A chill raked Brenda’s flesh. The topic of today’s meeting had unexpectedly taken a precarious turn.
“Could you be more specific?” she asked tersely.
“Your interactions with Mixell are no longer a legal issue.”
“Mixell? I’ve never had anything to do with him. I’ve never even met him.”
Harrison stared at her, not even bothering to counter her claim. Then her thoughts snapped back to Harrison’s comment. “What do you mean it’s no longer a legal issue?”
“We finally get to the crux of the matter,” he replied. “The president considered some sort of financial retribution, arranging for all of your assets to be seized. However, you come from a rich family, and the impact of losing your personal fortune would not have been terribly traumatic. So, the president made a more draconian decision.”
Harrison’s last sentence hung in the air before he explained. “I regret to inform you that you’ve been classified as a terrorist — an enemy combatant.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means, Brenda, that the rules of combat apply to you. There will be no arrest, no lawyers, no courtroom drama.”
It took a moment for Brenda to process what Harrison said and its implications.
“Are you going to kill me?”
“No,” Harrison answered, “I’m not going to harm you. The last time we met, in Rolow’s home, I stopped Khalila from killing you, remember?”
“I do,” Brenda replied, relieved. “And I’d like to offer a belated thank-you for intervening.”
“You’re welcome,” he said as he stood. “But I won’t stop Khalila this time.”
“This time?”
Harrison looked across the courtyard, and Brenda’s eyes followed his gaze. Khalila was standing at one of the entrances, glaring at Brenda.
Khalila flexed her wrists, and a knife dropped into each hand from inside her sleeves.
“Goodbye, Brenda,” Harrison said as he headed toward the other exit.
Brenda sat transfixed on the stone ledge, her body momentarily refusing her mind’s command to flee. Not that it would have mattered. Harrison would surely block the other exit, and Khalila had already closed half the distance between them, moving swiftly toward her.
89
FAYETTEVILLE, IOWA
It was a clear blue day with the temperature in the mid-seventies as Jake Harrison sped down Interstate 80 in his airport-rented sedan. As the car slowed for the exit to Fayetteville, where he, Mixell, and Christine had grown up, his thoughts raced ahead to his pending meeting with anticipation and dread.
Now that the threat from Mixell had been eliminated, protecting Maddy in a gated and guarded condominium complex was no longer required, and Maddy had accompanied her grandparents when they returned to their summer home in Iowa. Harrison had agreed that Fayetteville would be a nice place for Maddy to spend the next few weeks until he figured out where they should move. There was no way they could return to their house in Silverdale, Washington, where Maddy’s mother had been slain in the dining room, her blood staining the wood floor.
After Christine had received confirmation that her wounds were healing well and that there were no complications, she had also decided to return to Fayetteville. However, her mom and dad had passed away years ago and the house she had grown up in was now owned by the Andersons, so Christine had asked Harrison’s parents if she could stay with them. She had asked that they not reveal this to Jake, at least for a while, but Maddy hadn’t received the memo and had mentioned to her dad one night on the phone how much she was enjoying spending time with Christine.
Harrison had been surprised when he learned that Christine had asked to stay with his parents, but upon reflection, it made sense. Other than the home she grew up in, Christine had spent more time at Harrison’s house and farm, by far, than anywhere else in Fayetteville. The barn behind the house, especially, held fond memories. He and Christine had often spent time in the loft when they were kids, talking as their feet hung over the edge of the opening overlooking the farms in the distance. After they began dating, they had sometimes escaped to the loft to do more than talk.
He recalled the first time he had planned to ask Christine to be his girlfriend. They had been sitting at the edge of the loft, their feet dangling over the edge as usual, and as they talked, he had placed his hand on hers, attempting to hold her hand. But Christine had misinterpreted his action and moved her hand to the side to make room for his. He could still remember the crestfallen feeling that had swept over him when he concluded that she had rejected him.
They had eventually sorted things out and started dating, and only later did Harrison learn that Christine had been clueless that day in the loft. Although Harrison’s thoughts had turned romantic once they were teenagers, she was still in friend mode and hadn’t understood what he was doing when he tried to hold her hand.
Harrison spotted his house in the distance and soon pulled into the driveway, past a black SUV parked alongside the curb. He wondered who the vehicle belonged to, then realized that Christine would have protective agents with her in Fayetteville.
He entered his childhood home, greeted first by his mom, then by Maddy, who came running down the hallway and jumped into his arms. He held her for a long moment; she was so much like her mother, exhibiting almost unbridled exuberance.
After learning that his dad was out running errands, Harrison sat down at the breakfast table, catching up with his mom and Maddy. His daughter filled him in on the new friends she had made in the neighborhood and that she had made plans to get together with one of them this afternoon. It wasn’t long before she had to head over to her friend’s house, and she hugged and kissed her dad goodbye.
Once Maddy departed, the conversation turned to Christine.
“How is she doing?” he asked.
“She’s in relatively good spirits, it seems,” Nadia replied. “But it’s hard to know, sometimes, what people are really thinking and feeling.”
“Where is she?”
“In the barn.”
“Has she said anything about my request to meet with her?”
Nadia shook her head.
“Well, then,” he replied, “we’ll see how things go.”
Nadia hugged him as he stood. “Good luck.”
He left the house via the back door, immediately spotting a pair of protective agents at the barn’s entrance. They apparently knew who he was, because neither man challenged him as he entered the barn. Christine wasn’t anywhere on the main floor, so he climbed onto the second level. At the far end of the loft, Christine sat at an opening looking out across the farmland, her legs dangling over the side.
She must have heard him climb onto the loft, because she glanced over her shoulder, then slid to the left, clearing a spot for him to join her. Harrison would have preferred to sit on her left instead of right side, avoiding the matter of her injury if possible, but Christine either hadn’t thought about it or perhaps didn’t care.
Harrison sat beside her. There was a narrow white bandage about one inch wide on the right side of her face, running from the base of her jaw to just under her eye, covering the wound as it healed. She had been advised to keep it protected from direct sunlight for the first year, since the sun’s ultraviolet rays could cause extra collagen to be produced as the wound healed, resulting in a thicker and darker scar.
While the bandage had no effect on her appearance as far as Harrison was concerned, Christine looked quite different compared to the last time he had seen her. She had lost a good deal of weight; with the injury to her facial muscles, it must have been painful to eat.