Everything I Die For Read online

  Adam sent a quick glance in the strangers’ direction, then returned his visual scrutiny to Elisabeth. “It might be due to seeing you arrive home by means of an ambulance…though I am grateful it wasn’t as a patient.” A pause. “Where’s the car?”

  Elisabeth grumbled. “Where’s the car? That’s a heck of a way to greet your wife after not seeing her for nearly two days.”

  Adam fumbled at his folly, though he was cognizant as to why he’d committed it. He tried softening his tone. “You’re right, Liz…I’m sorry. I missed you and I’m very glad you’re home.” He sent another look to the couple on approach behind her, realizing now that they were both towing and carrying luggage. “You look exhausted.”

  “I am exhausted,” Elisabeth said with a sigh. “And it’s good to finally be home. I need sleep…I can’t wait to lie down.”

  “We should talk before you do.” Adam paused a long moment to allow their guests to join them. He sent them a smile and a fleeting nod.

  “What about?” Elisabeth dropped her backpack, one she’d regularly termed as her ‘jump bag’, to the grass and eyed him crossly. “You’re still wondering about the car, aren’t you? For God’s sake, Adam…it’s still at the hospital, parked in the garage, right where I left it.” She sighed exhaustedly. “I would’ve gone back to get it, but Brad got a call at the last second and couldn’t take us that far west. It’s not a big deal…we can just pick it up later.” Elisabeth motioned to the couple to her aft, only now realizing their immediacy. “This is Kathrine Donovan and her husband, Joel. Joel, Kathrine, I’d like you to meet my husband, Adam.” She glared irritably at him with all the energy she had left. “He’s very pleased to meet you.”

  Adam took a moment to shake both visitors’ hands as Elisabeth reached for her jump bag and stormed away. “Adam Young,” he said, trying his best to be hospitable, though it wasn’t his main concern. He hurriedly excused himself and chased down his wife as she neared the porch, stopped her and whispered in her ear, “Liz, what’s the deal here? You’ve never before brought strangers home with you after a shift. I’m sure they’re…nice, but who are they?”

  “Keep your voice down,” Elisabeth instructed in a matching undertone. “And yes, they are nice people. They were in an accident not far from here. They totaled their vehicle and didn’t have any way to leave. They didn’t even have a cell phone to call anyone, so I offered them a ride.”

  “You offered them a ride?”

  “Yes.”

  “A ride here. To our home?”

  “Yes.”

  “That’s new,” said Adam snidely.

  “Stop it. I felt bad for them,” Elisabeth added. “At first, the plan was to take me and them farther west, but it fell through, for the same reason I couldn’t get the precious car home. I told them we could take them where they needed to go after we got here.” She sent Joel and Kathrine a counterfeited smile, then cut her eyes at Adam. “Seriously, what did you think? That I brought home some random couple to spice up our life in the bedroom?”

  One of Adam’s brows elevated. “That thought never occurred to me.”

  “Pig.” Elisabeth stomped to the front door and opened it, then held it ajar, while making it clear she wasn’t doing so for her husband. “Joel, Kathrine, please come in and make yourselves at home. I’m certain once Adam reaches a stopping point with whatever he’s wasting his time on, he’ll be more than happy to take you wherever you need to go, like I promised.” She sent Adam one final, fractious look before disappearing inside.

  Adam’s face contorted. He turned to his visitors and beckoned for them to come near, then held out his hands to offer an apology, an explanation, or something. “Look, I’m sorry about…this. My wife and I…we…well, it’s not our…my intention to appear unwelcoming. It’s just that you’re being here has come as a bit of a surprise.”

  “It really isn’t a problem,” the brunette said with a glowing smile, nudging her partner’s elbow with her own. “My husband and I are not strangers to the eccentricities of marriage.”

  “Please don’t mind us,” the man said. “We’re fine, but it looks like the two of you might need to chat this one out. If it’s okay with you, we’ll just wait outside until the coast is clear.”

  Adam shook his head. “Nonsense. Please come inside and take a load off. I’m sure it will only take a moment.”

