Save Me (2 page)
“Did you see the news?” Ray Barnes asks Amy, as they sit down for breakfast. She looks at him and smiles before shaking her head in between bites of her breakfast.
“No, I fell asleep reading my book last night.” She absentmindedly rubs at a spot on her forehead and laughs. “I think my tablet smacked me in the face.”
“Oh, it did. I can see some bruising there. You may want to cover that up before you go out today. I don’t want anyone thinking I hit you.” He laughs, as he lightly grazes the colored spot on her forehead. Amy knows the last thing he would to is hurt his wife, but living in a small town, simple things like bruises cause people to talk and neither of them want to be topic of conversation at the lunch counter. People know them, and people like to talk, even if Ray is a respected history teacher. Amy has been working at the general store for four years, her second job since moving to Pittsfield. She keeps a low profile and intends to keep it status quo.
Laughing, Amy bats his hand away. “What was on the news that caught your attention?” She stands and carries her empty plate to the sink, turning the faucet on to let the water push the crumbs left over from her toast down the drain.
“Hold on, I’m trying to find it.” Amy walks over to stand behind her husband, resting her hand on his shoulder. Ray opens a web browser on this tablet and types in N-A-V-Y in the search bar before Amy has to move away. Setting her hand over the top of her pink sweater, she tries to calm the discomfort in her stomach. Amy doesn’t want to know what her husband watched last night on the news, but the mention of Navy anything is enough to give her heartburn. She walks back to the sink, holding the edge of their marble counter, taking deep breaths to calm herself down.
“Hmm … I can’t find it. I thought for sure it would be on here,” he states much to Amy’s relief. There was a time in her life when the Navy was everything, but then— No, she can’t think about that right now. That was another life, another time.
“Maybe it’ll be in the paper today. You can show me then.” Her words are choppy.
It’s just small conversation
, she reminds herself, but her gut is telling her something else.
“It seems there’s a massive conspiracy going on.”
Her tongue feels like it is three inches thicker than it should be. “Hmm,” is all she manages to say.
Amy closes her eyes at her husband’s assumptions, praying he’ll leave it alone, hoping that by the time he returns he’ll have forgotten. But knowing Ray, he’ll bring it up down at the store and someone will have seen something and they’ll start talking. It’ll be all anyone talks about until the next conspiracy comes along. Living in a small town in Vermont, people have too much time on their hands and nothing much to talk about.
“I’m sure it’s nothing,” Amy says dismissively as she starts filling the sink up with hot water and soap to wash the morning dishes. Dipping her hands in, she picks up Chloe’s cereal bowl and starts washing while listening to her husband argue with his tablet.
“Well it’s definitely something to think about with our military, and something I’d like to teach in class. Anyway, it was about a Navy SEAL who was reported dead, but they found him alive. Damn, I really wish I could find it.”
The moment Ray mentions the words SEAL, dead and alive, the bowl slips from her hand, smashing against the side of the sink and shattering into pieces.
“Shit,” she mumbles, reaching for a towel.
“Are you okay?” Ray asks, immediately at her side and helping her pick up the pieces.
“Um … yeah,” she says, catching her breath. “The bowl slipped. Don’t worry about the mess. Go on, get to work.” Amy pats the back of her husband’s back, encouraging him to leave. “You’re both going to be late.” She didn’t know if her suspicions were right, but wanted Ray and Chloe out of the house as soon as possible.
“We’ll see you later.” Ray kisses his wife briefly on the lips before reaching for his school bag and car keys. “Chloe, let’s go,” he hollers.
Their nine year old comes thumping down their stairs, kissing her mom before following her dad out the door. Amy moves to the window, watching the car, which carries her reason for being, drive down the gravel and dirt driveway. Once they’re out of sight, she lets the tears flow as the panic she had learned to control lets loose.
Picking up her tablet, Amy rushes up the stairs to her bedroom and right into her bathroom, locking the door behind her. She turns on the shower, even though she has no intentions of getting in there right now. The moment her tablet comes to life, she clicks on her web application and types in F-O-U-R-N-A-V-Y-S-E-A-L-S-D-I-E-I-N-C-U-B-A. Her finger hovers over the search button as tears stream down her cheeks. It’s been years since she’s searched this article. Her thumb grazes the button ever so slightly as her eyes close. She’s not sure what she’s going to do if there’s a new link. She opens one eye then the other to read the first line.
Four of Coronado’s Finest Perish in Cuba
Amy lets out a labored breath. If Ray had heard the story right her search should’ve brought up an alternate link in the news category, but there is nothing. She closes her screen and sets her tablet on the counter before disrobing and climbing into the shower. It’s there, under the loudness of water where her voice can be muffled, that she lets out a body-shaking scream and vows to make Ray forget about what he heard.
Six Months Later
THE WHIZ OF CARS accelerating as they merge onto the interstate can be heard through the paper-thin walls. When I first arrived at the run down building I thought for sure I had the address wrong. There is no way someone as distinguished as Carole Clarke, the future mother-in-law to my best friend, Evan Archer, would know or visit a place in the run down part of Seattle. Yet, Carole has raved about her friend, Marley Johnson, being the best private investigator in the business, which is why I’m here. I need the best. I never thought about hiring a woman until Carole made a comment that women think alike and insinuated that a woman looking for a woman might be better. At this point, I have nothing to lose.
