Operation Alpha

Chapter 3

“His name is Dylan,” Emily said. “Dylan Oakley.”

“What makes you think he’s in trouble?” Quinn asked.

“He’s been very different lately. I mean, he has reason, but...”

When she stopped, swallowing tightly, Ria knew why and stepped in. “His mother was killed in March, in a hiking accident.”

It was a moment before anyone spoke.

“You know him? Is he a student of yours, as well?” Quinn asked Ria.

She nodded. “I’ve had him in classes for two years. And the difference in him is...marked.”

“And it’s been getting worse lately, not better,” Emily said.

“Sometimes it happens that way,” Hayley said, her tone gentle with understanding. “Grief has its own path, and it’s different for everyone.”

Emily’s gaze shifted to Quinn. He nodded. “She knows, too.”

Even the dog sat up from his spot near Emily and plopped his chin on the girl’s knee, making her smile as she reached out to stroke his fur.

Ria felt oddly out of place. As if she’d stumbled into a club she gratefully lacked the qualifications for. She’d never lost anyone really close to her. Even both sets of her grandparents were still kicking, a couple of them off playing in a seniors tennis tournament in California. Her parents were still running the family hardware stores and her two older brothers were busy with their lives—one producing the much-desired grandkids for the parents while he managed the accounting for the stores, the other following his dream of being an airline pilot. She had aunts and uncles scattered all over the country, and cousins abounded.

She knew she was lucky, but nothing had brought it home like this moment, sitting here among people who had dealt with the kind of loss she’d never had to face. Yet.

Ria toyed with one of her earrings, the tiny silver crossed saw and hammer that was the logo for her family’s stores. She glanced at Liam, wondering. But it was there, too, that look. That understanding. It changed his open, innocent appearance, and suddenly he didn’t seem quite so young. But his expression was also tinged with something else. In fact, for a moment she thought she saw guilt before he lowered his gaze.

And belatedly she realized that when she had looked at him, he’d already been looking at her. She gave herself an inward shake and focused on the matter at hand.

“But Dylan used to talk to me,” Emily was saying. “Because I got it. I knew how it felt, losing his mom. But he stopped. And he doesn’t even talk to his best friends anymore.”

“He’s a smart kid and used to be well prepared. But his grades have dropped dramatically in the last couple of months,” Ria said. “He’s even missed some classes, which he never did even right after she died. In fact, he seemed to dive into his studies even more.”

“It’s a good way to avoid thinking about it,” Quinn said. His voice held the self-knowledge they all seemed to share but her.

“I read tons of books,” Emily said.

“So did I, after my mother died,” Hayley said. “It was my escape.”

Emily looked at Liam. “What did you do?”

He gave the girl a startled glance. “What makes you think—” He stopped, and Ria saw his jaw tighten and then release as he said, “Computers. And sometimes I’d take off into the hills for a few days. Find something to track.”

There was silence for a moment. Ria looked at her student. She also obviously recognized he’d been through this particular hell. But, then, Emily was very perceptive.

“He’s also dropped his other activities,” Ria said. “He played baseball in a local league and was good at it, but he didn’t sign up this year.”

“And he was just starting to get really interested in martial arts,” Emily said. “He was all excited, looking for a good school or coach or whatever they call them, and now he won’t even talk about it.”

“Withdrawing from life,” Hayley said with a frown.

“Exactly,” Emily said. “I’m worried about him. I even—”

She broke off, looking embarrassed.

“Truth is best, if we’re to help.” Quinn’s tone was mild, nonjudgmental.

“I snuck a look at his phone,” the girl admitted. “I was afraid he might be...thinking of doing something.”

She’d told Ria about her surreptitious checking of text messages and web history, and while Ria couldn’t officially condone the sneakiness and invasion of privacy, she understood the girl’s motivation.

“I didn’t find anything,” Emily said quickly. “Nothing ominous, anyway.”

“No searching for suicide hotlines or methods,” Ria put in, since that had been her main concern.

“Or bomb-building information?” Quinn asked, his voice gentle.

Emily’s eyebrows shot up, and Ria guessed hers had, too.

“Of course not! Dylan would never. Ever.” Emily was vehement.

Ria didn’t blame him for asking. How many times had people said, after some disaster, that they’d had no idea, that they couldn’t believe their nice, quiet neighbor/friend/relative could have done such a thing?

“No insult intended, Emily. Just eliminating possibilities. Like before.”

Ria saw the girl let out a breath, and then she nodded. Emily had told her how Quinn had asked a ton of questions, some of them shocking to her. But one had led to the awful realization that someone she’d thought a friend had been one of the thieves who had broken into their house on a night when they’d known she and her adoptive family would be gone.

