Chapter 8 #2
Avery knocked shoulders. “Not completely true, but she wasn’t involved in active gunfire. Mostly because there wasn’t any. In fact, there wasn’t much of anything.”
Buck pushed to his feet. “That’s impossible. We had a squad of men pursue us through the forest with enough firepower to invade a small country. I’ve got the bullet wound to prove it.”
“Whoa, easy Buck.” Avery took another sip. “I didn’t say you weren’t ambushed and damn near killed. But whoever’s running this show knew you’d send in a team capable of matching their firepower, and they’d cleared out by the time SWAT worked its way from that cliff back to your campsite.”
“What about all the brass? The guy missing half his face beside our fire?” Buck raked his hand through his hair. “The bones in that cave?”
Avery glanced at Tierney. “You might want to encourage him to switch to decaf. But to answer your questions, most of the casings were gone. Either picked up or washed away by the rain and the ocean. The few we did find didn’t have any prints, though they were consistent with the carbine you brought back. ”
She dug a baggy out of her pocket, tossed it at Nick. “I saved you one. Thought you could see if it’s a match for the brass that was still in that mag Buck had. At least, it shows a connection. Maybe gives us a manufacturer to start hounding.”
Nick turned it over. “I can already tell that it’s the same custom brand. And I’m scouring black-market sites as we speak. I should have a list of possible PMCs that order this brand shortly.”
Buck rapped his knuckles on the table. “And the guy we left on the beach? At the camp?”
Avery scrubbed her hand down her face. “Gone, though we did find some blood soaked into the mud, but with the storm…” She relaxed against the desk, again. “I sent swabs to the lab. I’ll let you know if there’s a match to anyone. As for the bones…”
She glanced at Greer.
Greer sighed. “By the time we arrived, the tide had that chamber fully submerged. We had to wait until late this morning to gain access. My guess is that the group took whatever they could before the water got too high.”
Tierney stood beside Buck. “So, another bust.”
“Not completely.” Greer gulped down more coffee.
“We retrieved a few smaller pieces of bone that were wedged into the rocks. They were definitely human, but with all the exposure, it’s doubtful we’ll get much out of them.
And there were several orange fibers caught up on some barnacles that Avery’s sent to the lab.
We’ll have to wait on the analysis for confirmation, but they looked like the kind of fabric we’ve both seen used in black-site prisoner transfers. ”
Tierney snorted. “So, in short, we dragged you and SWAT into the fringes, and all it did was confirm what we know without giving us any new information.”
“It proves you two weren’t imagining anything.”
“Normally, having someone tell me I’m not crazy is comforting, but it’s falling a bit flat in this instance.”
Buck placed his hand over hers, squeezed it. “Now what? Will you sweep the area, again? Set up blinds to see if they come back?”
Avery pursed her lips, and Tierney knew the answer before Avery opened her mouth.
“We had to release the scene.” She held up her hand before anyone could interrupt her.
“I know. It’s insane, but as my superiors see it, nothing we uncovered proves there’s an active threat.
No men in tactical gear shooting at us. No bodies.
Yes, there’s evidence people died, but the bones are old.
And with them being in a cave at the bottom of an insanely vertical cliff… ”
Tierney groaned. “It presents like accidental deaths, not murders.”
“Obviously, we’re not going to stop investigating. But I had no tangible reason to keep SWAT there. And I don’t have the manpower to block off a few thousand hectares of forest land.”
Tierney stared at the cell. “Guess we’re back to waiting for a call.”
The room fell silent, the weight of everyone’s unease adding to the thickness in the air, until Greer moved over, started grilling Dalton and Buck about the marina. Tierney stayed on the edge, close, but distant. The way she handled most groups. Choosing to watch the phone, instead.
Her stomach roiled.
She hated this.
Hated the lack of control. How every minute it didn’t ring unraveled her composure a bit more. Eighteen months, a few thousand miles, and she was still locked in that cell. She’d just painted the walls a better color.
Her skin crawled, all that time rushing back. The feel of the mattress. The cold press of the walls. The voices that had drifted down through the floorboards.
The threats that had lingered in the dark.
She closed her eyes, scrambling for an anchor, when Buck wrapped his arm around her waist, tugged her against his side as his mouth brushed her ear.
“You’re fading, sweetheart.” He urged her a bit closer. “Stay with me.”
She blinked, managed to pull herself back without screaming at the dark.
She glanced up at him. That was the second time he’d called her sweetheart, and she wasn’t sure whether she was thrilled or scared.
She hadn’t thought about pursuing any kind of romantic relationship since she’d dragged her ass out of that river — had known the days she’d spent in the cell had fundamentally changed her.
And she’d accepted it. Embraced, it really.
Until she’d met Buck.
From the start, he’d understood her in a way no one else ever had.
Had accepted the broken parts of her without judgment.
Sure, he had his own demons. Had lost years to the darkness.
But he’d come out the other side intact.
And he’d been the reason she’d stepped into the light when she’d been determined to stay in the shadows.
To hide where no one could find her, again.
She leaned into him, trusting he wouldn’t let her fall as she focused on breathing until the memories faded.
He dropped a kiss on her cheek. “That’s my girl.”
She glanced up at him, brow arched, a hint of a smile curling her lips. Had he really just called her his girl?
He winked, the jackass, when Sloane inhaled, typing a bit faster before she pushed back her chair, her hands still for the first time since last night, as she looked over at them.
Nick grinned. “I recognize that look. What did you find?”
She waved them over, shaking her head as she stared at her screen.
“Maybe something, or maybe nothing, but… I’ve been focusing on PMCs operating outside of Bogotá that also had ties to human trafficking starting a year before Tierney’s team was ambushed, right up until six months after her escape.
As expected, all of them kept operating as if nothing had happened, except one.
A company known only as Grimm all but vanished six weeks after the ambush, which I believe is about a week or two after Tierney escaped.
The timing seemed too coincidental to pass up so I went deeper and found this… ”
She hit a key, popped a grainy photograph up on the main viewer. “It’s an old surveillance photo from a file dump the CIA had on the members before they disbanded. From what I understand, these were the men running the show.”
Tierney stared at the image, heart lodged in her throat, chest tight, as she studied the lines of their jaws.
The way the light caught their silhouette.
One was large, volatile-looking, caught mid-shout.
The other stood slightly behind him, perfectly still, impeccably controlled.
While she’d never gotten a good look at either man, she recognized the instant punch of dread.
The way her pulse thundered in her ears, the cold sweat slicking her skin.
Buck squeezed her hand, and she jumped, snapping her gaze to him as he frowned, glanced at the photo, then back to her. “Tier? You, okay?”
She focused on the image, again. “I…”
Buck leaned closer. “Take your time. It’s okay if you aren’t—”
“It’s them.”
Sloane looked over at her. “Them? As in you know both?”
Tierney swallowed. “The big guy on the left. He’s the one on the phone. He was loud. Always in everyone’s face.”
Sloane tapped her keyboard. “His name’s Kellan Pike. Former SAS, dishonorably discharged. Heavy wet-work.”
“Who’s the other guy? The quiet one who had that damn lighter?”
“Vaughan Grieves. That’s all I’ve got. He’s a ghost in the system, but now that I know who I’m looking for, I’ll uncover every last detail about these two.”
Tierney fisted her hands. “I don’t just want details, I want Pike. I want Grieves. And I want the bastard who sold my team to them.”