Hunted by the Past, page 9
Stunned comprehension dawned and he reached out in a recognizable attempt to comfort. The minute he touched the back of my hand the little zing reappeared. “Jesus, Cyn, I never blamed you for the attack.” He cocked his head. “But you blame yourself, it’s why you won’t talk to me.”
I flinched. Hoping to block his too perceptive ability, I pulled my hand out from under his. “You all left me in the dark.”
“I was in the hospital for two months. As for the others…” He shook his head, his gaze narrowing. “Nope, that excuse isn’t going to work this time. You’re going to tell me what you think you could have done to change what happened.”
I tightened my lips, refusing to look at him.
“Tell me what you think you could have done differently with a punctured lung, third degree burns, broken ribs, shattered femur, a broken wrist, and broken fingers? Oh wait, let’s not forget the concussion.” By the time he was done listing my injuries his voice had deepened into a growl. “What could you have done, Cyn?”
“I shouldn’t have thrown the damn knife!”
We sat there, my words ringing between us.
Confusion twisted his face. “What are you talking about?”
“Ellery had Flash pinned to the wall, but the flames, they weren’t burning him. They changed colors, but it wasn’t until I threw the knife that it all changed. Until then, Flash was okay.” I rubbed a hand over my aching chest. “He was okay.”
“No, he wasn’t.” Kayden’s voice came from behind me, causing me to start in my chair. He went to lean against the railing, facing Tag and me. “Flash was a pyrokinetic. What you saw was Ellery’s ability in action.”
Kayden’s revelation confirmed my burgeoning suspicions. “Ellery’s psychic?”
Kayden nodded. “He’s what we call a Syphon. Someone who absorbs other psychic abilities. What you saw that night? The flames changing colors? Did they go from blue-white to yellow to orange?”
Stunned, all I could do was nod.
“Ellery was syphoning Flash’s ability. It didn’t matter what you did, Cyn, Flash couldn’t fight indefinitely.” He looked at the file on the table. “When you read the file, you’ll realize Ellery’s getting more and more creative at how he steals abilities.”
My gut clenched. This was the monster hunting me? “Why didn’t anyone tell me?”
“Hello? Hospital for two months, remember?” Tag said. “When I got out, you wouldn’t talk to me.”
Looking between both men, I knew it all had to come out. If I didn’t lance this wound, there would be no working together to stop Ellery. To let things go and move on, I needed answers. “No one would tell me where you all were, or what had happened. I woke up in Landstuhl and the higher-ups wanted answers. I couldn’t tell them what happened. It didn’t even make sense to me. Ellery wasn’t talking to anyone, not even his lawyer.”
I rubbed my hands down my thighs. “All I knew was Flash and Ortega were dead, you and the others were out of touch. I didn’t even know the information on the delivery system was still missing until the actual trial. I tried to reach out, but when no one answered I knew what was coming. Someone had to answer for the op going sideways, and I was the only one standing before the panel. It wasn’t like I had options.”
“You wouldn’t have been answering alone if I could’ve been there,” Tag offered.
Maybe, maybe not, but not wanting to ruffle the tenuous truce, I blew out a harsh breath. “I still don’t know how they got Ellery into custody.”
“Liza warned us something was off,” Kayden said. “It took time to clear out the two snipers nests. By then, all hell was breaking loose on your end.” His gaze flickered to my scars. “When we hit your position, Ellery was so focused on you, he didn’t get a chance to get away. We took out his partners and took him into custody. After turning him over, we were sent back out to retrieve the missing information.”
“You never found it.” I could tell.
He shook his head.
“I didn’t leave you, Cyn. You left me.” Tag’s quiet comment wasn’t quite an accusation, but it still felt like one.
“You left the team,” Kayden added. “When we got back, you were already gone. Tag said you weren’t answering your calls. We figured you wanted nothing to do with us, so we steered clear.”
