The Recruiter (A Thriller) Read online

  Samuel admires that.

  He truly appreciates his luck right now. She’s perfect. Her looks and his personal interest in her aside. She’s perfect for what he needs—talk about a high-quality recruit. She’s got officer written all over her.

  “Samuel?” she asks. He realizes he hasn’t been listening. The shock of his drifting off gets to him, and suddenly a throbbing erupts in his temple, and he massages it. “Are you okay?” she asks.

  “Yeah, I just had a late night last night,” he says and flashes her a grin he hopes she takes as sort of a devil-may-care expression.

  She does. “I was just wondering if I could talk to my mom a little bit and get back to you.”

  “Absolutely,” Samuel says immediately. “Perhaps you’d like me to be present so I can answer any questions she might have…” he begins, thinking that with him here, he’ll be able to steer her mother into making the right decision for all of them.

  “Would you? That’d be great,” she says, and Samuel feels like he’s hitting on all cylinders. This is great. She’s perfect.

  “Okay, so next steps,” he says. “You’ll call me and let me know when your mother is available for the three of us to sit down and talk about your future.”

  “I’ll call you later today or early tomorrow,” she says, standing.

  Samuel gets to his feet, not wanting to push things any more than he needs to.

  “Thank you so much for taking the time to talk with me, Beth. If there’s anything else I can do…”

  “I’m sure there is,” she says, a smile on her face. They shake hands, and Samuel feels an undercurrent of electricity as he touches her. Her skin is soft, her hand delicate but strong.

  His heart skips a beat.

  Samuel tells himself to get a grip, to get focused. He’s not about to change his plan, to alter his dream for some Lake Orion high school girl who just happens to have a beautiful face.

  He walks back to his car, his mind already planning the next steps.

  He glances back at the house, sees Beth in the window watching him.

  Still, he thinks…

  …she is perfect.

  Fifty-Six

  Julie Giacalone is not a happy camper.

  After Samuel left last night, she stayed in bed, feeling emotions she never thought she would feel. A strong woman, both physically and emotionally, she felt as if she’d been preyed upon. She felt like a victim. True, the logical portion of her mind is able to see how her job status, her rank over Samuel, may have coerced him into thinking he had to sleep with her.

  But the emotional side of her brain told her that was bullshit. If he’d truly not been interested, he could have found a way out of it. Could have begged off with some bogus claim of previous obligations. But no, he came right into her bedroom and made love to her but was so turned off by the whole thing that he had to turn his head the other way, a sour expression on his face. One of undisguised revulsion.

  And now she’s going to get even with him.

  She turns to her computer and accesses the database of leads that catalogues every point of contact every recruiter in District Three has had in the last five years.

  Her mind flashes on the image of Samuel’s face in her mirror. The memory deadens her, creates a brick-like weight in her gut. Will she ever forget it? Will she ever forget the sight: his face as he’s inside her, as her legs are wrapped around his body, the expression one of sheer unpleasant duty?

  No, she doesn’t suppose she will.

  The computer beeps, and she turns back to the monitor.

  “Good morning.”

  The voice is quiet from the doorway. Julie jumps.

  She turns and Samuel is there.

  But he’s not looking at her.

  He’s looking at her computer screen.

  Fifty-Seven

  Alone in the house, Anna is busy. She puts the last thumb drive into its corresponding manila envelope. Until two hours ago, she had no idea what a thumb drive was, until the young man at A-1 Video helped her put the video on seven thumb drives.

  The video was Beth’s highlight reel, put together by her coach back when Beth was healthy. Anna found the original in Beth’s room, along with the list of colleges that had shown an interest in Beth.

  Anna, her mind sharper than it’s ever been, feels good and clear. It’s been three days since she’s had a drink, and although her body is consumed periodically with shakes, chills, and nausea, she’s fighting it.

  Her hand involuntarily goes to the dog tags in her pocket. She gives them a squeeze and strength flows from them through her hand and disseminates throughout her body.

