Critical Doubt Page 3

  He'd spent a couple of years in Georgia, when he was stationed at Fort Benning, and while he hadn't been to Dobbs before, he had missed the beauty of the area: the gentle, rolling hills, the acres of farmland, and the neighborhoods where there was a real sense of community. Most of that community was in the church auditorium today. At least Abby had support here.

  Todd tossed his cigarette butt on the patio and ground it out with his heel. "What's going on with you, Ryker? I know you've had your own shit to deal with, but why did you disappear?"

  He shrugged, not wanting to get into it. "I'm sorry I wasn't there for Paul."

  "Or for anyone. You were our leader. You know what happens when the leader goes down? Someone else steps up. Someone a lot less worthy. But the team has to follow, because without the team, what is there?"

  His gaze narrowed at Todd's rambling words. "What are you talking about? There's no team. There's no leader."

  Todd straightened. "You're right. I don't know what I'm talking about. I haven't slept since Paul went off the roof."

  "That's understandable."

  "If you ever want to leave the fish, you could always work with my company. I know you have physical limitations with your knee, but your brain is sharp, and you were one of the best tacticians and strategists I've ever seen."

  "Thanks, but I'm fine with where I am." He wasn't anywhere close to fine, which was why he couldn't consider Todd's offer. The damn bells tortured him constantly. The only way he could sleep was to live alone on his boat. Hell, the only way he could get through the day was to see as few people as possible. The fishing charters were great, because his charter guests had to be quiet so as not to scare the fish. They had no idea that the silence was more for him than the fish.

  "Yeah, sure. I figured."

  "Is Mason or Hank coming today?"

  "Mason is sick. Hank is out of town."

  He didn't know if he felt relieved or unhappy that the other two men from his unit would not be showing up. But he knew one thing. If they were here, there would only be more questions that he didn't want to answer. Clearing his throat, he decided to change the subject. "So, do you know the woman you passed on your way out here?"

  "You mean Savannah? Yeah, she's Abby's friend. She's a looker, isn't she?"

  "What do you know about her?"

  "Not much. I met her a couple years ago at a party. She's a former beauty queen. Abby grew up with her, but I think she lives in California now. She's stunning, but I would never hit on her."

  "Why is that?"

  "Her last name, dude."

  "What's her last name?"

  Todd gave him a surprised look. "Kane. As in Colonel Henry Kane."

  "Seriously?" He could not believe that Savannah was the daughter of Colonel Kane. The grim-faced, hard-assed colonel had been on him every day of sniper school and beyond that. He'd never found much to like about the man, except for the fact that he'd been extremely good at his job. But the colonel had no compassion, no heart; he was cold as ice.

  And the very hot, impulsive, free-spirited Savannah was his daughter? He shook his head in bemusement.

  Todd glanced at his watch. "I can't do this," he said.

  "Do what?"

  "Be at this damned funeral that should not be happening. What did we do it all for, Ryker?"

  "We did it for our country," he said automatically, although the words felt hollow in the face of Todd's emotion.

  "And what has our country done for us?" Todd asked bitterly.

  "It doesn't matter. We didn't choose to fight because we were going to get something back. That's not why we did it."

  Todd stared back at him. "Even if that's not why we did it, we deserve more. Look at our team. Three are dead. The rest of us are scarred in one way or another. It's not right."

  He could see that Todd was getting more agitated by the minute. Paul's death had clearly pushed him over the edge. "If you want to get out of here, I'll go with you. We'll get a drink. We'll talk."

  "No. I don't think you and I speak the same language anymore."

  "Todd, come on."

  "It's fine. Don't worry about it, Ryker. You have your life. I have mine. They don't ever have to cross again."

  "I'm worried about you, Todd."

  "I'll survive. It's what I do. Other people die, other people get hurt, but not me. I'm not the one who takes the bullet. I'm the one who narrowly escapes."

  "That's a good thing."

