Page 4 of Peripheral Vision

Chapter

Three

FLETCHER

Iwatch the cops leave her house from where I sit in my car across the street and wait for them to pull away before I get out. Her bedroom window is just above the garage, the blinds open for others to peek in. Granted, they would have to get a lot closer to really see anything since the house is inset from the road instead of right on it. Although… I’m halfway across the street when I notice her shadow dance along the walls of her bedroom before her form appears. Moving quickly, but quietly, I hide behind the rear right wheel well of her truck, checking my surroundings to make sure nobody can see me. I already know she doesn’t have security cameras on the house from my visit earlier.

She moves about her room before stopping right in front of her window where she strips down, putting her naked body on display for anyone who walks directly in front of the house. My nostrils flare and I grit my teeth at the thought. At the idea of anyone else getting a glance at her pert nipples, her breasts small enough they wouldn’t fill the palm of my hands, but still enough to squeeze. My eyes roam over her thin waist before dipping below her navel, and just as I’m about to get a glance at what else that beautiful body has in store,she suddenly ducks down, making me curse and crouch further behind her truck. It takes a few seconds before she returns to the window wrapped in a robe, quickly closing her blinds and obscuring my view.

There is a small voice inside my head telling me that this is wrong, but ever since I laid eyes on her when I walked into that coffee shop, I knew that I would make her mine—she just doesn’t know it yet. I may have been her dad’s best friend, but it’s been quite a few years since we’ve seen each other. I’m not the person I was, and she certainly isn’t either. She’s not a little girl anymore, and I no longer follow the code of ethics I used to. Releasing a shaky breath, I stand up, considering breaking back into her house, but considering the cops have already been here I’d rather not push my luck. I return to my car and make the decision to go back to my Airbnb, my burner phone ringing, with one of the two people who have its number, as I start to drive. I pick up on the fourth ring.

“What have you got?” I ask.

“Four victims, all under eighteen. Three males, one female. Apparently, three of them are siblings and one is a close friend of the family. Sounds like the parents got into some trouble and weren’t able to pay their debts,” Nathan says.

I grip my steering wheel until my knuckles turn white. “Parents sell them? How did the friend end up involved?”

“Nothing like that, fortunately, even though the situation is still shitty. More like they were taken to make up for the parent’s losses, knowing they’d get more than they were owed on the market. I guess they were claiming interest. Just so happens the friend was at the house when they showed up to collect and ended up being collateral.”

“What are they being used for? They all going in for a procedure?” I ponder the atrocities these kids could be subject to and my stomach coils.

“The contact reached out and confirmed three of the four. Thefriend has complicated the situation, so they said to prepare just in case, but if not, I fear the worst.” He blows out a long sigh.

“Think they will be sold into another trade?”

“If they don’t just decide to cut their losses and kill him.”

I don’t realize that my hands have gone numb until I’m pulling into the driveway. “Nah, they’re nothing if not a bunch of greedy bastards. They’ll figure out a way to make a pretty penny. But if their decision with him is up in the air, we ought to try and get him out first.”

There is a pause before Nathan responds, “If we do that, we risk this whole operation going up in flames and the potential that they will disappear with the other kids before we have a chance to save the rest of them. I hate that I even have to say this, but we need to focus on saving the highest number of lives, and if the opportunity grants it, then we can help the other kid if we end up needing to do something separate.”

Deep down I know he’s right… but it doesn’t mean I have to like it. “Is there another team that can come in and assist?”

“I asked the same thing; at the moment they have nobody else. I know what this means to you, Fletch. I promise we will do what we can if things go in that direction. For now, let’s just focus on what we can control. I’ll call you with the details once the contact reaches out again. I’ll talk to you?—”

“Wait,” I cut him off. “Before you go, I have to make sure I can be present at the funeral. This job isn’t the only reason I’m here.” It makes me feel selfish as fuck saying it, knowing that those kids may very well be on a clock.

“I know. I’ll do my best to try and get it done beforehand. The location isn’t too far from where you’re staying. About an hour and a half, in Richmond. Like I said, I’ll call you.” And with that he hangs up.

