THE GUARDIAN (Taskforce Series) (36 page)

Watching the officer put a knee into
Davis
’s spine and cuff him, it was all
Jackson
could do not chuckle with satisfaction. With all eyes focused on the activity on the blacktop, he stealthily retreated. No one had taken any special note of him.

As he turned toward the highway, his attention fell on the Amish man standing at the corner of Artie’s, watching the action from across the street. The protected soul had probably never witnessed an arrest before.

Relief lightened
Jackson
’s step as he raced down the quiet highway, running as fast as he ever had. The peach-colored sky and the cooler air lifted his spirits to new heights as he pictured Lena’s overjoyed response to
Davis
’s arrest. As long as the new evidence that had come to light kept Davis behind bars, Jackson had reason to believe she might finally let go of the past and concentrate on the future—
their
future together.

Turning off the highway, he sprinted beneath the power lines. On either side of the cleared track, the last rays of sunlight turned the leaves of the trees to green flame, but the trunks were already lost in shadow. He didn’t immediately see Toby until the ATF agent detached himself from a tree trunk to intersect his path. If he was carrying his air soft gun,
Jackson
couldn’t see it
.

An earring glinted in Toby’s left earlobe. Today his T-shirt read:
I HEAR VOICES IN MY HEAD, AND THEY DON’T LIKE YOU. .

Jackson
stopped in front of him, holding up a finger for Toby to let him catch his breath. He put his hands on his knees for a moment and then straightened. “Okay. What’s going on?”

“The warrants are being processed. We’re arresting the imams tomorrow,” Toby announced straight-faced
.

“Why don’t you look happy?”
Jackson
asked with suspicion
.

“The Attorney General wants to make a public example of the leaders, so guess who he’s bringing with him.”

No.
Jackson
balled his hands into fists. “The press,” he guessed, with sudden misgivings.

“You got it.”

Arresting a religious leader on sacred property was contentious enough without the media getting involved.
Jackson
shook his head. “I can’t see Ike agreeing to that.”   

“The AG’s pulling rank on him,” Toby answered. “He thinks we’ll crush the morale of Ibrahim’s followers by filming his humiliation.”

“That’s just going to piss them off,”
Jackson
declared.

“Our thoughts exactly.”

Jackson
sighed. “What can I do?” 

“Ike wants you to stay put in case something goes wrong. Once the imams are in custody, head toward the highway, keeping clear of the press, and I’ll pick you up there. We don’t want your face on the six o’clock news.”

“What time tomorrow?” Anticipation kept
Jackson
’s pulse elevated. The end could not come soon enough. By tomorrow night he might be home with his daughter, reunited with
Lena
.

“Mid-afternoon.”

“Cool. I’ll be ready. Listen, I need you to tell
Lena
something for me,” he requested, recalling recent events
.

“What’s that?”

“
Davis
was just arrested for the murder of her sister.”

Toby’s eyebrows shot up. “No shit. How’d that happen?”

“Some new evidence came to light. I have no idea what. Maybe she can find out. Can you give her a call?”

“Sure,” Toby promised.

“Tell her—”
Jackson
’s chest swelled with longing as he recalled her devastation last night, the way she’d blamed him for ruining her plans. He wished he knew what to say to make amends, to ensure that she kept her promise to be with him again. “Tell her I love her,” he muttered hoarsely, his face hot with chagrin.

Toby cringed. “You’re such a sap, Jack. I’ll tell her about
Davis
, but I am
not
telling her you love her.
Yich
.”

Jackson
exhaled heavily. “Fine. Just tell her about
Davis
.”

“Will do. Keep your head in the game a little longer, man. You’re almost home free.” Toby clapped him on the shoulder, spun him around, and gave him a push back in the direction of Gateway.

Anticipating the sting of a pellet from Toby’s airsoft gun,
Jackson
bolted, only it never came.

Once safely out of range, he tried slowing his pace so he wouldn’t tire early but it felt as if his shoes had sprouted wings. He couldn’t even hear his footfalls over the sawing cicadas. By this time tomorrow, he’d be reunited with Naomi. And if
Magdalena
agreed to become part of that picture, his family would finally be complete.

**

Lena
gripped her steering wheel with white knuckled hands as she turned into Artie’s parking lot. She would never have guessed she would be returning to the site of her undercover job a mere two days after walking away from it.

But Toby’s phone call last night alerting her to Rupert Davis’s arrest had led to a phone conversation with the Metropolitan Police. After hours of wrangling with them and enlisting her friend at the DA to help convince them she was on the side of the prosecution, they’d shared the evidence that had prompted
Davis
’s arrest.