“Here, I can show you.”

Emily sent a picture she’d taken of Dylan at a baseball game last year to Quinn’s phone, and followed it with one she’d surreptitiously taken just last week. Ria had seen them both, and the change in the boy was startling. He’d gone from a healthy, carefree, good-looking young man with a fun-loving air to a shadowed, hunched, too-thin boy who looked nothing less than haunted.

Hayley looked at them as they came in, and Ria saw her eyes widen as she took in an audible breath.

“I see why you’re concerned,” she said.

“I think he’s not eating, too,” Emily said.

“He’s lost weight,” Ria confirmed. “And he didn’t have much to spare, since he’d already lost some after his mom died.”

“He said that was his dad’s lousy cooking,” Emily said.

“He told you that?” It was the first time Liam had spoken. Emily nodded.

“Yes. We talked a lot, back then. And really, if he’d just stopped talking to me, I would have understood. I would have thought I was just a reminder of loss he didn’t want to think about anymore. And that’s fine. You have to do what you have to do to get through.”

Quinn gave her a long, steady look. “You,” he said, “have become everything I ever saw in you, my young friend.”

Emily blushed, but she was smiling widely. And in that moment Ria quite liked Quinn Foxworth. Quinn nodded at the girl, and she picked up where she’d left off.

“But he’s quit talking to everyone. And sometimes after school he goes up to the lookout—that’s a spot with a bench on the hill behind the school—and just sits there. For hours.”

“Sounds like a guy with a lot on his mind,” Liam said.

“Has he seen a counselor?” Hayley asked.

“Yes,” Ria said. “I referred him to the therapist who consults for the school. He saw Dylan for a couple of months after his mother was killed. Of course, we didn’t discuss the actual sessions, but he said he was doing well. But then they stopped.”

Emily looked at Ria. “He stopped going because his dad wouldn’t let him go anymore. And wouldn’t let his little brother Kevin go at all, said he didn’t need it.”

“Sounds like Dad could’ve used some counseling,” Liam said rather sourly. Ria nearly smiled at that.

“And four months later he’s like that,” Emily said, gesturing with her phone, which still showed that last, haggard photograph.

“Something’s eatin’ at that boy,” Liam said. “He looks like he’s carrying the world.”

“I don’t know what you can do,” Emily said to him. “But—”

“We’re Foxworth. We’ll think of something. Right, boss?”

Ria found herself smiling. She liked Liam’s easy, kind reassurance to the girl and the quiet but obvious respect for Quinn that she had a feeling was only partly because he was his boss. And she liked the hint of a drawl, as well. She wanted to ask where he was from, but this didn’t seem the time. Not to mention he unsettled her a bit too much.

“We will certainly try,” Quinn agreed. “That boy needs some help.”

“I just don’t know who he’ll take it from,” Ria said. “We’ve all tried. Almost everybody he knows has.”

“Maybe,” Hayley said slowly, “it needs to be someone he doesn’t know.”

Quinn looked at his wife. “Meaning?”

“People under stress sometimes resist someone pushing to ‘help.’ And it can be easier to open up to someone who doesn’t know about all your baggage.”

“That’s true,” Emily said and then looked at Quinn. “Remember how I poured my heart out to you when my poor parents couldn’t even get me to tell them what was wrong? I was afraid of hurting their feelings by wanting this—” she fingered the locket “—back so much.”

Quinn looked thoughtful. Ria thought she saw him flick a glance at Liam, but then he quickly got down to business. Details like Dylan’s address, his family situation—just his father, little brother and a distant uncle left now—and the names of his friends.

“I’ll get on those names,” Liam said. “See if anything pops.”

“Liam’s not just our best tracker in the physical world,” Quinn explained at her questioning look. “If it’s out there in cyberspace, he’ll find it.”

“Or Ty will, but it won’t come to that,” Liam said with a grin. That grin.

“Ty?” Emily asked.

“Our tech guy at headquarters,” Hayley said. She smiled. “They have a bit of a competition going on. But together, there’s never been anything they couldn’t find.”

“He won’t know, will he?” Emily asked anxiously. “If Dylan knew we were poking into his life...”

“Not a trace,” Liam assured her.

Quinn went on then, asking about any new friends Dylan might now be hanging around with that he hadn’t before.

“None at school at least,” Emily said with assurance. “Cove Academy is small, I’d have noticed.”

“We’ll have to see about elsewhere, then,” Quinn said briskly.

“Dylan’s good with tech stuff,” Ria said with a quick glance at Liam that felt oddly as if she were sneaking a peek at something tempting but forbidden. “And math. But he does—or did—well in English, too. He won a state prize last term for an essay he wrote.” Her mouth tightened. “His mother died the same day it was announced. He never even went to get it.”

