No Woman Left Behind: A Lexi Carmichael Mystery, Book Six Read online

  “It won’t be enough. It’s still suicide. You won’t come back. None of you will. That’s Broodryk’s end game. Listen carefully to me, cara. You’re so upset, you’re thinking with your emotions instead of your intellect.”

  So was he, but I didn’t want to argue that with him, too.

  “You’re right, Slash. Emotions are factoring strongly in my decision. I know it’s not like me, but I’m well aware there are serious risks. Woodward’s an idiot, but he’s got a plan.”

  “He’s manipulating you. He doesn’t give a damn about you.”

  “I know he’s using me. He’s doing his job. But he’s correct that it’s the best chance we have of finding Broodryk and saving Elvis. We have to play Broodryk’s game.”

  “Then play it from here. I can multi-task. I swear.”

  I reached out, touched his cheek. “No, you can’t. You’re already exhausted, and you need to focus on Pruxrat. It’s vital. Please. You do your part and I’ll do mine to save Elvis.”

  His jaw hardened beneath my fingertips. “I didn’t want to say this to you, cara, but it’s time to put the truth on the table. Elvis is already as good as dead. No matter what he says, Broodryk is never going to let him go”

  I stepped back, dropping my hand. The bluntness of his words hurt even though I knew he said them out of concern for me.

  “I know, Slash. I’ve always known. But it doesn’t mean we can’t do everything in our power to save him.” My voice shook. “I’m not giving up.”

  “I’m not giving up either, but I’d rather risk Broodryk exploiting my cover for you while you’re here safely within arm’s reach and not in Africa.”

  “I agree that would be safer for me, but it puts not only Elvis at risk, but billions of other people who might suffer as a result of Pruxrat.”

  “I’ve got Pruxrat covered.”

  “Not if you’ve got me and my impenetrable cover to worry about. Think rationally. We’ve got to come at Broodryk from both sides. I have to go.”

  He leaned forward, bracing his hands against the table. “Have you thought what Elvis would want? He wouldn’t be on board with this plan either. You heard him. He told you not to come. He suffered that beating to tell you that himself. Don’t make his suffering meaningless.”

  The anguish in his eyes cut at me, but I held my ground. “Playing the guilt card on me won’t work. I heard what Elvis said. But this isn’t just about you and me and Elvis anymore. It’s bigger than that. This is our best chance to stop Broodryk for good, not just put a bandage on the problem. We both know he won’t stop unless we get him. We’ve never been this close to him before and we may never get the opportunity again. We can’t waste this opportunity.”

  “Please, cara, let the SEALs do their job in Africa. Stay here and work with me.”

  I pressed my hand to my forehead. Pain throbbed behind my eyes. “I wish I could, I really do. I understand the dangers, Slash, but I have to make the decision I think is right in the long run. I’m going to stop Broodryk...or die trying.”

  He swore, throwing up his hands. “Mio dio! Listen to me. You will die. Don’t fool yourself into thinking you’ll be safe because of a few men with specialized training. No one can keep you safe. Not even me. Not if you go there. I can’t be there with you.”

  I blinked back the tears. “I know. You’re too valuable. I’m expendable and so is Elvis. But we’ll risk it if it means we can get Broodryk.”

  He grabbed my arm. “You’re not expendable to me. Don’t ever say that.” His voice was rough with emotion. “Never.”

  “Please, Slash, I can’t do this without you.”

  He slammed a forearm against the wall in frustration. “No. I won’t be a willing party to your death.”

  “Then help keep me alive.”

  “You can’t ask me to do this...help plan your suicide.”

  I swiped at the wetness on my eyelashes. “If it were me tied to that chair, you’d come.”

  “Si, I would. Because I could. I’m fully trained for this kind of operation. You’re not. You have no idea of the things that could happen...will happen. This is war. It’s brutal, vicious and ugly. Even if you survived, things like this change you. Permanently. I know, trust me. I’m speaking from experience.”

