True Mark an Alex the Fey Thriller Read online

  True Mark

  Claudia Hall Christian

  Cook Street Publishing

  Denver, CO

  Also by Claudia Hall Christian

  StoriesbyClaudia.com

  Abee Normal, Paranormal Investigations

  The Casebook of Abee Normal, Paranormal Investigations, Volume 1

  The Casebook of Abee Normal, Paranormal Investigations, Volume 2

  The Denver Cereal

  V01 — The Denver Cereal

  V02 — Celia’s Puppies

  V03 — Cascade

  V04 — Cimarron

  V05 — Black Forest

  V06 — Fairplay

  V07 — Gold Hill

  V08 — Silt

  V09 — Larkspur

  V10 — Firestone

  V11 — Fort Lupton

  V12 — Fort Morgan

  V13 — Fort Collins

  V14 — Olney Springs

  V15 — Manitou Springs

  V16 — Idaho Springs

  V17 — Poncha Springs

  V18 — Hot Sulfur Springs

  V19 — Glenwood Springs

  V20 — Pagosa Springs

  V21 — Steamboat Springs

  V22 — Estes Park

  Alex the Fey Thrillers

  The Fey

  Learning to Stand

  Who I am

  Lean on Me

  In the Grey

  Finding North

  About Face

  In Deep

  True Mark

  The Queen of Cool

  The Queen of Cool

  Seth and Ava Mysteries

  Tax Assassin

  Carving Knife

  Friendly Fire

  Cigarette Killer

  Little Girl Blue

  Billie’s Bounce

  Footprints

  Freddie the Freeloader

  Suffer a Witch

  Suffer a Witch

  Copyright © Claudia Hall Christian

  ISNI: 0000 0003 6726 170X

  Licensed under the Creative Commons License:

  Attribution – NonCommercial – Share Alike 3.0

  ISBN-13 :

  978-1-956034-20-2 (digital)

  978-1-956034-22-6 (hardcover)

  978-1-956034-21-9 (paperback)

  Cover credit: Amanda Walker, PA

  PUBLISHER’S NOTE:

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

  First edition © April 2022

  Cook Street Publishing

  ISNI: 0000 0004 1443 6403

  PO Box 7247

  Denver, CO 80207

  Table of Contents

  Table of Contents

  Prologue

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Chapter Thirty

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  Chapter Thirty-Eight

  Chapter Thirty-Nine

  Chapter Forty

  Chapter Forty-One

  Chapter Forty-Two

  Epilogue

  Glossary of Characters

  For the honest people of the world.

  “You can’t cheat

  an honest person.”

  Unknown

  Prologue

  Ten months later

  Tuesday early morning

  October 8 — 4:30 a.m. MDT

  Fort Logan National Cemetery

  “I know, I know,” she said, in Spanish. “You’ve said the very same thing a million times.”

  Wearing a starched white shirt, ceremonial tie, and the pants to her dress uniform, Alex was lying on her back on the black granite stone covering the grave that should be her own. Her head was resting in her hands and her feet were crossed at the ankle. The early morning sky was the deep midnight blue of pre-dawn. A few of the brighter stars glittered above.

  She’d started the day by cleaning the eleven graves set in a semi-circle around a black granite obelisk. She buffed the stones until they gleamed. She was waiting for her ride to the airport for the ceremony in Washington, DC.

  “Then let me tell you a million and one times,” her best friend, Sergeant Jesse Abreu, said. “The chance of this working is a billion to one.”

  She mouthed his words as he said them. His see-through apparition floated over his own grave. Just as he’d been in their life together, his grave was situated right next to hers.

  “Tell me I’m wrong,” Jesse said.

  “You’re not wrong,” she said. “I just don’t think I have a choice. I am the Fall Guy. You heard what Leap Frog said last year. She won’t speak to me now.”

  “Did she say that you should risk your life?” Jesse asked. “Did she say that you couldn’t just let this shit go?”

  “No,” she said. “She blamed me for being alive!”

  “She had a mole in her group!” Jesse said. “She was deflecting. What do you expect?”

  When she didn’t respond, Jesse changed tack.

  “We’ve been dead . . . a long time,” Jesse said. “You can move on with your life!”

  “Those who murdered you aren’t dead,” she said. “Those who paid for it, planned it, manipulated people to make it happen — they are not dead. They certainly keep trying to kill me to make it all a complete, matched set.”

  “They aren’t dead. But . . .” Jesse said.

  “How could I live with myself — knowing what I know — and not do something about it?”

  “You could just walk away,” Jesse said. “Charlie would tell you to walk away.”

  Tears formed at the edges of her eyes at the mention of her old Commanding Officer Charlie O’Brien. She shook her head at his words.

  “Outside of my dreams, I haven’t seen Charlie,” she said with a sigh. “Have you?”