  "Not when my friends are dying in front of me. Someone needs to pay, Ryker. Someone needs to be held responsible." He paused. "I have to leave. I need to be alone. I'm sure you can understand that."

  He definitely could not argue with that need.

  "Just tell Abby I'm sorry, okay?" Todd asked, desperation in his eyes. "Tell her I'm sorry about Paul, about everything. Maybe in the long run, she'll be better off."

  He frowned. "Don't say that. Don't go, Todd. You shouldn't be on your own now." He was more than a little worried about Todd's state of mind.

  "I have to leave, Ryker. I have to make this right. I have to find a way to change things."

  "Change what?" he asked in confusion.

  "You'll see."

  "See what? You cannot leave like this, Todd."

  "I'm fine. I know what I need to do, and it doesn't involve you. Don't follow me, Ryker. You could have helped if you wanted to, but you didn't. I don't need you now. No one does. Go back to your boat. Hang out with the fish. Maybe you'll end up better than the rest of us."

  His gut churned as Todd stormed down the path to the parking lot. Todd had always been wired more tightly than the rest of them. But he'd never seemed so out of control, so filled with anger and rage. Maybe guilt was driving that anger. Todd was holding himself responsible for Paul's death.

  Perhaps Paul's death was on him, too. In isolating himself, he'd let everyone down. He'd left them all without a leader. But there had been no team left to lead. And every time he'd stepped even a few feet outside of his quiet, his brain had gone haywire, the bells churning as if to alert him to something. But he didn't know what that something was.

  Well, it was too late now. He couldn't change what had happened. He'd just go inside and pay his respects to Abby and then go back to his silence.

  Although, as he headed into the church, it occurred to him that he hadn't heard the bells once during Todd's tirade. That seemed odd. But he should just be grateful that he'd finally been able to hear a friend. He could do better. He had to do better. Paul was gone. But there was still Todd, Mason, Hank…he could reach out to them. He could make sure they were okay, or he could get them help for whatever pain they were in. No one else needed to die.

  Seeing her dad was always a painful experience. Savannah took a quick breath as her father's gaze settled on her. Then he excused himself from the conversation he was in and crossed the room. She mentally steeled herself to be ready for criticism or coldness. He never had anything else to offer. She'd tried in so many ways over so many years to find a way to connect with him, but nothing had ever worked. If anything, their relationship had gone in the opposite direction of love. Now, it felt a lot closer to hate.

  "This must be a cold day in hell," he drawled. "Isn't that when you said you'd be back to Georgia?"

  She hated the fact that in spite of her three-inch heels, her dad still towered over her like the giant he'd always been in her head and in her life.

  "It feels like a day in hell with Paul gone. Abby is my friend. I came to support her."

  Her father didn't comment as he flipped some imaginary piece of lint off the sleeve of his uniform. His medals had once made her the proudest girl on earth. Later, they'd just been a reminder of the life he'd chosen to live far away from her, even when they'd only been miles apart.

  "I'm going to talk to Abby," she said when he remained silent.

  "Wait."

  His sharp command gave her pause. "Why? Do you have something to say to me? Because I'm not really interested i
n this awkward moment we're having."

  A gleam flickered in his eyes. It almost felt like approval, but that was a foolish thought.

  She'd been searching for her dad's approval most of her life, and she'd never gotten it. Now, she no longer needed it. She'd finally stopped trying to hold on to a relationship that had never been what she wanted and never would be.

  "You still working for the bureau?" he asked. "Or did you quit that, like you quit everything else?"

  "You know, we don't need to talk. Good things don't happen when we speak."

  He frowned. "I shouldn't have said that."

  She was shocked at his words. "That might be a first. An apology. And, yes, I'm still working for the bureau."

  "I'm glad you're settled."

  "Settled? I didn't settle for my job; I chose it."

  "I just meant I'm glad you're sticking to something."

  "Why would you care? It's not like you've ever worried about me."

