Page 3

CHAPTER 3

December 27.

Early Friday morning.

“Are you sure you want this assignment?” Hank Patterson asked.

Sgt. Kristopher Bower, U.S. Army, retired, looked up from the study of the report to meet the unflinching gaze of his boss at Brotherhood Protectors regarding him from the wide screen in the BP safehouse office. “I haven’t had any contact with Syd Phillips’ family since his funeral five years ago.”

“Not even when you got back to Knoxville a few months ago?”

“No, sir.” Kristopher admitted. After years in the Army, not to mention his time as a police officer on the streets of Knoxville, addressing superior officers came automatically. Not that the Brotherhood Protectors’ founder asked for such treatment. But only a fool would not respect Hank Patterson. Kristopher might be many things, but being a fool was not one of them.

“You’ve read the particulars of the case I faxed over?” It was more of a statement than a question.

“Yes, sir,” Kristopher said. “Syd Phillips’ widow Mercy was killed in her home last night by persons unknown and her son David went missing. Shortly after that, her friend Suzanne Bennett–who’d received a call from David and went to the scene–was later attacked in her home. After fighting off her attacker, she called Elaine Prescott who called us for help.”

The beginnings of rage stirred in Kristopher. Breaking into someone’s home was the ultimate insult. To kill those who lived there was even worse. His paternal cop grandfather had taught him that, along with many other things.

But the rage was nothing compared to the old guilt. He’d failed Syd five years ago when Kristopher’s street snitch led them into an ambush and Syd was killed, sending Kristopher back into the Army. It took a moment before he could ask, “What have the police learned so far?”

“Very little.” Frustration kept Hank’s mouth in a tight line. “No one has any idea why anyone would want to hurt Mrs. Phillips or her son. If Ms. Bennett knew anything, she didn’t tell the police. But if she does, Elaine Prescott, will get it out of her because she’s Ms. Bennett’s supervisor at Families United.”

“No doubt about that,” Kristopher agreed. Elaine was engaged to fellow BP member Griff Tyler and an incredible woman. She’d have to be, to have survived her recent ordeal with The Cadre, a notorious crime organization that was building its base in East Tennessee. She was smart, fearless and as tough as any woman Kristopher had served with in the army. “Was Ms. Bennett harmed in any way?”

For a moment, Hank’s eyes twinkled. “After giving her attacker a face full of pepper spray, I’d say he’s in far worse shape than she is. Unfortunately, he was masked and gloved, so all she could tell the police was he was tall, thinks he might be Caucasian and spoke with an English accent. She’s shaken and a bit bruised but that’s all.”

“Good for her,” Kristopher praised. “Have the police found any trace of David?” He searched his memory again for an image of Syd’s son. David had inherited his mother’s blonde hair and blue eyes but even five years ago, he had his father’s lean build.

“No, but according to Grant Miller from KPD, a coat Ms. Bennett described was gone from the back of the chair in David’s room. So were his favorite high-tops, so let’s hope that wherever he is, he’s warm.”

“Absolutely.” Kristopher pushed his fists together. The office desk’s wood wen top was warm, but his hands were still cold. “The bastards have him, don’t they?” he asked. “The ones who killed Mercy?” The words tasted bitter.

“We don’t know,” Hank admitted grimly. “The police started a house-to-house search after they took Mrs. Phillips’ body to the morgue, but as of this morning, he hasn’t been seen by anyone.”

Kristopher nodded. He’d conducted many such searches in his time with KPD years ago. “Did Ms. Bennett stay with Elaine last night?”

“Elaine insisted on it,” Hank said. “We had a Zoom meeting about two o’clock this morning that lasted until almost four. If Ms. Bennett was attacked in her own home right after visiting the crime scene, it suggests the two crimes are related and someone tried to kill her as well.”

“How’d Ms. Bennett respond to that?” Kristopher asked.

Hank shrugged. “Not too well. Imagine your home being declared a crime scene.”

“Crime scene,” Kristopher repeated. How terribly cold and clinical that sounded. People’s homes weren’t supposed to be crime scenes, but all too often they were.

Hank locked his famous, steady gaze onto Kristopher’s face. “Hard question for you now, Brower. Grant Miller was first on the scene the night Sydney was killed in that ambush. Do you think you can handle working more closely with him and keep your emotions in check?”

“I owe Syd my life several times over.” Kristopher said woodenly. “I was best man at his wedding and pall bearer at his funeral, so I need to do this. Need to help find David and get the bastards who killed his mother.”

And because I couldn’t face Mercy and David after Syd’s death, I ran back to the safety of the Army until you arranged for my discharge so I could join Brotherhood Protectors after my work in Romania was done. “Are our old friends The Cadre involved in this?”

The Cadre, a crime group out of Chicago, had infiltrated Knoxville’s criminal underworld early this year. While their operations included drug and weapons smuggling and distribution, their specialty was trafficking children, youth–especially runaways–and prostitutes all over the Eastern seaboard. Their ability to stay hidden had earned them the name ‘Los Silenciosos’ – Silent Ones – and it was said, “You’ll never see them coming until you do.” Kristopher’s first BP assignment earlier this month had involved helping to take down a Cadre operation involving the abduction of several young girls. BP hadn’t stopped them, but they’d at least slowed them down for a while.

And The Cadre did not hesitate to use violence, torture and murder to get what they wanted.

Hank shrugged. “We don’t have any evidence of that yet, but it wouldn’t surprise me.”

“Will Grant Miller be our point person with KPD again?”

“He will.” Hank gave Kristopher another hard stare. “Did you tell anyone from BP that you and Miller once worked together?”

“Neither of us saw the need to share that particular piece of information.” Kristopher had not expected to work with Miller and neither man had spoken of their past association when they met again last month. “And I don’t see the need for anyone to know that now.”

Because Miller knows every last detail about what went down the night Syd died. There’s nothing to talk about. It won’t bring Syd back.

“You didn’t work that closely with Miller on the last case,” Hank reminded him. “But this is your case and you’ll be in regular contact.”

“I can handle it,” Kristopher said firmly, pushing the guilt back into its well-hidden place. “The mission is to find David Phillips and the people who killed his mother.”

“Sooner or later, Brower, you’re going to have stop blaming yourself for what happened to Sydney Phillips,” Hank said abruptly. “Your therapist at Brighter Days said you still had some residual issues over his death. I brought you into the Brotherhood because we need your knowledge and expertise on child trafficking to try to slow down what’s happening in East Tennessee, and I need you at 100 per cent.”

“You have it, sir,” Kristopher promised. He owed it to Syd, Mercy and David. They were family. Or had been. Anything less than 100 percent was unacceptable.

“Signing off.” Hank’s image vanished from the screen and Kristopher headed for the safehouse’s well-stocked home gym. A hard-work out was always good for clearing his mind, helping him to center on the task at hand, and keep his emotions under control. As his cop grandfather had taught him, “Cool heads always prevail.”

But Mercy Phillips’ murder and her son’s disappearance had torn open Kristopher’s carefully buried sense of failure and everything that went along with it. Frustration. Rage. Guilt.

And worst of all, a horrible sense of irreparable loss. There wasn’t a workout in the world that could take care of that. He’d failed Sydney Phillips five years ago and then his family by running away.

But by God, he wasn’t going to fail them again. He’d find the bastards responsible for Mercy’s death and David’s vanishing and bring them to justice.

He just hoped he could keep Suzanne Bennett safe while he was doing it.