“Does he drive?” Liam asked.

“He doesn’t have his license yet, just his permit,” Emily said.

“So no car?”

Emily frowned. “No. He thought he would get his mom’s car, after, but his dad got rid of it.” The frown deepened. “Practically gave it away, Dylan said. He was really upset.”

“His father was grieving, too,” Ria said. “Maybe he couldn’t bear to see it.”

“I get that, but he should have thought how Dylan would feel, too.”

“Clear thinking and grieving don’t always go together,” Liam said. “Sometimes they fight each other so hard neither wins, but you lose.”

Ria drew back slightly. That had been an almost lyrical way of putting it. And she saw by Emily’s expression that he had reached her. Slowly the girl nodded.

“So what do we do?” Liam asked, looking at his boss.

“Computers, martial arts, a stranger,” Quinn said, summing up the discussion as he looked at Liam. “I think you may need to go back to school.”

“What?” Liam looked so startled Ria almost laughed.

“We’ll think of a good cover. Ria will help, I’m sure.”

“Of course,” she said, barely masking her amusement at his reaction.

Then she realized that this meant she would now apparently have Liam Burnett in her world. Up close and personal.

And that was a lot more unsettling than funny.

Chapter 4

Liam caught himself, realized he’d once more been staring at his laptop screen without seeing a thing. This was at least the third time since he’d come upstairs to begin this session that his mind had drifted off task and started wandering through the underbrush.

“How’s it coming?”

He managed not to jump when Hayley spoke from barely three feet behind him. He had no idea how long she’d been in the room. Talk about woolgathering, as his grandmother always used to say.

“It’s coming,” he said cautiously. “I have the basics. Dylan used to be semi-active on social media, even after a break when his mother died, but faded out over the summer.”

“That fits. Withdrawing.”

He nodded. “No real official, cop-type trouble that I could find.”

“Quinn called Brett, so he’s checking that for us,” she said.

He nodded and went on. “Friends are pretty typical. Lots of selfies and talking to each other. A couple of mentions of him but mostly asking where he is or if he’s coming somewhere. Then, later, a couple more mad because he didn’t show up somewhere he was supposed to.”

“Progression,” Hayley said.

Liam nodded. “Emily asked about him, as well, a couple of times, but she apparently isn’t much for yammering on social media.”

“I’m not surprised. Ria said she was focused more on her studies.”

She had? He didn’t remember that.

Probably because you were too busy trying not to stare at her. You’d better start thinking of her as Emily’s teacher, nothing more.

He made himself focus and continued. “When she does post something, it’s usually not fluff. Serious stuff. She’s big into animal welfare, supporting the local shelter, that kind of thing.”

“Speaking of which,” Hayley said, “Cutter’s stuff is ready.”

He blinked. “What?”

“His go bag. You can keep it in your truck for when he’s with you. And if you need to take him home with you, we’ve cleared it with your apartment manager.” Liam stared at her, brow furrowed. Hayley tilted her head. “He’s going with you, remember?”

“He is?”

She drew back slightly, looking concerned. “Do you not remember that discussion?”

He flushed because the only answer was no. He didn’t remember much after Quinn had said he was going to school. Ria Connelly’s school.

He snapped his gaze back to his laptop before she could read anything in his expression. “Must have zoned out. Sorry.”

“Hmm.” Hayley didn’t say anything more, but then she wouldn’t. She explained patiently, “You’re taking him because Emily said Dylan really likes dogs, but his dad would never let him have one.”

He seized on the mention of Dylan’s father to get past the awkward moment.

“Haven’t found much on Dad in the public record. A couple of traffic tickets and one road rage incident that was mentioned in a police activity blog, but I don’t know yet if he was the aggressor.”

“Brett will find that out for us,” Hayley said. “When?”

“Since his wife’s death,” Liam said, confirming what he knew she suspected. “Before that, he seems squeaky clean.”

“So those incidents could be grief messing with his judgment.”

“Could be,” he agreed and went on. “He has no social accounts. In fact, he doesn’t have an online presence at all that I can find.”

“Emily did say that Dylan says his father’s a bit of a technophobe. Doesn’t even have a smartphone.”

“You still usually end up somewhere, via somebody else, friend or job, something. But I haven’t dug deep yet. Professional sites, checking for fake names or profiles with the same IP, all that.”

“If he’s a credit counselor, that’s someplace to start.”

“He is?”

Hayley’s mouth quirked. “Missed that, too?”

“I guess I was already thinking about this,” he muttered, gesturing at the laptop. It wasn’t really true, but since he wasn’t even sure himself what had him so rattled he couldn’t explain. It would be fine, he’d get in in some capacity, try to get Dylan to open up to him, they’d put Emily’s mind at ease and he’d be done.