  It’s like she’s been in a cave for all these years, and now that she’s out, her eyes aren’t used to the light. But the light is where life is. The light is her daughter. And the light is allowing her to see things for the first time.

  For the most part, she doesn’t like what she’s seeing. Everywhere is evidence of her failings. The house that hasn’t been thoroughly cleaned in years, the bills and paperwork scattered around her room like debris from a tornado. But worst of all, Beth.

  It’s like there’s a film over her daughter’s eyes, a filter screening out hope and brightness, and worst of all, love.

  Anna realizes she is responsible for that filter.

  Now, she’ll do anything to get rid of it.

  She’s about to seal the last envelope when there’s a knock on the door. She opens the door to reveal a man in uniform, and for a brief moment, she worries it’s a cop, that Beth has done something to hurt herself, and now they’re here to tell her that it’s too late, that she was too slow to save her daughter.

  “Ma’am, I’m Samuel Ackerman,” he says.

  She takes in his blue eyes, his strong face, and for a moment, she sees Vince. But then the feeling is gone.

  “I’m a recruiter with the Navy. I spoke to your daughter Beth yesterday.”

  She takes his hand and they shake. “Come in,” she says, not even bothering to try to hide the fact that Beth hadn’t told her. Granted, she knew Beth was thinking about it, but didn’t know she’d gone this far.

  A tremor of fear creeps up Anna’s spine. She can’t let Beth join the Navy. She’ll lose her just like she lost Vince. No way. Beth is going to college. She is going to get a scholarship thanks to these mailings, and Anna is going to do everything in her power to keep Beth out of harm’s way.

  “I just wanted to drop off some additional information for your daughter,” Samuel says. “Is she home?”

  “No, she’s having physical therapy. On her knee.”

  “Oh, okay,” he says and produces several thick folders from the briefcase in his hand. “Then would it be all right if I left them with you?”

  “Certainly.”

  She leads him into the kitchen, takes the folders, and puts them on the table next to the packages.

  “You must be very proud of your daughter,” the recruiter says. Anna feels a flush of guilt. She is proud; she just hasn’t shown it.

  “She’s a wonderful, brave girl,” she says. She looks at him and sees that he’s looking at the envelopes on the table. “Have you ever seen her play basketball?” she asks.

  “No, I haven’t.”

  “She’s a warrior. That must sound funny to you, being in the military and all. But she’s a fighter. Always has been. And when she has a basketball in her hand—” Anna stops herself.

  Checks her watch. The post office doesn’t close for another hour.

  “Well, why am I telling you? I should just show you.”

  She goes to the computer, double clicks the movie file, and hits PLAY.

  Fifty-Eight

  For the second time, Samuel finds himself momentarily forgetting about his plans, and like the first time, he finds himself thinking instead about Beth Fischer.

  The video has been playing for only thirty seconds, but Samuel is already captivated by her play. Samuel knows confidence when he sees it. Havi
ng been a starter, practically a star, on both the Lake Orion football and basketball teams, he knows a pure talent when he sees one.

  Beth Fischer simply has it.

  The street expression about having game, about having skills, doesn’t apply to Beth—she’s beyond that. Samuel watches, and it seems that everyone else is several steps behind her. Like a pro team playing against college kids.

  Granted, he knows it’s a highlight film, so all of her mistakes, her turnovers, her bad passes, her missed shots during a cold streak, have all been edited out. Still, Samuel instinctively knows that there probably wasn’t a whole lot of editing. She’s the kind of player who doesn’t make many mistakes.

  She’s a fucking lioness on the court. Her passes are crisp. Her shots are pure, flawless motion; her ball handling smooth, assured; her defensive instincts sharp, always two moves ahead of her opponents.

  There’s a beauty in her movements, an economy of effort, an abundance of grace. Samuel can’t pry his eyes from the television. Beth shoots. Beth steals. Beth rebounds. Beth fires a one-handed bounce pass that covers nearly three-quarters of the court, unerringly finding her teammate breaking to the basket for an easy layup.

