“I was fighting the call.”
“The call?” Megan asked.
Padre pointed heavenward.
She blushed slightly and glanced downward. Jack would have been more intrigued by her embarrassment and blush, and wondering how else he could bring color to her pale face, if he wasn’t so worried about Padre.
“Ten years ago. I moved to another unit, hooked up with Johnson and Perry. Duane was solid. Perry had a drug problem. Could be an asshole, but when push came to shove, he always came through. Thornton was also on the team.”
“Thornton? Where can we find him?”
“He’s dead. Died during an operation five years ago. We’d been on at least two dozen missions together, but when Thornton died that was my final mission. I asked for a discharge, got it, and joined the seminary. Rejoined, I should say. I’d been in for two years before but that’s another story.”
Jack squeezed Padre’s shoulder. “Price?”
“Scout knew him well. We called George Price ‘Princeton’ because he dropped out of some Ivy League college to enlist. He and Scout worked together before.”
“Was it just six of you?”
“Eight. Last I heard, Jerry Jefferson was still overseas. Afghanistan. Re-upped four or five times.”
“And?”
“The team leader, Ken Russo.”
“He’s dead, isn’t he?” Padre said.
“I’m sorry,” Megan said. “It may not be connected.”
“You think it is,” Jack said.
“It could be a coincidence, but in light of everything else … we’re going to pull all the files and ballistics reports. He died ten months ago during an apparent home robbery. No one was charged.”
“I need to warn Jerry,” Padre said.
“Of course,” Hans said. “Better coming from you. Do you know how to contact him?”
“Yes. I’ll take care of it.”
“Wait,” Megan said. All eyes turned to her. “Are you sure Jefferson is still in Afghanistan?”
“Last I heard,” Padre said.
“What are you implying?” Jack interrupted.
“Other than Father Francis, Jefferson is the only member of that Delta unit who is still alive. He may not be a potential victim.”
Padre shook his head. “I will vouch for Jefferson. He wouldn’t kill in cold blood, not his people. Not Scout.”
“We have to consider every possibility,” Megan said.
Hans added, “I don’t have to tell either of you that soldiers have the highest incidence of post-traumatic stress syndrome-”
“No!” Padre slammed his fist on the table. Jack turned his head. The priest rarely lost his temper. Conflict and anger gave his hard-lined face an ominous expression.
Jack didn’t want to agree with the feds, in fact, he didn’t agree with them, but he also understood that they had a job to do.
“We’ll do our job, Padre. They need to do theirs.”
“What do you plan to do?” Padre asked, biting down on each word. “Not warn him?”
“Of course not,” Megan said. “He could be in danger, but if he’s still in Afghanistan he’s probably safer there than here. We need to look at his movements, however, and if he’s in the States …”
She didn’t have to finish. Jack nodded curtly while Padre quietly tamped down on his temper. “I’ll find him,” he said.
“Did you know any of the other victims, Jack?” Megan cleared her throat. She was upset that Padre was distressed, but she didn’t back down. Jack liked that.
“Just Scout.” Jack looked squarely at Padre. “Frank, I’m calling in Tim, Mike, and Lucky. None of them were Delta, so they’re not targets-if I can believe you,” he glanced at Megan and Vigo, “which I’m inclined to do on this point.”
“Don’t call,” Padre said. “I know there’s a threat, I’ll watch my back.”
Jack’s voice dropped and he said through clenched teeth, “I’m not going to let you die like Scout.”
“You didn’t let him die.”
Padre didn’t understand. Scout had been Jack’s responsibility. He should never have stayed the night in San Diego. If he’d returned sooner, he could have stopped it.
“Don’t push me, Frank. You’re not going solo. The guys will skin me alive if I don’t call them in. We’re still brothers; that’s never going to change.”
When Padre gave his silent assent, Jack sighed a margin of relief.
“I’ll go back to the rectory with Father Francis,” Vigo said.
“No.” Jack didn’t want to offend the FBI agent, but he looked about fifty, had a bit of a belly, and frankly, Jack didn’t know him. Could he even protect himself, let alone a Delta-trained sniper like Frank Cardenas?
“Then I’ll go,” Megan said.
“Don’t be ridiculous.” Who did she think she was? Wonder Woman?
“I get it.” She started putting her files together and shoving them back in her briefcase.
He expected her to explain herself, all women did, often ad nauseum. He had three sisters. He knew a bit about women.
She didn’t explain. She grabbed her blouse, felt that it was still wet, and stuffed it unceremoniously into the side pocket of her briefcase. She pulled the blazer over her camisole, and somehow, the entire process only made her look sexier, when her purpose was clearly to show she wasn’t going to be manipulated or placated.
“Father, the three of us will go back to the rectory. We need you to write down every operation you worked with those seven men. Every place you went, any other people you worked with, failures as well as successes. Your friend Jefferson is probably a target; we need to contact him immediately and see if he can fill in any blanks. But if he’s in the States, we need to bring in a team to find him.”
“No,” Jack repeated. Didn’t they get it? “You’re all in danger: Padre from a serial killer, and you two from Perez.”
“Perez has cooled down,” Megan said. “He’s not so stupid as to send anyone after two federal agents, and he doesn’t have a death wish to do it himself.” She turned to Padre, ignoring Jack. “You are the only one we know who has information we need to help figure out why these men were targeted.”
Vigo nodded. “Between official and unofficial channels,” he nodded toward Megan-and Jack couldn’t help but wonder if maybe Blondie wasn’t the straight-laced, rule-playing fed he’d first thought-”we should be able to piece together the victims’ service records and find any common points. They were selected for a reason, and when we know
“Thank you for the cereal,” Megan said and started toward the door. “Father Francis, we can put you in protective custody while we work on this. There’s no reason you should feel threatened or-”
Jack shook his head, laughing. “Oh, this is rich. The feds putting a Delta-trained sniper in protective custody.”
“Jack,” Padre snapped.
“They have rules and procedures. How the hell do we know we can trust them or anyone in their office? How did the killers find those men? How did they trace a homeless guy who went AWOL? The killers have too much fucking information about our people. Someone has been talking or one of the killers is someone high up the food chain. High enough to know where Price was hiding out. The feds have no idea who to trust. Dammit, I’ll go with you. I’m not letting you out of my sight unless someone
Padre turned to him. “Jack, you want to find Scout’s killer as much as I do. What I know can help.”
“Stay here,” Jack said.
“I have Mass in the morning. I can’t stay.” He held his hand up when Jack tried to protest. “And don’t suggest
