colorful past, a man with a story to tell.
Someone she would just about kill to have the chance to interview.
She hadn’t seen him in over a week, not since she loaned him that big Lincoln volume. And look at what had happened since then! A third missing crew member; that bloody finger; good grief! She was itching to get their mysterious guest on record and hear his take.
When she heard he’d been arrested for brawling she nearly jumped out of her skin. Now she had to get a sit-down with him. Talk about color!
Huh. The sound of someone in the outer office. Footsteps, stopping now; then starting again, coming her way.
She felt a quick spark of panic and squelched it just as quickly. Don’t be ridiculous, Liv. Whoever it was, if they needed her they’d find her back here. If they didn’t, they wouldn’t.
She returned to her edits, her thoughts wandering back to her piece on the SEAL. She’d heard he was being released that night. Tomorrow, she thought. Tomorrow I’m gonna hunt him down.
She heard the door behind her open and the spark in her stomach puffed into a small blue flame of alarm.
Who besides herself would be coming in here in the middle of the night?
She pivoted in her chair and stifled a scream.
The overhead light snapped on.
It was Drew, one of their staff photographers.
“Jesus!” he said. “You scared the shit out of me!”
She forced a laugh and turned back to her desk. “Don’t be a dork, Andrew,” she said over her shoulder, thinking, You scared the shit out of me, too.
Willy Chavez hated it when Ángel smoked on the job. Even in a place as funky as the recycling compartment it was totally against the rules, and if someone walked in on them Willy knew it would be his ass hung out to dry, too. And now Ángel was telling him about some porn DVD Willy just had to see to believe. Ángel had sneaked a whole collection on board, man! This one chica, you will not believe what she does!
Willy was doing his best to pretend he was interested. Truth was he could care less about Ángel’s stupid DVDs.
Ángel paused to take a drag and Willy tried to think of a way to change the subject. But Ángel did it for him. “Hey, man,” he said, serious now. “How’s it going with Marisa?”
Willy was surprised Ángel remembered her name. They’d been together almost two years now, Marisa and him, since high school. He had been with other girls before, but she was different, special. And then, just before they embarked on the Lincoln, she had stunned him with her news. “Stunned” didn’t cover it. Blew his freakin’ mind.
“She must be gettin’ pretty big now, uh?”
“Like, seven, almost eight months big.”
“Whoa, man,” said the smoker. “Li’l Willy, gonna be a daddy.”
“Yeah,” said Willy. “I can’t believe it.” But he did. He was gonna be a daddy. A good one, too, way better than his own pop ever was, straight up.
Ángel took another drag. “Whole new kind of life, bro. Seriously, man. Congratulations.”
“Thanks, Ángel,” said Willy. “I just hope we get back in time, you know?”
Ángel stared at him. “Whoa, man. You gonna, like, be there? For the birth an’ shit? Watch the little guy make his big entrance?” He hooted and grinned.
Willy was about to reply when he heard the latch to the compartment door behind him snick open.
Ángel stumbled to his feet and hastily stamped out the smoking butt.
At that moment, his biggest concern in the world was that he not get caught yet again, smoking on the job.
The man who came through the door stood still, looking at the two of them.
Why was he wearing goggles?