  And there’s one more play. Whoever shot the video, probably Lake Orion’s audio-visual club, captures the clock in the background. Lake Orion down by a point. Less than twenty seconds left. Samuel watches, his palms sweaty, his heart beating faster, as Beth steals the ball and races down the court.

  “Why…” Anna is saying.

  But Samuel is watching Beth’s legs fly, her arms pump as she takes the ball in, strong and sure, watches as the short, stocky point guard crashes into her, watches as the ball falls through the hoop.

  “Jesus Christ,” Samuel says.

  “…is that in there?” Anna says. “The accident?”

  Samuel turns to her, sees her pale face. Her hands are shaking. Hasn’t she watched the video? Or did she just not make it through until the end?

  “The ultimate highlight,” Samuel says.

  “What do you mean?”

  “It’s the ultimate highlight. It shows her winning the big game, making the ultimate score. It’s perfect.”

  “But it shows her injury…”

  “…and what a great sacrifice it was,” Samuel counters. “The ultimate sacrifice. Your daughter’s a winner, Mrs. Fischer. She’ll do whatever it takes to win. Whoever gets this video will see that in an instant.”

  She stands stock still. Samuel can see that she’s momentarily at a loss for words.

  “Mrs. Fischer?” he asks.

  She jumps, as if he’d pinched her. She checks her watch. “Oh my God! I got so caught up in the tape…”

  “What’s wrong?”

  “I have to get these to the post office today. It closes in ten minutes, and Beth’s got the car.”

  “No problem. I’ll mail them for you.”

  Samuel sees the flash of doubt pass through her eyes.

  “If these coaches—I assume that’s who you’re sending these to, college coaches…” he says, his voice smooth and confident. Inviting trust. “If they don’t respond like I did, if they aren’t blown away by what she can do with a basketball, then they don’t deserve to coach her.”

  The look of distrust disappears, replaced by a warm gratitude. “Oh, thank you…”

  “Samuel.”

  “Samuel. You don’t mind?”

  “As much as I want her in the Navy, she belongs on a basketball court. If she doesn’t get a scholarship,” he spreads his hands wide, “then we’ll talk again. But until then, I’m glad to help. Your daughter can really play.”

  Anna smiles and rushes back into the kitchen, scoops up the manila envelopes, and places them in Samuel’s arms. “I haven’t told Beth about sending these out. I’m not sure how she’d…well, she doesn’t know I’m doing it, okay?”

  “Okay,” Samuel answers.

  “All right, go. You’ve got my daughter’s future in your hands.”

  “Happy to make the assist,” he says, then points to a thumb drive next to the computer. “What about that one?”

  “That’s just an extra. Don’t worry about it.”

  Samuel smiles.

  “I better hurry then.”

  Fifty-Nine

  Samuel glances at the packages on the seat beside him. They look like little goslings, waiting to take flight. Somehow innocent and embryonic. He knows they are the seeds that could grow into Beth’s future. Her dreams of playing basketball and going to college. It’s all wrapped up in these little packages.

  He has a brief image of him and Beth, together somehow. Why not? It makes perfect sense. Two athletic, good-looking people. One man, one young woman. Both with bright futures. Destined to do great things.

  He drives through the main part of downtown Lake Orion. The sun is bright, and he feels blinded by the harsh images. The light seems to probe inward at him, and he feels the pain in his temple. Goddamn, he thinks, massaging the pain away.

  Finally, he sees a fast food restaurant and pulls in behind it.

  The images of him and Beth together dissolve with the scent of greasy burgers and fries. It could happen, he thinks. He’s had to live with a lot—he’ll live with the things he’s done for a long time.

  He pulls the car in next to the dumpster, gets out, walks around the car, scoops up the envelopes, and tosses them into the dumpster. He gets back in the car and drives away.

  Samuel can live with what he’s done. And if Beth never knows, she can live with him.

