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Chapter 22
Clay
Another day. Another therapy session. Watching Shay with her physiotherapist keeps me occupied, but I wait until she’s settled, and I take out my cell and bring up the number from yesterday’s email. After Shay finished her therapy yesterday, I went home and came back, but Shay was my main concern. She might be able to fool everyone else around her, but I know she’s struggling. Her bright smile is nothing without the sparkle in her eyes.
This morning is the first chance I’ve got to call Jared from the email. I feel like a child in a candy store, getting excited at the thought of finding out something that will help us discover where Shay was held prisoner.
I dial the number and sit with my cell to my ear. It rings a few times, and just when I’m about to hang up, a polite voice comes through my ear.
“Hello.”
“Hi. I’m looking to speak with Jared.”
“Speaking.”
I take in a deep breath. “My name is Clay Shawland. I received an email from you yesterday.”
“Ah, Clay. It’s good to hear from you.”
And just like that, the polite voice is gone and a strong southern accent breaks through.
“Thanks. I feel bad because I know I should remember you, and I probably would if I saw your face, but names I’m terrible with lately.”
“No worries. I wasn’t there for long after you started. The joys of the army. You’re okay one minute, and the next…” he trails off and I hear a deep sigh. “Well, you know what I mean. Anyway, I don’t know if this is relevant to the case you’re working, but when I read the news and watched the broadcast on CNN, I had to reach out.”
“That’s okay, Jared. We’ve got nothing to work with, and we’re led to believe that there are a lot of U.S soldiers still alive, but they’re being reported M.I.A or dead. Anything, and I mean anything, might give us a leg up the ladder.”
“Okay. It seems like such a long time ago now, and I doubt it will still be ongoing, but one of my last missions out in Iraq, I was sent to deliver supplies to this… camp, I guess you could call it.”
“A camp? Like an army camp?”
“Worse. It was old sheds, buildings, and destruction. I think they were in the middle of building it up.”
“Why did you think it was weird?”
“I felt like I was delivering supplies to the enemy.”
Silence.
“Did you see something that concerned you?”
The line goes quiet. I shuffle to the edge of my seat and draw my lip between my teeth. I’m on tenterhooks, wondering, waiting to see what Jared has to offer.
“I saw an army soldier who was pronounced dead a year before. He looked like he was brainwashed. He looked right through me like I had no place being there.”
“Did you report it?”
“Of course. I reported it the moment my feet hit U.S soil. But I was told they’d investigated my sighting, but it was just a look alike. The person I saw wasn’t who I thought.”
“And you’re not convinced?”
“I might not have been the youngest, fittest, soldier there, but my eyesight was better than most. I know what I saw, but I had nothing to prove it. I was sent on a mission later that month, and it was my last job.”
“You don’t believe you were set up, do you?”
“I don’t know. I never questioned it, but there just seemed like a whole lot of coincidences.”
I can hear the pain and anguish in Jared’s voice. It’s so different to the cheerful man I heard on the line five minutes ago.
