Chapter 7 - THE EMPTY CHAIR
The pool building smelled like chlorine, wet concrete, and old fear.
Abigail entered through the side door with two agents behind her.
The interior lights were on.
Water trembled in the training pool beneath fluorescent tubes.
A metal chair stood at the edge.
Rope lay coiled beside it.
No Lucas.
"Lucas!"
Her voice echoed across the tiled room.
No answer.
One agent moved toward the locker rooms.
The other covered the upper catwalk.
Abigail saw blood on the floor.
Three drops.
Then five.
A thin trail led through a doorway marked EQUIPMENT.
"Here."
The agent beside her raised his weapon.
They approached.
Inside was a storage room filled with dive masks, fins, weighted vests, and old training mannequins.
A speaker sat on a shelf.
Its tiny red light blinked.
Then Lucas's voice screamed again.
"Abigail!"
Recorded.
Abigail stared at it.
Rage replaced fear.
"They knew I'd come."
The agent unplugged the speaker.
"This was bait."
Caleb appeared in the doorway.
His face tightened when he saw her.
"You were supposed to stay with the vehicle."
"An agent was shot."
"And then?"
"I heard Lucas."
Caleb looked at the speaker.
He understood.
"Damn it."
Ruiz entered behind him.
"Whole site is a shell."
"What about the gunfire?" Abigail asked.
"Remote-triggered weapon system."
She stared at him.
"A machine fired at you?"
"Crude setup."
"Crude nearly killed your agent."
Ruiz nodded grimly.
"Yes."
Caleb walked to the metal chair.
There were dark stains beneath one armrest.
He crouched.
"Blood."
Abigail knelt beside him.
The rope fibers were wet.
She touched them with a gloved finger.
"Recent."
Ruiz called for evidence technicians.
Caleb looked toward the pool.
"They moved him before we arrived."
"How did they know?" Abigail asked.
No one answered.
She turned toward Ruiz.
"How did they know we were coming?"
Ruiz's expression became guarded.
"We're checking communications."
"Someone tipped them."
"Possibly."
"Commander Hale?"
"Possibly."
Abigail was tired of that word.
Caleb walked toward the far wall.
An old corkboard held faded safety notices.
One corner had been covered with fresh paper.
He pulled it away.
Behind it was a photograph pinned to the board.
A group photo.
Eight men stood outside the Redwater pool building years earlier.
Caleb was one of them.
Daniel Warren stood beside him.
Marcus Hale stood at the far end.
Victor Dane was there too.
Abigail looked at Caleb.
"You said you trained here once."
"I did."
"With all of them?"
Caleb stared at the photograph.
"Yes."
Ruiz stepped closer.
"When was this?"
"Thirteen years ago."
"What training?"
Caleb did not answer immediately.
Abigail recognized the silence.
It was the silence he used around memories he had locked away.
"Caleb."
He looked at her.
"It was a resistance program."
"Resistance to what?"
"Capture."
Ruiz's eyes sharpened.
"SERE adjunct?"
Caleb nodded.
"Unofficial."
"How unofficial?"
"No paperwork."
Ruiz swore.
Abigail pointed at the chair.
"They did this to you?"
Caleb looked at the metal chair.
"Something like it."
"And Warren?"
"He was an instructor candidate."
"Hale?"
"Observer."
"Dane?"
Caleb's jaw tightened.
"Consultant."
Abigail felt the pieces rearranging.
"They didn't invent this with Lucas."
"No."
Ruiz studied the old photo.
"How many people went through this site?"
Caleb shook his head.
"I don't know."
"Any deaths?"
Caleb looked at him.
"One."
Abigail remembered the conversation in the emergency department.
"Ramadi?"
"Different incident."
"Who died here?"
Caleb stared at the water.
"Petty Officer Nathan Cross."
The name came out quietly.
"He drowned during an exercise."
Ruiz frowned.
"I know that name."
Caleb looked at him.
"Official report said cardiac arrest during physical training."
"You knew that was false?"
"I knew what I saw."
Abigail felt anger rise again.
"Did you report it?"
Caleb closed his eyes for a moment.
"Yes."
"What happened?"
"Nothing."
Ruiz stared at the group photo.
"Hale buried it."
Caleb nodded.
"And Dane disappeared."
"And Warren stayed in training."
Caleb nodded again.
Abigail stepped away from them.
She needed space.
Her husband had carried this for thirteen years.
The same men who had buried one death were now holding a nineteen-year-old patient.
A technician called from the locker room.
"Agent Ruiz!"
They followed him.
One locker stood open.
Inside was Lucas's hospital wristband.
Abigail recognized her own handwriting on it.
Beneath the wristband was a flash drive.
Ruiz put on gloves.
"Nobody touches it until digital forensics images it."
Caleb pointed to the inside of the locker door.
Someone had scratched three letters into the paint.
N C R.
Ruiz frowned.
"What does that mean?"
Caleb's face changed.
"Nathan Cross Record."
Abigail looked at him.
"How do you know?"
"Because Cross kept a training log."
"Where?"
"He called it NCR."
"Was it ever found?"
"No."
Ruiz stared at the flash drive.
"Maybe Lucas found it."
A radio crackled.
"Lead, we found the gray SUV."
Ruiz grabbed the handset.
"Location?"
"Two miles east on County Road Twelve."
"Occupants?"
A pause.
"None."
"Anything inside?"
Another pause.
"One body."
Abigail's stomach dropped.
"Male, middle-aged, hospital security uniform."
Caleb looked at her.
Raymond Shaw.
Ruiz's jaw tightened.
"Cause?"
"Gunshot wound."
Abigail closed her eyes.
Shaw had stolen the photographs.
Now someone had silenced him.
The radio continued.
"There's something else."
"Go."
"We found a phone in his hand."
"Whose?"
May you like
"Registered to Commander Marcus Hale."