  I looked at him steadily. “You think I’m naive, but I understand what you’re saying. I really do. Consider this, though. If I don’t go, if I let Elvis die, then what? Who will Broodryk come after next? You? My parents? Basia? You want me to live with that? Because I’ve thought of that and I couldn’t do it. If I lost Elvis and then you, that would change me permanently. We’re both smart enough to know Broodryk can keep his promises to hurt my friends and family. It will never end until he sends someone to shoot me who won’t miss. By that time, I’d probably welcome it.”

  He closed his eyes and said nothing.

  “Slash, please. Have faith in me. I can do this. I will do this.”

  His fists clenched at his side. “Then you do it alone. I won’t help you throw your life away. I can’t.”

  I couldn’t breathe. I couldn’t move. My world shattered into tiny pieces.

  I swallowed the lump in my throat. “I...understand.”

  But I didn’t really. I hadn’t created this set of lousy choices, but still I had to choose. I needed him to support me, even though I was risking my life. I wasn’t on top of this relationship stuff yet, but he’d promised we were a team and I wasn’t alone. Now...now he was leaving me.

  He turned away, as if he could no longer look at me.

  I choked out the words. “I have to do this. I’m sorry.”

  “So am I.”

  Without another word, he strode past me and slammed the door.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  I was barely able to function, but since the decision to proceed with the operation had been made, it was now a matter of logistics. I’d been told to get my affairs in order, so I filled out a bunch of paperwork and had a strained telephone conversation with Finn. Two CIA agents had visited him earlier in the day and told him I’d been co-opted in a matter of national security. I could tell he wanted to ask me a lot of questions, but he knew better. I couldn’t tell him anything except I would take the time off as vacation, and I fully intended to return to my job if he’d still have me. He’d sounded worried, but told me to take all the time I needed and my job would definitely be waiting.

  Finally, I made a long overdue phone call to Basia and updated her as much as I could about Xavier and Elvis. I must have sounded pretty awful, because she stopped me mid-sentence.

  “Lexi, are you okay?”

  “Yes, I’m fine.” My voice wavered and I fought back the emotion. “No, Basia, I’m not fine. I’m a mess. I’m beyond worried about Elvis, and Slash and I had an awful fight. It wasn’t about leaving the toilet seat up either. He’s totally not talking to me. In fact, he might never speak to me again.”

  “Oh, honey. I’m so sorry. Emotions are running high right now. He’ll come around.”

  “I don’t know that he will. He’s really angry.”

  “He’s running scared. We all are. We’re coping the best we can in our own ways. Do you want me to talk to him?”

  “No. It won’t help. There’s nothing you can do.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Yes.” I was pretty darn sure that even Basia couldn’t persuade Slash to feel okay about what I had to do.

  “There has to be some way I can help.”

  “Well, there might be something. Do you have any idea how to contact Xavier’s parents? I’ve never heard either Elvis or Xavier talk about them. Someone needs to tell them what’s happened.”

  “Um... I don’t know. Xavier never mentioned them.”

  “It’s okay. I’ll figure it out.”

>   “Look, if you need to go to their house, Xavier told me they have a spare key in the backyard in the third stacked brick by the back steps. It’s not a real brick, but a fake one. It will only open the side door. Hold on a sec and let me check the notepad on my phone. Ah, here it is. The alarm code for the house is #314159.”

  I smiled. “Pi.”

  “Huh?”

  “Never mind. Thanks, Basia. I’ll let you know what I discover.”

  “Hang in there. Love you. I really do.”

  This might be the last time I ever spoke to her. “Basia? I...want to tell you something. The first day we met and you walked into our dorm room dressed in pink and pulling monogrammed luggage, I thought we’d hate each other. But you turned out to be my first real friend. I’m not sure I can adequately explain how important your friendship has been to me.”

  “Oh, sweetie. I know and I feel the same way.”

  I clicked the off button and then stared at the phone for a long moment. Putting it aside, I opened my laptop and did a quick search online for the Zimmermans’ parents. I came up completely empty-handed. Guess it would require a visit to their house after all.

