Brett Battles - No Return

“Two things you need to know,” his father said. “First, you had absolutely nothing to do with the problems your mother and I are having. It is what it is, and what we talked about tonight has been a long time coming. The second thing, and I want you to listen to me very carefully, once you get to San Diego you are never, ever to come back here again.”

“Never? But when will-”

“No,” Wes’s dad said. “There’s no questioning this.” He paused. “I went out last week to the mine near … what did you call it? The Rocks?”

Wes stared at his dad, too surprised to confirm.

“I found some timbers farther back in the shaft and tossed them in the hole. The chance that somebody will find what’s down there is almost zero. But if they do, I want you away from here. There’s nothing there that’s going to tie you to the body.”

“My blood is on him.”

“I took care of it. Your job is to just stay away.”

In that instant Wes realized what his father had really done. He had gone to the mine, left footprints there, touched items that were now down the shaft with Jack’s body. If the body was found, his father was going to take the blame.

“I can’t ask you to-”

“No, you can’t,” his dad said. “I don’t want to hear any more about it. This subject is closed.”

Wes picked up the phone on the first ring.

“Casey?”

No voice, just a faint double beep.

“Casey, can you hear me?”

Nothing for several moments, then a click, and the line went dead.

Confused, Wes started to hang the phone up. Suddenly he heard the sound of tires screeching on asphalt. He looked back toward the street.

Two dark sedans, the same military issue Lars had been driving, had just made the turn off Inyokern Road onto Downs, and were making a beeline for the convenience store parking lot.

“No,” Wes whispered to himself.

He dropped the phone and jumped on the Triumph.

There was no time to do anything with Lars’s papers, so he squeezed them between his hand and the grip as he kick-started the bike to life.

The lead car adjusted its course to intercept him, so Wes turned hard as he hit the gas, and raced past the near side of the sedan, then turned again and headed for the exit. But before he could get there, the second car skidded to a halt across the ramp, blocking the way.

Wes angled to his left, shot across the sidewalk, and flew off the curb. The tires shimmied as they hit the road, but sheer willpower kept the Triumph upright.

As Wes glanced over he got a quick glimpse of the second car’s driver. It was Lieutenant Jenks.

Cursing under his breath, he took off down the street. Someone must have found out what Casey was doing, and discovered the call to the pay phone at the 7-Eleven. It was the only explanation.

Back at the store, the sedans sped out of the lot and took up the chase. They were faster than he’d expected. With every block, they got a little closer. If he was going to lose them, it wasn’t speed that was going to do it for him.

He took a quick right, his turn going wide and taking him into the path of an approaching panel van. He swerved toward the sidewalk, barely missing the vehicle.

“Sorry,” he shouted reflexively.

He checked behind him again. The sedans were there, but the turn had slowed them down.

Two blocks ahead the housing tracks fell away. Beyond was an area of large lots and open desert. Now he was the one with the advantage.

The driver of the lead sedan started coming on fast, but it was already too late. Wes spotted what he’d hoped for just ahead on the left. He took one more glance at the sedans following him, then veered across the road and onto the dirt motorcycle path that cut through an open field.

Behind him, the first sedan slowed for a moment, then continued down the street to the next intersection and turned left. Jenks’s sedan, on the other hand, was far enough behind that it was able to turn left at the intersection before the open field. It sped forward, paralleling Wes for a moment, then raced past his position.

Their goal would be the next intersecting street, with the hope of cutting him off. At least that’s what Wes was counting on. As he continued along the trail, he could see that the first sedan was now almost even with him. Wes slowed just enough to let it get ahead. The other sedan had already reached the intersecting road and was just pulling up to the spot where the motorcycle trail crossed. A door flew open and Jenks got out.

Wes let the bike ease back a little more, then, as soon as the first sedan had made its turn onto the intersecting road, he whipped the bike around in a one-eighty and took off back the way he’d come.

Five minutes later, after reentering the city and using the residential streets to mask his movements, he pulled in to the parking lot of the Church of Christ on Norma Street. Since it was still relatively early on a Monday, the lot was empty. He slowed the bike and eased it behind the A-frame building, out of sight from the road, then cut the engine.

His next problem was communications. If they could track down the pay phone he’d been using, they could easily pinpoint his position if he made a call on his cell. Unfortunately, he didn’t have much of a choice.

He pulled the phone out and started to call Casey at his desk, then remembered Casey had gone into his boss’s office.

“Judy Thomas, please,” he told the Quest Network operator as soon as she answered.

“One moment,” the woman said.

Another promotional audio took over while the call was transferred. Ironically, it was an ad for Close to Home , hyping the upcoming Chicago episode.

“Wes?” Casey said.

“Are you all right?” Wes said.

“Where the hell are you? I’ve been trying to call that number you gave me, but all I get is a notice it’s been disconnected.”

“You’ve got to get out of the building.”

“You won’t believe what I-Wait. What?”

“Get out now! They know what you’re doing.”

“How do you know that?” There was the hint of fear in Casey’s voice.

“They traced your call back to the pay phone I was using, and nearly grabbed me there. The only way they could have done that was through you. These are the same people who took Anna and Tony. You need to leave now. Don’t tell anyone.”

“Are … are you all right?”

“Don’t worry about me. Just go!”

There was a pause. “Okay. But … I think you need to know what I found out.”

Wes desperately wanted to hear what it was, but he said, “Later. Right now just get out of there. I’ll call you on your cell at exactly one-fifteen, okay?”

Silence, then, “All right.”

“Be safe,” Wes said.

“You too.”

If only it were that easy .

Larsspent the night in a room that wasn’t one of the normal military holding cells used by Naval Criminal Investigative Services, or NCIS. It was more like a windowless office where the desk had been replaced by a cot. Anytime he needed to use the head, he had to wait until one of the guards checked on him, and then he was escorted down the hall.

The guards weren’t NCIS, either. They also weren’t members of the contracted federal police force that handled the day-to-day law enforcement on the base. Rather, they were a group of naval personnel under Jenks’s and Wasserman’s command. Or, more accurately, under Forman’s.

When he’d first woken up, he’d made a request to see someone from his office. The guard he had talked to had listened but made no promises. So far, no one had shown up.

Well, not no one .

At just after 7:30 a.m., as Lars had been eating breakfast, the door had opened and Commander Forman had entered.