Nine days later,
Braxton, Arkansas
She'd been guilted into bribing her mutt, and they both knew it.
Kate watched as Ruger snatched a French fry from midair and swallowed it whole before patiently waiting for the next. From her carton.
His was already empty and had been for several minutes.
Along with the cardboard container that had held his burger. Granted, the patty had been formed from ground chicken, not beef. But it had been grilled.
That was something, right?
As Dr. Manning had reminded her at the end of their session a mere hour ago—baby steps.
Kate tossed another one of her fries to Ruger, then studied the rapidly cooling chicken burger in the box on the dining table in front of her, aware that Ruger was looking at it too. Hoping. It had taken her six days to return home from her unexpected trip to Afghanistan, and the Shepherd had been abusing her lingering pangs of conscience for every one of them during these last three.
Fortunately, Arash had not.
After First Sergeant Bowen and Lily had left via the medevac chopper, she'd borrowed another soldier's satellite phone to call the detective, as promised. While still securing Praeger's body and any potential evidence on it, she'd assured Arash that she was okay, and had then briefed him on what had happened with the spook.
Arash had agreed to contact Lou, Remy and Agent Wynne to let them know that they'd caught the murderous bastard they were all after—albeit not precisely the one they thought they'd been seeking—and that he'd been taken down in Afghanistan, not Arkansas.
With Praeger's admission of guilt while the spook had been standing over Bowen, combined with the fact that Praeger was now dead, they were cleared to release the various crime scenes and bodies within their respective jurisdictions just as soon as the remaining forensic and administrative processing allowed.
It wasn't much of a gift to the victims' families, but it was all they'd had to offer. That, and the reassurance that the killings had finally stopped.
As for the scene in Herat, once her call to Arash had ended, the official processing of the compound had begun. She'd been photographing Praeger's body and the hovel surrounding it when the lead, in-country CID agent had arrived.
That agent? A sight for seriously exhausted eyes: her old friend, Art Valens.
Not surprisingly, Art hadn't been alone. He'd arrived with Agent Castile and a forensics team—and yet another CIA spook in tow...as well as stunning news.
From what their new CIA buddy had been able to share, Charles Praeger really had gone rogue. Not only were her suspicions correct regarding the Afghan militiamen at the previous compound, namely that they were working for Praeger, it turned out the Homeland Security contact in Kabul that Praeger had been touting and quoting to her and Arash hadn't even been aware of Masud's arrest. Nor had President Ghani.
So she, Art and their new CIA contact had gotten to work, laying the groundwork for a brokered, US-Iranian body swap of their own.
Because while Ghani and the remainder of the Afghan government were not aware of who Masud and Vahid Baqr were, much less where the men worked, Iran was. And once Iran had been informed that the US had both, they wanted their men back.
Badly.
The US government had agreed. For a price.
Kate glanced down as Ruger snorted softly—his version of a polite attempt to regain her attention and return it to his woefully under-stuffed belly.
Yes, she was out of fries now too. But that chicken burger was still sitting on the table in front of her. Whole. Lonely.
And still giving off that oh-so-enticing aroma...at least to him.
The determined thumping of Ruger's dragon tail, combined with the not-so-subtle slurp of his lolling tongue, let her know that if she still couldn't quite stomach meat yet, he'd be happy to help her out. He was just that giving of a dog.
Kate grinned at her goofy, drooling mutt.
Two seconds after she'd caved in and tossed the top of the bun toward Ruger's talented chops, her phone rang.
It was another old friend.
Kate's smile lingered as she picked up. "As I live and breathe, two calls in two weeks from the vaunted Special Agent Regan Chase. Don't tell me Braxton's finally made it onto the Army's radar?"
Rae's husky laugh filled the line. "Nah, just you. But I know for a fact that you never escaped it. You just thought you had. And fair warning: from what I hear regarding the fallout of your latest visit to Herat, the brass wants you back in our uniform—and on active duty."
Yeah, not a good idea.
True, the presence of her newly gifted Glock had been duly noted and ignored by everyone in that same Army uniform for the remainder of the time she'd spent in Herat. And then at Bagram where she and Art had taken Masud and Vahid's body while they'd been finessing the Iranian deal. But Praeger had been right about one thing. She'd definitely needed the 9mm.
