A Father's Sacrifice. Mallory Kane
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take even the smallest chance that someone might get a glimpse of him.” Charlene leaned closer. “You know the world thinks Ben died in the accident.”
Natasha nodded as she surveyed the play area. Stone paths led through a maze of flowers and shrubs. A little swing set and toys occupied one side of the yard. In the center sat a goldfish pond with a clear acrylic barrier around it, so Ben could see the fish but couldn’t fall in.
She looked skyward, then out past the thick hedge. The canopy shaded the manicured play area, while the field beyond the hedge was overgrown and wild, just the kind of place a child would love to run and explore. The kind of place that would put color in Ben’s cheeks and make him smile.
“I guess this area gives him some sunlight,” she conceded, spreading her hand. The canopy broke the sunlight into dots of light and shadow across her palm.
“He loves it out here, don’t you, cowboy?”
But Ben stood beside Charlene, looking dejected.
Charlene held out a soft fuzzy toy helicopter. “Go play.”
“I wanna see a real copter,” Ben whined.
“There’s no real copter today.” Charlene sounded bored and irritated. “Play with your toy.”
Catching Natasha’s eye, she shrugged. “One of the guards showed him a helicopter flying over the field out there one day. Now he’s obsessed.”
“I want my daddy. Where’s Daddy?”
Charlene sighed and put her hand on Ben’s shoulder. “Why don’t you find a butterfly?” She pointed. “Is that one?”
“Butterfly?” Ben’s attention was caught. “Butterfly!” he shouted, moving toward a bed of flowers.
“I really wish Dr. Stryker would examine him in the evening instead of the morning. He’s pouty all day afterward.”
Natasha dragged her gaze away from Ben’s search for the butterfly. “What does an examination entail?”
Charlene outlined the arduous testing, stretching and measuring. Just as she started describing needle stimulation of nerves, a security guard appeared from the house. It was Hector Alvarez. Mintz had introduced them the first night.
With a stealthy glance at Natasha, he spoke to Charlene. “I need to check your pass code device,” he said. “Some of them are malfunctioning.”
“Sure, Hector.” She glanced back toward Ben as she dug in her pocket. “Hey, cowboy, come back this way,” she called.
Natasha assessed the guard as Charlene handed him her card. Was he going to check her device? The guard grinned and leaned close to whisper in Charlene’s ear.
Apparently not.
As Natasha smiled wryly at Hector’s ruse to steal a moment alone with Charlene, she became aware of a low rumble and realized the sound had been growing for several seconds. She turned just as it intensified into a rhythmic roar.
“Copter!” Ben squealed in delight.
He was farther away than she’d realized, almost to the hedge.
“Ben, no!” she cried as a helicopter came into view beyond the trees.
From the corner of her eye she saw Charlene whip around. “Ben, get back here,” Charlene shouted.
He disappeared into the tangle of shrubbery.
“Ben!” Natasha ran. She lunged through the hedge, her arms up to protect her face. Limbs and twigs caught at her clothes and hair as she pushed forward against the thick mesh of branches.
She emerged into full sunlight just as the helicopter flew overhead. Ben ran toward its shadow, his braces catching the sun, his arms stretched skyward.
“Copter! Copter!”
Natasha threw herself toward the child.
The helicopter swooped alarmingly low just as she wrapped Ben in her arms and rolled over on top of him. She caught a metallic flash as the downwash from the rotors blew dust and dirt into her eyes.
Metal! Camera or gun?
Instinctively she shielded Ben’s body with hers. Her back muscles contracted with the expectation of a bullet.
She heard the rat-tat-tat of an automatic weapon. She cringed and tried to spread herself more completely over the shuddering, crying child beneath her.
“It’s okay,” she whispered, tucking his face into her shoulder. “Close your eyes, sweetie. You’re safe.”
Dust and grass cuttings swirled around them, stinging her arms and neck as the helicopter rose and sped away.
Somebody put a hand on her shoulder.
“Are you all right?” It was Hector, the guard.
As Natasha sat up, Charlene appeared, her wide, terrified gaze scanning the child’s body for injuries.
“Ben! What were you doing? Oh, you bad boy!” She sounded close to hysteria.
She reached for Ben, but he turned to Natasha. Her heart twisted in fear and relief as she gathered him into her arms.
Charlene stopped short.
Ben wailed and clung to Natasha’s neck.
“It’s okay, sweetie,” she whispered, hugging his small body tightly. “I know how scary it is.” She rubbed his back and whispered. “I know. I know.”
“Give him to me,” Charlene said.
But Natasha ignored her and rose without letting go of Ben. She blinked dust out of her eyes. Every inch of her stung where the sharp branches had scratched her.
She surveyed the sky and the surrounding area, but saw nothing. Then she glared at the obviously shaken guard.
He clutched his weapon with white-knuckled fingers. Faint horror darkened his gaze as he looked her and Ben over. “Is Ben okay, ma’am? Are you?”
“Yes. We’re fine. It’s Hector, right? Who fired weapons?”
The guard’s face was ashen. “Ma’am, I did.”
Natasha cradled the back of Ben’s head. He buried his nose in her neck. “Was the copter armed? Did you hit it? What did you see?”
The guard stammered. “I—I tried to aim for the landing gear. I don’t think I hit anything.”
“There was someone leaning out the door. They had either a camera or a gun. You didn’t see that?”
He shook his head. “All I saw was a flash of light. My instructions are to defend.”
“Not to observe?” Natasha snapped.
“Of course, ma’am.” He flushed, red creeping up his neck to his cheeks and ears. “I did the best I could.”
Natasha sniffed. “Once you dragged your attention away from Charlene,” she muttered.
Hector’s eyes narrowed and she caught a flash of anger in them.
She squinted and surveyed the tree line again. “If it was a camera, we’ll know soon enough. There will be at least one story about Dr. Stryker’s son on the news tonight.” She shot a disgusted glance at the guard. “Not to mention the story of ground fire.”
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