  Adam led the couple inside and gestured to the furniture in the living room, then proceeded down the hall behind Elisabeth. Before she could close the bedroom door on him, he slid inside and secured the door behind him. “Liz, I get it. I know you’re tired. But we really should talk before you go dark.”

  Elisabeth fell face-first to the bed. “Oh God, Adam, talk about what? I can’t even begin to put into words how tired I am, so whatever it is, can it please wait?”

  “No, Liz. It can’t please wait. I feel like I’m hanging by my last nerve…this house has been a damn circus since you were last here.”

  “Oh, trust me, I could see that the moment I stepped inside,” Elisabeth quipped. “It’ll probably take me a week to clean up the mess made in my absence. It looks like a bomb went off while I was gone.”

  If you only knew, Adam thought. “Come on…it’s not that bad.”

  Elisabeth rolled her head to eyeball him. “Yes, Adam, it is. It’s always that bad. It’s the same scenario with you and the kids every time I leave the house for more than a few hours. I always come home to an absolute disaster. The house is a…gosh darn mess, and I’m just too tired to give a crap right now.”

  Adam hesitated at the notion of informing his wife of even more bad news. “Well, maybe you’ll change your mind about giving a crap when you hear this. Chris is gone again.”

  Elisabeth burrowed her head into the duvet and shuddered. “What? Gone? You have to be kidding me. Why did he leave this time? And why did you let him go?”

  “I didn’t let him go. He snuck out without me knowing.”

  “Adam, how could you possibly not know that he left? Did you ever think to check on him?”

  “No, I guess I didn’t.”

  “That’s right. Because that’s a mother’s job, isn’t it?”

  “I never said that.”

  “You don’t have to.” Elisabeth rose slowly to her feet, staggered to her dresser, and pulled out a set of flannel pajamas. She tossed them to the bed and, with both arms, pushed Adam toward the door. “Please, I’m begging you. I’m in desperate need of rest, so let me sleep for a while. Just handle it—handle everything. And I don’t care how, just do it. You’re an adult, capable of adulting same as me.”

  “Liz…”

  “Find our son, Adam. And when you do, ground him. And please be kind enough to drive those nice people to the other side of town. Don’t make them wait. It’ll only take a few minutes of your precious time—which you normally spend with your head buried in a computer screen.” She reached for the door, opened it, and shoved Adam into the hallway.

  He shrugged and stood there a moment, shaking his head at his closed bedroom door before finally giving up, even though every ounce of his being was telling him not to.

  On his way back to the living room to rejoin his unannounced guests, Violet intercepted him with a look on her face Adam couldn’t discern, but then again, he wasn’t so inclined. He moved past her, ready to address the couple and offer what his wife had promised, but Violet had other plans in mind.

  She reached outward, slapping her palms to the walls in near-dramatic fashion, blocking his path. “Dad—I kind of really need to talk to you about something.”

  “I haven’t the faintest what it could be about at this point, Vi. But it needs to wait.”

  “No way—it can’t wait.”

  “It has to. Your mother has gotten me involved in something, and she’s now expecting me to figure it out for her.”

  “She went to bed, didn’t she? I told you.”

  Adam nodded, sending a strange look to each of his da
ughter’s tensing forearms.

  Violet relaxed her stance a little. “You should be used to that,” she said. “But I’m serious, this really can’t wait.”

  “Jesus.” Adam sighed. “Could this day get any more insane than it already is?” He folded his arms. “What is it, Violet? Speak.”

  “It’s…um.” She switched to a whisper. “These people.”

  “What? What about them?”

  She shushed him. “Well, they…aren’t who they say they are.”

  “How can you say that? You haven’t even met them.”

  “Yes, I have. I met them just now, no thanks to you. I didn’t know we were expecting company—I must’ve missed the announcement.”

  “Violet, I don’t have time for this. Seriously, sweetheart, I don’t. Far too much is happening for me today…it’s swirling out of control, and I just…I just can’t handle it all.”