That need might've even reared its ugly head when she'd boarded a C-141 for the return flight to Little Rock, because even the pilot had left the Glock, and her, alone.
Yet another Army souvenir to shove inside her dusty footlocker.
Why not? It wasn't as though she could ship the Glock back to Bowen. Mostly because the Army had shipped Bowen to Germany and the Landstuhl Regional Medical Center at Ramstein to recuperate before she'd had a chance to see him again.
But she'd already been officially informed that Bowen was doing well, so that wasn't why Regan was calling.
Crap. Kate tossed the chicken patty and the bottom of the bun to an ever-appreciative Ruger as she stood to pace into her kitchen. "Please tell me the deal didn't fall through."
"Nope. In fact, it's now complete. Art phoned me from Kabul an hour ago. I told him I'd call you. The exchange went down at the Dogharoon-Islam Qala border crossing as planned and right on schedule. We got Lily's mom, her sister and her two brothers—and, of course, Iran got Masud and...Vahid's corpse."
"And how did the guys who Iran sent for the swap take the discovery of the rather ripe condition of the latter?"
Rae's laughter warmed the line once more. "Oh, I understand they were jihad-level pissed. But your new CIA buddy reminded them that you all never actually said Vahid was alive. Besides, once Iran's interrogators finish 'interviewing' Masud about those extracurricular meetings his cousin had been conducting with Praeger in Herat, he'll be dead too. Valued engineer or not, they'd have done the same thing to Vahid once they'd 'debriefed' him. This way, they'll always wonder what we managed to get."
"True." Were it not for those stabbed and charred bodies, last week's trip back to that hellhole would've been worth it for that alone.
Although, the US government had gotten something out of this entire mess. Though admittedly not nearly as much as Praeger would've given to them. Nor did Washington have the name of the Pakistani scientist who Vahid had been meeting on behalf of Iran—because even a desperate-to-deal Masud hadn't known it. But Washington did have the certain knowledge that there was a high-level scientist in Iran's nuclear weapons program who wanted out so badly that he was willing to act on it.
It was up to her new CIA buddy and his co-workers to find that scientist.
As for Masud?
Rae was right. Lily's loving pops would most likely be as dead as his cousin before the week was out. But since Washington would probably never be certain of that fate, Maya Baqr and Lily's younger siblings would be joining the doc in the entire family's new, WITSEC-created life.
Hell, even if the Company did somehow receive proof that Masud was dead, those new identities would remain prudent, since someone in the Iranian government or Quds Force might be pissed enough over being snookered regarding Vahid's decided lack of life upon his repatriation to seek revenge. With as many fatwas as the country's grand ayatollah had issued over the past week alone, it might even be likely.
"I appreciate the call, Rae. Thanks for letting me know." Especially on a Saturday afternoon, the week before Christmas.
Kate returned to the table to retrieve the cardboard wrappings from Ruger's very bountiful meal and carted them into the kitchen to dump them in the trash.
"Yeah, I'm not done. I've got two more messages. The first is from Lily. Again, via Art. She says to tell you thanks for the pep talk you gave her at Bagram; that she took one look at Yasmin and realized you were right. I'm assuming that's good news."
"It is." Great in fact.
The confident doc in Lily might've been a force to be reckoned with while she'd been saving Bowen's life, but once the adrenaline had worn off, that confidence had bottomed out. When Kate had stopped by to check on her at Bagram, she'd found Lily depressed and doubting her career, because she'd used her medical knowledge to kill Vahid. How could she continue to practice medicine—as Dr. Basque, or anyone else—when she was guilty of murder? Lily had refused to accept that Vahid's death had been straight-up self-defense. Kate had finally left Lily with a question of her own.
If Yasmin had been forced to marry Vahid and the girl had done the same thing to him on their wedding night, would Lily have called that murder too?
Even then, Lily hadn't been sure. But she was now.
And that was definitely a good thing.
