Suzie’s Kitchen must have been their usual hangout because, from the cook to the waitresses, everyone said hello as the threesome entered. They didn’t bother waiting to be seated. Just claimed their usual booth, way in the back, where two cups of coffee waited.
“I saw you pull in,” the brunette waitress twinkled as she laid down their menus. “Coffee?” she asked Julie with a little less twinkle.
“Um, just water, please.” If she drank another cup of coffee, she’d vibrate right off the bench—like Wiley Coyote with a jackhammer.
“Milkshake with breakfast, Nic?” the waitress asked before leaving.
“Please.”
Before she could ask, Eric leaned across the table and cleared up her confusion. “Milkshake in Boston-speak is chocolate milk for the rest of the world. Standing joke around he-ah.” He grinned at Nic and waggled his eyebrows.
“Wicked. Frickin’. Funny.” Nic shot back.
Laughing, she bumped Nic with her shoulder. “I think your accent is cute.”
Now Cruz moved in for the kill.
“Yu-ah cute, Nicky D. Killah cute. Say it for us, Nic. Listen my children and you shall hear…”
“Na-ah.” Nic shook his head.
“Sorry,” she whispered to him.
“What-evah,” he said with a shrug.
Once their orders were placed, the conversation became serious.
“So what do we know at this point?” Cruz asked.
Julie sighed.
After a bit, Nic spoke. “Julie’s family was murdered by someone who wasn’t the deputy. The deputy blew himself away rather than kill Julie. The sheriff’s department figured out pretty quick that Julie didn’t kill Deputy Dog. And they let her go.”
Cruz nodded at each point Nic listed. He’d calmly summed up the last two weeks as if it were a movie he’d seen last night.
When she pulled herself from her thoughts, Cruz was speaking.
“...isn’t who he pretends to be and we’re pretty sure that he is the murderer.”
“What? Who?” Nice of them to bring her up to date.
Before he could answer, their food arrived. Both men dug in, as she suspected they would. If she hadn’t been so perturbed that they hadn’t answered her, she’d have smiled. Apparently mediocre food trumped even the most important conversation.
Julie tapped her water glass with her fork, stopping both Cruz and Nic in mid-chew.
“Attention. Hello. Please could you answer my question?”
Twin looks of alarm from both men for her calling attention to them. She put down the fork, and offered feeble apologies. Nic patted her leg under the table and swallowed. He leaned close and whispered in her ear. “Sheriff Raines.”
Shock shot down her spine, like lightning. “What? No way,” she said, trying not to shriek.
Cruz just raised his eyebrows in response.
“But... he was so nice to me. Liz and I talked about it. He was sorta creepy. But…”
Nic waited until she finished sputtering. Then he again patted her leg and encouraged her to eat. They’d explain as they ate.
“It’s stolen valor,” Cruz said, “at the very least.”
“What’s that?”
“It’s where someone pretends to have military honors that he didn’t earn,” Nic said. “Raines has taken over another man’s identity, a man that earned the Distinguished Service Cross.”
“It’s possible that he killed the guy to get that identity,” Cruz added. “We don’t know. But the deal is that he’s built this whole big sheriff persona and your dad knew about it. Raines has a lot to lose.”
Over the next fifteen minutes, it became obvious that not only was the good sheriff not what he seemed, but he was a big-time deceiver. Probably a murderer.
With the help of a contact that Cruz had made, a fake-SEAL hunter in Colorado, they’d put together an entire picture of the man who pretended to be the golly-gosh Ex-Green Beret, now sheriff of Lassen County. They’d even found a photo of Raines in full dress greens with an array of medals, not the least of which was the Distinguished Service Cross. Wearing that uniform and those medals is a federal offense and Raines’ career in law enforcement would be over if it came out.
The problem was they couldn’t prove murder.
“No kidding. The D.A. would laugh you right out of his office, even if he isn’t buds with the guy.”
Julie hadn’t seen him coming. The man who spoke did so as he slid in beside Cruz. He was tall and lean, with dark, shortly cropped hair and silvery eyes that crinkled when he smiled—a let’s-be-friends-you-can-count-on-me smile. On this man, it seemed to be second nature. No doubt, another member of Bravo Squad—the best looking team in the Air Force.
“You must be Julie. I’m Chris Gabriel.”
With a tip of his head, Cruz gestured across the table. “Gabe’s our resident legal adviser.”
“Oh, so not a member of the team?”
“No, he is.”
Of course, he is.
“But he was a JAG officer in his former life.”
Julie looked from man to man. “And does everyone on the team know the intimate details of my life?”
At that question, Nic promptly blew milk out his nose, grabbed frantically for his napkin, and excused himself from the table.
“You okay?” Gabe asked as Nic slid back into the booth.
“I’ll live.”
“Gives new meaning to drowning on dairy.”
“So how’d you find us?” Julie asked Chris. “Batsignal?”
“Nah. It’s very scientific.” Chris stopped the waitress and ordered an iced tea. He pointed, indicating Nic and Cruz, “If they aren’t at home and aren’t at work, then they’re either here or at the Oasis.” He looked at his watch, then smiled over at Julie. “And it’s too early for them to be there.”
Cruz glanced at Gabe, his eyebrows drawn together. “And why aren’t you at work?”
“Night training. Check your phone, Hollywood. We’re not due in until 4:30. You will be there?”
“Well, since I’m not on leave like Batman,” Cruz nodded at Nic, “I guess I will be. You gonna eat?”
“No, I just came by to look in your car for some papers I may have left in there.”
With that, Cruz tossed Gabe the keys and he finished his tea in one slurp. Then, he left. In minutes he tossed the keys back, from nearly across the room, and left again.