  The brunette visitor slid into the hallway, nearly running into Violet from behind. “Oh—excuse me. Sorry to intrude…would it be possible to use your restroom?”

  Violet lowered her arms and put her back against the wall.

  “Of course,” Adam said, smiling awkwardly. “It’s the second door on the left. Please excuse the mess.”

  The woman smiled back, thanked him, and moved past.

  Violet waited for the door to close. “You’re not going to listen to me, are you? I can tell. You’re in one of those…moods again.”

  “Vi, it’s not a mood…or I guess maybe it is. It’s this entire day—this entire everything. Just the other night, your brother got himself tangled up in an active-shooter incident, and for some reason ever since, the entire damn country has fallen under attack. There are planes literally dropping from the sky and crashing all over the place. Hospitals and elementary schools are being bombed, along with the Hoover Dam, of all things. And now Chris is gone again and I have no idea where he is. Your sisters are driving me up a wall, and now you, my oldest daughter, the one I typically see eye to eye with on practically everything, is coming very close to that same threshold. I am inches, Vi—centimeters away from losing my shit right now.”

  Violet pursed her lips. “Fine. Whatever. Go on, then. Lose your shit. If you choose to ignore me and what I have to tell you, you’re ignoring the fact that I sometimes really do know what I’m talking about…and we might actually be harboring two extremely dangerous people in our living room. Don’t say I didn’t warn you.” She tore off into her room and slammed the door behind her.

  “Extremely dangerous people?” Adam threw his hands up and looked to the ceiling. “What’s next?”

  Then, almost as if on cue, Adam heard what was next. The entry alarm that signaled the motion of vehicles or pedestrians moving through his front gate sounded off from his office.

  Adam rushed into the living room and peered through the drapes of his front window. A Clarke County Sheriff’s Department cruiser had turned off the road and entered and was now creeping up his driveway.

  The male stranger rose from the couch at the point of noticing Adam’s concerted gaze. He moved beside Adam and focused on the scene outside through the window. Seconds later, his stare went to Adam as his face transfigured from a look of mild benevolence into that of the full-on opposite in a flash.

  Both men instantly went on the aggressive. Sensing a threat, Adam dropped back and instinctively reached for the handgun holstered at the small of his back. He drew the weapon, but before he was able to align his sights, the stranger was on him. He disarmed Adam with overwhelming strength coupled with blinding speed and sent him soaring over his shoulder and onto the living room floor in a daze.

  After the thud of the impact, Adam lost track of time for a few seconds. He blinked several times, and when his vision cleared, he could see the man towering over him. And he had Adam’s Glock pointed in the worst direction imaginable.

  Twelve

  His head jackhammering away at him, Jonathon slid a hand from his pocket, exposing a handful of random pills, tablets and pocket change. He separated several blue and white balls of lint from the mass, flicked them individually away to the ground, then studied each of the pills. He held them up one at a time, using the added light to aid his view, then dropped two round brownish-colored ones he assumed were ibuprofen on his tongue and forced them down his throat.

  Jon stuffed the quarters and dimes back in his pocket then studied the leftover: an oblong white tablet overlaid with sporadic blue stains. He’d no idea as to how long it had been in his pocket, but by appearances, it might’ve seen a few wash cycles.

  Rotating left, he unwarily presented the pill to a middle-aged brunette with graying roots in the line beside him. “Miss? Sorry to bother you, but does this look like Vicodin to you?”

  The woman looked at him strangely, stunned by his abruptness. “Pardon me?”

  Jon held the tablet closer to her face, nearly touching her nose with it. “Sorry, guess you didn’t hear me.” He cleared his throat and raised his voice. “I asked if you thought this was Vicodin. I’m having some trouble identifying it—my vision’s a little blurry.”

  “I-I wouldn’t know,” the woman responded, backing away. “I’m not a drug addict.”

  Jon recoiled, his voice still elevated. “Well, nor am I, doll face. But I have been known to moonlight as a pill-popper every now and again. Like today, for example. I’m drying up like a bad rash, and my head is fucking killing me.”

