Time to Run (25 page)

Emptying his lungs to one-quarter capacity, Chase withdrew from the vehicle and sank to the bottom, so that he could creep, hand over hand, up the rocks lining the shallow end. Approaching as close as he could without exposing himself, he lifted his eyes out of the water and peered over the grassy bank to locate the buck rifle.

It wasn't as close to the water as he'd hoped.

He could hear Hannah reasoning with Garret to throw down his gun, dangling the carrot of an insanity plea. The helicopter must have moved away to make negotiations feasible.

"Insanity plea," Garret scoffed with innate arrogance. "I assure you, Agent Whoever-you-are, that I know exactly what I'm doing."

"You're a lawyer," she reminded him. "Why not settle this matter by legal means instead of criminal ones?"

"Because the law does not allow for justice," he shouted back. "The criminal here is my wife. I am the law, and I insist on justice being served."

Very slowly, Chase rose from the water to creep toward the rifle. Thankfully, Garret's raised arm blocked him from the man's peripheral view. But Kendal, peering pale-faced and wide-eyed out the truck's window caught sight of him.

Chase put a finger to his mouth.
Don't tell.
He signaled for Kendal to duck down.

Fuck, he'd never killed a man in front of a kid before and never that kid's father. A nauseating chill swept over him. He recognized it as the onset of shock, which was not a good sign. Shock was supposed to come
after,
not during the mission.

To his great relief, Kendal melted out of sight.

Inch by inch Chase slid through the grass. Water streamed silently from his clothing. The buck rifle still lay several feet away. He stretched an arm toward it, hoping it was loaded, that it wasn't jammed. If his own SIG could have tolerated water submersion, then Garret would be dead already.

"You are not the law, Captain Garret," Hannah persisted, speaking to Garret from behind her car door, where she crouched. "You are a lawyer for the Judge Advocate General of the United States Navy, and you have sworn to uphold the law, which makes murder a crime."

"In my house, I am the law," Garret ranted. "I expected fidelity and obedience, and I was betrayed—"

"There are laws bigger than your laws," Hannah interrupted, trying intentionally to keep him arguing, to give Chase just five more seconds.

"Not if the law can't touch me."

Chase recognized the tone of a man on the verge of an irreversible act. With the buck rifle still inches away, he dove for it, fingers sliding into position around the handle as he hefted it, aimed, and fired—
bam!
—straight into Garret's temple, flinging the man off his feet. Sara went with him, and as they hit the ground, Garret's gun discharged.

No!
Chase scrambled to his feet. His heart had stopped beating, and his legs felt unwieldy as he sprinted to where they lay. Garret's body pinned Sara's to the ground, yet for the life of him, Chase couldn't simply lean over and thrust the man aside.

Because what if he found Sara dead?

Hannah and Dean caught up to him. They were the ones to haul Garret aside. Sara gazed up at them, eyes staring, mouth open, absolutely silent. But then she coughed and blinked, and Chase's knees buckled.

He hit the ground next to her, grabbed her up into his arms, and rocked her like a baby, moaning "Oh, God. Oh, God."

"Are you hurt?" Hannah asked, flicking him a strange look.

"No," Sara wheezed. "Just lost my breath," she explained, lapsing into hacking coughs.

"I'm surprised his gun fired at all," Cannard commented, noting the water that dripped from the barrel as he examined it.

Hannah shifted her attention to the truck, where Kendal was locked inside. "Hey, buddy," she crooned, stepping over to reassure him. "You're safe now. You want to come out?"

The lock clicked open and Kendal stepped out, falling to his knees, apparently subject to the same affliction Chase suffered. "Mama," he croaked, crawling toward them.

Hannah stepped in front of Garret's body, shielding it from Kendal's view. That sobered Chase right up. He didn't want Sara or her Kendal glimpsing the hole in Garret's head.

"Let's move," he said, coming unsteadily to his feet.

They crossed the road in a huddle, leaving Hannah and Dean to notify the Wagoner police that the threat had been neutralized.

They collapsed as a unit near the spot where Chase had crawled from the water. He put his back to a tree and pulled Sara closer. "You're soaking wet," she whispered, clutching him all the same. Kendal, meanwhile, tried to crawl in her lap.