  Maybe even love him.

  Sixty

  Beth wants a neutral setting. Not her home. Not his home. All she can come up with is the Lake Orion gym. It’s open—for gymnastics practice.

  She hobbles into the gym, and the rubber bottom of her crutches squeak softly on the tile floor. Her brace is cinched tight over her sweat pants. Her Lake Orion letter jacket has a dusting of snow on its shoulders that instantly begins to melt. Her brown hair is pulled back into a ponytail.

  The smell comes back to her—all schools and their gyms smell the same. That odd combination of musty books and stale popcorn. She walks past the glass cases, ignores the pictures, medals, and trophies.

  At the door, she sees that the gymnastics squad has pulled out the mats along with all of the equipment: the parallel bars, the balance beam, the horse, and the big mat for the floor routines.

  Beneath it all is the basketball court.

  It’s not the first time she’s been back since the accident. She came for the last game her team played: the one where they got blown out and Vanessa ran roughshod over them. But Beth had still been in shock about what happened to her, too blown away by the fact that her knee was gone. She’d still been in a daze. Now, standing at the door, she realizes the enormity of what had happened. She looks at the gym, remembers the fans, the cheers, the screaming. The signs with her name on them, proclaiming her to be something bigger than life. It’s all gone now. Swallowed up by passing time. She’ll never hear any of that again.

  It’s all gone.

  Beth sees Peter waiting about five rows up around the half-court area. He’s dressed in jeans, black hiking boots, and a black leather jacket. He looks good, Beth thinks. She walks along the perimeter of the court and when she gets to him, he starts to get up as if he’s going to help her.

  “I can do it,” she snaps at him.

  He sits back down.

  Beth pivots and swings herself up, one leg at a time, and sits a few spaces down from him. She’s momentarily out of breath. A girl—Beth thinks her name is Kathy Brandemuhel—is doing a routine on the uneven bars. She finishes and does a dismount, stumbles, and falls to her knees.

  “At first, I thought I would never want to see you again,” Beth says. Her voice is soft but firm.

  Beth sees Peter flinch but goes on.

  “I don’t think there’s any way you’ll ever know how much you hurt me.” Her voice trembles, but she has to keep it to
gether. After Samuel left, she’d thought about how she’d left it with Peter and realized that it wouldn’t do. She wasn’t one for loose ends, and besides, they’d had quite a bit of time together. It just wasn’t right to end it like that. She needed to tell Peter what an awful thing it was for her, and then she could move on. A clean break.

  “To tell me that you wanted it…us to continue—”

  “Beth—” he begins, but Beth cuts him off.

  “That we would see each other after you went to Marquette and then—”

  “I didn’t—”

  “For you to—”

  Peter turns to her, his face flushed, his voice heated. “Look, Beth, it was a mistake. A terrible, rotten, shitty mistake.”

  “No, it was more than a mistake. A mistake is trivial. This was a breach of trust. A willful, destructive—” She stops herself. She isn’t here to lay a guilt trip on him.

  On the mat, a girl takes a running start and does three consecutive handsprings before flipping in the air and landing perfectly, her arms raised toward the ceiling.

  “I came here,” she says, “for three reasons. One, I wanted you to know how much you hurt me.”

  “You can cross that one off your list.”

  “Two, I wanted you to know that it’s over and that I wish you luck at Marquette. I don’t have any bad wishes for you. I wanted you to know that I’m not that kind of person. You obviously had some…issues…emotions, or whatever, that you couldn’t tell me and so eventually they were communicated to me.”

  “Jesus, Beth. Can I say anything?”

  “Yeah, that’s number three. I want to know, for my own sake, no bullshit, why you did that. Why you were there with her. You don’t have to tell me, but I want to know.”

  She can see the hesitation in his eyes. Behind him, a girl takes a running start, hits the springboard, pushes off from the vaulting horse, does a flip in the air, and lands, stumbling, but without falling.