Halfway Between (3 page)

Harper Bret walked into her office and wanted to scream, she had gone through her
classes and became a profiler for the San Diego Police Department.  Of course, she still had to go through regular police training and right now, she was low person on the totem pole.  So when everyone called in sick, and the others out on calls, she had been notified she needed to be in the office to take calls.  Harper had been pissed.  Instead of being at the huge homicide scene the others were at, she—the actual profiler, was stuck here in the office.  All because of the arrogant prick LT who had a hard-on for any woman in the Homicide Division.  Said they were too emotional to see a dead body.

Harper wanted to laugh.  Really, she
had been with the FBI for several years before she changed jobs.  They had never seen a ritualistic killing of a child—she had—and it still haunted her.  However, break her—never.  She was the master of internalization. She put on a front, or as most people said, she channeled her ‘Inner Mistress of a Bitch’ too well sometimes.

That was her nickname
around the department, one she was sure the LT started—
the miserable son of a bitch
.  Ever since Harper started, the muther fucker had been trying to get into her pants.  Although she didn’t see it, she apparently was attractive.  How shit like that seem to matter when you smelled like a corpse at the end of the day, she didn't know.  So she didn’t put on makeup, or do her hair, unless she was going out.  Which meant maybe once a month, she had moved to San Diego only six months before, and she had met very few people and since she hung out a bunch of janky-ass pricks, it meant for a lot of lonely dinners.

She looked around the steel gray room and shook her head,
there were a variety of boards that were for the current cases.  She frowned as her eyes landed on one she hadn’t seen before—a woman.  As she walked closer, she saw her husband had died in the service, and she and her child were alone.  Jesus, a child all alone in the world.  She looked at the notes, the hit looked professional.  Harper wondered how she had missed this coming in.  She should have been read in, but once again, she saw the old boys club raising its nasty head.

Harper walked to her desk and flopped down in her chair, whatever, they would come
around, or she would kick their asses.  She planned only to give them a few more months before she did it.  Harper was working out, getting ready to take one of them down during training.  That will make them shut their mouths if she bitch slapped one of them in the training room.

Harper was
five foot four with long red hair, her mother before her death referred to her as her little pixie.  She would roll her eyes, but she secretly liked the reference.  Her father had been a retired SEAL, she knew exactly what it was like growing up in a home where your father had seen so much it had hardened him.  She loved him, and when he died, she had been ripped apart.  But she had also seen the effects of PTSD without having to serve. 

Shaking herself,
she didn’t allow time to wallow in her private life.  Even though she had nothing to do, she wouldn’t let them catch her daydream.  Busy work, was what she was good at. 

Harper
was busy until the end of her shift, not that it mattered, she had not really accomplished anything other than answering calls and sending messages.  Kicking one of their asses was sounded better and better all the time.  She gathered her duffle and began to walk out the door when the phone rang.  She paused and let her chin sink to her chest. 
Damn, almost got away
.  Knowing her luck it would be the asshat telling her she needed to stay until he got back to the office.

“
Sergeant Bret,” she said briskly into her phone.

“
Sergeant, we have a case that needs immediate attention.  A cabbie called in, said he had a guy in his back seat acting crazy.  He was taking him to the base hospital.  He is hallucinating and he has blood on him, the guy can’t tell him why.  We may have a homicide somewhere.  We need someone to go the hospital, everyone is already out,” the desk sergeant said.

“
Send the details to my phone.  On my way,” Harper said and hung up the phone and walked briskly to the door and yelled down the hallway to the secretary she was on her cell.

Harper smiled, finally a call all by he
rself with no one breathing over her shoulder.  The rush was starting, wondering about the man, and what he could have done.  Maybe he committed a murderous rampage and she would catch all the cases, it would take her weeks. 

She ran to her Tahoe and jump
ed in, she loved the SUV, it was new, still had that new smell.  It was black with red leather seats and all the bells and whistles.  She plugged her phone into the hands-free device and pulled out of the lot before someone stopped her.  If the LT showed up, she would be screwed.  Once she was a block away from the station she let out a breath of relief.  No one could stop her now, she just had to make sure no one else showed up to take over for her.

Harper thought about how she got here and laughed.  Every
thing was gonna work out.  She started being recruited right out of college by the FBI, her scores proved she had a knack for Forensic Psychology, she prided herself on being able to plan the perfect murder.  She just refused to use this particular knowledge as of yet.  But she could possibly in the near future, there was a large list of candidates,

Once in the FBI she really thought her career would take off, and it had somewhat, until her
parents were killed in a drive-by shooting, and she got involved in a case that kept her up at nights.  It had made her realize that even with everything going on, she needed to be able to find peace.  In the FBI you never saw the conclusion because you did what you could and were tasked somewhere else.  Now, this job, she would see to the end, every case she prosecuted she would be there the day they sent them to prison.

Her father would be proud, that was all she wanted.  She pulled into the base hospital parking and smiled
.  She's made it the entire way.