  "That's not true, Savannah. I've worried about you a lot over the years. I know I made some mistakes, but I tried to do right by you."

  She was completely enraged by his comment. She told herself to calm down. Getting into a fight with him wasn't worth it. But she couldn't stop the words from bursting out. "Is that the story you tell yourself? Come on, Dad. Even you can't believe that lie. You got rid of me as soon as you could."

  "I didn't get rid of you." Shadows filled his eyes. "I just didn't know what to do with you after your mom passed. And my career took me away for long periods of time. It made sense for you to live with your aunt and uncle."

  "I was thirteen years old. You made me leave my home, my friends, my school—you."

  "It was the best place for you to go. And you got to grow up with your cousin, with a family. It wasn't bad. They treated you well. You just couldn't let yourself be happy. You always had to make trouble for everyone. I know you were probably trying to get my attention, but that wasn't the way to do it."

  "There was no way to do it," she said wearily. "And this conversation is pointless. Let's say good-bye."

  He stared back at her with irritation, but then, her dad preferred to be the one who called the shots, who started conversations and ended them when he was done. "I didn’t come here to fight with you."

  "Whatever."

  "Wait," he said again, his jaw tightening.

  "What now?"

  He took a moment to answer. "You look like your mom today. Seeing you…it's like seeing her. She wasn't much older than you are now when she passed."

  As pain entered his eyes, she softened a little. Her father might not have loved her, but he had loved her mother. She'd never doubted that. "I'm glad I look like her. It's all I have left."

  "She was always better with you than I was. You two had your own secret language."

  "We would have shared it with you, if you'd wanted to share."

  "I didn't know how to do that. And after she died, I knew I wouldn't be a good father to you. You needed a woman in your life. Stephanie was good to you."

  "But she wasn't one of my parents. It wasn't her job to raise me. It was yours. You always speak about duty, but where was your duty to me?"

  "I did my duty. I made sure you had what you needed."

  "As long as what I needed wasn't love."

  "Are you going to carry this grudge forever?"

  "It feels like it." When he didn't answer, she realized his attention had wandered away from her. Why was she surprised? Following his gaze, she realized he was now looking at Ryker.

  She hadn't considered until just now that they would know each other. Ryker had gone through Fort Benning's sniper school and been stationed there for several years. Of course he would know her father.

  But there was no love in her father's eyes for Ryker. In fact, the anger he usually reserved for her seemed to be flowing in Ryker's direction.

  Ryker hesitated, and then headed straight toward them.

  Damn! The last person she wanted to know about her no-name, one-night stand was her very self-righteous father, for whom the lines of good and bad were very well-defined, at least when it came to her behavior.

  "Colonel Kane," Ryker said, giving her father a respectful nod.

  "Captain Stone."

  Tension bristled between the two men, and Savannah didn't know why. It wasn't about her, that was for sure. So what was it? While she didn't get along with her father, most of the soldiers who worked with him thought he was amazing.

  To her shock and amazement, her father blinked first, and with a muttered excuse, he walked away.

  "What was that about?" she asked Ryker. "What's between you and my father?"

  "That's a long story. Why didn't you tell me you were Colonel Kane's daughter?"

  "I didn't even tell you my name. Why would I tell you who my father is?"

  "I'm not talking about five years ago; I'm talking about fifteen minutes ago."

  "I didn't think about it. I haven't been his daughter since I was thirteen years old."

  Confusion entered his eyes. "What does that mean?"

  "It doesn't matter. I came here for Abby. I don't need to deal with you or my father. You are both in my past."

  She'd barely finished speaking when she heard a loud squeal of tires followed by a shockingly loud, reverberating crash that silenced the crowd.

  She instinctively ran toward the door. Ryker was right on her heels. She headed toward the parking lot, the crowd streaming behind her. Smoke was rising from below, but she couldn't see the road yet. She took off her heels, running barefoot down the long, winding drive. Ryker kept pace with her, and while his long-legged gait was somewhat stiff and awkward, he still made it to the road first.

