Dave sighed. “I doubt I’ll be in active service again, not with a plate in my head. Heck, right now I can’t even walk to the john. Sitting up made me spew.”
“Just get well and I’ll start looking for a nice quiet place for you to retire.”
“Hell no.” Dave snorted. “No retiring. I’ll go nuts. Can’t I just go dark and hide in the mountains somewhere out west and become a lone vigilante fighting for justice?”
“I’ll see what I can do.” Terabyte’s voice sounded amused. “You’ll need a new name. Anything come to mind?”
Dave thought for a beat but it was obvious. “Dave was Annie’s pet name for me. I’ll use Dave, so Annie will be with me forever.”
“Okay. That would work well because it’s best to keep your original initials, so you don’t accidentally sign your old name. What about Kane for the middle name? It means ‘warrior.’ If I recall, Annie called you her warrior.” Terabyte’s enthusiasm flowed through the speaker. “What last name do you like?”
After considering a few options, Dave sighed. “I figure, Dave Kane will suit me just fine. David Kane the Wild West vigilante.”
“Hmm. I’ll work on a background story. It will have to be close to your skill set. A detective from a major city perhaps and then you can mention a head injury… maybe shot in the head in the line of duty?” The sound of Terabyte typing came through the earpiece. “There’s heaps of work out west for deputies. When you’re back on your feet, we’ll discuss your options.”
The door opened and a woman pushing a cart came in his room. “Okay, I’ll speak to you soon. My Jell-O has just arrived.”
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Walter Reed National Military Medical Center
Dave decided right from the start, he didn’t cope well in rehab. First up, he’d lost his balance and standing made him nauseous. In fact, just turning his head made him want to spew. It had been a nightmare and one it seemed hadn’t fully abated. He’d bend and pain would cripple him and it would start all over again. The head didn’t have the only injuries. The blast had broken ribs and chipped one hip, but they’d healed during the coma. He’d lost half his bodyweight and he missed his muscle strength. His brain kept telling him he’d turned into a weakling, to give up as life wasn’t worth living anyway. Depression had him by the throat and he’d stare at the ceiling for hours. He’d refused the drugs, taking only the ones for the severe headaches and nausea when absolutely necessary. Becoming an opiate junkie wasn’t on his agenda.
Dragging heavy legs into the bathroom, he stared at the unfamiliar face in the bathroom mirror. The swelling from the plastic surgery had subsided. The scar on his chin and over one eye had gone. He had a straight nose, like when he was eighteen, and a dimple in his chin. They’d removed the ravages of long years spent out in the desert from his skin. Apart from his eyes, his own mother wouldn’t have recognized him. His phone buzzed and he pulled it out of his pocket. Terabyte called him usually once a week on Fridays to check on him, and as it was Monday, something must be up. He pressed the phone to his ear. “Morning.”
“I’ve just read the report from your doctor. In all the years I’ve been handling you, I’ve never known you to give up.” Terabyte took a breath. “You’re not eating and you’re way behind in your recovery. This isn’t good because I’ve found a potentially perfect job for you.” He sighed. “But if you’ve given up, we’ll send someone else. But this young woman needs someone with your skill set and compassion.”
Dave stared at his reflection. He’d shrunk into a person he didn’t recognize. Sure, he had the six-five height but he resembled a stick insect. “Give me a break. Have you forgotten what I do, or should I say did, before the bombing? My mindset hasn’t changed. I kill people on demand with no remorse. I might as well be a serial killer. I don’t have compassion.”
“Says the man who put his life on the line to save Annie.”
A wave of loss smacked into him and he straightened. His father had raised him to hide his feelings and his Marine training had obliterated them. Not feeling was part of survival. He gathered himself and walked back into the small room that had been his home for the last six months. “I’m not ready for a mission.”
“It’s not a mission.”
Dave shook his head slowly, ignoring the constant headache. “Don’t think giving me a woman to protect is going to replace Annie. You should know better.”
“I’d never suggest such a thing and, as sure as hell, Jenna Alton doesn’t need protecting. I can’t give you details, other than the US Marshals are involved to some extent. There are rumors that the previous sheriff, let’s say, overlooked crimes. People gone missing, bones found in Stanton Forest that he dismissed as Native American relics, women being abused—all came to light well before Sheriff Alton was elected. We figure there’s more to Black Rock Falls than meets the eye. She’s a smart cookie but with few resources. Between the two of you, if anything illegal went down, you’d be able to work together to sort it. Together you’d be able to handle anything that might go down in the future. You know as well as I do these vast forests are perfect for criminals to hide off the grid. Anyone could be lurking in there.”
Interest rose like a buoy thrown to a drowning man. He enjoyed fighting crime, and in a sleepy town what could be better? He flexed his sagging muscles and sighed. “I’m no good to anyone right now. I’m weak and I’ll need time to recover.”
“You have until winter. Later today, we’re moving you into specialized rehab. Everything will be tailored to getting you back into shape. In ten months, you’ll be better than before. You’ll be taken to a range to shoot, and when you’re not working out and eating, you’ll be studying Montana law and anything else we figure you’ll need.”
Dave pictured the Big Sky Country and it was as if someone had opened a magic portal of hope. He stared out the window, imagining the mountains, rivers, and tall pines. “In case it slipped your mind, I still have a bounty on my head. New face maybe, but terrorist organizations can hack anything. My prints and retina scan can’t be altered. I’ll make the place more dangerous.”
“We want you to keep a low profile but hiding you in plain sight is better. It works, even for those in witness protection. You’ll be so off the grid, no one will believe it’s you.” Terabyte cleared his throat. “POTUS knows, you’ll recover and with assistance be better than you were before… well, apart from the metal plate. There’s always a chance you’ll be returned to active duty but he wants to give you time to recover in mind and body. You need time to grieve.”
Dave held out his arm. The shakes had subsided and his bulk would return if he ate enough protein and worked his butt off. In ten months, he’d be a machine. “Give me a profile of this woman who needs my help.”
“Jenna Alton is strong-willed, feisty, and set in her ways. She has an old deputy by the name of Walters and maybe two rookies.” He cleared his throat. “She needs someone solid beside her but the last thing she needs to know is you’re there to back her up. She’d likely take it as an insult, so keep that in mind when you meet her.”
The vision of the backwoods town still hung in his mind. No memories to haunt him, a new beginning, a new face and name. Maybe he could make it one step at a time. He sighed. “So, are you planning on sending me to take her job and run the show? That doesn’t sound like keeping a low profile and it’s not something I’m comfortable doing. I have a lot of respect for women as they often have to claw their way to the top. Sorry but this isn’t my gig. I can’t take charge of myself just yet, let alone a sheriff’s depart
ment.”
“You’ll need time to adjust, we know that—I know that. We don’t want you to take her job, just the opposite.” Terabyte sighed. “You don’t have to decide now. In ten months, you’ll be fit and we’ll talk again, but it’s the incentive you need, Dave. The advertisement for position of deputy sheriff has had no takers for six months and they took it down this week. We have a cover story for you as a gold shield detective, shot in the line of duty, looking for a place to recover. If you decide it’s a go, we’ll contact the sheriff’s department and make sure you get the position.”
With his gut waving red flags at him, Dave shook his head. “I don’t buy it. What’s really going on here? What is it about Jenna Alton you’re not telling me?”