Nick shrugged his good shoulder. “About six months too long, if I’m being honest, but that’s another story. Let’s get back to the first. I want details, Bodie. All of them. Now.”
Bodie sighed, walked Nick through the events. The seemingly innocent assignment overseeing a group of geologists as they assessed fault lines and landslide risk. The explosion and resulting race through the park. How Raven’s Watch ultimately saved their asses. Then, he moved on to the bumper-car chase back from Rowan’s apartment — how it all stemmed from her father’s apparent death. What seemed to revolve around trials of a new drug, and how Rowan believed her father had discovered an alternate use for one of the byproducts. He ended with the body cam — mentioning they’d called Nick, first, before viewing the footage.
Nick listened, clearly assessing everything. He took the odd note, finally easing back on the sofa once Bodie had finished. “And you all accuse me of getting into the thick of shit.” He scrubbed his hand down his face, again, as if he wasn’t used to the scruff. “Any chance you can send me a copy of everything?”
Bodie nodded. “Whatever you want, brother, but… Will this get you in trouble? Should you even be moving?”
“You let me worry about my job. Who knows, maybe I’ll finally take you up on that offer to leave all this glory behind. And the wound’s nothing I haven’t dealt with before.”
“But you were younger, then.”
“And you’re an ass.” Nick motioned at the screen. “Run the video. Let’s see what these assholes are hiding.”
Bodie positioned the tablet to give Nick a clear view of the monitor, then hit play. The screen lined out for a moment, then bright lights cut through the black, what looked like some kind of factory. An armed squad lined up against one wall, faces covered by the same bandanas Rowan had encountered in the park. It panned left, caught a glimpse of the guy barking out orders before it cut to black, restarting with their tango deep in the forest, just outside where Evan had been killed. Fog threaded through the trees, water dripping in the distance.
Voices.
Intermittent. Sounding over the speakers as the men called in their locations until Bodie’s team appeared amidst the trees. Distant. Nothing more than shadows in the growing dusk, walking in a loose diamond formation, Evan taking point. The guy behind the camera shifted, taking cover behind a large spruce.
“Charlie leader, this is Delta. Tangos moving into kill box. Detonation likely. Advise.”
Bodie and Buck tensed as the words vibrated through the air, the eerie, metallic quality almost ghost-like.
“Maintain separation. Graves wants to see how it plays out. Regardless, we’re to sweep the area. Zero life signs.”
Rowan glanced at Bodie. She hadn’t witnessed this part, only the plume of dirt and debris after the explosion. Their gauntlet run through the forest. He sat in the chair, hands fisted around the arms, mouth pressed into a tight line. Every muscle tensed, his eyes closing when the inevitable happened, Evan vanishing amidst the rain of earth and fern.
Nick cursed over the airwaves. “Shit.”
Neither Bodie or Buck commented, watching as the reel played on. The chase. The epic firefight. Dalton eliminating three of the men, then the landslide Rowan created. Everything playing in muted colors and dulled sound until the final confrontation on the ridge — Rowan making a stand, followed by Bodie’s face as he grabbed the camera. The last image before the entire screen cut to black.
The room fell silent, the lingering weight of the video hanging in the air. Making it impossible to breathe without smelling the scent of cordite and blood. Tasting the sense of failure smothering the space.
Nick broke the quiet, first. “Not sure what I was expecting but that… Christ.”
Greer stood, moved in front of the monitor. “It’s more than enough for a warrant.” She glanced at Rowan. “For a laundry list of charges.”
Rowan blew out a rough breath. “It is, and once we’ve identified the men, I’ll personally file for it. Hunt them down. Might need help. With their faces covered, though, that name — Graves — might be a good place to start.” She straightened. “And we will. Identify them. No matter how long it takes, I won’t stop until those bastards are held accountable. And this footage… It’ll crucify them.”
Bodie closed his eyes for a moment, then stood. “I’ll run it through some scrubbers. See if I can pull anything from the background — maybe get a useable shot of that one guy, though it might not be enough for facial recognition. And it looks like they reuse the drives. Maybe we can retrieve some of those older images.”
His phone pinged.
Nick sighed. “I sent you a link to an encrypted server. Do me a favor, brother, and upload the video. I’ve got a friend who’s insanely gifted with that sort of thing. I’ll call in a personal mark. Have her go through every frame. If there’s anything else hiding in those pixels, she’ll find it.”
Bodie tilted his head. “Is this the kind of mark that’ll get you sent on another black ops mission? Because by the looks of it, you’re writing checks your body can’t cash.”
“Sloane’s the last person who’d ever want me on a mission with her. Trust me.”
“Sounds like a story.”
Nick snorted. “There’s always a story, which reminds me, Rowan? What was your father’s name, again?”
She perked up. “Dr. Alister Scott.”
“And you said he was a former-Army Ranger. Went abroad.”
“That’s right. Why?”