As for that Railroad of Lily's? She'd have to find another way to support it. Praeger had been right about something else. Helping those women in need did risk her cover. But now that the doc had four other covers to worry about, she had a feeling Lily—or whatever her name was now—would find a way to help...and stay safe.
Kate returned to the table to push her chair in. "And the final message?"
Rae had mentioned two. What could be left?
"Oh, that one's from me, and it concerns Art and me. Art said you told him about your visit with Joe at Leavenworth, and that you asked him to pass on your thoughts to the rest of CID where needed. I wanted to let you know the added insight helped me. And Art? He's still frazzled by work, but he's also back to his old, craggy self."
"I'm glad. And I appreciate the messages and body swap info. Thanks for calling. I hate to cut you off, but company just turned into my drive."
No, not invited. But based on Ruger's whirling happy dance, their visitor was welcome—by them both.
"Not a problem. Stay in touch, Kate. And stay safe out there, okay? From what I've seen, you've got some serious assholes populating your neck of the woods."
"That goes double on your end. Bye."
Kate smiled as she hung up and tucked her phone back inside its slot in her utility belt. It was nice to know her epiphany about Joe had helped others. Especially Art, given that whatever Art and Agent Castile were currently trying to keep a lid on in Afghanistan was eating at the man. She hadn't asked about the cause, and Art hadn't told. It was the way of CID. Hell, most cop shops—federal, military or civilian.
All she could do was hope that he and Agent Castile wrapped it up quickly, and that it stayed off the evening news.
What she'd shared with Art had been the truth. She'd looked straight into Joe's eyes—knowing what she now knew about the bastard—and had still seen absolutely nothing. Because there was nothing to see. Not only did Joe not regret his actions, he still believed his wife deserved those stolen organs over their rightful, murdered owner.
That just wasn't something a normal person would've sensed.
And so they all hadn't.
Damned if Manning hadn't been spot on again—she'd told him so, too. This morning and last Saturday, as well. Since she hadn't returned from Bagram yet, they'd had their session via a video call over Skype. She and the shrink had spent most of the session discussing her visit with Joe and how it had allowed her to see things—and herself—more clearly now. She'd even filled out another one of those post-traumatic symptom assessments she'd been taking before her in-person sessions at the VA hospital in Little Rock. Manning had been thrilled with the marked decrease in last week's scores—and this morning's too. The shrink was even more pleased with the corresponding improvement to her psyche.
So was she.
She was doubly glad that her personal takeaway had helped Rae as well. She knew from a shared, past Christmas that the merry season that was bearing down on a huge portion of the world was the opposite of merry for Rae, and for good cause. Worse, given the number on the tragic anniversary that would be accompanying it, this year's holiday would be an especially difficult one for the CID agent.
Kate made a mental note to check in on Rae in the coming week, then nudged her attention back to Braxton and the needs of her current department as she passed through the living room to reach the front door of her home.
According to the hops that had entered Ruger's happy dance, not to mention his full body swirls, their not-quite-unexpected guest was headed up the walk. She didn't bother with a perfunctory glance through the slats. With Ruger's bionic hearing and fervent greeting tailored to the man on the other side, she simply opened the door.
"Hey, boss."
"Afternoon, Kato. Figured you'd be back by now. But I wanted to give you a chance to feed that hungry hound of yours before I came over."
"Oh, he ate." Both chicken burgers and two small orders of unsalted fries.
Despite the reluctance of her nose and brain earlier, her now very empty stomach rumbled with what might've been.
Ruger, however, had a non-judgmental bottomless pit inside him. One that, based on the paper lunch sack that Lou had brought, was about to be treated to yet another juicy bone with bits of beef attached. Though this one appeared to be a Della Simms home-kitchen special. Like Ruger, Lou had figured that her taste buds would still be on a meat strike.
And like Ruger, he was right.
That lone can of vegetarian chili in her pantry was in her very near future.
The Shepherd accepted the treat from Lou's hand with a giddy wag and a departing burp that had her boss chuckling as he crumpled up the bag before shoving it in the pocket of his sheriff's jacket.
"So, what's up?" Because something was. Yeah, Lou was checking up on her, and a bit more openly now that she knew that he knew she was seeing a shrink. But there was a glint in his soft brown stare. Lou had brought something beside the bone.