Joel shook his head at the vision in front of him.  His brother, Brian, was not here, he couldn’t be, he was dead.  Then why was he standing in front of him telling him to go to the base?  How was this even possible?  Joel looked around desperately.  People walked around him, ignoring him.  He needed to get somewhere safe.  They were after him.

“
Bro, damn it, listen to me.  Drake and the guys are on their way, just get to the base, and everything will be fine!”
Brian yelled.

“
Fine,” Joel said and looked down the street.  A cab, he had enough for a cab.

Joel stumbled to the edge of the street and waved his hands, trying to get a cabb
y's attention.  On a good day, getting a cab in this neighborhood was almost impossible.  Someone was apparently looking out for him though because a yellow cab pulled up to the curb. 

He didn
’t wait and pulled open the door and fell into the backseat.  “I need to get to Coronado, the Base,” he said.

Brian looked over his shoulder and smiled. 
“Sure, buddy.”

“
What the fuck are you doing driving the cab?  You are dead!” Joel yelled and his brother looked startled.

“
Hey man, you okay?”
  Brian said.

“
Okay, yeah sure,” Joel said, raising a hand to wipe off his forehead.  He was hot, it felt like he was coming down with something.  Hell, being on the run for weeks, sleeping on strange couches in strange places, he was surprised he hadn’t gotten sick before now.

“
Brian, just drive man.  If you want me to go to the base, then take me there,” he said warily.

“
Buddy, don’t pass out on me?  Is there someone I can call?”
Brian said, looking in the rearview mirror while he pulled away from the curb. 
“Don’t get sick in my cab.  I will get you there.”

Joel laughed.  “
Right, you’re a cab driver.  That is a good one.  Hey, why are you driving this cab again?  I don’t remember what fucked up excuse you gave me.  Are you undercover again?”

“
Right,”
Brian said slowly.

“
Hang on, you are dead, you can’t be undercover.  I saw your body,” Joel said tiredly and closed his eyes.  “I was so glad the parents weren’t alive you know.  It was hard enough to deal with that by myself.  Mom would have been devastated.  You know how she felt about our jobs,” Joel whispered.

“
Hey, I am gonna call someone to help you.  I think you are sick,”
Brian said.

Joel snorted, “
Who are gonna call, everyone is dead.”  Joel laughed to himself.  “I am all alone.  Remember, you all left me.”

“
Oh man, I am sorry, dude,”
Brian said.

“
Why are you apologizing?  I should be the one to apologize.  You know the last time I actually saw you, we had that argument about my job,” Joel whispered.  He could hear Brian talking to someone, but he was too tired to try to figure out who.  “Hey, you listening?”

“
Yeah, man, stay awake, we are getting close,”
Brian said. 

“
Drake is going to be pissed.  You know when I talked to him I said I would call in a few days; fuck, it has been like two months.  He is going to yell at me.  Hey, you think he knows why you died.  I wondered that, you know?  Why you?” Joel said.

“
Shit,”
Brian said.

“
I know, you hate talking about this shit.  But I need to know.  I have been wracking my brain wondering why.  Why would you all leave me and let me face this shit on my own.  Dad said they would always be there, and he lied.  Died when we were what twenty-two?  That sucked.  A guy shouldn’t lose his parents that early.  We needed them still, for advice.  If dad and mom were alive, they would have been there when you died.  They would have helped.  Man, that phone call sucked.  I was in my office, and the Commander called and asked me to come to the base.  I knew, right then when he said he needed to see me—I knew you were gone.  The whole way to the base, I was numb—trying to figure out what I was gonna do, I was alone.  No one to tell me I was being a dumbass—no one to hang with for Sunday football—just like that you were gone.  I was pissed—still am.  You gotta tell me man, why did you leave?” Joel muttered.

“
Just hang on, they are sending someone to help,”
Brian said.

“
No man, I want you to help.  I need to know why?  Why everyone died and left me alone.  You need to tell me, is this a punishment?  Something I did?” Joel asked.  He finally was able to ask the questions that had been on his mind since he was notified about his brother. 

Joel had only asked one question, why was his brother killed?  It opened a can of worms with him discovering that not only did he not know who to trust, but also the circumstances surrounding his brother
's death were not all that they seemed.

“
Joel?”
Brian said. 
“Joel Lipit?”

“
Dude, why are you acting like you don’t know our last name?” Joel asked, trying to raise his head from the back of the seat.  It was impossible; it felt like his head weighed a hundred pounds. 

“
I am calling someone to help,”
Brian said.

Joel frowned, why would his brother call someone.  He was here to help him, wasn
’t he?  This was not making any sense at all.

“
Brian, you haven’t answered my question.  Why?” Joel muttered.

“
I am taking you to the hospital, man, just hang on.  You will be fine,”
Brian said.

“
Hospital?  Why would I need to go to the hospital?  I need answers, not a doctor,” Joel muttered.

“
No you need a doctor.  I think maybe you should just relax, man.  We will be there in just a few,”
Brian said.

“
Where are we going?  I thought you said I had to get to the base?” Joel said.