“What a mess.” Lowering my head, I acknowledge the truth in what they said. For the first time in six months, the resentful anger and hurt I lived with began to recede. My choices were clear. Either I continued to blame Tag and Kayden for a shitty situation or I accepted my culpability and moved on.
Run, or stand and fight?
I was tired of running. Kelsey deserved justice, so did Liza, Mike, and Nate. It was time to face the nightmares and fight back.
At Tag and Kayden’s urging, I moved back inside to the larger, kitchen table where there was more space to spread out the gory details contained in the file. During my years in the service, I witnessed things I wish I hadn’t, the images forever branded on my cerebral cortex. Those images took turns starring in some of my more inventive nightmares. During those nights, sleep was a stranger, but whiskey was my best friend. After wading through the most recent reports, the photos only added to my certainty that human cruelty knew no bounds. The more deviant the imagination, the more brutal the outcome.
Working past the initial repulsive horror, I started comparing the coroner’s reports against the crime scene photos. As I laid out the phots in sequential order, the angles of the shots allowed me to follow the evidentiary collection of the crime scene techs. When I hit the last report, complete with photos, I sucked in a breath.
Captain Eric “Flash” Fowler.
My stomach cramped, but I carefully set the items in place. Hard didn’t begin to cover how it felt to see the familiar face spread across on the marred wooden surface. Absently, I rubbed the itchy sensation running along the scar lines on my neck. As difficult as it was, I spent a few minutes letting the chaotic mix of anger, grief, rage, and pain storm rage before clearing my head to focus.
Counting Kelsey, we were looking at eight confirmed victims and one missing person. Flash had been killed first. Then there was the two guards during Ellery’s escape mid-transport, before he focused on the joint team.
Sergeant Major Michael Layton was killed just over two months ago. Layton was Flash’s friend. I remember Flash mentioning they had a fishing trip planned once our last mission was in the box. Then, closing in on five weeks ago, Staff Sergeant Nathan Visic was found. Three weeks later, the bodies of First Sergeant Elizabeth Gaskey and Senior Chief Petty Officer Jeff Gomez, were discovered.
“What was Liza doing with Navy?” I asked.
“Dating,” Tag answered.
“Really? Wow, could’ve sworn hell would have frozen over before that happened.” Elizabeth had completed basic with me and Tag before joining a different team. Since women tended to disappear the higher you moved in the marines, we stayed in sporadic touch until we reconnected on our last assignment.
“Yeah, things were going really well, she was happy.”
Now she was dead, and, from what the pictures showed, it hadn’t come easy. After the guards, the crime scenes turn progressively more vicious and brutal, a sure sign Ellery was relishing the pain and agony of his victims. At least until Kelsey. As sickening as his actions were, at least he’d made it quick for her.
Staring at the mutilations listed on each report, I wasn’t sure I could have held it together if he had taken his time with her like he had with the rest. My hand shook as I pulled my notebook closer and began to make notes.
Based on locations, it seemed Ellery had been making the rounds of the west coast. When Jeff hadn’t reported back to base in San Diego after weekend leave, one of his buddies went to the Marina to check his boat. He found the savaged remains of Liza and Jeff instead. According to the coroner’s report, Liza’s eyes had been gouged out with a small blade. She then endured another day or two of torture before succumbing to her injuries. Jeff was just as bad. His body was a patchwork of third degree burns and various cuts.
Nate was found early in the morning, nailed to the side of a building in a seedier section of Coronado. Death arrived in a slit throat, but his body was riddled with various sharp objects, presumably pulled from a nearby trash bin. Pipes, nails, pens, glass—whatever could double as knife.
When Michael’s abandoned fishing boat was found stalled in the middle of San Francisco Bay, the Coast Guard called out a search. It took four days to recover his body. Even though the aquatic life used him as a buffet, it was determined his fingers had been removed prior to death. Additional burns and cuts were identified, leading to the conclusion that he, too, was tortured before death claimed him.