Endeavoring to overcome his shock, Chase gazed up at the branches overhead. Bright yellow leaves fluttered beneath a flawless sky.

This was supposed to be where the story ended, where boy got girl (and a great kid, too.) If the world could just stop turning, right now, he'd have more than he ever deserved.

But it wouldn't. It would just keep spinning, turning one day into the next, forcing Chase to leave, to answer the commitment that called him back.

Hard, cold reality kept his heart congealed in ice.

He sniffed and looked down, into Sara's achingly beautiful eyes.

"I knew when I saw you, that everything would be all right," she whispered. "Is he ... ?"

"Yes."

He could tell by the shock in her eyes that it would take time for her to process that reality. "You shot him," she realized.

He flicked a look at Kendal, who regarded him with acceptance, not with condemnation.

"I did what I had to do to keep you alive."

"Thank you," she breathed, tears swimming in her eyes. "I was so afraid. It was worse than my biggest nightmare."

"Yes, it was," he agreed.

"But it's over now," she told herself. He could tell that it would take her a while to accept that also. Next, she'd think that she was free to love him, to have a life with him.

For a second, he allowed himself a glimpse into her fantasy. What would it be like, enjoying home-cooked meals instead of cold MREs because lighting a Sterno meant risking detection? Sleeping in his mother's bed with Sara's soft body tucked against his instead of sleeping on the unyielding ground.

The screaming of sirens chased the vision from Chase's mind. If only it didn't have to be one or the other, but it did. He couldn't be in love and be a sniper. That was never more obvious than this afternoon, when terror had held him in its grip, practically paralyzing him. He'd felt more vulnerable than at any time in his life.

Nothing used to touch him when he did his job. What if he couldn't get that feeling back, that apathy that overtook him just as the enemy stepped into his line of fire?

The thought of feeling this way forever was unthinkable.

With the story of Garret's violent death making the front page of the
Daily Ledger,
Sara decided to keep Kendal home from school. She drove him, instead, to the school administration building on Main Street to explain, straight to the superintendent of schools, the circumstances that had led her to falsifying their identities. She'd asked Chase to accompany them, but he'd said that Hannah needed his help in filling out a report.

The meeting had taken up most of the morning, but the result was just what Sara'd hoped for: forgiveness and understanding on the part of the community.

As she ushered Kendal out into fall sunshine and into Chase's car, she took a second to absorb the atmosphere of the town she'd chosen to remain in. The quaint saloon-style buildings and the churches lining the streets reassured her that, aside from the violent protest of a handful of skinheads, this was a wholesome place for her to raise her son. In this American heartland, they would leave past horrors behind and look forward to happier moments.

Only to herself did Sara admit that her happiness stemmed from her love of Chase, who had yet to mention his departure. He'd kept protectively close all evening. Last night, he'd made love to Sara twice, so tenderly that tears of relief had stung her eyes.

It was only a matter of time before he whispered the words that she felt in his touch:
I
love you.
Any moment now he'd ask her to wait for him, which she would gladly do, though four years was an awfully long time. Perhaps he'd be able to visit to ease—not just her loneliness—but Kendal's, also.

The years would seem unending.

And yet, it would all be worthwhile one day, when Chase retired from the Navy. When he came home for good.

Leaving the tree-lined town behind, Sara took the shortest route to the ranch, down Eighty-first Street, through four miles of farmland to Oak Grove Road. Eager to spend every precious minute left with Chase, she zipped into the driveway, sheathed by trees of every color. A sudden sense of isolation crept over her, accompanied by the sudden certainty that Chase was gone.

Panic made her depress the accelerator. Surely his excuse this morning wasn't a lie. He wouldn't leave without saying good-bye! And what about his car?

The trees gave way to grass. There was no way to tell if Chase was in the house or not. She braked by the front porch, jumping out to run up the steps, tear open the screen door, and reach for the handle. The door was locked.

With a heavy heart, she unlocked it, pushed into the house, and called his name.

Just as she suspected, he did not reply.

