Page 90 of I'll Be There
“That’s rich, coming from you. You appear out of the dark like a ghost—”
“I prefer ghoul, thanks.”
Conner shook his head. “How did you find us?”
“You’re not the only one who knows how to use a computer. Where do you think you learned your hacking skills?”
“The military.”
“Whatever.” But a grin tweaked Justin’s mouth. “I’ve been checking in on you for years. You, and Blue.” His smile disappeared. “I should have come for her, no matter what they said.”
“Whosaid? Tell me what happened.”
Justin pulled in a breath and got up. He turned his back to Conner, staring out at the water. “It’s a long story.”
“I’m not going to sleep. Maybe ever again, so take as long as you want.”
“Do you have anything stronger than soda in that six-pack?”
“Nope.” Conner handed him a long neck. “But it has a nice lukewarm kick.”
Justin screwed off the top. Put a foot on the bench. “Okay, so you know I embedded with the Sons of Freedom right after the bombing of the Mexican embassy. We figured they were behind the terrorist attacks—and planning more. I was able to feed enough information out to protect several potential targets. A pipeline attack in Alaska, another embassy bombing. The Sons of Freedom are radical rightists—but that’s just a cover.”
“They’re a black ops organization for certain government interests,” Conner said.
Justin looked at him. “Yeah. Except not our government. If you dug hard enough, you would have discovered that Blankenship’s interests go further than money. He’s been working with certain off-the-grid overseas groups that would like nothing more than for America to get tied up in a domestic civil war over gun control, borders, and the running of oil, and anything else that can take our attention off the defense of our country, here and abroad.”
“He was a spy?”
“Traitor. We think he was recruited years ago when he served in Iraq. Before your time, by the way. He was captured and liberated, but...”
“I know all about the recruiting they do,” Conner said.
“While I was working for the SOF, I overheard a phone call between Kayle and Blankenship—they were plotting the Times Square bombing. What I didn’t know what that it was also a trap. They suspected me, set up the phone call, and when I called it in, Blankenship knew about it. When the bomb went off—thankfully no one was hurt—I feared I’d been made. So I set upa meet with my handler and gave a copy of the phone call on a thumb drive, along with my phone, to Blue.”
“And told her you’d call her.”
“Yeah. Except when I went to meet my handler and told him what happened, he knew I’d been blown. He extracted me, faked my death, and gave me a new assignment. As a dead man, I was free to roam the country...”
Justin picked at the label on the bottle.
“Wet work?”
He took a drink. “I wanted to see Blue. But I feared that if contacted her, Kayle—or Blankenship—would find her. After all these years, I thought she’d moved on, made her peace. I had no idea Blankenship was still hunting Blue. I hoped he’d bought my story—probably would have if you hadn’t been so persistent.”
“Hey—”
But Justin grinned, something fast. “Nice to know you care.”
“That’s the thing, Justin. I did care—knowing you died, your murderer on the loose—it destroyed me. I promised Grandpa that I’d find—”
“I went to see him.”
Conner closed his mouth.
“Near the end. He was in the hospital. You’d left—I think to get some shut-eye in your fifth wheel—and I came in. Told him the truth.”
Conner swallowed. “He told me to drop the investigation. That it didn’t matter anymore.”
