The Standoff Read online

  “Okay. Where did they go?”

  Abe said, “Walt took him back to his car. He said it was broken down out there on the road somewhere.”

  Maggie, who had been holding her son by the forearm to keep him close to her and to keep him quiet, moved Dylan back behind her and she stepped forward. Now, four members of the White family were huddled close to the front door. Abby stepped a little to the right and hugged the wall, but the chain of White family members stepping forward forced Abe to take a step out onto the front porch. He was still in his house slippers. He felt the cold between his toes.

  Maggie spoke.

  “You mentioned something about dangerous men?”

  Adonis said, “Yes, ma’am. Very dangerous.”

  “Could one of them be the tall black man?”

  Adonis stayed quiet for a moment, but Maggie and the rest of the White family could see her brain searching through the dossier of bad men that she was looking for.

  It only took a second for Adonis’s face to register that she located one name who fit the description from her memories of Abel’s files. There was a guy in his circle named Brooks. She couldn’t remember his exact designation or rank or military function. There were seven primary names in his circle.

  Still, recognizing the description was enough for her face to send the wrong output to the White family. Maggie reacted first. She grasped a hand to her chest and worry overtook her face. Abby followed next. They both started speaking over each other in near hysterics.

  Shep said, “Now, we didn’t say anything, ladies. Walt is probably fine.”

  Abe looked at Adonis.

  “We have to go get him.”

  Adonis reached out and grabbed both of Abe’s shoulders.

  “We will, sir. I promise.”

  Shep interrupted.

  “We need to ask you a few questions first. Just quick questions.”

  “But my son. I told you he’s out on the road with that guy.”

  Adonis said, “Step out here with me, sir.”

  Abe shivered in the cold but didn’t go back to the mudroom for a coat. He folded his arms into his chest and stepped out onto the porch and followed Adonis down to the bottom step. She led him just out of earshot of his wife and family.

  “Mr. White.”

  “Abe. Please.”

  “Okay, Abe. We just came in from the road. We’ve already been up this way once, and we saw no broken-down car or any sign of anyone being out there, on the road.”

  It took Abe a second to figure out what she was saying. And when he did, he’s face went blank, like his mind checked out right there.

  “Abe, earlier there was a call from this house to the sheriff’s office.”

  Abe snapped out of it and looked at her.

  “Yeah. My son called. He saw squatters across the street. As you’ve already mentioned.”

  “Right now the sheriff isn’t answering his phone. We think that wherever he saw squatters may be where they are now.”

  “Pine Farms. That’s where he called about the squatters. But all he saw were some lights on at night.”

  “Where’s Pine Farms?”

  “It’s right across the main road, sort of diagonal. It’s our closest neighbor, but out here that could mean it’s miles away. In truth, Pine Farms’ driveway is probably fifty, maybe a hundred, yards mostly south of our mailbox. You can’t see it from here. But it’s that way.”

  He pointed in Pine Farms’ direction.

  Abe said, “It’s the closest driveway over there.”

  “Okay.”

  Adonis took her phone out of her coat pocket and looked up in the sky. She said, “See that heli up there?”

  Abe had back problems, so he had to wrench his entire torso back to look all the way up.

  “I see it.”

  “He’s with us. I’m gonna call him now and tell him to flyover. Okay?”

  “Yes. We should call Henry too.”

  Adonis didn’t actually call Ramirez. She texted him and talked at the same time.

  “Henry?”

  “He’s the sheriff.”

  “I told you. His switchboard operator is saying he’s not answering. Not his phone. Not his radio. She said that doesn’t mean anything, necessarily. They’re slammed busy, just like the rest of us.”

  Adonis glanced back past Abe and saw that Shep was talking to Abby White and the sister, Foster. He wasn’t paying attention to Maggie White, who just took out her own cell phone.

  Adonis watched her start to swipe and dial a number. There were tears in her eyes.

  Abe was still talking. She didn’t hear what he was saying. He was mumbling.