Curtis Vandaloo, the troubled teen who’d seen
Davis
drive off with Alexa in his squad car, had emerged from hiding to reiterate his allegations. But even more astonishing still, he’d been living all that time within the Amish community of Mechanicsville. His relatives had fled there from
Pennsylvania
out of fear that
Davis
might track them down.

Lena
had known the name Vandaloo was Dutch, but at nineteen years of age she hadn’t considered it might be Pennsylvania Dutch, otherwise known as Amish. Little wonder the PI’s she’d hired hadn’t been able to find them, especially when the Vandaloos had moved from one Amish community to another and Seth had changed his first name.

Even with her honed investigative skills,
Lena
would never have guessed that Curtis was now Seth, a man she had come into contact with daily. The odds were impossible; the telltale signs only evident in hindsight. Having recognized
Davis
the other night, Seth/Curtis had found the moral strength to do what was right and to declare his allegations to the local police, who’d immediately contacted the authorities in D.C.

Lena
nosed her Jaguar into her old parking spot and stepped out into the oppressive heat. Across the street, Gateway stood quiet, its occupants cloistered inside to escape the humidity. Ignoring the fact that she could still
feel
Jackson’s presence, even with the space—real and emotional—between them, Lena shouldered her purse and walked bravely into the convenience store.

At her entrance, Bill looked up from the hotdogs he was setting on the grill. He sent her an incredulous look. “I’m surprised to see you here,” he admitted stiffly
.

His words sparked shame. “I’m so sorry, Bill. I never meant to leave without giving any notice.” She looked up at him, then, revealing the bruises on her neck that had gone from blue to violet and yellow.

His jaw dropped and his eyes bulged. “Is that the reason—?” He was too appalled to even finish his sentence.

“I was attacked by a man,” she affirmed. “Behind the store,” she added, bending the truth to suit her purposes. “I didn’t want to tell you because I didn’t have any proof. Maybe if the camera hadn’t been broken. . .” Plagued by her conscience, she left it at that.

He launched into a stream of apologies.

“Please.” She lifted a hand to forestall him. “That’s not why I’m here. I need to find Seth, the Amish man,” she told him. “It’s personal,” she added, loath to explain.

Bill’s brow furrowed with confusion. But he didn’t question her reasons for wanting to find Seth. Jotting directions on the back of a receipt, he urged her to report the incident and not take matters into her own hands.

“It wasn’t Seth,” she assured him, prompting a look of relief. With a word of gratitude and well-wishes for the future, she headed out the store to her car. As she pulled from the parking lot onto the country road headed away from Gateway, she cast a wistful glance in her rearview mirror.

Be safe, Jackson
, she silently willed.

And then she turned her thoughts to Curtis Vandaloo, wondering how he would respond when she told him who she was. Her intent was two-fold: to thank him in person for finally coming forward, and to make sure he didn’t fail in his obligation to Alexa a second time.

Chapter Eighteen

“What’s wrong witchu?” Muhammed hissed as
Jackson
’s elbow jabbed him in the arm
.

“Sorry.” The men were all seated in a half circle in Ibrahim’s office, and he’d been heedlessly stretching in his seat unable to subdue his restlessness. Listening to the delusional imam rant on and on about Judgment Day, while saying nothing of any actual significance was like hearing fingernails being dragged over a chalkboard.
Jackson
would rather be waterboarded than be tortured this way
.

“Most of this bloodshed will take place in the South, far North and far West,” Ibrahim read, citing a passage from the Supreme Lessons. “The West will be the fountain of dripping blood and insanity, murder, rape, and a hundred percent total violence.”

Jackson
wanted to raise his hand and ask,
When you say South, North, and West, do you mean across the country or just in the nation’s capital? 
But Mr. Rakeem had warned him that a soldier should not ask questions, so he kept his mouth shut.

Besides, in a matter of hours, now, he would be free of Gateway, and Ibrahim and his sidekick, Zakariya, would be sharing their visions in a jail cell.

“Only the Muslim who has taken it upon himself to learn, listen and be completely righteous will survive the Day of Judgment,” Ibrahim continued. “Just because you aspire to join the Five Percent, it does not make you righteous. There is only one man in this room who is truly enlightened—your teacher and redeemer.” He laid his hand on his chest.

“Yes, Imam,” some of the men affirmed, but not Corey,
Jackson
noted. Corey kept his mouth shut, his face expressionless.

At that exact moment,
Jackson
was delighted to hear a disturbance in the hallway. Frantic knocking sounded at the door.

“Come in!” Ibrahim called, clearly annoyed by the interruption.

Nadim peered anxiously into the office. “Sorry to disturb you, Imam, but Zakariya sent me to get you. There’s police at the door.”

“What next?” Throwing his hands into the air, Ibrahim stalked out of the office. The parolees looked at one another then vaulted out of their chairs to chase him down the hall.
Jackson
was right behind them.