The man had news. And it was good.
"Seth's stayin' on. He stopped by the station this mornin' while I was catchin' up on paperwork and told me that my search to replace deputies was down to just fillin' Feathers' spot. Which is damned doubly good, 'cause I may have found someone to replace Bob. I'll know more come Monday."
"That's fantastic." Both revelations.
But especially the one regarding Seth.
That glint turned shrewd. "You knew, didn't you?"
"Pretty much." She'd gotten a text from Seth while she was still in Herat, asking for her shrink's number. Seth had also pulled her aside yesterday as she'd headed out on patrol to let her know that he'd not only joined Manning's after-hours PTSD support group for vets and first responders, but that his first meeting had gone...well.
"I appreciate what you done for the boy. And I know Seth does too."
"Yeah, he said as much."
Lou nodded. "And you? You doin' okay? You didn't say much at work, but I know goin' back over there cain't have been fun."
Now there was an understatement.
She let the subtle, questioning poke into the current state of her psyche slide. For one, she'd just spent an hour in Manning's office letting him do the same—and the shrink had been a hell of a lot more open and ruthlessly skilled about it.
And two, here she and Lou were on yet another Saturday, the both of them in uniform...when only one of them had actually been to the station that day.
Like the shrink and Charles Praeger, Lou knew full well she'd worn hers into Little Rock once again just so she could openly carry her service Glock.
Baby steps, right?
"I'm good, Lou." She nodded crisply. Firmly. But it was the use of his first name that eased the man's doubts once and for all.
His returning nod was equally firm. "Well, alrighty then. I'd best get home. I'm supposed to take Della to a matinee movie up in Conway today—and it looks like you and Ruger still have a baby evergreen to chop down and drag inside." His girth turned toward the door, then stopped. "Dang it; near plum forgot. That cold case file I gave you a bit ago? You didn't happen to bring it home with you, did you?"
"I did. I haven't had a chance to study it though." He'd handed the folder to her two weeks ago Friday, when she'd been certain she was going to quit. So what had been the point in even cracking the cover?
But then Aisha's body had turned up in Nash Weaver's field and, somehow, everything had changed.
"Yeah, I know. It's been a busy couple a weeks. I had an idea 'bout it last night though, and I wanted to double-check my memory on somethin'."
"It's down the hall." The folder had been on the table with everything else she'd shoved into the basket that she'd then shoved at Seth. "The doc was freaked when she got here. I didn't want to make it worse by leaving casework lying around." She'd been so busy since her return that she'd just grabbed the worksheets she'd needed for this morning's session with Manning and had left the rest. "I'll get it."
She winced as Lou followed her down the hall...and got a good look at the thick layer of dust on every single item in her dad's old room, except the laundry basket.
She pulled out the missing person's file Lou had handed her when he'd first asked her to review it. This time, she actually opened the manila folder.
Two things jumped out at her. The date the presumed victim had gone missing—and the original responding deputy's name.
"This is one of my dad's old cases." And it was unsolved?
Wow.
"Yeah, your old man was good. But, frankly, you're better. So I figured, since it was sittin' in that file cabinet, the pages inside yellowin' and the witnesses who mighta seen or spoken to the man last in danger of dyin' off or movin' away—"
"What did you say?"
"About witnesses dyin'?"
Oh, hell's bells, no. "The other part."
"About you bein' the sharper detective?" The sheriff shook his head, clearly bemused. "Well, Christ's toes, missy. It weren't even a contest. You solved your first case at fifteen—and it was a first-degree murder. The bastard got life."
She'd what?
"Lou—what are you talking about?"
"The Belton murder. When Ken Belton killed Penelope, his wife of—what? five, six years—for tryin' to leave town with their kid."