  I found my security detail—two FBI agents—and told them where I needed to go. They were nice, but I was beginning to have a firsthand understanding of what it felt to be Slash. Being shadowed every moment of every day was beginning to feel seriously creepy.

  The guys drove me to the twins’ house and were happy enough to wait in the car after I’d retrieved the key, turned off the alarm and they’d cleared both the perimeter and the house. When they were done and had gone outside, I headed for Computer Central, aka the living room, which they had converted into a huge workstation.

  The room remained freezing cold, even in their absence, in an effort to protect their equipment. I grabbed the blue blanket they kept for me and wrapped it around my shoulders.

  I stood in the middle of the room looking between Xavier’s and Elvis’s desks. Xavier’s desk was messy with papers, note pads, cables and thumb drives scattered around. Elvis’s was like mine—everything in its place, perfectly organized with a maximum degree of functionality.

  Sighing, I sat down in Elvis’s chair and put my hands on his desktop, imagining him sitting here. It was such a familiar memory that I almost expected him to walk into the room and smile at me like he always did.

  Reminding myself I’d come here for a purpose, I overcame my reluctance to go through Elvis’s private things and got to work. I didn’t fool myself into thinking I could penetrate their electronic network, so I’d have to do this the old-fashioned way. I pulled open the first drawer and started going through it.

  It held mostly pens, pencils, mechanical drawing items and flash drives. On the right side of the drawer was a photograph. I picked it up. It was a picture taken of Elvis and me in Ocean City, Maryland, the place I had first met the twins. Basia or Xavier must have taken the photo, which I’d never seen before. Elvis and I stood on the Boardwalk with our backs to the sea. We were smiling and Elvis had his arm slung around me. Even though the photo wasn’t quite a year old, we seemed so young and happy. I touched his cheek with my fingertip and then put the photo back where I’d found it. The second drawer held paper and a few small notepads. The third drawer was filled with files. I thumbed through them, feeling uncomfortable looking through his personal documents, but reminding myself it was necessary.

  I figured he kept all his addresses electronically, but I hoped to find, at the very least, a mention of one of his parent’s name on a document that could get me started in a more efficient online search. I opened a file labeled Garden Springs Resort and pulled out a colorful brochure with a colonial building and lots of pretty landscaping.

  I scanned the brochure and realized it was an assisted living facility. I set the brochure aside and picked up the next document—a signed application for an Ottilie Zimmerman to be admitted to the facility. It was dated five years prior. My calculations put her at sixty-nine years old, and we shared the same birthday. I read the rest of the contract, but no medical information was provided. There was also no mention of a husband, and further investigation into the file didn’t produce any more leads or information on him.

  I put the file back and sat back in the chair. After a moment, I got my cell out and dialed the number from the brochure.

  “Hello. Garden Springs Resort. We offer the best in assisted living. May I help you?”

  I cleared my throat. “Ah, yes. I’m calling about Ottilie Zimmerman. I’m a friend of her two sons, Elvis and Xavier.”

  “Oh, how nice. They are the two sweetest, most polite boys you’ll ever meet. Their momma sure raised them right. Did you call to check up on her for them?”

  “Ah...yes. How is she?”

  “She’s doing just fine.”

  I wanted to ask about her medical condition but knew the staff wouldn’t be permitted to talk about it. “They’re abroad right now.”

  “Yes, in Greece, I hear. Lucky ducks. I bet they’re having the time of their lives. It’s nice of you to check up on her for them.”

  “Ah, no problem. Say, do you think she’d be up for a visitor?”

  “Why, she’d be delighted. She doesn’t get many visitors. It would have to be supervised, of course, since only the boys are on the approved visitor list, but I think we can arrange something. And you are...?”

  “Lexi Carmichael.”

  “I’m Marilyn Para, the Day Administrator at Garden Springs. When would you like to come?”

  “Would now be okay?”