  They stopped in horror, realizing that a car had crashed through the guardrail and flipped into the rushing Dobbs River. The vehicle was sinking fast as the water moved it downstream.

  Abby came up next to her, screaming Todd's name.

  Todd? It was his car? A sickening feeling ran through her.

  Ryker stripped off his coat and kicked off his shoes. Before she could say a word, he jumped off the bridge and into the water, a drop of at least twelve feet. Two other men in uniform did the same. Her father called 911. Other men rushed down the riverbank, hoping to grab Todd when he came up for air.

  "This can't be happening," Abby said, her shoulders shaking, as she put a hand to her mouth. "Not Todd, too."

  She put her arm around her friend, wishing she could say Todd would be okay, but she didn't know if that was true. She was also worried for the men who had gone in after him. The car had completely disappeared now, and the rescuers as well as the vehicle were all being swept downstream.

  She felt a rush of fear as a crazy thought ran through her. She didn't want to lose Ryker, even though he wasn't hers to lose.

  Chapter Three

  Todd wasn't in the car.

  It had taken what felt like forever for Ryker to catch up to the vehicle in the fast-running current. He was down at least five feet now, but new hope ran through him as he held on to the open door, searching the car for some sign of Todd, but he was nowhere in sight. The airbag had deployed; the driver's side door had been open. Todd must have gotten out. He had to be swimming. Hell, he could be on shore by now.

  With his lungs bursting, Ryker let go of the car door and kicked his way back to the surface. He gulped in air as he came out of the water, and then swore as his body hit a sharp rock. The current pulled him ruthlessly around a large boulder. He didn't try to fight the current. He was on the same ride as Todd. And he had a better chance of finding him if he just rode it out as far as he could.

  Turning his head one way, then the other, he saw another man crawling out of the river. It was James Lofgren, and he was alone. Another man was a hundred yards farther down the river. He was talking to a cop, pointing toward the water. Clearly, he hadn't found Todd, either.

  A police car and fire truck were racing down the road above the river.
More cars followed, with people jumping out at every point, scrambling down the bank to the shoreline. A couple of them waved to him.

  He gave a thumbs-up, letting them know he was okay. He was at least a mile downstream now, the river winding its way through tall trees that cast dark, despairing shadows all around him. And then he heard a helicopter, and new hope soared. Maybe they'd have a better chance of seeing Todd from that vantage point.

  Another quarter mile down the river, and his body was beginning to chill; his arms and legs were tiring, reminding him that he wasn't even close to the physical shape he'd once been in. He didn't want to leave the river. He didn't want to abandon Todd. But as his leg rammed against a jagged rock, a sharp pain stabbed his knee. Then the water pulled him down, washing over his head, cutting off his breath.

  He fought to get back to the surface and when he came back up, he made a wild grab for a low-hanging tree branch. He caught it and hung on, managing to swing his legs out of the water and onto a nearby boulder. He crawled over the rocks to get to the shore.

  He walked along the river for another hundred yards until he could go no farther. The sun was almost completely cut off by the trees now, and there was nothing but darkness ahead. He couldn't stand the thought of Todd dying like this. He'd made it through a decade of action including the violent ambush that had taken the lives of Carlos and Leo. This damn river couldn't take his life. He had to be all right.

  But Todd had been enraged when he left the church. He'd been agitated, on edge. Had he been driving too fast? Had he missed the turn at the end of the drive? Had another car come down the road and he'd made too quick of an adjustment and gone through the guardrail?

  The questions ran around in his head, including one that he didn't want to hear. But it kept getting louder. Had Todd deliberately driven off the road and into the river?

  He'd been distraught over Paul's death. He'd held himself responsible. And what had he said when he was leaving? That he knew what he had to do. But that didn't mean he had to kill himself. It had to have been an accident.