  Jesse shook his head. His throat moved as if he’d swallowed hard. She could tell by looking at his face that he missed the team as much as she did.

  “Don’t say it,” she said. She pointed at him. “You don’t know that the team would have split up after you retired. We could be best friends or . . .”

  She’d been gesturing with her hand. Suddenly exhausted, her hand flopped onto the ground.

  “I’m just saying that you can talk to Raz,” Jesse said. “Run it by Troy. As much as I hate to admit it, he is a true genius. Talk it through with Mattie. He knows you better than nearly everyone. Get Joseph to run one of his ridiculous analyses. Ask Trece.”

  “You never know who Trece knows,” she said before he could repeat what he’d said many times before. “And, before you
say it — I don’t know why I have a team whom I don’t consult when I need them. I guess . . .”

  Her eyes moved to the apparition of Jesse. She remembered his plan of retiring from the U.S. Army and buying that garage on 23rd Avenue. She’d driven by that garage last week. The building was still empty, as if the property were waiting for Jesse’s dream to come true for someone else. It was a while before she could speak.

  “You don’t want everyone to be killed,” Jesse said.

  “Of course,” she said.

  “You didn’t get the Fey Special Forces Team killed,” Jesse said.

  More to indicate that she’d heard him than to indicate that he was right, she nodded. Their eyes caught, and she gave him a soft smile.

  “I know what you’re saying is the right thing to do,” she said. “But, I am not going to risk their lives. I’m just not going to do it. If they don’t know, then they aren’t going to be held to account.”

  “What if they are held to account for something someone thought they knew?” Jesse asked.

  Rather than respond, she simply sighed. He scowled and decided to try something else.

  “What if they know something that you don’t?” Jesse asked.

  “Sure,” she said, without conviction.

  “They were so angry with you for leaving them out when you went to Central America,” Jesse said.

  “I know,” she said meekly. “But at least they are alive.”

  Jesse’s brow furrowed. He turned his back and moved away for a moment. Flipping around, he came back toward her.

  “Let me ask you this,” Jesse said.

  A Black Hawk helicopter flew low overhead.

  “Will talking to them change the fact that you’re the scapegoat?” Jesse asked.

  “Fall Guy,” she said.

  “The fallen are below you,” Jesse said. “Above you is only sky. Where will you fall from?”

  She sighed and sat up. She dusted off her dress pants with her hands. She stood up and took her coat, heavy with ribbons and medals, from the metal “T” on the obelisk where it was hanging. She ruffled her hair before placing her green beret on her head.

  “No, it won’t change if I’m the Fall Guy,” she said. “Scapegoat.”

  She looked at him while she buttoned her coat. Thinking, she squinted at him.

  “I fall into the grave,” she said, gesturing to the grave that she’d been lying on, the one labeled “Sergeant Alexander Hargreaves.” “I fall from esteem and take the team with me. I fall . . . down.”

  Alex gestured to the ground.

  “I fail,” she said so quietly that she mostly mouthed the words.

  “You’ll go straight to hell,” Jesse said, in a mimic of a famous comic.

  U.S. Army Lieutenant Colonel Alexandra “The Fey” Hargreaves grinned at Jesse.

  “Alll-eexx!” U.S. Army Captain Troy Olivas yelled from the helicopter that had landed in the center of the roundabout near the monolith to the Fey Special Forces Team. “Time to go!”

  Alex looked up to see her partner, Homeland Security Agent Arthur “Raz” Rasmussen, walking toward her. He looked so handsome in his fitted designer blue suit that brought out the color in his grey eyes.

  “Think about it,” Jesse said. “You don’t have to go it alone. No one wants that.”

  “At least, I have you,” Alex said, under her breath.

  “Always,” Jesse said.

  Alex nodded to Jesse and started walking toward Raz.

  “In fact,” Jesse said.

  Alex turned to look at him.

  “They may already know that you’re being set up as the scapegoat,” Jesse said. “They may be working on a plan that you know nothing about. Have you considered that they might be afraid to tell you?”

  Alex pointed to Jesse and turned back around. Raz hugged her tight. He let her go and adjusted and then tightened her tie. He glanced over her shoulder.

  “Jesse?” Raz asked.

  Alex nodded. Raz raised a hand in greeting. He put his arm around her and guided her to the helicopter. She was just stepping in when she heard Jesse yell, “Just think about it.”

  She was looking at Jesse when the door to the helicopter slid closed. The Black Hawk lifted off the asphalt, and they began their first leg of the journey from Colorado to Washington, DC.

  F

  Chapter One

  Wednesday early morning

  October 9 — 5:30 a.m. MDT

  Denver, Colorado

  “Happy birthday,” John Drayson, MD, said, in his crisp London accent. He kissed Alex’s nose. “I’m so glad you were born.”