  The woman scoffed and her expression flooded with contempt, as did the expressions of numerous other patrons waiting in line both ahead of and behind her.

  “Sir, could you please lower your voice?” another woman asked.

  Jon raised a brow, taking notice of her attire and mismatched footwear—a pantsuit and sneakers. “Sorry, but the lady didn’t hear my question.”

  “I heard you just fine,” the first woman said. “And so can everyone else, and I’d appreciate it very much if you’d refrain from cursing in front of my son. There’s no excuse for using wanton profanity in public. It’s uncalled for. We’re adults here and it’s important to set the example for the younger generation.”

  Her response garnered several nods of acknowledgment from the crowd, along with a pair of faint claps.

  Jon noticed the woman had covered her child’s ears with her hands. He snorted and sent along a ‘Spock’ eyebrow, signaling that in his present mind state, he couldn’t possibly care less what she or anyone else thought of him.

  He blew out a breath dramatically between his lips, then presented the pill to an overweight Hispanic man dressed in soiled clothes, a safety vest and steel-toed leather boots. “What about you, Jose? Know anything about pharmaceuticals?” He laughed. “What am I saying? Of course you do.”

  The man cocked his head, squinted and scowled. “I am no Jose,” he replied, his English as broken as Jonathon’s give-a-shit. “My name Luis.”

  “Sure it is,” Jon said, then repeated his question. After giving Luis ample time to answer without a reply, he shrugged and chucked the pill into his throat and swallowed it anyway.

  Several minutes later, after somehow managing not to insult or disturb anyone else, Jonathon found a seat at one of his preferred booths in the rear corner of his favorite McDonald’s. He busily forked bites of hotcake into his mouth and washed them down with black coffee sweetened only by the ounce of Jameson and ounce of Baileys he’d added to it.

  Jonathon skimmed through the Washington Post with only about half his attention. He never took his eyes off the people milling about even when not feeling up to par, which was most times. Any one of them could be pretending to be someone they weren’t, and he’d learned the value of vigilance and human surveillance long ago and was inexplicably adept at both, even when three sheets to the wind.

  Enjoying breakfast here, at one point in his career, had been a key portion of Jon’s daily routine, one that had recently regained importance to him. He estimated that fast-food restaurant visits were destined
to become few and far between before long, once the country went full-on apeshit, and as such, he wanted to enjoy them now while he still could before ISIS directly or indirectly found a means to put an end to them.

  Jon’s eyes perked up when he noticed three vehicles with tinted windows and government-issue plates pull into the parking lot and park side by side in choreographed fashion. Several men in sunglasses, some wearing denim jeans and sport coats, others in khakis and button-up Oxfords, made their way through the entrance a moment later.

  While a pair stood sentry there attempting to blend in, doing a half-assed job of it at best, two others paraded to the rear of the restaurant. A man with thinning hair broke away and approached Jonathon’s table after taking a quick look around and whispering into his sleeve. He casually took a seat and removed his sunglasses, folding them up and sliding them neatly into his jacket pocket.

  Jon leaned back in his injection-molded booth seat and cocked his head at the man. Through a mouthful of chewed sausage, he said, “Well, what the fuck do you want?”

  “Good morning, yourself. It’s nice to see you too, Rockland. It’s been a long time.”

  “Has it?”

  “At least a few years, by my count. You wouldn’t believe how hard it’s been locating you ever since you went ghost on us. Fortunately, there’s one particular portion of your old routine that remains relatively predictable, at least whenever you’re on the reservation.”

  Jonathon gulped down some of his makeshift Irish coffee after stirring it with his finger, and forked another serving of hotcakes into his mouth, deciding now to chew them with his mouth open.

  Prosser leaned back and grinned. He held his hands in the air, gesturing to the venue in which both men were currently seated. “You’ve been coming here for years, haven’t you? For as long as I can recall, anyway. This place is like Mecca for you.”

  Jonathon chuckled, crumbles clinging to his lips. “That’s a cute-as-kittens analogy, Dan. Considering how discombobulated the motherland is becoming and who’s accountable for it.”