Chapter Six

John

His phone had rung several times that morning while he was at work, but John still hadn't answered it. He knew he was being a coward and he'd have to answer the detective's calls sooner or later. He took out a chisel and continued working on the table leg of their latest commission.

The damn thing began ringing yet again. John glanced over at where he'd left it on the counter, and ignored it.

Maybe I should put the damn thing on mute.

Ther back door swung open and Stryker walked in. "You going to answer that?"

"Wasn't planning on it."

"It could be the detective."

"Exactly."

Stryker picked up the phone and silenced it.

"Thank you." John continued chipping away at the wooden leg.

Stryker sighed. "You're going to have to speak to the guy eventually."

"I know. Just not yet."

"Understood."

John couldn't help the words flowing out of his mouth.

"Whatis it you understand?" he asked edgily.How can you know what I went through—am still going through?

Without missing a beat, Stryker answered. "I understand you're hurting. That your family was murdered in front of you and you were badly injured. I understand you're avoiding talking to the detective because you don't want to relive that hellish day again. The situation you're in sucks, and I wish I could take some of the pain from you."

"You do?" John couldn't hide the shock from his voice.

"Yes. If I could take any of the pain you hold away from you, I would."

"Why do you give a fuck whether I'm in pain or suffering?" John couldn't help it; he was angry at the situation, the detective, the world, and Stryker was conveniently in his line of fire.

Stryker didn't appear angry or offended at his words; he looked calm, almost contemplative.

"I care because you're my friend, and I don't have many of those. That makes you important to me."

John took a deep breath and blew it out slowly. He was being a dick; he knew it, hell, Stryker knew it, but at least he wasn't calling him on it.

"Look, man, I'm sorry. None of this is your fault; you're the last person I should be railing against. You've always been straight up with me, and I appreciate that. This whole thing has got me messed up. I thought I was starting over somewhere new, and my past comes back to remind me just how screwed up my life is."

"You don't have to let it. You have a new life here. New friends, a new business with a new store. You need to deal with whatever Detective Woodley has to say and move on."

"What if I can't move on? What if I'm broken, and it never gets better?"

"Hell, I haven't been whole in years." Stryker grinned, but it wasn't a very happy one "The entire team barely makes one whole person with all our fuckups and hang-ups, but we carry on and slowly learn to accept that you don't have to be whole or alone to have a good life."

John stared at Stryker. "You accepted that? Or are you still looking?"

"I don't know, honestly. At times, I feel like I'm going to break apart into a million pieces, and then something will happen, and I'll feel more whole than I have in a decade. It's a day-to-day battle."

"I understand that. I've been living that way since I was sixteen years old. One moment, everything's all right with the world, and things are looking up, and I see a future for myself. Then, the next, it all comes crashing down around me, and all I can see is the blood covering their bodies. Every time I close my eyes, that's all I can see, them lying there dead in the street."

Stryker moved closer to him and placed his hand on John's shoulder. "I can try to tell you it'll get better, but you and I both know that's a lie. All I can say is you have friends. You have people you can depend on and lean on who are there to help you. You just got to reach out."

John couldn't help but smile for the first time since receiving that call. "You know, I think that's the most I've ever heard you speak since knowing you."

"Well, don't get used to it. It's likely not to happen again," Stryker huffed.

"Thank you, Stryker," John said, feeling better. "I guess I should call the detective back."

"Only if you're ready to."

"Will you be sticking around?"

"Yeah, I'm not going anywhere."

John walked over to the table and picked up his cell phone. He didn't want to do this but he had to. He had to relive it again. Maybe this time, it would be the last.

***

Stryker

Stryker watched John hit the button on his phone, and surprised him when John set the phone call on speaker and placed the phone down on the table.

"In this together, right?" John asked.

"Damn straight we are." Stryker nodded.

"Hello. John?"

"Yes, Detective Woodley, it's me. Sorry, I was unable to answer the phone earlier, but I can talk now."

The detective sighed heavily. "I know this comes as a shock after all this time, but new information has come to light that might explain why your family was targeted."

"Targeted? Why would anybody want to hurt us? What information did you receive?"

"Your father's name came up on the deathbed of a high-ranking Russian official who sought asylum in the United States twenty-five years ago. He was living in Oregon at the time of your parents' deaths," Detective Woodley explained.

"What do you mean my father's name came up? Who was this guy?" John's voice was several octaves higher now.

"A former Soviet spy who defected with your father's help."

Alarm bells sounded in Stryker's head. This was unexpected.

John covered the speaker, looked up from the table, and straight at Stryker. "What the hell is going on?"

"I don't know, but we'll find out. I promise you," Stryker said.

"I think it might be best if you returned to Hood River, John," the detective said.

"Not a chance. If you need me, you obviously know where to find me, but I have nothing to do with anything my father might have done in service to this country, and I certainly wasn't privy to any information he might have had. There's nothing I can do to help with this investigation."

"Actually, we don't need your help with the investigation," the detective said.

"Then why would you want me to return to Hood River?" John asked.

"We believe your life is in danger."

Stryker took a few steps closer to John as his jaw dropped..

"Why would my life be in danger? It's been decades, and no one has come to finish the job."

"Before he died, the operative said you were the key, and we have no guarantee who overheard him or knows about you."

"The key to what?"

"We don't know, but I'm not willing to risk you staying out in the open until we find out."

Stryker was beginning to like this detective. He seemed to care what happened to John.

"Believe me when I tell you I'm safest right here in Fire Lake," John said. "With my friends."

"Your friends can't protect you like the police can."

Stryker understood the detective's position; he didn't know who the team was or their capabilities.

"You're right. They can do it better," John countered.

It was time for Stryker to speak up. "Detective, I'll have our team leader and information specialist contact you today to discuss this case and safety measures."

"W-what? Who is this?"

"Lieutenant Zaine Stryker Rogers. US Navy SEAL."

"The same individual I spoke with yesterday?"

"Yes. We'll be in touch. Thanks for the update." Stryker disconnected the call and put it back on mute. "We need to call Brick." With this new information, the playing field changed by leaps and bounds.

John nodded, still staring at the phone as if it were going to fly off the table and attack him at any moment. "This shit just got real in a hurry. How in hell's name am I part of my father's world?"