Kate shook her head, more confused than ever. "Lou, I remember the case." Not only had it been her dad's case, the Belton murder had been one of the only two murders in town before Staff Sergeant Burke had begun leaving those oversized, brown paper bags around Braxton's backroads with body parts in them. "But I certainly don't remember solving that case. Heck, the only thing I do remember about it is—"
"Comin' into the kitchen in the middle of the night, 'cause you was thirsty? Yeah." Lou tipped his crop of silver toward the yawning door of her dad's room and the hall beyond. "Your dad and I were sittin' out there at the kitchen table, hashin' through the facts for the thousandth time. We were desperate. We had Ken in custody and we knew from the bastard's lack of remorse, and flat-out glee that Penn was dead, that he'd done it. But we'd already searched his house, barn and entire property. We couldn't find any rifles, let alone the one he'd used to kill her. We were outta time. We had to let him go the next mornin' or the judge woulda had us all for brunch. You musta been listenin' in the hall, 'cause you just breezed in to get a glass and asked if we'd checked the root cellar."
"Yeah, and Dad laughed in my face."
"He did. And I admit, I mighta chuckled too. 'Cause this is Arkansas. With the water table as high as it is, basements and cellars are about as rare as a barrel racer clingin' to an English saddle. But then you mentioned how Dan Parish had told you that he'd gotten locked in Billy Tennet's grandma's cellar and how her house sat on a hill—and, well, wasn't the Belton place perched on one too? So we made another search at dawn."
Okay, that all she remembered. Mostly because she'd been pissed that her dad had laughed at her in front of Lou, who she'd known for all of six months by then. And, anyway, "You found the rifle in the barn, wedged between last year's bales of hay."
"Nope. We found it in the root cellar that was hidden beneath a rug in a hall off the kitchen. Damned hidey-hole was five feet high with a dirt floor. Three out of four walls had wooden shelves that looked like they been there since the Civil War—along with jars of peaches on one of 'em. But in the back of them peaches?" He nodded. "That old Remington 700 that Ken's granddaddy bought, and that Ken used to hunt and shoot Penelope, and that we used to put him away for life."
Son of a bitch. "Dad lied to me."
Hell, Lou had too.
But at least her boss had the grace to be embarrassed enough to turn a deep ruddy red about it now. Lord knew her dad never would have.
"I'm sorry, Kato. He didn't want you to know. And, well, he was your dad. Jack told me that you were determined to join the Army and be an MP. And I knew he was right. He said if you knew how good you really were, that you'd go for sure...and end up in one of all them flag-draped coffins that were comin' home in droves at the time—" The man shuddered as his eyes glistened with the terror of it. Even now.
Kate reached out and hugged him.
What else could she do?
"It's okay, Lou." And it was. Because at least now she knew. And, Lord, did it make that whole "trusting her judgment" issue settle in easier.
Plus, the man in front of her, still trying to get that glistening under control as he squeezed her back, had truly withheld the truth out of love.
But her dad?
The hug ended. Lou gave the shredded side of her face a final, soothing pat and stepped back, swiping at his own cheeks as he sighed.
Kate stared at the dust covering the dark, heavy headboard butted up against the wall beside them and the equally dark, clunky dresser that went with it. She'd been home for four years now, and she could still count on one hand the number of times she'd been in here. Because of the man who'd once slept in this room...and because of the insidious, inescapable fact that she'd never been able to screw up the nerve to admit to anyone except Max. She hadn't even been brave enough to admit it to Manning.
"My dad hated me. I don't know why, but he did."
That dried up the remaining glistening in Lou's eyes. But his cheeks had turned ruddier. From anger. "Oh, missy, that man hated himself. And, hell, he deserved it."
She blinked at Lou. Several times. Trying to wrap her mind around the words that had just come out of his mouth.
Because they were the last words she'd have ever expected to hear from him.
But that crop of silver bobbed as its owner nodded. "Yep, I know. Jack was my friend. But he could be a donkey's ass. Ya gotta understand. Jack was there for me, offerin' a shoulder when I needed one most. When my ma and pa died in that crash when I was just a kid. Then later, when Della and I got married, and we found out we couldn't have kids 'cause of me—and the State wouldn't let us adopt bein' how she was bipolar. Then your mom died, and Jack came home." Those muddy eyes glistened again as Lou pushed up a shrug. "And he gave us you. Well, loaned you out to us now and then. But it was enough. You were enough. 'Cause Della and me? We love you like you was our own. So, I gotta keep all that in mind when I think about the man. But there's the rest too. There's what he done to you. How he'd talk to you and run you down. And that? Well, Jesus forgive me, 'cause I cain't ever forgive that, no matter how hard I try."