  Adonis put a hand up for Abe to wait a moment. She pushed past him and stopped a few feet short of the porch steps.

  “Shep?” she called out.

  Shep stopped talking to the ladies and looked back at her. Adonis pointed at Maggie.

  “Cell phone!”

  Shep turned and saw Maggie trying to call her husband. He stepped over and snatched up the phone.

  “Hey!” Maggie called out.

  “Sorry. But you can’t be calling your husband right now.”

  “Why the hell not?”

  Adonis stepped away from Abe and walked up the steps.

  She said, “Mrs. White, if you call him, you might warn them. If the guy your husband left with is one of our guys, trying to make an escape or something, our best chance is to make him think that his cover isn’t blown.”

  “Cover?” Maggie asked.

  Shep said, “It’s to protect your husband. You could give him away to the bad guys if you call him. That goes for your kids too. They got phones?”

  Maggie spun around to look at her daughter, but Lauren wasn’t there.

  “Lauren!”

  No answer.

  Maggie stormed back into the house. She kept one hand on Dylan’s arm, dragging him along with her, automatically like she was never going to let him out of her sight. His feet touched the floor only every few steps. Shep stayed where he was. Technically, they hadn’t been invited inside, but Adonis took it upon herself to follow into the house to get a better look. The wool had been pulled over her eyes too many times since last night. She wasn’t just going to blindly believe a family she didn’t know. So, she stepped in behind Maggie, who stormed back into a huge living room and ripped her daughter’s phone out of her hand.

  While Maggie was busy doing that, Adonis stopped at the mudroom and took a peek inside. She pushed the door open and popped her head in. In a flash, she checked the ground for mud-covered boots. She saw the cubbies, the organization, and the names neatly printed in longhand on placement tags posted above each cubby.

  She counted six muddy boots placed where she considered them to be the corresponding names of their owner. She saw Walter White’s cubby. She saw that posted in front of his was an empty space with snow and dirt on the tile in front of it like there had been boots there before, only now they were on Walter’s feet, presumably.

  There was a seventh cubby with clean combat boots set inside the cubby. They weren’t freshly polished, but free from dust. Adonis inspected the ridge between the bottom of the boots and carpeted bottom of the cubby. She could see dust edging out from underneath the boots like they hadn’t been moved in ages.

  Above the combat boots was a Marine uniform and the name of another son, she guessed. She realized right then that that cubby wasn’t a cubby at all, but a shrine to the fallen. The other son must’ve died in combat.

  Adonis moved on from the fallen Marine’s shrine and saw one last pair of muddy boots. They looked like cheap, but durable, secondhand workman’s boots. They were big, really big. She couldn’t see the label to read the exact size, but she wouldn’t have been surprised if they were size fifteen. They belonged to a big man, and so far, she had seen no one in the house who fit them. She wondered if the missing son was a big guy. Maybe he had worn those boots when he came in from his ride the night be
fore and left with a clean pair on. It was possible. However, it wasn’t very likely because inside of the cubby labeled Walter, there was a pair of house shoes, and they were no bigger than a size ten.

  So, who owned the muddy boots?

  “Agent Adonis?” Abby said.

  Adonis turned and saw the mother standing behind her.

  “Oh, I’m sorry. I got curious.”

  Abby nodded.

  Abe stepped in and asked about the helicopter. Adonis nodded and returned to the foyer. She didn’t ask permission to stay inside. She took out her phone and completed the text message to Ramirez.

  She looked at Abe and asked, “Pine Farms is the one in that direction?”

  She pointed southwest to confirm the right direction. Trust, but verify was imprinted in her ATF DNA.

  Abe nodded.

  “That way. That’s what I said.”

  “Okay. I’m sending my guy to do a flyover,” she repeated.

  Both Abby and Abe thanked her.

  “No need. If Walter’s there with the guys we’re looking for, my guy will tell us in a minute. Everything’s going to fine. We’re going to get him back. That’s our top priority here,” Adonis lied.

