THIRTY-EIGHT
• • •
Tiffany had to do something. She couldn’t wait for her next move to be dictated by some outside force. She looked down the road and saw a white pickup moving slowly toward her. Or maybe not her; maybe it was just entering the campground. Maybe the driver was totally oblivious to what was occurring and was simply returning to his RV with some take-out breakfast.
• • •
Jed watched Connelly like a cat watching a mouse hole. As soon as the man was motioned to stand, he’d have to pull the trigger. He positioned the scope so he could see Connelly in the left field of vision and had the space between the chair and the shield in the center. He knew Connelly was six feet, two inches and put the crosshairs in the appropriate location.
He waited. His pulse clicked away in his neck, in his ears, in his fingertip. Time seemed to move by as slowly as ice melts. The trigger felt hot under the pad of his finger.
Then . . . Connelly leaned forward in his chair.
• • •
Ignoring the truck, Tiffany made her move. She stepped forward and knocked on the RV’s door.
• • •
Jed jerked and lost sight of Connelly. Quickly he found the vice president again in his scope, but it was too late. Connelly had already stepped up onto the platform and was shaking hands and smiling broadly at the ranger.
Jed looked at Karen, who only stared wide-eyed back at him. Someone had knocked on the camper’s door. That wasn’t supposed to happen. That wasn’t part of the plan. Murphy told him they wouldn’t have anyone stationed at the campground because they didn’t want even the risk of raising suspicion. And he told him the campers on either side of Jed’s were planted there by the agency as buffers. No immediate neighbors.
Murphy’s voice came through the earpiece. “What happened, Patrick? You had the shot.”
Jed ignored Murphy.
Karen stood frozen. Jed didn’t move either. If it was a neighbor from another part of the campground, he or she would eventually go away if no one answered the knock. A minute ticked by, then another. No follow-up knock came.
• • •
If Patrick was inside the RV, Tiffany didn’t expect him to answer the door and offer to share a cup of coffee. He wouldn’t ask her if she wanted to watch the show that was about to unfold. But she wasn’t just going to walk away. She had to know if this was the location. She’d learned a long time ago how to pick a simple lock, and the lock on the RV door was about as simple as they came.
Tiffany reached into her pocket and retrieved a bobby pin.
• • •
Karen leaned toward Jed and lowered her voice. Her face was taut, her eyes intense. “If you don’t take that shot, we don’t know what Mr. Murphy will do to Lilly.”
And Murphy was in Jed’s ear again. “Patrick, what’s going on? Talk to me.”
Jed ignored them both. He knew the danger of not taking the shot. He went back to the rifle and the scope. “I got this,” he said to both Karen and Murphy.
Connelly delivered his speech. He used lots of gestures and facial expressions. He was a man who was apparently very comfortable being the center of attention.
Jed watched carefully. When Connelly finished, he wouldn’t waste any time getting back to his seat. And Jed only had this last attempt. If he failed this one . . . He pushed the consequences from his mind. He needed to focus on the task, the shot.
Connelly said something and flashed a winning smile. The crowd applauded.
“Focus, Jedidiah,” Karen said. “Make this count.”
Jed barely heard her voice. His attention was on Connelly, studying the man’s every move, hand gesture, weight shift, facial expression.
Suddenly the door of the camper opened.
• • •
Tiffany didn’t wait to see if anyone was inside the RV. She didn’t wait to see if the occupants would be friendly and invite her in. As the door opened, she climbed the three metal stairs and entered the camper.
• • •
Jed released his grip on the rifle and reached for the handgun that rested on the table beside him. He whipped it around and pointed it directly at the door. A woman stood there, fully in the camper. She, too, had a weapon, a Glock 9, and aimed it at him. Karen took two steps back and shifted her eyes between Jed and the woman. Her jaw was slack and eyes wide. The woman had taken them both by surprise.
• • •
Tiffany widened her stance and gripped the gun with both hands. She didn’t want to shoot Patrick and had no intention of doing so. She only hoped he’d comply willingly or that she’d at least be able to reason with him.
Patrick glanced at the far corner of the camper and said, “Karen, get back over by the counter.”
He then focused his attention on Tiffany. Blood surged through her carotids and pulsed in her ears. Her hands shook; her mouth went as dry as dirt. She decided introductions would be appropriate.
She’d have to speak fast. “I’m Tiffany Stockton. I work for the CIA. You’re Sergeant Jed Patrick, and you intend to assassinate the vice president.” She paused to swallow and moisten her mouth and throat. “I’m here to stop you.”
• • •
Jed didn’t want to shoot this woman. This Tiffany Stockton of the CIA. But he didn’t have time to waste with her either.
Through the earpiece, Murphy said, “Who’s there, Patrick? Who is that?”
Jed ripped the piece from his ear and tossed it to the floor. He could hear Murphy’s voice in the tiny speaker, but it was tinny and indecipherable.
“How did you get here?” he asked Tiffany.
“I found the files on the Centralia Project. I know everything. Well, not everything, but most of it. I know what they did to you. I know about the implant.”
“Jedidiah.” Karen stepped away from the counter. “She’s with Connelly. Don’t listen to her. She won’t shoot you. Make the shot.”
Jed knew Tiffany wouldn’t shoot. He’d known it the first time their eyes met when he swung around and found her staring at him with her Glock pointed at him. She didn’t have it in her. It wasn’t who she was.
• • •
Slowly Patrick put down his handgun, turned to his rifle, and took a grip on it.
“Patrick, don’t do it,” Tiffany said. She stepped closer to him.
