Page 17 of Better Day

So, it’s time for me to do some digging in a place the agency would never agree to, using methods they would never condone. The boss put me on this job because he knew I wouldn’t be able to help myself. The players in this are not street criminals. They have money, status, and power. They don’t do any of the dirty work; instead, they control the movements and continue to cover their tracks. Yet for someone who knows what they are doing, you would be surprised what pieces of information you can find. You may not have all the pieces but give it long enough and it will all make sense.

Firing up my personal computer that is untraceable and not linked to the agency at all, I start trolling the dark web.

“Okay, Senator Condell, let’s see what you’ve been up to behind your perfect walls.” My fingers tap away on the keyboard, and I fall down the rabbit hole of corruption, greed, and criminal activity most people wouldn’t even dream of.

My initial search is slow, finding tiny pieces of things and nothing making any connections yet.

Screenshotting my latest find, I can hear movement in Cassie’s room which makes me alert. I don’t have a camera in her room for privacy, obviously, but there is one in the hallway, and I check to make sure there has been no movement that I’ve missed. Silence falls on the house again, and I continue searching.

Her voice starting to cry out, I jump out of my seat, slamming down the lid of the laptop to make sure my search is cut off and logged out.

“I can’t breathe, need air… can’t… breathe,” Cassie cries out as I come crashing through her bedroom door. Hand on my gun, I'm ready until I see her thrashing on the bed, and the blanket I laid over her is now screwed up in a ball. Pushing my gun back in its holster, I slowly approach her. I’ve seen this before, where people in trauma are dreaming, and they’re back in the middle of where they came from. Waking them up too quickly is harsh and can cause an even worse feeling than in the nightmare they’re in.

“Cassandra, it’s okay.” Keeping my voice calm, I approach her from the side. “Cassandra, it’s Ghost. I’m here. Just open your eyes.”

Her breathing is getting more rapid instead of calming.

“Can’t breathe… he’ll kill…” She's still thrashing backwards and forwards.

“Cassandra!” My voice gets louder to try to break through to her. But it’s still not working because she isn’t used to her name yet. So, I resort to the only thing left. Sitting down on the bed next to her, I pull her into my arms to stop her from moving, which will hopefully wake her or at least still her.

“I’ve got you, beautiful.” The words slip out as I cradle her against my chest, wrapping her arms up nice and tight.

Fuck, I should never have said that. I just spent the last few hours grilling myself about not getting involved, obviously with no success. Hopefully she didn’t hear a word of it.

My words might not have worked, but holding her is making her fight stronger, to wake at the shock of feeling someone touching her.

Cassandra’s eyes spring open, looking like a startled child. I can feel her fighting against me to get away which will make things worse.

“It’s just me, Ghost. I’m here to protect you. Just relax. You were having a nightmare.”

“Where am I?” Her voice is still unstable and raspy.

“The safe house, with me. Remember the less-than-five-star accommodation that I’m providing?” Slowly her eyes soften, and her body is becoming limp in my arms. “Just take your time, whatever was in the nightmare is gone.” I rub my hand up and down her back, trying to soothe her.

Eventually all the struggle is gone, and her forehead falls forward onto my chest. Not saying a word, she starts to breathe a little slower, and reluctantly I loosen my grip on her. I slide my arms back so my hands are holding her up by the top of her arms.

Her head is still hanging low.

“Cassandra, look at me.” She hesitates but slowly her head is rising, and I see her face that looks like the weight of the world is on her. “Are you back with me?” I don’t want to, but I start to let go, hovering next to her, making sure she can sit up on her own.

“Yeah.” Finally, she’s acknowledging me.

“Want to talk about it?” Not a question I should be asking her.

“No,” is all I get. I don’t believe her, but she would have been told not to talk to anyone unless she has the permission from the FBI. I let it go for now.

“Okay, I understand. I’ll let you wake up properly, and when you’re ready, come out and we’ll see if there’s something we can find for an afternoon snack.

“Afternoon? How long did I sleep?” She runs her hands up and down her arms. Not sure if it’s because she’s cold or it’s just a nervous reaction.

“A few hours, and before you say a word, you needed it. I’ll be in the kitchen if you want me.” I walk away before I say or do something stupider than I already have.

I check through the pantry for the food that the house was stocked with before we got here. A few options jump out at me. I grab the crackers, nuts, and I know I saw some cheese and dip in the fridge. I might not be great with presentation, but the food looks okay. I can’t drink on the job, and it doesn’t look like they have stocked any wine here either at first glance. Iced tea will have to do for the time being.

The quiet shuffle of her feet coming down the hallway has me looking up to see her. She's got her arms wrapped tightly around herself again, a sign of how uneasy she's still feeling.

“Why don’t we go outside on the back porch and sit in the sunlight? They say it’s good for the soul.” I hold up my plate of food and the iced tea as a peace offering.

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