I bang my head repeatedly against my headrest. I haven’t been doing this work long, and I swear it’s taken more years off my life than the SEALS ever did.Just remember your ‘why’.As I get out, Ipocket the burner phone and grab my personal cell, along with the small bag of belongings I brought with me before I enter the small home I’ve rented indefinitely. The owners had protested at first saying they needed to serve the rest of the community, and tourists who opt to stay for longer than a weekend, but a wad of cash that’s more than either of them probably see in a month and the sob story of my best friend, and they quickly changed their minds. Truthfully, I hadn’t planned to stay much longer than the funeral and however long it takes me to do this job… but damn if Dylan didn’t catch my eye like a moth to a flame.

I locate the key in a lockbox by the front door, unlocking it before disarming the security system the homeowners had installed. Even though they told me there are no interior cameras and that the alarm system would only sound if someone tried to break in through a locked door or window, I do a quick sweep of the house from top to bottom, checking even the most ludicrous places a camera could be. That’s the only stipulation of my job. Complete anonymity. Mercifully, the owners aren’t creeps and I find no cameras. That’s the other thing about this job: when dealing with the kinds of people I deal with, you learn that trust is a fickle bitch. The last time I had trusted anybody…

I go back to my bag where I set it on the sideboard in the entryway and root through it before finding what I’m looking for. I unfold the dilapidated photo, having seen more than its fair share of neglect through countless tours and deployments.

Riley.

I run my thumb back and forth over her face. She was eight years younger than I was, but she was always getting the two of us in more trouble than I ever could. The night before I went on my third tour, we snuck out of our parents’ house just outside of base—although we were adults and able to make our own decisions. Riley thought it would be funny to make such a memory because we were so far apart in age that we never had the opportunity when I was a teenager. I remember that she just wanted the bragging rights tosimply be able to say she did it. It didn’t matter that I reminded her people would more than likely laughatus and not with us given our age, but she would just say nobody ever had to know when we did it. We even stole some of their liquor from the cabinet before we headed to the beach to catch up with some of our friends and my SEAL buddies, including Jack. Which, thinking back on it now, was probably the only thing she would’ve gotten in trouble for by our parents, regardless that I was of age.

There are so many things I wish I could change about that night. Maybe then Riley would still be here, be alive. Maybe my parents wouldn’t blame me for the loss of their youngest. Maybe… just maybe, I could finally rest.

I wake with a jolt,unsure at first of where I am or how I got here. Searching for my weapon, my eyes still adjusting to the dark, I let my ears do the work for me. When I’m greeted by silence and my eyes finally adjust to my surroundings, I let loose a breath I had no idea I was holding. Four years out and I still can’t get used to civilian life… if you can call what I do now normal. I still kill people. The only difference is most of the time if we play our cards right, we aren’t getting shot back at. Standing up from where I obviously fell asleep in one of the armchairs in the living room, a slight crinkle catches my attention. Looking down, I notice that the photo of Riley fell to the floor, probably when I startled awake. That’s right, I fell asleep reminiscing. For all the good that can do.

I bend down and pick it up before wandering back to where I left my bag and place the photo back inside. I check my watch: 00:32. I was only out for a few hours, but knowing myself, I won’t be getting back to sleep tonight. Instead, I pull out my laptop to see if Nathan has managed to send any information over on our job. I know he saidhe would call, but most of the time, especially when he knows that I don’t sleep well, he sends it over to me via an encrypted email anyway. Sure enough, as soon as I set it down on the kitchen island and make myself comfortable, I have one new message in my inbox. I open the thread and take inventory of the email and its several attachments that include pictures of the abducted minors, their parents, and the traffickers who took them.

Most jobs aren’t this easy. Most of the time we have to do an in-depth search for the perpetrators, but since this was a more impulsive decision for the alleged debt settlement, they got sloppy. Although I’m sure they threatened the parents if they went to the feds with anything. Granted, not much of a life worth living if you ask me, knowing your children are out there in the world being butchered, used, and abused in the worst ways. Death would almost seem a kindness. But I wouldn’t be employed otherwise—situations like this are my job security.

I lean forward, eyes scanning the photos on the screen, each one a fresh wound on a world already full of them. I flip through the faces of the kids, trying not to let them stick with me.Keep it professional,I remind myself. The parents’ faces are harder to ignore. Desperation is something you can't fake, and in every line of their expressions, I can see the kind of terror that only comes when you know you're at the mercy of something far worse than you could ever imagine. These were taken after the children were already gone.