  Adonis walked out of the foyer, back onto the porch. She nodded at Shep and told him about the flyover. Then she turned back to Abe and asked him a question.

  “Mr. White, you told me that your family members were the only people in the house?”

  “That’s right.”

  Adonis asked, “Who’s the big guy?”

  Chapter 33

  W IDOW WOKE from a deep sleep, albeit not that long, but his previous double life as a cop for NCIS forced him to master the power nap, a vital tool. He woke feeling boosted energy levels as much as someone who had slept a full eight hours.

  Although there was a table alarm clock on the nightstand next to the bed, it only provided the time, which was ten forty-five. He guessed it was in the morning since it was gray out and not a black night. The problem with abruptly waking up from a deep sleep was that he couldn’t tell what day it was right off. The brain needs time to orient itself.

  Part of him assumed it was the next day, after his huge breakfast with the Whites. But that couldn’t be right because he still felt satiated, full, and he didn’t remember going to the toilet. If he had slept since the morning before, then surely he would’ve gotten up for the bathroom at least once. He was a healthy specimen of a man, but he was older. And no one over the age of thirty-five has a bladder that good. No one’s bladder is immune to aging.

  Therefore, he realized it was the same morning.

  Widow slid his legs and feet around. His bare feet landed on the floor. The carpet felt nice between his toes, warm and comfortable. He ran his toes over it like a dog scratching an itch. He wasn’t ashamed. He was as primitive a man as they come. It was the simple pleasures in life that Widow appreciated.

  He blinked, adjusting his vision, shaking himself awake. He ran both his hands over his face and then up through his hair. He tousled it to make what the kids called the bedhead look.

  He looked around the room and saw the dead Marine’s clothes where he left them. He decided maybe he should get up, even though he hadn’t slept long. But if he went back to sleep, then he would end up being a nocturnal creature for the next several days until he could readjust his body back to sleeping at night.

  Widow’s favorite time of day was early morning. It coincided with coffee time, even though all times were coffee times.

  He stood up, naked, and stretched himself all the way out. From his fingertips, down to his toes, he felt the stretch. He let out a yawn and approached the closet and the borrowed clothes.

  He stopped before he got there because he heard a sound. It was faint at first, but grew louder. It sounded like distant humming, like a giant industrial fan had just been switched on.

  The sound grew louder. He recognized it. It was the whopping of helicopter blades. It was over the Whites’ farm. He was certain.

  Widow stayed naked and walked away from the closet to one of the windows. He stepped to one side near the curtain and pulled it aside. He tugged between two blinds and looked up and out.

  His eyes scanned the sky. He saw nothing but light snowfall and white and gray overcast. He waited, listening to the rotor blades. They grew closer. He saw the helicopter. It was circling the farm, maybe sixty-five meters overhead.

  He only caught a glimpse of it due to the grayness, but it was there, big and black like a giant house fly, buzzing overhead.

  He saw no tail number, not a visible one, anyway. He guessed the helicopter was a Bell 205, or as he knew it, a UH-1, which was the military designation for the same large transport helicopter. It was often used by military forces for transporting attack teams.

  The helicopter’s presence over the farm, meant there were probably armed law enforcement agents onboard. How many was anyone’s guess. But it was safe to assume there was more than one guy. But from what agency? There was no official designation on the bird. FBI maybe? Which meant that if the Bell 205 was like the UH-1, it sat two crew members and thirteen passengers, making a potential of fifteen armed Feds coming for someone.

  That can’t be for me , Widow thought. Without realizing it, he crossed his fingers and hoped it wasn’t for him.

  He watched out the window for a long moment as the Bell 205 made a third and then a fourth circle around the farm. Then he heard another sound. It was the front doorbell.

