Andrew Britton - The American

“Sir, this is Sarah Bernstein, the night-duty officer at Langley. I tried to reach you on the secure line, but it didn’t go through…”

Harper glanced over and spun the unit around with his left hand. The cord had been pulled out from the back. He scowled and looked over at Julie’s stirring form.

He’d give her an earful in the morning. “What do you have for me, Bernstein?”

She hesitated. “Sir, perhaps you’d like to call me back through the switchboard.”

Rubbing the sleep out of his eyes, he silently reprimanded himself for thinking so slowly. “You’re right. Give me a minute.”

He slammed down the phone hard enough to wake his wife. She sat up and copied his sleepy gestures, running her palms over her face and back through her sleep-tossed hair. “Who is it?”

“I’ve told you a thousand times, Julie. I need to be able to take calls here immediately.”

“Sorry. I just thought you deserved a break…”

There was no use in arguing with her. He plugged the STU-III back in and dialed a number from memory. “This is Deputy Director Harper.” He recited his authorization code. “Give me the duty officer, please.”

A series of clicks and whirs, then: “Bernstein.”

“Yeah, this is Harper… What’s going on?”

Her voice was clipped and efficient. “Sir, I have a call here you probably want to take. Benjamin Tynes from the Cumberland County Sheriff’s Office. He says it’s important.”

“Cumberland County…?”

“It’s in Maine, sir.”

He sat straight up in bed. At the look on his face, Julie’s eyes grew wide. “What is it?”

“You have him on hold?”

“Of course, sir.”

“Patch him through.”

More clicks, then a grizzled old voice cutting over the line: “Mr. Harper?”

“You’ve got him.”

“My name is Ben Tynes, sir,” the man said unnecessarily. “I’m the sheriff for Cumberland County, and I got something here you might want to know about.”

Harper was already losing patience; he wanted to know how the man had gotten his name and number, but he wanted answers first. There was only one person he knew in Maine. Jesus, Ryan… “What do you have, Sheriff?”

“I’m at 1334 Village Creek Road. We got here twenty minutes ago in response to an emergency call. What we found was a young woman, DOA, and a man in critical condition. The woman has been identified as Katherine Leah Donovan, twenty-four years of age. She was a student at Orono. The injured man’s wallet has him as Ryan Thomas Kealey… Is this making sense to you?”

Harper squeezed his eyes shut. After a long pause, he let out a strangled, “Yes.”

The sheriff seemed confused, expecting the other man to elaborate. Finally, he said, “We’re still trying to figure out what happened here. From what it looks like, we’re missing a third person-”

Jonathan had a pretty good idea who the third person was. “What about Kealey, Sheriff? What’s his condition?”

“Not good, sir.” Another long hesitation. “Not good at all. He was outside for a long time. He’s got a badly broken ankle and a gunshot wound to the right side, in addition to a few broken ribs on the left. The bullet’s still in him, but there doesn’t appear to be any major damage. That’s the good news. On the other hand, his core temperature was 91 degrees Fahrenheit when they brought him in. That’s severe hypothermia… They think he’ll pull through, but it’ll be close.”

“What about the girl? Are you sure that she’s…?”

“She was pronounced twenty minutes ago, Mr. Harper. She’s gone.”

“Give me a second, okay?” Harper lowered the receiver and, ignoring Julie’s panicked inquiries, took a moment to collect himself. Finally holding up a hand to quiet her, he got back on with Tynes. “What’s it look like to you, Sheriff? Any ideas?”

“Me and my deputies haven’t been here all that long, sir, but… I think that your third person got the drop on one or both of them. He did the woman in the kitchen, and we found your man in a clearing 200 feet behind the house. There were signs of a struggle.”

“How did you know he’s my man?” Harper asked.

“One of Donovan’s friends found the body and called 911. They had to take the friend to the hospital with Kealey — she’s in shock — but she was still reasonably coherent when we got here. Somehow, she knew your name, and there’s a car outside with government plates, so I thought it made sense to at least try and get hold of you.”

“You did the right thing, Sheriff. Uh… any sign of the third person?”

“Nothing. They warmed Kealey up with heat packs and blankets, trying to get some information out of him. What he gave us wasn’t much, but from what I gathered, the other guy went over the side-”

“What do you mean, over the side?”

“Into the ocean, sir.”

Harper pushed his left palm hard against his temple, thinking about it. Ryan had moved to the house only a year earlier, and Jonathan had never been there. He had no picture in his mind to refer to. “What does that mean, Sheriff?”

“It means that he’s gone.” The deputy director heard Tynes clear his throat over the line. “Dead.”

“How can you be sure?”

“It’s about 180 feet to the water, sir. From that height, it’s like hitting cement.”

A long pause. “I hope you’re right about that,” Harper finally said. “I really hope you’re right about that.”

Ben Tynes could tell that he wasn’t convinced. “Sir, unless you hit at just the right angle, whatever’s left of your rib cage will tear your insides to shreds. And even if you do make it through the initial impact, you’ll either go so far down that you drown before you can get back up, or you’ll be too badly bruised to get out of the water. They usually get dragged out by the current, but I’ve seen what was left of the few jumpers we recovered. Trust me, it’s not a pretty sight.”

He took a deep breath and let it out slow. “Okay, Sheriff. That’s good enough for me. I have to make a lot of calls, but I’ll get back to you as soon as I get transportation lined up. Call in forty-five minutes.”

“There’s one other thing, Mr. Harper…”

Jonathan detected a new note in the man’s voice, a reluctance that instantly caught his attention. “Go ahead.”

“This man, Kealey… How well do you know him?”

“Pretty well. He’s been a good friend of mine for a long time. Why?”

“What was it between him and this Donovan woman?”

It was the last thing Harper wanted to think about. He was about to snap at the man, but Tynes seemed to be going somewhere with this. “They were engaged. Just a few weeks ago.” He wasn’t sure what the sheriff was looking for. “Apart from the usual couple stuff, things were good between them. Really good.”

Tynes carried on, more sure now of what he was about to say: “The reason I ask, sir… I think he saw what happened to her. When we found him, he was turned over on his stomach. The bullet went in about four-and-a-half inches right of his navel, and the wound was…”

“Was what?” Jonathan didn’t feel good about this particular line of inquiry.

“…leaking a lot faster than it would have been if he’d been lying on his back.” Another long pause. “And he had a cell phone, sir, but he didn’t call anyone. Do you see what I’m saying?”

Harper felt cold, despite the relative warmth of his bedroom. “Oh, no… Jesus.”

The longest pause yet, what seemed like minutes on end. Tynes maintained a respectful silence, waiting for the deputy director to continue.

“I’ll be there in three hours,” he finally said.

Harper put the phone down and looked at his wife.