  She lifted her head from the pillow to kiss his lips.

  “Love you,” he whispered and rolled from on top of her.

  Their twins would be up any moment, so he got out of bed. She grabbed his hand. He leaned over to kiss her hand.

  “We have all day today,” John said. “Think about what might be fun.”

  He went into the bathroom. She lay back in relaxed bliss. Her eyes were just closing when their bedroom door burst open. Her identical twin brother, Max, launched himself into the bed. Heavier than Alex, his weight bounced her to the side of the bed. He moved to where he could lean his head against her shoulder, and she wrapped her arm around him.

  They lay nestled together until John came out of the bathroom. John took one look at them and laughed. He went into his closet to get dressed.

  When John was dressed, he shook the bed.

  “We only have today,” John said. “Let’s not spend the whole day in bed.”

  “What if we . . .” Alex said.

  “. . . want to spend the entire day in bed?” Max finished her question.

  “It’s our . . .,” Alex said in mock defiance.

  “. . . birthday,” Max said.

  “Not yours,” Alex and Max said in unison.

  John laughed. He stood there for a moment before jumping into bed with them. They lay together for only a brief moment before Max’s husband, Wyatt Klaussen, MD, came in. Wyatt looked at all of them in the bed. Shrugging his shoulders, he climbed into bed next to Alex.

  “What are we doing today?” Wyatt asked.

  “Seems like we’re lying in bed,” John said.

  Alex and Max laughed maniacally. Wyatt and John looked at each other over the twins’ heads and got out of bed.

  “We have a birthday surprise for you,” Wyatt said.

  “A surprise for us!” Alex and Max said in near unison. “We love surprises.”

  “We need to speak before the children awaken,” John said. “But you must get up.”

  Alex and Max groaned. When John and Wyatt fell silent, the twins got up. Dressed in his pajamas, Max sat on the side of the bed. Still naked, Alex wrapped the sheet around her midsection in a kind of “toga” and sat up next to Max.

  “Max, tell me — whose birthday is it?” Alex asked.

  “Mine,” Max said. “Whose birthday is it?”

  “Also mine,” Alex said. “Just because you were born first doesn’t make it your exclusive birthday.”

  “I suppose that’s true,” Max said. “But it’s definitely not their birthday.”

  “True,” Alex said.

  They gave their partners identical exaggerated irritated faces. Then the twins howled with laughter.

  “Maman?” they heard Máire say over the baby monitor. “Joey, wake up. Maman is home!”

  “We have two minutes,” Wyatt said. He pulled something out of his pocket. “I got this in an email this morning.”

  He held up a picture that looked like two cream-colored circles in a dark background.

  “We have two,” Wyatt said.

  “Two what?” Max asked.

  “That looks like an ultrasound,” Alex said.

  “Remember when you said that it was okay with you if we tried surrogacy?” John asked. “You were both like — ‘Whatever.’ You do remember that, right?”

  “Whatever,” Alex said.


  Max took a breath to laugh. When John scowled at him, he covered his mouth to quiet his laugh.

  “You agreed with our choice of surrogate?” Wyatt asked.

  “Yeess,” Max said the word slowly.

  Max and Alex looked up at Wyatt and John with a mixture of curiosity and dread.

  “We used the best of Alex’s eggs,” John said. “Wyatt and I both donated. They implanted two strong candidates and two possible ones for a total of four potential zygotes.”

  “Two eggs attached and are growing,” Wyatt said.

  “We’re having babies?” Alex asked, her face brightening.

  “Well . . . that’s terrific!” Max exclaimed.

  The twins hugged each other. Wyatt and John looked at each other in what looked like relief.

  “What?” Alex asked. “Did you think we would be mad?”

  “We just . . .” Wyatt started and stopped. After a beat, he added, “. . . weren’t sure.”

  “You’ve been a little . . .” John started and stopped.

  “In the last year, you’ve pulled away from all of us,” Wyatt said.

  “Even me!” Max stuck his bottom lip out in a mocking pout.

  “I have not,” Alex said. “You guys always say that when . . .”

  She looked at John and then Wyatt. Finally, she turned to look at Max.

  “Really?” Alex asked.

  “You have pulled away,” Max said. To emphasize his statement, he pointed at her and said, “You are doing it.”

  Wyatt and John nodded.

  “Like yesterday,” Max said. “Usually. you invite all of the Fey Wives and Fey Kids to decorate the graves in the early morning. This year, you insisted on going yourself. The Fey families had to wait until you were done. You’ve never done that before.”

  Máire and Joey ran into the bedroom and threw themselves at Alex. There was a flurry of kisses and hugs. Alex caught John’s eyes over the children’s heads. She gave him a soft smile.

  “Thanks,” she mouthed.