Deep Hurt - Eva Hudson Page 0,62

photographs hanging on the wall next to the door. They all featured Gurley posing with high ranking officers, various Secretaries of Defense, and even one or two ex-presidents. Gurley hadn’t struck Ingrid as the boasting kind, so an array of his claims to fame arranged on the wall like a collection of hunting trophies seemed a little out of place.

Gurley slammed down the phone. “Sonofabitch!” He took a breath. “Him, not you,” he said, staring at the phone.

“Something to do with the Foster investigation?” Ingrid asked.

“No—Air Force bureaucratic bullshit. I should be used to it by now, but it still pisses me off. It’s a waste of time and money.” Gurley stood up and stretched his arms above his head. For a moment Ingrid was sure his knuckles would graze the ceiling. “I didn’t ask you last night,” he said, “did you get a sense from Sherwood that she thinks Foster is likely to stay in the area?”

“I don’t think she was lying when she told us she has no idea what Foster’s plans are. Without the supplies and the cash from Sherwood, I guess Foster has fewer options.”

“I wouldn’t be taken in by her story.”

“I have done this before, you know. I can get a sense when somebody is lying to me.”

“Well, I don’t trust her. I’m planning on keeping her under surveillance today, just in case she gets any ideas about helping Foster again.”

“I’m not staking out the pub. It’d be a waste of time.”

Gurley folded his arms across his broad chest. “I had no intention of asking you to. I’ll get a couple of my team to check it out.”

“Good, waste their time instead of mine.”

The landline on Gurley’s desk started to ring. Its tone sounded particularly shrill as the noise bounced off the cinder block walls.

“Excuse me.” Gurley snatched the handset and turned away from her. “You’re saying he’s on the line right now?” He glanced over his shoulder at Ingrid. “Of course you should patch him through. Set up a trace on the call, as fast as you can.”

Ingrid ran around the desk. “Is it Foster?”

Gurley nodded.

“Put the call on speaker phone.”

Gurley narrowed his eyes, clearly reluctant to comply with her request. “He called to speak to his superior officer. His superior officer has transferred the call to me. Foster doesn’t know who the hell you are.”

“You want me to escalate this? With the embassy? With the Pentagon?”

“This is Major Gurley, Security Forces.” He turned another few degrees away from her, the handset pressed hard against his ear. “Major Brown thought it best you speak to me.”

Ingrid scanned the phone on the desk and stabbed at the only button that looked remotely like the right one. A crackle of static filled the room. Followed by an irritated sigh from Gurley.

“I know what you’re doing. I know you’ll be tracing this call, so I’m going to be quick. You have to listen to me without interrupting.” Foster’s voice was deeper than Ingrid had expected.

“Go on.”

“You have to believe that I didn’t hurt Molly. I could never hurt her. I love her and Tommy more than anything in the world. Jesus, until I saw the news reports, I thought she was dead. That’s why I panicked and took Tommy. I had to get him out of harm’s way.”

“Tell me what you’ve done to him,” Gurley said.

“I told you not to interrupt. I haven’t done anything. Tommy’s right here with me. He’s safe. I want him to stay that way. In order for that to happen, I need your help. I want to get him to my parents back home. You can arrange that for me, I know you can.”

“Let me at least speak to Tommy, know for sure he’s all right.”

“I don’t have time for that. I want him on a flight to the US by the end of tomorrow. He’ll need a chaperone. Maybe one of your female officers. My mom and dad will take good care of him.”

“We know Tommy was injured. We spoke to the doctor who treated him. What did you do to him?”

“I didn’t do anything. Aren’t you listening to me? I love my kids.”

“I think it’s best for Tommy, for you… for everyone… if you give yourself up. We can hear your side of the story then. Take all the… ah… mitigating circumstances into account.”

“Story? What do you think this is? I’m not telling tales. Jesus. Why won’t you listen to me? I want to make sure Tommy’s safe. And Molly.