J Saint - Collateral Damage

The front porch had been a surprise as well as the carport. No clutter there.

He wished that were true for the kitchen and dining area. Mail and things from tool sets to bar soap were piled amid dirty dishes on every surface without any apparent order to the overwhelming volume of junk. Another year or two and Jack doubted there would be a navigable path through the place. The place was a health and fire hazard.

Lauren was a trooper. She didn't murmur a word of complaint as she searched. After a bit, he looked up at her. "I hate to say this. But if Conrad Gardner was blown up on his boat today, he is better off dead than living like this. Hell, it doesn't even look as if he has thrown anything out in a long time."

"If ever," Lauren added. "I know for sure Bill and the others never knew Conrad lived like this. None of them would have associated with him in any way if they had. Not even to help him. They'd have dropped him cold if they knew."

"Given the degree of illness here, it was a wonder he hid it from them. I'm not sure what I would do if I found a friend was as messed up as this. But do you really think it would be as bad as you say? You do charity work, didn't Bill or his friends contribute?"

"Sure they dumped money into things, which isn't something to be denigrated. Funding is essential. I raise money to help cover the cost of having and raising a premature baby. I just know that Bill and the others would have never tolerated or understood this level of illness- Hey, there's a FedEx envelope on the floor over by the refrigerator."

Being closer, Jack picked it up from the pieces of a broken coffee cup. "It's empty and it's from Brazil."

"Which only confirms what we suspected. Bill's girlfriend mailed things to Bill's college buddies."

"I hate to say this, but Brazil looks to be the next ticket."

Lauren's expression changed and he suddenly realized what it would mean for him to follow Bill's trail to Brazil. He'd have to leave her, and that sat the wrong way in his gut as well as heavily on his shoulders. Damn.

"Can't say that you're wrong." Her voice was thick with the fear he saw in her eyes. "Though the woman didn't know why Bill was missing or where he was, she did know enough to be worried about him. And he had to have seen her after leaving here. Otherwise, he would have left the packages for his housekeeper to mail."

"Let's go." Jack didn't see the point of wasting any more time here. "Finding any clues in this mess will take a team of investigators months."

"You're right." She sighed.

Jack moved ahead of Lauren to the front door, checked the area out then slipped onto the porch. He was unable to shake the feeling nagging his gut. Conrad's whole set up revealed a somewhat unbalanced psyche. It surprised him to see how neat the front porch was as opposed to the back, the way he'd entered the trailer. The woods beyond the rock driveway were heavy with brush, which had hindered him when he'd circled the perimeter of the mobile home. It wasn't surprising to see the man didn't believe in yard work. No landscaping or grass covered the ground, only gravel, pine needles and scrub. Jack noted the empty double carport to his right. The place was roofed and had one wall, where hooks held ropes and life jackets for boating. Grease spots dotted one side of the concrete floor and a puddle of water as well. Odd. From Conrad's boat maybe? Apparently he'd left here not too long before Jack arrived otherwise the day's heat would have evaporated…

He frowned and fisted his hands, feeling as frustrated with his current situation as he did with his flashbacks to Lebanon.

With Lauren before him, they moved down the steps to the car. He opened the driver's door. She reached in for her purse that she'd left on the seat. Then looked up at him. "You're serious about going to Brazil?"

"I think I'll call her first, see what she says, how she reacts to my questions, okay."

Lauren nodded, her relief evident.

Suddenly pain stabbed a hot dagger into his brain follow by a loud pop. The bullet plowing into his skull had come out of nowhere. His knees buckled and a dark tunnel swallowed him alive. "Lauren," he cried out, reaching for her through a dark mist. He thrust his weapon into her hand as he went down, doing his best to push her back into the car and cover her with his body. His last thought was of her, want of her, need of her, fear for her. Fear for what would happen to her without him.

Mari couldn't seem to stop the tears. From her cramped huddle on the floorboard, she cried for Neil and she cried for her unborn baby, certain she would never be able to hold him in her arms. Never see his sweet smile or suckle him at her breast. Never be able to love him, sing to him or watch him grow into an honorable man. It seemed Allah had decided on her death and she had no idea when and where her execution would be, only that it would come. What else was she to believe?

Anyone around her was in danger. People at the hospital had been hurt and Mr. Weston…Roger…he'd missed getting shot by seconds. The bullet meant for her would have killed them both. She'd seen the gore and the harsh realities of war and death in her village among those less fortunate than her family. With her father being a very important person among the ruling religious leaders, she and her sisters had been somewhat protected.

But not always. The men who had attacked her had hated her father.

Her body screamed at her to escape, but she couldn't seem to move, too afraid that the man with the gun would try and shoot her again and this time succeed in killing her baby or Roger. That brought more tears streaming from her eyes. Visions of Roger, memories of Neil, and the horrors of her shame all jumbled together in her mind, leaving her in a very dark place where time and anything good in life abandoned her.

"Mari, you're safe now. Do you understand?" Roger had stopped the car. He now was next to her. He grabbed her shoulders, pulling her toward him. "We're just outside Fort Bragg and need to go through security. I need you to sit up on the seat. Please, look at me. I am so sorry I let this happen. God, can you forgive me?"

Mari looked up to find Roger's face only inches from hers. He had crouched down on the ground outside and leaned in through the passenger's doorway to reach her. A deadly grimness had consumed his rugged features. She touched his roughly stubbled cheek with her icy hand. "Not your fault. It's mine. I hurt the man."

"No." Roger looked even fiercer. "It isn't your fault. You have to believe me."

She shook her head. Roger wouldn't be able to understand unless she told him of her sin before. Of the men who had used her. She had been violated, taken by force, but apparently that didn't change the fact that she was now impure. She thought it had, had believed Neil, but now that Allah had taken him away, now that an executioner hid in the shadows, she couldn't believe any more. But she couldn't tell Roger all of that. She just couldn't.

"Damn it. The man is evil, and you aren't responsible for evil being in this world are you? Were you around at the very beginning of time and brought that horror upon mankind?"

Mari sucked in air, shocked at Roger's question and forced herself to answer. "No, but-"

"There are no buts. Evil exists and evil preys upon the good. You aren't responsible for its existence nor are you responsible for its manifestations, unless you choose to become evil yourself. Understand?"

She blinked and found herself nodding, surprised that he made sense. Then he did something that wiped everything from her mind. He kissed her tears on her cheeks and pressed his forehead to hers. "I won't let it happen again, Mari. I promise. That man's evil will never touch your life again. I vow my life on it."