  Widow arched an eyebrow involuntarily. He craned his head toward where he thought the front door was located from his position and looked out the window. He pushed his head against the blinds to try and see better, but it was no good. He wasn’t located on the front side of the house. In fact, he wasn’t on the side of the house that he had thought because he saw nothing out the window but rolling hills with long sections of growing Christmas trees and snow. He was at the back corner of the house.

  Widow stepped back from the window and retreated to the bed. He thought about what he should do. He decided it would be best to go downstairs. His best guess was that the helicopter had something to do with the Athenian thing. It didn’t make sense to send in a black helicopter and armed Feds for him, just because he threw a bad guy off a roof. Then again, depending on the federal agency that was using the Bell 205, it was plausible. If it was the FBI, they liked to use their toys as much as the Navy. They might come all the way out here and search for him door-to-door.

  Whatever the reason the cops were out and about wasn’t the fault of the Whites.

  Widow put on the borrowed clothes and his own underwear. He slipped on a fresh pair of socks and headed out the door.

  At the bottom of the staircase, he was surprised that no one noticed him, except for Lauren, who sat on one of the sofas near the center of the living room. She folded her arms the moment she saw him step off the bottom step. She didn’t make eye contact. She stared at a calming fire that burned in the fireplace.

  Widow slipped past her and walked down the hall toward the voices. It appeared that everyone was out front. Just then he stopped and listened beyond the voices, past the sounds of the crackling fire, and away from the creaking sounds of the old, wintry farmhouse. He heard nothing else but rustling wind and he realized that the helicopter’s rotor sounds were gone, as if it had flown away.

  He continued down the hall and stepped out onto the edge of the foyer. He stopped in his socks in the doorway and realized that he had forgotten the house shoes upstairs.

  On the front porch, Widow counted seven people, none of them Walter White. He was missing. There were two new faces—a man and a woman, both law enforcement, obviously. The man looked like the avatar for everyone’s first thought of what a patrolman would look like. He was fit, approaching middle age, and seasoned. The woman was a different matter altogether. Widow knew she was no street cop. She carried herself with both a professional and a bureaucratic way about her. Immediately that told Widow tha
t she had been through the Quantico ringer, as he had, once upon a time. He didn’t know her credentials exactly, but he would bet all the coffee in the world that her career had started in a classroom in Quantico, or somewhere comparable.

  The woman was a Fed, no doubt about it. But from which American alphabet agency, he would only be guessing. The first guess would be FBI, but if she was here about the Athenian thing and not for him, then she was ATF.

  Everyone stared at Widow, including the Quantico woman.

  She quick-turned and faced Widow directly.

  “Who’s this?” she asked with alarm in her voice. He saw her right hand grab the middle of an open coat and rest there. It was an odd placement, but he knew exactly why she put it there. Under her coat, a gun waited inside a holster on a shoulder rig.

  “I thought you said there was no one else in the house?” she said.

  Abby turned to Abe and stared at him. Abe blinked a couple of times like he had forgotten who Widow was and then he spoke.

  “Oh, sorry. This is Jack. Ah…”

  Abe trailed off, and Foster saw her father drawing a blank. She stepped in to help him out.

  “Cousin Jack. He drove in with Walter late last night. Father didn’t know he was here. I saw him come in. He went right to sleep. Long drive. Isn’t that right?”

  “That’s right. What’s going on?”

  Widow put a hand out, instinctively thinking Adonis was going to shake it. He glanced up to the sky and saw the tail end of the helicopter he’d heard flying off in a southwest direction.

  Where’s it going? he thought.

  Adonis stuck out her left hand, opposite of Widow’s and offered it up for a handshake, like a counteroffer. She wasn’t going to remove her right hand from where it was. That was her gun hand. Widow smiled and reframed his handshake with his left.

  His hand consumed hers like a python coiling and constricting around unsuspecting prey. She squeezed hard. As soon as she saw her hand vanish in his she doubled her effort and squeezed as hard as she could. She stared up into his eyes and realized that he didn’t even notice, which pissed her off in a way. She said nothing about it.