Patrick glanced at the corner of the camper again. “Karen, please, honey, step back.”
Karen —Patrick’s wife. Tiffany remembered the name from Jed Patrick’s bio. But when she looked into the corner, it was empty. Patrick talked like she was in the room, but there was no Karen in this camper. It was just Patrick and Tiffany. It took Tiffany only a few seconds to figure out what was happening. The documents had mentioned the plan to surgically implant a device. It must be causing Patrick to hallucinate his wife’s presence.
“Patrick, Karen isn’t here. What you see is a hallucination. It’s caused by the implant.”
Jed sat at the table, both hands on his Win Mag, but he glanced between Tiffany and Karen. Hallucination? Implant?
“They removed the implant.”
“No, they inserted it. In your brain. Did they do any surgery recently?”
Jed pulled one hand away from the rifle and touched the incision along the side of his head. It was still tender.
“The implant is causing you to hallucinate Karen. She’s not here.”
From across the camper, Karen turned both palms up. “Jedidiah, that’s nonsense. She’s lying. I’m right here, honey. You can see me. You felt me. You hear my voice. I’m as real as you are.”
But was she real? He didn’t even know anymore. His mind ran through all the things he’d seen and felt that hadn’t actually been there after all. For days, he hadn’t been able to trust his own eyes and ears. Maybe he was hallucinating this entire scenario. Maybe he was unconscious on a gurney in some lab and this whole thing was just another training tool. A simulated assassination.
Tiffany lowered the Glock but still held it with both hands. “Please, Patrick. Jed. Listen to me. Believe me. They’re using you. You have skills they need, and they’re getting all they can from you.”
“Don’t listen to her, Jedidiah,” Karen said. “She’s lying. She’s from Connelly. They found our location and sent her to persuade you with this lie because they know they can’t take you by force. You have to take the shot. You see now how evil Connelly is, how manipulative he can be. How controlling. Take the shot.”
Jed turned back to his weapon. “I’m taking the shot.”
Tiffany moved closer to him, but Jed ignored her. He peered through the scope and found Connelly again. He was still speaking, gesturing, walking side to side on the platform. Jed put the crosshairs on the man’s chest but of course didn’t have the shot yet.
“Jed.” Tiffany again. “Please, search your heart. You must know that’s not the real Karen. You have to. You may want it to be because you love her and you’re worried about her. But you know it’s not.”
Karen laughed. “It’s nonsense, Jedidiah. Lies. Take the shot and end all this.”
“You’re lying,” Jed said to Tiffany, but the words felt forced, wooden.
“No, I’m not. And you know I’m not.”
Did Jed know it? Had he known it all along?
“Jedidiah,” Karen said, “I’m real, baby. I love you. I only want what’s best for you and Lilly. Take the shot and we can get our lives back again. Live like normal people.”
But they would never live like normal people. They weren’t normal people. Suddenly the incision above Jed’s ear began to throb and ache. Please, God, show me the truth.
“Jedidiah.”
Jedidiah. Karen never called him Jedidiah. She always called him just Jed. But this Karen had called him nothing but Jedidiah. Jed ran the scope over the crowd and found Lilly again with Abernathy. The man in sunglasses and Hawaiian shirt was still there, looming, watching them. Jed could tell by the way his shirt lay that he had a weapon in his waistband. Show me what to do, Lord.
• • •
Lilly held Mr. Abernathy’s hand tightly. As tightly as she held her dad’s when they walked through the deep forest. She was nervous and uneasy. Mr. Murphy never told her why she’d been brought to North Carolina nor why she and Mr. Abernathy had come to hear the vice president’s speech. But she knew in her heart that something bad was going to happen.
She closed her eyes and whispered a prayer that God would protect her mom and dad.
Then, as if the voice was audible only to her in the sea of this crowd, he spoke: LITTLE ONE, TRUST ME. NO MATTER WHAT HAPPENS.
She did trust him. Of course she did.
• • •
“Jedidiah.” It was Karen again. “Listen to me. You need to take the shot when you have it. Don’t blow this. Lilly’s life depends on it.”
“Jedidiah,” Jed said. He continued to watch the Hawaiian shirt through the scope. “You keep calling me Jedidiah, but my wife never calls me that. It’s always just Jed.”
“You see it, don’t you?” Tiffany said.
“Yes.”
And there was more that Jed discovered than just that truth. Despite reminding Lilly about relying on God, letting him carry the load, Jed had never truly taken that step. He thought he had, but he’d been relying on himself, on Karen, on anything he could see and feel and touch. But no more. Maybe he would need to shoot. But he couldn’t make it on his own. It was too difficult. It was an impossible shot. Too far. And without the earpiece he had no idea what the winds were like. He needed help. He needed to stop just wishing he had a faith like Lilly’s and step forward, trusting God’s truth to catch him. Show me a sign, Lord. Please.
Settling into an even breathing rhythm, Jed aimed the rifle.
• • •
“Jed,” Tiffany said.
“I got this.”
“That’s what I’m afraid of.”
“I got this.”
• • •
Jed put the crosshairs where they needed to be. His own words, prompted by the memory of his sweet daughter, were in his ears, his mind, his heart: Faith isn’t about feeling; it’s about doing, putting one foot in front of the other and going.
He closed his eyes for only a second, then opened them. Aimed. Focused on the rise and fall of his diaphragm, the beating of his heart. He saw the moment he’d been waiting for.
He whispered aloud: “God, help my unbelief.”
Then he squeezed the trigger.