Saving Her, Saving Him (Sample only, read on Readict)

2

"Here you go, Jaxson. That's all I have." Then remembering something, "Oh! Wait a sec.  You got a package yesterday."

Jaxson quietly thanked the elderly female postal worker. Leaving as quietly as he came in, he walked over to the grocery store to pick up some things. Many people passed him. Some cutting a wide berth around him. Due to his size and quiet air of menace, not many people bothered him. He could see the sheriff walking up to him, and knew just from his demeanor that he wanted to talk.

"Jaxson, good to see you. I need you to stop by the Sheriff's office on your way back to your place, please. I have something important that I need to discuss with you." Jaxson merely nodded to the other man. 

Walking into the grocery store, he could hear the cashier gossiping with the customer who was checking out. "Freaky, I tell you. She showed up last week and would only go to the diner and then back to her room. Mavis said she never went anywhere and paid cash for the entire stay. This morning, she goes to clean the room, and BAM! Blood everywhere. Mattress, pillows and the carpet ripped up. Furniture turned over, drawers pulled out and smashed to pieces. Not a hide nor hair of the girl. Little thing, she is too. Maybe 5'3 and 120 pounds soaking wet. I tried to talk to her one night at the diner and she looked so scared I felt sorry for her."

"Well, what happened?" the customer asked. 

"Funny thing. She jumped up, paid for her meal and left. Poor thing hadn't even hardly touched it. Scariest thing about her is the fear she wore like a mask. She was constantly watching her surroundings. Like she was watching for someone she didn't want to see." The customer didn't answer and simply paid for her items.

Jaxson walked up and placed his items on the counter. The cashier was so afraid of him that she rang up his purchases quietly and didn't offer to speak to him. Which was fine by him. Friendship was not something he was in the market for. He didn't deserve to have friends. The last time he had friends, he let them die. Oh, it was argued that it wasn't his fault, it was the fault of the agency that had provided the intel. But, that was besides the point. Those were his men. His friends. and they had all died on his watch.

He walked out to his Jeep, where the sheriff was waiting on him. Jaxson raised one eyebrow standing in front of the man.

"Yeah, I know. Kinda tells you I either don't trust you, or what I have to say is too important. A little of both actually. Come on, put your stuff in your Jeep and I'll walk you over to my office." Jaxson never uttered a word, just nodded.

As they entered the office, Jaxson took in his surroundings. Paintings of the mountains and local native artifacts, as well as newspaper articles about the wildfires that had almost destroyed this area because two kids thought it would be fun to play with matches out in the woods. 

Bill tossed a thick file stamped TOP SECRET across the front of it, onto his desk. "I know who you are, Jaxson. And I believe I know why you're here. Your grandpa was a good man and this town survived several economic crises because of him. I haven't told anyone who you are yet. I figured if you wanted them to know, you would tell them. But, this file kind of answers a lot of questions for me, though. Like, why you never try to speak to people anymore than you have to. But, son, hiding from the world won't bring them back. Nor do you do them any honor the way you are living." Bill could see the young man getting angry, and held up one of his hands in a placating manner. " I know. You don't want me nosing around in your business. But, when someone we don't know comes into to town and stays, you better believe that I look into them, real good."

"How did you get that file?" Jaxson demanded.

"Son, I have a lot of friends. I was in the military for twenty-five years and did a lot of "dark" operations. It netted me some very close friends and more than a few favors. I pulled a string or two and got that from a General friend of mine. He was very forthcoming about what he thought of you. Your entire career, as a matter of fact. Right down to where you almost killed that government spook that provided you and your team with the the bad intel on your last mission two years ago." Bill shook his head. "Hell, I probably would have done the same thing. Military Intelligence!  Huh! What a joke."

"What do you want from me?" Jaxson asked through gritted teeth.

"I am going to possibly need your help." Jaxson opened his mouth to refuse and the sheriff held up his hand again. "I know what you're thinking. I've been there. You are good enough to help people. But, I ask that you hear me out first." At Jaxson's nod, Bill continued. "The girl that everyone is talking about? The one who's motel room was destroyed and left bloody, I just need you to keep an eye out for her and anyone who looks out of place. You know the type, three thousand dollar suit, twelve hundred dollar shoes, five hundred dollar haircut, etc...."

Jaxson cut Bill off ad said two words, "Drug cartel."

Bill nodded. "Unfortunately. I know you are staying out on your grandpa's farm, but you are trained to see things. I have watched you when you come into town. You automatically scan for any threat before getting out of your vehicle, entering an business. Hell! You even did it walking in here. Look, all I'm asking is for you to keep your eyes open and let me know if you see anything suspicious or anyone who that you know doesn't belong."

Jaxson nodded to the older man. "I can do that. But, you know I only come into town about once every two weeks."

"That's fine. I just need extra eyes." Standing, Bill reached out his right hand to shake the younger man's and could see surprise in his eye, just for a split second.

Jaxson drove out of town as he mulled over his day and the details the sheriff gave him.

New. No one had seen her before. She had been staying at the local motel for the last week and just up and disappeared. Her car still at the motel, her things strewn about the room, furniture ripped, drawers pulled out and dumped.

 After an hour of driving, he pulls into the shed where he keeps his bike.  He actually enjoyed where he lived. He had fresh flowing water, plenty of game to hunt, a place to grow what vegetables he needed and a small amount of livestock. As he's walking to his cabin, he noticed buzzards circling overhead. 

 Realizing how close they are to him, he decides to go and check it out. After all, he doesn't want predators coming after his meager livestock. Putting away his purchases, he grabs his rifle and a box of ammo and takes off on foot.

Just thirty minutes walk from his cabin, he is directly under the circling birds. He didn't have to look far to see why, either.

She was badly beaten. Her face a mass of bruises and so swollen that she was almost unrecognizable as a female. Blood had pooled and was drying, caking her hair. She looked like she had been shot. At least twice, and stabbed multiple times. Working fast and relying on his military training, he quickly scanned the area making sure that he wasn't being watched. That was a feeling he knew well. Realizing that that girl was just this side of death, he worked quick. He shouldered his rifle across his back with the attached strap, put away his knife and reached for the girl to gently roll her over. When he did, his blood ran cold.