Finished with the reports, I reviewed my notes. Nothing much jumped out at me. Very little was found by way of trace evidence, which probably explained why, until he’d hooked up with me, Kayden hadn’t been certain it really was Ellery. As for me, I didn’t have any doubts. Every death in this file made it very clear Ellery was out for payback.
The guys had left me alone. Kayden keeping a low conversation with Tag as they sprawled on the couch. Whatever they were talking about didn’t slow Tag’s fingers as they flew over the laptop balanced on his legs. Needing more details than what was in the file, I cleared my throat to get their attention. Their conversation stopped and they both looked at me. “What were their abilities?”
Kayden answered first. “Liza was a pre-cog.” Catching my puzzlement, he clarified, “She was able to see possible future events. Mike healed by touch.”
“Nathan?”
“He could move small objects.”
“Telekinetic.” Nice to be able to name one psychic ability. Propping my arm on the table, I rested my chin in my hand, trying to wrap my head around a world where fortunetellers and healers were your next-door neighbors. “And Jeff?”
This time it was Tag who answered. “He didn’t have an ability.”
“He was collateral damage,” Kayden added, a grimness settling over his face.
My stomach sank. “Like Kelsey, then, an opportunity kill. Somebody to use to get what he wants.”
Trying to understand Ellery’s mind would require more information than what I currently had access to, so I really hoped Delacourt came prepared with some damn answers. In the meantime…I studied the impromptu timeline in front of me. Ellery escaped five months ago but killed Mike only a couple months back. “Why did Ellery wait so long?” I wondered aloud.
Kayden heard and asked, “For what?”
“To go after Mike.” I got up and started pacing between the table and the couch, doing my best to burn off some of my restlessness. On the couch, Tag continued working on his laptop, but Kayden shifted to watch me. I rubbed the back of my neck as I moved. “What was Ellery doing for three months?”
“Retrieving the missing information?” Kayden suggested.
It almost felt right. “Three months to pull it out from wherever he hid it? That seems a bit long.”
“Maybe, but remember, the investigators are pretty sure one of the guards managed to shoot him, so if he was injured, he’d have to hole up.”
“Okay, but if he was injured, wouldn’t he go after Mike first, then retrieve the information? If Ellery sucks up psychic abilities and Mike was a healer, wouldn’t Ellery be inclined to fix himself before moving on?”
“If Ellery was injured, there’s no way in hell he’d risk taking on Mike.” Tag didn’t bother looking up from his laptop. “Hand to hand, Mike could take almost anyone down.”
Shit, Tag was right. Besides fishing, Mike enjoyed moonlighting in bouts of mixed martial arts. Nixing that line of logic, I forged ahead. “Fine, let’s say it took Ellery a month to get his hands on the information. What’s his next move?”
“Selling it.” Kayden leaned back, tucked his hands behind his head and narrowed his gaze at the ceiling. “Chances are his initial buyers pulled out after things went tits up. We all know there’s no shortage of interested parties for experimental viral weapons, so it wouldn’t take much to set up new ones.”
True. “How long would that take?”
Tag lifted his head, his attention zeroing in on me as I paced. “Considering you have to get word out to attract the right kind of attention—”
“More like wrong kind of attention,” I corrected.
He grinned. “And you can’t rely on standard phone calls and emails, it could easily take a month or so to set up communications with middle men or with the buyers directly.” He shared a look with Kayden. “With what Ellery was offering, the need to stay under the radar would be vital to staying alive.”
I stopped and looked between the two men. “What am I missing?”
Kayden grimaced and Tag ducked his head, fingers resuming their dance over the keyboard.
Kayden finally spoke up. “Ask Delacourt.”
My hands went to my hips and I narrowed my gaze. “How much information is she holding?”
“Enough.” Kayden shot a look at the clock. “She’ll be here soon, so you can pester her to your heart’s content then.” He sat up and stretched. “In the meantime, I’m hungry. Let’s order dinner.”
Not the most subtle of conversation changers, but since I wasn’t sure my stomach could actually handle anything, I let them argue the merits of pizza versus hamburgers without chiming in. I went back to the table and my notebook, determined to get my questions ready.