With the previous conversation summed up—they didn’t know enough and didn’t have any proof of what they did know—the rest of the meal was spent in idle chit chat.
As they walked out to the car, both Nic and Cruz began beeping. In unison they reached for their pagers. It was like a quick draw competition to see who could get it from the clip fastest.
“You’re on leave,” Cruz said as he fished his phone out of his pocket and dialed. “This is Cruz, D’Onofrio is with me, but he’s on leave.” He paused and they continued walking. “Yes. All right. I’ll be there in fifteen.”
Cruz slid his phone back into his pocket and pointed his keychain at his car. “Plane crash. At least one survivor hanging on the edge of a cliff just northeast of Half Dome.”
“Cool.”
As Julie watched, she again saw a transformation, like she had at the cabin. From Clark Kent to Superman. This time, she saw it times two.
“Too bad you can’t go.” Cruz grinned at Nic.
“Yeah, I’m really upset that I won’t get to spend the night clinging to the side of a mountain in the dead of winter.”
The words didn’t match the look on his face, though. And as they drove to the base, Cruz continued to rev up while Nic just became more and more quiet.
The quiet was a bit intimidating, but Julie spoke up anyway. “Can I ask a question?”
“Course,” Cruz replied.
“Pagers? Aren’t they way old technology? I don’t think I’ve seen one since I was like three.”
“They may be old,” Nic said, “but they’re reliabl
e. A huge percent of the places we go don’t have cell service. Or it’s wicked bad cell service. So we use both.”
“Makes sense.”
Another long silence followed.
As the guard waved them through the gate, Nic asked, “Who’s going?”
“Me, Gabe and Clancy I guess. Luck of the draw who goes down and who stays on the bird. Mac’s flying.”
“Good. Maybe they’ll let us listen in.”
There were no signs pointing the way to the PJ section on base. But once there, it was unmistakable. Not only was the building tagged with the PJ logo—a huge angel with outstretched wings holding the globe in her hands—but the parking lot was painted with Jolly Green Giant feet that led to the front door.
A number of SUVs were scattered through the parking lot and two Harleys were parked just outside the front door. Testosterone on display. In spades.
Julie thought she saw a fleeting shadow cross Nic’s face as he walked inside.
Warm obscenities greeted Nic—until they noticed Julie with him. He returned the reception with a one-finger salute and a smile.
As they got further back in the building, Julie noticed the unmistakable smell of musty military gear. A mild rush of emotion filled her as she thought of her dad.
Gabe looked up from where he crouched on the floor, his gear arrayed around him. He wore a one-piece flight suit that fit him like a glove and his baseball cap was backwards. His nametag said Angel.
“Hello again, Julie.” He smiled. Another guy approached and deposited his gear nearby. “Julie, this is Will. Will, Julie.”
Will was short compared to the others. His dark-blond hair was wavy and he wasn’t spectacular. Finally, a PJ that was only mildly attractive. Well, that is until he looked over at her and smiled. He had a beautiful, sincere smile that lit his light-blue eyes with merriment.
“Hi, Julie.” He stepped forward and shook her hand. “Will Pitkin.”
“Clancy,” Cruz corrected as he returned in flight suit, tagged Hollywood, and also dumped gear in a pile. They were sorting and packing as they talked, with remarkable speed.
“Nice to meet you, Will.”
“So what’s the deal?” Nic asked.
Gabe answered. “Cessna Stationair down, slammed into Cloud’s Rest just before dawn. SAR found ‘em an hour ago. They’ve got one team above and one below. The plane’s perched on a ledge. Daniel’s on the team just above them. He reports at least one alive. We’ll go in and triage and see if we can lift out the survivors.”
Julie, now seemingly forgotten, found a nearby seat where she wouldn’t feel in the way.
“And the plane? Is it secure?” As he spoke, Nic reached for some piece of equipment that Julie’d never seen, and checked the power.
“Are they ever?” Cruz laughed. “It’ll be sporty.”
“Make sure you take enough rope to tie it off.”
“Yes, Mother.”
Nic muttered something under his breath as he went down the hall, returning shortly with radio equipment overflowing from his hands. Each member of the team that was going up was finished stowing their gear and now stood, putting on a radio chest pack.
Nic handed them each a radio, connected to an earbud. Only Will waved off the radio Nic offered, saying he preferred the older set with the boom mic, if it was okay.
“Okay with me,” Nic shrugged.
The others each put their radio in the chest-pack pocket, clipped the VOX box on and put their earbuds in. At Nic’s word, they each tested their radio, giving a thumbs up.
A nearby office door opened, and the man she’d met this morning at the house came toward them. Yoda. Julie tried to recall his real name but could only come up with David. He’d been very serious when they met, but now, he was even more so. The others she met were so ready with a smile. Their squad leader was not.
“Gabriel, you’re lead. The colonel’s ready, pre-flight’s done. You can take off any time.”
Obviously, though, that was not the case. David motioned them to the table near Julie and spread out a topo map. Then, he began speaking “rescue” language interspersed with English and tapping on the map in different spots. At last, he straightened, folded the map, and walked back to his office. Before closing the door, he turned. “Make good decisions.”
Nic and Julie walked out with the threesome, who threw their packs in a Jeep nearby and climbed in. Nic again grew quiet. Julie thought it was more than him not going. Maybe he was afraid he’d lose another team member by not being there to help. When his face visibly paled as Cruz cranked the Jeep to life, Julie knew she was right. Almost as a blessing, Nic patted the front of the Jeep and stepped back.
When the Jeep was out of sight, he turned to her. Concern still showed in his eyes, but now he smiled. Still, when she reached for his hand, it was cool and clammy.
“Where to now?” she asked, squeezing his hand.
“Well, we can hear as much or more if we go hang out at the SAR building.”
Chapter Twenty One