Jae left his warm, dry vehicle and inspected the slide area. It was risky, but he could drive forward. The pool of mud at the base of the collapsed hillside hadn’t reached the road. The debris in the road was mostly rocks and splintered trees, with a thin layer of mud soup that just crossed the center line.
He could skirt it and close the other end of the road, which was too far from Forks to have a quick response. But he’d better do it fast because there was no way of knowing if more of the hillside would come down and take out the entire width of the road.
He made it past the slide area and kept driving until he reached the main road, glad there were no oncoming vehicles that required a stop until he was well past the slide area.
At the highway, he set up more barriers, closing the road. He then waited for an officer from Forks to show up with something more substantial than the portable “road closed” signs he carried in his vehicle.
Thoughts of Audrey, Xavier, and miserable SEALs faded as he redirected traffic in the pouring rain. He was going to have his own long, cold, uncomfortable night.
Audrey stared at Xavier’s stiff back, wondering what was wrong. There was just enough light from the gas fire to see the shapes of things, but not enough to identify anything. That blob on the table under the window could be a throw pillow, roast turkey, or a decapitated head.
Given Jeb’s condition outside, the third option might be the most likely, and once again, she felt bile rise.
“What’s wrong?” she whispered. Xavier had frozen in place, and she needed the strong SEAL back.
“A finger,” he said.
“What?” She stepped up behind him and focused on the table that held Xavier’s attention.
He pressed the button on his red-beamed light, and she saw what he was talking about. It looked like a Halloween decoration. A prop. Except for the pool of blood, and the line below the knuckle at the base of the finger. A zigzag pattern. Like Charlie Brown’s shirt.
“Is that…is it a tattoo?” she asked.
The red glow gave just enough light so the shapes she’d seen now made sense. The roast turkey was a small backpack, mounded on the table next to a smashed monitor.
Next to her, Xavier’s head moved in a slight nod. “Cohen’s wife would tease him about not wearing his wedding ring. Rings can get caught on things and are dangerous on ops, so most SEALs don’t wear them, or they wear silicone bands. But Cohen had a better idea and got a tattoo. He told Carly he now had a ring he couldn’t take off.” Xavier’s voice was hollow. Haunted.
It was easy to understand why. His buddy wasn’t wearing his permanent wedding band anymore.
She’d managed to keep her lunch down when seeing Jeb’s open throat, but the severed finger pushed her over the edge. She turned her head, spotted a trash bin, and dove for it.
She emptied her stomach, then wanted to stagger to the couch and sit down, but for all she knew, there was an axe murderer in one of the upstairs bedrooms. She needed to hold herself together.
She wiped her mouth on the wet sleeve of her raincoat and spoke to Xavier as if she hadn’t just puked in the middle of the room like a child. “I’m sorry.” She paused and searched for more words. “This doesn’t mean he’s dead.” Although the amount of blood could argue otherwise.
“I know.”
“If he’s dead, they’d have left his body. Like they did with Jeb.”
“Maybe Jeb caught them by surprise, but they knew Cohen was here. And by leaving his finger, they’re sending me a message.”
“But what does it mean?” she asked.
“Fuck if I know.” His voice had flattened. So unlike the Xavier she’d been with in the forest.
But then, this wasn’t the sort of thing a SEAL trained for. This wasn’t combat. This was a damn house of horrors. “Should we finish searching?”
“Yes, but this place is empty. They won’t have stuck around after leaving a message like that.” He stepped closer to the table and shined the red light on the thick male finger. “They probably chose to cut off his finger because of the tattoo. That’s going to gut Carly.” His voice held more emotion now, hinting at how much he was holding back. Every movement, every gesture, and every word seemed to be leashed, a restrained version of Xavier, showing her he was too well trained to break down right now, no matter how much he wanted to.
She reached into her pack and pulled out a small zipper-top bag and offered it to him. “Photograph it, then we’ll bag it.” One way or another, Cohen would get his finger back.
He snapped a photo, shielding the flash with a hand, but still, the room brightened for an instant and it was likely anyone watching the yurt saw the flare of light. He plucked the finger from the table and dropped it in the bag, then tucked it in one of his vest pockets.
Audrey pulled her water bottle from the side pouch of her pack and filled her mouth, then swished. She spit the water into the garbage before taking a long drink. Her hands shook, and the lip of the aluminum bottle tapped her teeth.
She’d been holding herself together by reminding herself she was with a SEAL. Navy SEALs were the closest a person could get to being a superhero, right? But he wasn’t a superhero. He was just as human as she was. Just as mortal.
His coworkers were also SEALs, and one of them had lost a finger.