Oh, Lord.
She could feel her own eyes glistening now.
Burning.
Kate shook her head, trying to clear the tears before they could leak out and stain her face...and failed. The sniff she managed helped. "I love you and Della too."
"I know that. And so does she. I also always knew that your dad didn't have anywhere else to go. But you do. You were meant for bigger things, Kato. Bigger places. You always were. And you got a taste of it all again this past week, too."
She had.
Nor could she lie to him or herself. It had felt damned good to be back on that razor's edge in Herat. "You might be right, boss. But maybe I've got reasons to stay. A lot of them."
The man standing in front of her, for one. The mutt out in her den, gnawing on that new bone of his, for another. Not that Ruger had needed it. She'd seen the lion's hoard of older bribes that Arash had been contributing to while she'd been gone.
And there were the guys in the department. Seth, Owen and—
"That detective who stopped by—knowin' where your spare key's kept—to hang out with Ruger while I was here...he included in all them reasons you got to stay?"
Maybe.
She'd phoned Arash four more times since the call she'd made after Praeger's death. Texted him too. It was necessary; they were both wrapping up their casework. She'd even seen Arash twice in the three days since she'd been back. Again, because of their cases. She hadn't brought up what he'd said out on her deck before Lily's nightmare had interrupted them though. And he hadn't pushed for the answer she'd yet to give.
But Arash Moradi wasn't the only one who'd been hooked by a pair of eyes.
She was taken with his too.
Along with the rest of the man.
Manning had been pressing her for five sessions now to allow herself to feel—her memories and the fallout they'd created inside her. He'd encouraged her to feel other things as well, especially what was happening within her right now. The truth was, when it came to Arash, she not only wanted to feel, she already did. She'd admitted as much to Manning during their Skype session last Saturday. They'd discussed it all again in person at the VA hospital in Little Rock today. Her judgment, her meeting with Joe, everything that had happened since, including Arash.
She was finally ready to give the detective his answer.
But it seemed she'd failed to provide a timely one for Lou.
The sheriff just grinned, then laughed and shook his head—and let it go.
Lou looked around at the thick layer of dust coating all that dark, clunky wood. "Well, if you are gonna stay, you need to make a few changes. For one—" He ran his hand through the film on the dresser beside him and brandished the resulting clumps of gray. "—this ugly-ass furniture has to go. Now, Della won't believe it, but even I can see that. The Torres family lost it all in the fire you missed while you were takin' your Afghan vacation earlier this week. I heard things were 'specially tight, so they weren't insured, neither. They'd be grateful for a few things while they get back on their feet."
Kate nodded. Smiled.
That was a fantastic idea.
It led to others. Ones she couldn't believe she hadn't thought of until right now. "I think I'll strip off this hideous plaid wallpaper and paint in here, too."
Something bright and cheery, and with wildflowers stenciled here and there.
Just what her dad would've hated.
Lou nodded as well, getting deep into the spirit of it all as he pointed into the connecting bath. "Hell, rip out every single one of them bath fixtures and put in brand spankin' new ones. I'll help. So will the rest of the boys. Della can make her famous, slow-cooked ribs while we all work. Either way, ya gotta make this place yours."
He was right.
"You're on. I'll let you know when it's time for the plumbing. But right now, you've got a movie date to make, boss."
Lou had been right about that still absent evergreen, too. She planned on taking Ruger for a walk in the woods this afternoon, so they could search for the perfect one. Once they dragged the tree into the den, she'd decorate it with the twinkling lights and paper bones she'd hung on last year's, while her mutt gnawed on his gift from Lou.
And afterward?
Well, she had a phone call to return to a certain detective out in Mazelle. A call that had nothing to do with casework, and everything to do with them. Then again, she might just reverse those tasks and make that phone call first.
See how Arash felt about decorating trees.
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Beneath the Bones:
Book 3 in the Hidden Valor Military/Veterans Suspense Series
Coming in early 2023
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