Marley’s office is different from the others. Hers is cheery with brightly painted walls, flowers, and has a homey feel. The other offices I’ve been to felt more like a bad
Colombo
movie, and at any moment I expected the overhanging lights to start moving back and forth, but not here. Here it feels like Marley is going to give a shit about my plight and help me find my family.
I find myself sitting up straighter when the door opens and Marley walks in. She’s of average height and slightly slender, reminding me of Penny. I do that often; pick out features of woman I’m staring at who pass me on the street, in parks, and the grocery store, looking for any hint that they might be my wife. Each time I see a woman with brown eyes it makes me wonder if she’s Penny with a wig, or had plastic surgery. Deep down I know Penny would try Botox or color her hair, but not her eyes. She’d never change those. They’re the only part of our daughter, Claire, that she shares with her. The most important part as far as I’m concerned.
Marley sits down and smiles at me. It’s not one of those, “I feel sorry for you”, but a genuine “I’m happy you’re here” type smiles. I try to return the gesture, but its been so long since I’ve smiled that the muscles in my face are permanently frowning. My life, for the past six years, has been spent in the confines of hell, hunting men who I’ve always vowed to protect my daughter from. When I came home all I wanted to do was crawl into my king size bed and have the loves of my life hold me and never let go.
Instead, I came home to a house that was no longer mine. When I opened the door and walked in, like I did all those times before, I stood there wondering why Penny hadn’t told me that she bought new furniture. After I set my bag down on the coffee table, I went to the wall to look at the pictures Penny had hung up, only to find that I didn’t remember any of the people in the photos. The familiar sound of a gun being cocked caught my attention. I slowly turned around with my hands up in the air to stare down the barrel of a shotgun. It was that moment when everything changed for me. The six years I had been gone didn’t matter anymore.
“Hello, Tucker,” Marley says in a sweet and calm voice. I find it comforting, much like when Ryley, Evan’s fiancée, promises that everything is going to be okay and reminds me that I have to have faith.
“Ma’am,” I say, clearing my voice. For the past six months, I have been living where I can. Being dead for six years and suddenly coming back to life—or returning from your unclassified mission—makes it hard to acclimatize yourself back into the community. With no driver’s license, birth certificate, or any proof of who I am, it’s hard to find a place to live. One would think that the United States Navy would provide me with a place to stay on base, but that hasn’t been the case. In fact, as far as they’re concerned, I don’t exist. Unfortunately for the USN, I refuse to accept the fact that I’m not a SEAL. I’ve worked too hard to obtain that title and I’m not about to let it go because Admiral Jonah Ingram is a corrupt bastard.
“A little about me,” Marley starts. “My specialty is finding the parents who have kidnapped their child.”
“Penny didn’t kidnap Claire,” I interject.
Marley holds her hand up, asking to continue. I nod, and slink back in the chair as if my teacher has reprimanded me for talking out of turn.
“According to your file, you came home from a mission to find your wife and daughter missing. What makes you think this isn’t a parental kidnapping?”
I adjust awkwardly in my chair and try to rein in my temper. Ever since my return the littlest things set me off and I often find myself blowing up. I know, deep down, these are questions that have to be asked, but I hate them nonetheless. I also know my story is unbelievable, especially considering the lack of media attention surrounding it. It was only after Senator Lawson and Admiral Ingram were arrested, that the team became primetime news, but the story never went national. As far as the team was concerned, it was too late to make up for the lack of coverage when we all came home. What made it all worse was the one man who tried to bring attention to our return was found dead. Someone has been making sure this story stays buried.
“I’m a SEAL, stationed out of Coronado. My Team was deployed, and when I came home, she was gone. Not just gone, someone else was living in our house.” I keep the amount of years I’ve been away to myself, knowing that as soon as I tell her it’s been six years there will be skepticism in Marley’s features and I’m so tired of seeing it.
“It’s common for wives of servicemen to leave once their husbands deploy. I’ve seen it before.”
I shake my head. “Ma’am, have you heard about the four SEALs that returned after a six-year mission?”
Marley shakes her head, but leans forward, acting interested in my story. “Of course you haven’t.” I sigh and clear my throat. “My team …” Even though I’ve told this story two other times, it doesn’t get any easier. No one believes me and the burden of proof falls on me. “Six years ago we were deployed and four months in, our families were told we were killed in action. Six months ago, we returned home.”
Marley’s mouth drops open, hanging there for a moment. She sits back in her chair, with her pen between her fingers, tapping it on her pad of paper.
“Let me get this straight,” she says, leaning forward in her chair. “Four Navy SEALs went on a mission, something I’m sure you do more often than I know, and your families were told you were dead only for you to come home six years later?”
I blanch at her words, but nod. The way she says it makes me think she’s pitching the next Tom Clancy movie.