Delacourt would be here soon, and when she showed up, I wanted answers.
Chapter 8
Sometime later, a sharp knock on the door jerked my head up and brought Tag and Kayden’s conversation to a halt. I shot a startled glance at the clock. Nine o’clock.
While I was still processing the interruption, Tag set his laptop on the coffee table, and then moved down the hall, gun down by his side. Kayden took up residence in the kitchen, just out of sight of the front door. A taut silence filled the cabin.
A second knock sounded, followed by a curt, “Gunderson, open up.”
As Tag undid the locks on the door, I scrambled to my feet. In the kitchen, Kayden tucked his gun into the waistband of his faded jeans and moved into the hall.
“Sir.” Respect colored Tag’s voice. I caught his movement through the kitchen opening as he stood aside letting our visitor step inside.
“Your dinner, I presume?” The rustle of paper bags preceded the aroma of grilled beef and French Fries.
Six months wasn’t long enough to squash my automatic response to the sound of Colonel Delacourt’s voice. By the time she entered the room, I was at parade rest with my face carefully blank.
At five foot seven, Delacourt had an inch on me, but her mere presence still made me feel small. Silver streaked her short cap of dark hair and there were more lines around her slightly tilted eyes. Somewhere along the line, Delacourt’s family boasted some Asian flare. In uniform or out, she breathed command. Ever since we first met on a dusty soccer field doubling as a temporary base, she intimidated me. However, thanks to the circumstances surrounding our last meeting, intimidation was no longer my primary emotional response.
“Arden.” The rough slide of her voice remained unchanged. “Nice to see you.”
Polite, I had to be polite. “Wish I could say the same, sir.” Okay, I’d settle for civil. “Considering the situation.” I winced at my lame attempt to temper my attitude.
Her lips twitched, and her unexpected sign of humor threw me for a loop. “Here.” She handed a large paper bag to Tag. “Don’t let me keep you from your dinner.” With her hands free, she shrugged a leather satchel from her shoulder.
Kayden and tucked the photos and papers into a hasty pile, making room for Tag to set out our food. With the file somewhat back together, I went to set it aside, only to stop when Delacourt held out her hand. “Do you mind?”
I handed it over. She commandeered the plush chair next to the couch. Its position allowing her to watch the three of us as we settled down to eat.
Before I could take a bite, the manners Becca spent years drumming into my head came to the fore. “Sir, would you like to join us? I won’t be able to eat all of this. You’re welcome to half of it.”
“No, thank you, I ate earlier.” She stopped straightening the papers in the file and looked up. Her lips twitched. “I’m no longer your commanding officer, Arden, I think we can dispense with the ‘sir’.”
“Yes, sir,” I mumbled, then proceeded to take a bite of my cheeseburger. My concern about not being able to eat proved unfounded when my stomach woke up with a low grumble.
For a few minutes the quiet of the cabin filled with the rustle of paper and hamburger wrappers, broken by the occasional, “Could you pass me that?”
“I suppose you have questions for me?” Delacourt’s voice burrowed past my preoccupation with my cheeseburger.
I swallowed my latest bite. “A few.” Wiping my face with tissue paper masquerading as a napkin, I pushed the other half of my dinner away, and then pulled over my list of questions.
Delacourt’s husky laugh brought my head up. “Nice to see some things never change.” She motioned to the notebook. “Your lists were infamous.”
Seriously? I shot Tag a look and sure enough, the man was grinning like a fool. I squirmed. “What? If I don’t write it down, I might forget what I wanted to ask.”
Ketchup covered French Fry half way to his mouth, he said, “And that would be a tragedy.”
“Bite me.” I turned my attention back to Delacourt and braced. My questions would serve as a test of sorts, a way to see how much information could I get out of her before she shut me down. “Okay, I need to go over a couple of things to make sure I have this straight.” Taking her nod as confirmation, I continued, “You identify potential psychics by a collection of personality tests given during recruitment?”