“We’ve been brainstorming how to get you and Dylan together,” she said.

He gave her a sideways look. “Just don’t say I look young enough to go in as a student.”

Hayley laughed. “While you could probably do it, we decided it would take too long and stand out too much if you came in as the new kid and zeroed in on him. We need a way to get Dylan to be interested right off.”

“Cutter?” he asked. “Isn’t that what that’s about?”

“Yes, but even clever as you both are that could take a while.”

Liam’s mouth twisted up at one corner. “Him, yes. Me, not so sure.”

“That’s okay,” Hayley said breezily. “We’re sure.”

He smiled at her easy, sincere compliment. But before he could respond there was the sound of footsteps on the stairs, and a moment later Quinn, Emily and her teacher—somehow thinking of her that way wasn’t helping as much as he thought it would—came into the big meeting room. Quinn and Emily immediately gravitated to the big wall of windows that looked out on the clearing. Quinn must have told her about the eagles because she was scanning the tree line intently.

“Dylan said his mom loved eagles,” Emily said sadly. “That’s why she loved hiking so much. She loved seeing them out in the wild.”

Quinn gave the girl a one-armed hug. He left her to watch for the eagles as he turned to head toward Hayley and Liam.

“I think we’ve got it,” he told them as he joined them on the other side of the room, where their tech equipment was set up.

Liam had the feeling he should have stuck around for that discussion downstairs, instead of bolting to another room. Then again, he’d clearly been so distracted he wouldn’t have been much use anyway. He glanced at Emily’s teacher—no, still not working—wondering how such a petite woman could take up so much space in a room this big.

She smiled at him. And suddenly Liam felt like he had the time he’d gone to the mountains above Denver, simply because he’d never seen mountains so high in person. He had found himself out of breath merely going up a flight of stairs, but was never sure if it was the exertion or the view.

“Liam never quits once he’s on the scent,” Quinn was saying, in the tone of a promise.

He yanked his gaze back to his boss. “What do I have to do?” he asked warily.

“Brush up on your judo and Muay Thai. Ria’s going to get you in as an after-school coach.”

He blinked. “But I don’t know anything about teaching it.”

“Ria will help with that.”

Oh, great.

“You’ll manage,” Quinn said at his expression. Then he added with a grin, “After all, you were taught by one of the best.”

The old joke—he’d been taught mostly by Quinn himself—helped him get a grip. “And put him on the ground more than once,” he pointed out, his customary response.

“That’s when I knew you were ready,” Quinn said. “And you’ve got that sudden-strike thing going for you.”

“Sudden strike?” Ria asked.

Quinn’s grin widened. Emily had just rejoined them, and he gave her a wink as he answered. “He strolls in all relaxed and leisurely, lolls around like he couldn’t move fast even if he wanted to. Just when you start thinking he’s half-asleep he explodes and takes you out before you can blink.”

Ria laughed. It was a light, lilting sound that gave him that high-altitude feeling again, even more than Quinn’s warming words.

“I’ll remember that,” she said.

“Dylan will like that,” Emily said. “He really did want to learn. It’s the only thing he still mentions now and then.”

“And teaching something concrete, physical-like—that is different than having to teach English or math or history,” Ria said in a reassuring tone. “You can actually show what needs to be done.”

Liam just looked at her for a moment. Made himself do it. Made himself ignore that odd feeling. No one spoke. If he was going to do this job—and it looked like he had no choice—it might be best to draw a line right here and now. He couldn’t get it done if he let her keep him off balance. He didn’t like admitting that this woman he hadn’t even known existed two hours ago could do that, but there it was. So he needed some space. He’d figure out why later.

“Martial arts,” he said formally, “are as much mental as physical. If you don’t understand the concept behind them—and each one is different—you won’t be able to utilize them to their full potential. You can go through the moves and even be effective, but unless you understand the mind-set you’ll only be mimicking. It won’t be instinctive, and it may let you down when you need it most.”

She was staring at him. He supposed it was because he’d given what was, for him, practically a speech. And then she surprised him.

“Your drawl was gone.”

His mouth twisted. Figures a teacher—an English teacher—wouldn’t like his drawl. So he exaggerated it when he said, “I c’n actually talk like a guy who done went to school, iffen I need to.”

She drew back slightly. When she spoke, it was in the same kind of tone and cadence he had used in his little speech on the martial arts. “And I put on glasses when I feel I need to be taken more seriously by people who tend to judge on appearance alone. That was not a criticism. Nor was it an assumption that you were not educated based on a regional accent. In fact, I rather missed it.”

He’d started to tighten up when it was clear she was mimicking him, but her last sentence disarmed him.