A sheet of paper sitting on the kitchen counter caught her eye. Sara picked it up reluctantly and read the message written in neat, block letters.

GOT A RIDE TO THE AIRPORT WITH HANNAH. SORRY, BUT I DON'T KNOW HOW TO SAY GOOD-BYE. DON'T WAIT FOR ME, SARA. I CAN'T DO MY JOB IF I'M THINKING ABOUT YOU.

Each abrupt statement tore at the seams of her heart. How could she have been so wrong about him? Not only did he not want her to wait, but he couldn't even spare the time to think about her?

With a strangled cry, she balled the letter in her fists. At the same time, the true meaning of his words filtered through her consciousness. It wasn't that he wouldn't think about her; it was rather that he was
afraid
to think about her, as she'd accused him the other day. Thinking of her kept him from doing his job, ruthlessly and efficiently, the way a good sniper ought to.

The truth was, she'd resuscitated his heart, and now he had to carry it out into the field, where having a heart made him vulnerable.
Oh, Chase.

"Where's Chase, Mom?"

Sara spun around as Kendal stepped into the room.

Striving for composure, she hid the balled note in her hand. "He had to leave, sweetheart," she said, amazed that she could sound so composed. But Kendal's stunned expression had her reliving her own shock. "He didn't have a choice," she added, her heart protesting the words.

He did have a choice. He could have chosen love.

"But he didn't say good-bye!" Kendal cried, his eyes welling up with tears.

If Chase could see Kendal's pain, he'd be heartsick.

It was that realization that made her defend him. "Some people have trouble saying good-bye, sweetheart, because it hurts so much."

Kendal whirled and fled, slamming out of the doors he'd just entered.

With tears blurring her vision, Sara uncrumpled the note and read it again, hunting for a message of hope.

Don't wait for me.
There wasn't any hope in that.

Leaving the note on the counter, she followed Kendal outside, where she sank onto the step she'd shared with Chase that fateful night he'd told her what he did. Not even the pots of colorful flowers could comfort her.

The 747 passenger jet was starting its descent into the Norfolk Airport before Chase opened his eyes. He stretched his arms overhead, grateful for the space to do so. Hannah had bought him a first-class seat next to hers, using her frequent flyer miles.

She shot him an irritated glare. "I didn't think anybody but Luther could sleep on an airplane," she groused. "Thanks for keeping me entertained."

"No problem." Shit, here came the conversation that he didn't want to have. He counted the seconds to see how long it would take for Hannah to broach the subject of him and Sara.

One, two, three
—

"Look, I know you're used to your freedom, Chase, but I don't understand your refusal to have a relationship. If Luther and I can make it work, then so can you."

"Luther's not a sniper," he said, very quietly. He didn't have the kind of job to be talked about out loud.

"No, but we spend a lot of time apart. The key is communication. You have a cell phone that works anywhere in the world. So your phone bill goes through the roof. It's worth it, isn't it?"

"It's not about time apart," Chase said, feeling a scowl come on.

Hannah looked at him. "Well, what's the problem then?"

Every bone in his body could feel Sara slipping farther away from him. Where was the relief he was looking for?

Hannah sighed. "You know what I think it is? I think you're afraid," she taunted.

Not her, too.
Chase looked out the window. How long was it going to take this plane to land?

"Fine, go into one of your silent sulks," Hannah added, when it was clear that he wasn't going to talk. "I just hate seeing you alone, that's all."

Sara's words returned to him.
You're not alone. We're here waiting for you.

Fuck.
Swallowing the knot in his throat, Chase turned his head to look at Hannah's profile. "I don't mind bein' alone," he reassured her. It hurt a lot less than being connected. He was counting on that.

She slanted him a pitying look. "Okay, but just remember, you're allowed to change your mind."

Prajuk Somchai was hard to kill. The man had a rash of bodyguards who kept constant vigil over him. He slept in a high-rise apartment in Bangkok, with no balconies and no taller buildings anywhere in the vicinity.

The four-man squad from Team Twelve had been in the steamy third world city for a week, waiting for the opportunity to terminate the leader of Thailand's notorious Golden Triangle. Killing the heroin king was the first step in crippling the elaborate organization.