“
Yeah, that is where you are going—the base hospital
,” Brian said.

“
I don’t need a hospital—I need answers.  Stop fucking around with me, and talk to me,” Joel grumbled, wishing he could function a little better, something was wrong but he had no clue what.  His arms and legs felt like they were asleep, nothing seemed to work.

Drake leaned back in the airplane seat and frowned.  The airplane was a private jet belonging to his friend
, Alex Prain-Strout’s family.  Luxurious would be an understatement.  It had a galley, with freshly cooked food by the chef they employed and served by a lovely waitress/co-pilot.  They had state of the art technology, which came in handy since they were going over the information their Commander sent them. 

The information the team requested they hoped
would help them figure out who was trying to kill them, and their families.  All this time they had been focusing on the missions they had been on.  Now they were focusing on who their missions affected.  Hopefully this new angle would give them a good lead.  So far, nothing else seemed to make sense.

Team TEN had been one of the elite teams in the SEALs. 
They had made a lot of enemies, even though most of the people had no clue who had done the missions they were involved in.  No one ever did, but somehow this person had and now, they were intent on killing them.

“
I got nothing,” Jessie said frustrated and threw his stack of papers on the table they were working at.  Drake looked around to the other people at the table.  It was only half of his team, since the others had been killed in a suicide bomb incident.  Thane, call name LC, was their leader.  His second in command was Gage, or Master Chief, was sitting next to him.  Then Alex, Mason, Jessie, and Drake were the only members who survived that fateful day.  As Drake looked, he saw the feint outline of men standing behind his friends. 
FUCK.

“
Yep,”
Brian “Frogman” Lipit said in his ear.  Drake closed his eyes and turned to see his dead friend grinning at him.

Every one
of the men who had lived had gone through this.  All except for LC and him, and apparently, he had gotten the short straw.  It all started with Alex, they thought he was going crazy talking to Wolfman who had died, insisting on the fact he was communicating with him.  Now they all believed, and waited for their turn to be contacted.  All the men who died have left a letter to each of them.  One none of the men had delivered since they had been wounded as well.  The time had come for them to deliver the letters, and help the families who were in danger. 

Being
a SEAL, your final letter was important.  It was written to the person who was closest to you—a final goodbye—words left unsaid for many of them.  SEALs weren’t known to be over communicative with people outside of their Team.

“
Fuckin A,” Drake said and ran a hand over his face.

“
What?” Thane asked.

“
Brian.”
  Was all he had to say and his team members nodded? 

“
Sam is the only one left,” Thane said slowly, Drake looked at their leader and knew what he was feeling.  With the appearance of Brian, meant Sam was the only one left and then their friends would move on.  Right now, they had unfinished business.  It was strange to be able to see them when they were dead.  But a blessing as well.  They all had been diagnosed with PTSD, and the loss of their teammates had been devastating.  They were given a chance to at least say goodbye, it seemed to have helped the others a little.  Drake could only hope he would get a little peace as well.  The guilt from being the one who survived while his partner died—was almost more than what he could bear most days.  But Drake was the master of illusion.  He didn’t wear his emotions on his sleeve and he covered with a smart-ass attitude.  One that eluded him for the last few days.

“
You have to get there soon.  He doesn’t have much time,”
Brian said seriously.

Drake groaned and then looked behind him.  “
Hey, how long until we touch down?”

The co
-pilot smiled and said, “Thirty minutes, sir.”

“
You will be close,”
Brian said. 
“You have to be prepared.  He has been drugged.”

Drake looked up at his dead friend.  “
With what?”

“
Salamander Brandy,”
Brian said and Drake raised an eyebrow.

“
Joel has been drugged with Salamander Brandy,” Drake said to the team.

“
Shit
,”
Thane said.

“
Salamander Brandy is a hallucinogen, the only place to get it is Slovenia,” Alex said.  “It is used as a drug that prides itself on aphrodisiac powers.  It is made by taking a Salamander and drowning him in brandy.  The animal releases a toxin when threatened by predators, and before their death, they release the most.  They drown it, and leave it in the alcohol for show.  If taken in too much of a quantity, the subject's heart stops.  Many terrorist groups use it to interrogate.  One of the side effects is hallucinations, it proves handy.”

“
How long once the lethal dose is administer?” Drake said slowly.

Mason leaned back and crossed his arms.  “
Hours—depending on the dose.”

Drake swore under his breath.  Brian put a hand on his shoulder
. 
“You need to be ready.”

“
How do we fix it?” Drake said warily.  He listened as his friends began to research as he stared at the clock on the wall that refused to move any faster.  Finally, Gage cussed and then looked up.

“
Epinephrine directly in the heart,” Gage said.

“
Shit,” Alex said looked up. 

They had all been given training in field medicine.  One of the worst things they had to learn was how to inject someone in shock.  Many peo
ple didn’t have the strength to do what needed to be done.  If they missed—it failed.  If they hit too hard—they ripped the organ apart.  It was something that was a chance, a slim one.