  “Sure. How long will it take you to get here?”

  “Fifteen minutes.”

  “Great. I’ll be waiting.”

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Garden Springs Resort was situated in a beautiful and exclusive location, surrounded by trees, impeccable landscaping and several elaborate fountains. There was one large building and several smaller buildings surrounding it. The FBI guys drove me and, after some heated discussion, agreed to wait in the car while I went in by myself.

  Marilyn Para was in her office when I arrived. She was a middle-aged woman with a short gray bob, red cheeks and a friendly smile. I introduced myself and she shook my hand enthusiastically. She led me down a hallway and we turned left onto a covered walkway to an adjoining building.

  “So, Mrs. Zimmerman’s husband doesn’t live here with her?” I asked.

  “I’ve never heard of a husband,” Marilyn answered. “You’d have to ask her or the boys about that.”

  “Okay, thanks.”

  When we got to the entrance of the building, she waved a badge in front of an access panel and the door opened. Different smells assaulted my nose. A sweet sickly smell of scented candles mixed with the antiseptic smell of medicine and heavy-duty cleaners. Marilyn kept up a steady stream of chatter as we walked down a hallway, but I could hardly bring myself to respond. My mind was racing ahead to meeting Elvis’s mom and what I would say to her about her sons.

  “Here we are,” Marilyn said, stopping in front of room twenty-six. Before I could prepare myself, she knocked twice on the door. It opened, and a female version of the twins stood looking at me.

  Ottilie Zimmerman didn’t look sixty-nine. Her long brown hair had almost no gray, and there were only a few small lines around her eyes. She was dressed in a white nightgown and when she saw us, her fingers reached up to twirl the corner of a white gauzy scarf around her pinky finger.

  “Hello?” she said softly. “Who are you people?”

  Marilyn smiled. “Why, Ottilie, you know who I am. You just had lunch with me today. Remember? We ate the Mexican casserole. This is Lexi Carmichael. She’s friends with the boys.”

  I held out my hand, but she didn’t take it. She studied me for a long moment and then her face broke out into a smile. �
�Yes. I’ve seen you before. Elvis. Yes, Elvis showed me a photograph of you.”

  I blinked. “He did?”

  “Can we come in, Ottilie?” Marilyn asked. “It would be much more comfortable talking inside than standing in the hall.”

  “Of course.”

  She stepped aside and we entered the room. It was the size of a small studio apartment minus the kitchen. She had a small couch facing a television and an adjoining room that likely led to a bedroom and bathroom. A small table and four chairs sat in one corner. It looked clean and comfortable. Marilyn headed straight for the table and sat down. I followed and took the chair next to her, but Ottilie remained on her feet.

  “Where are my boys?” she asked, frowning.

  Before I could answer, Marilyn spoke up. “The boys are in Greece, remember? That’s why Lexi’s here. She’s checking up on you for them.”

  She turned those Zimmerman-blue eyes on me and her expression crumbled. “They always bring me flowers and a book.”

  I lifted my empty hands. “I’m sorry I forgot. I’ll bring them next time.”

  “Well, of course you will. Would you like some gelatin? I have lime. It’s my favorite.”

  “No, thank you, but it’s kind of you to offer.”

  She smiled. “Did you know Elvis and Xavier like to read to me when they visit? I sit on the couch and they sit there, too, and read to me in their beautiful voices. All kinds of different novels and poetry. They read until they’re hoarse. They are my angels, you know.”

  A lump formed in my throat. I couldn’t speak.

  She walked across the room and took my hand. Her hand was cool. “You wish to tell me something, don’t you, my dear?”

  I found my voice. “Why do you say that?”

  “I could always tell when my boys were hiding something from me. They had this look in their eyes. Just like you do now. So, tell me. It’s okay.”

  I wasn’t able to say it. The truth was locked inside me.

  She sighed, releasing my hand. “Did they fall down again? They are always skinning their knees. They don’t seem to have much in the way of balance, I’m afraid. They get that from me.”