Jeff Abbott - Fear

‘They made you relive the bombing,’ Miles said.

‘Bombing?’ Celeste asked.

‘I’m a war hero.’ Nathan sat up straighter. ‘Iraq. I volunteered after 9/11. I wanted to fight the good fight, protect the country I love.’

‘Brave of you,’ Celeste said softly.

He ducked his head in embarrassment. ‘During the invasion, I was with a battery company, thirty miles out of Baghdad. We launched our missiles, right after midnight, on target for a palace of Saddam’s, but a U.S. jet pilot got confused, got bad info, he believed we were Republican Guard, he fired a heat-seeker’ – he paused, swallowed, kept his gaze on his feet – ‘killed four of my buddies. Nearly killed the rest of us.’

‘I’m sorry, man,’ Miles said.

‘Parts of my friends hit me. I got a broken nose from a leg flying into my face.’

Miles and Celeste said nothing, because words had no power now.

‘I got hurt in the blast, just burns’ – he pointed to the peppering of scars on his cheek and nose – ‘but it messed me up inside. I couldn’t – I couldn’t do my duty anymore.’

‘PTSD,’ Celeste said. ‘It’s not your fault.’

‘Pathetic Terrible Stupid Disorder,’ Nathan said. ‘That’s what I call it. I got freaky. I’d go nuclear in two seconds flat. Beat up an orderly at the psych ward in Germany they sent me to. But I got the honorable discharge, got the medal for standing ten feet further away from the battery than my friends.’

‘And then you ended up at Sangriaville,’ Miles said.

‘When I didn’t get any better. My folks were good to me, but after a couple of years, they’re saying, Nathan, get over the sadness now. Stop whining. Stop seeing dead people in the mirrors. Stop being this freak, be our son again. Tried selling furniture at their place in Albuquerque; went from supporting missile systems to futons.’ He tried to laugh. ‘I wasn’t good at moving the merchandise off the floor. I punched a guy when he couldn’t decide between two recliners. Jesus, it’s not a life-or-death decision. Pick after thirty minutes of shopping and sitting and fricking reclining. So the folks found a vets’ program in Phoenix that got me free treatment – then my folks found out about Hurley’s program and moved me to Santa Fe.’

‘I read about those virtual-reality treatments,’ Celeste said. ‘But they’re considered promising, and they don’t involve drugs.’

‘I didn’t sign up to test drugs, none of us did, I signed up to test the virtual-reality treatments.’ Nathan closed his eyes. Miles put a steadying hand on his shoulder. The trembling stopped. ‘I didn’t know about the drugs till Allison told me.’

‘It’s all cool. Just tell us what you know about Allison’s death,’ Miles said. ‘Start at the beginning.’

‘Sorenson – he’s lying.’ Nathan took another bite of sandwich. A dribble of strawberry jelly lay near his lip. ‘I didn’t kill her. You got to believe me. I would never…’

‘I believe you.’

‘Th-thank you. For getting me out of the torture chamber.’ He clenched his fists, pressed them into his face. ‘I thought I was fixed but now I feel worse than ever. Allison was the only person who helped me-’

‘I swear I’ll help you, Nathan,’ Miles said. ‘But you have to help us.’

‘Help you what?’

‘Find justice for her.’

Nathan laughed. ‘How high and mighty. Justice.’ Nathan cleaned the jelly off his chin with his thumb, the way a child would, sucked the jelly off the nail.

‘She was our friend,’ Celeste said. ‘Our doctor.’

‘You can’t help a dead person,’ Nathan said. ‘They’re dead, end of story.’

‘Not end of story. She tried to help you,’ Miles said.

Nathan’s mouth went into a thin slash. ‘I want to know what I’m getting into, I still don’t know why you use two names.’

‘I’d like to know why, too, Miles,’ Celeste said quietly. ‘Which name do you prefer?’

He could unfold the confession he kept in his pocket, let them read it. But he wouldn’t. He needed Nathan to trust him, but he wasn’t sure yet he could trust Nathan. He knew the attitude was wrong – when he preached cooperation to a scared, beaten kid – but he couldn’t help himself. So he kept the explanation edited. ‘My dad died. He owed three hundred thousand dollars to a crime family in Miami. They forced me to work with them to pay the debt. They had me spy on their rivals. I finally cooperated with the feds, testified, and went into the witness protection program. The government moved me to Santa Fe and named me Michael. But I’m not in witness protection anymore.’

‘Tell them the whole story,’ Andy hissed from the kitchen table. ‘I’m waiting.’

Celeste, as though she heard Andy’s whisper, put a hand on Miles’s arm.

‘That’s your trauma?’ Nathan said. ‘Jesus, that’s fricking nothing, man.’

‘Stop it,’ Celeste said. ‘This isn’t a competition.’

‘I’m just saying I don’t see how being in witness protection would drive you nuts,’ Nathan said.

‘I killed a man,’ Miles said suddenly. ‘He tried to kill me and two undercover cops who had infiltrated the ring. I shot him.’

‘What caused him to go postal?’ Nathan asked.

‘I don’t remember,’ Miles said. ‘We were just talking to him and he pulled his gun and he tried to kill me.’

Nathan glanced at Celeste. ‘Be careful what you say.’

‘Don’t joke. You owe this man your life,’ she said.

Nathan shut up.

‘There’s my truth, Nathan. Your turn. Finish your story. Allison was getting you out.’

‘Yeah. I was supposed to get to her house, wait for her. We were going to disappear, go where no one could find us, she said. She said we had to run Tuesday night. I don’t know what made Tuesday special.’

‘What about Groote?’ Miles asked.

‘Never saw him, or Sorenson, before Tuesday.’

‘You ever hear of a man named Quantrill?’ Miles asked.

‘No.’

‘Allison should have just called the state board on Hurley and Quantrill,’ Miles said. ‘Why run? Why hide? She could have simply gone to the police. She asked me for help. She sounded like she was making a stand to fight. But then she tells you she was running.’

Nathan said, ‘Maybe she wanted your help in hiding herself and me. Since you know all about it.’

Miles shrugged. But the explanation didn’t ring true to him, part of the story was bent, a piece was missing.

Nathan creaked to his feet with a wince, washed his face in the sink.

‘If Frost was fixing you, why would you want to leave?’ Celeste asked.

Nathan dragged a finger across his lips. ‘Allison said Hurley was going to do extra experiments on me. Because my trauma was so bad. Eventually – take apart my brain to show how Frost worked on it.’

Celeste said, ‘Oh, God, they’ll kill all the patients?’

‘No, they couldn’t risk so many people dying without explanation. But I was supposed to meet with an accident, Allison said.’ Nathan put a hand across his eyes. ‘I need to sleep.’

‘Answer one more question. Do you really think Frost helped you?’

‘I used to not be able to function at all. But I can now. So I guess I’m better. But lately, I can’t always think straight. I get panicky.’

‘Same with you, Celeste?’ Miles asked.

She shrugged. ‘Nathan, do you feel-’

‘I don’t want to talk anymore!’ he nearly screamed. He threw his plate into the sink. ‘Please. Just… I need to sleep. Let me sleep.’

Miles helped Nathan walk upstairs to a guest bedroom. Nathan eased himself down on the sheets, grabbed Miles’s arm.

‘If you try and hurt me while I’m sleeping, I’ll kill you.’