Savage Road by Chris Hauty

Author:Chris Hauty
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Atria/Emily Bestler Books
Published: 2021-01-05T00:00:00+00:00

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AND AFTER ALL that, while April is cooling her heels outside the Big Four at Fort Meade the next morning, Hayley finds herself sitting on a curb in front of a midcentury classic brick, two-story home on Fifth Street in Arlington, Virginia. The deeper state operative isn’t entirely sure how she came to be at this place. Had she grabbed a ride share? Or did she take the Metro and walk? By now, the consciousness-annihilating effects of the alcohol Hayley consumed have mostly worn off. The memory of all that transpired the night before is patchy, covered in a sheen of muted shame. Some homeless dudes harassed her on the street, not long after she had left Darlington House. Those fellows didn’t fare so well. Hayley can remember a run-in with two district cops but, with her training, their pursuit didn’t last more than a few minutes. She also seems to remember an incident on the steps of the Capitol Building involving two similarly inebriated leathernecks fresh off Parris Island. With their combined forces, the drunks put four official government cars in the parking lot on their roofs. But Hayley can’t remember how or when she separated herself from the boot Marines.

How did she come to Arlington? She can’t remember. And why is it so hot and muggy out? With the thin clarity of a morning’s sobriety and a few more moments of reflection, Hayley recalls the purpose of her visit. The awfulness of what she learned in the leaked documents adheres to her like the stink of death. That sensation jogs her memory. Knowing her father was blown to bits by a US jet fighter is almost too much to bear, despite the night’s futile exercise in alcohol abuse. She still wants to break things. She remains insane with anger.

Hayley stands. She turns and faces the home. Charlie Hicks lives here. Having determined his current address in her early vetting of her father’s war buddy, Hayley has come to the house like a homing pigeon returning to roost. How could he have not known the truth when she first interviewed him? The veteran’s post-traumatic stress disorder notwithstanding, Hayley is hell-bent on confrontation with Hicks. No one needs to tell her the idea is probably cruel and definitely wrongheaded. She’s sober enough now to know that much.

Hayley heads up the walkway toward the front door. She’s sure she sees a curtain move, suggesting the occupant has been observing her all this time and steps back away from the window at her approach. She fist knocks on the wood door. Three times, like rifle shots.

She is in no mood for waiting.

“Mr. Hicks! Sir, I know you’re in there!”

Hayley listens for a response and hears none.

“Charlie Hicks? I need to talk to you!”

Nothing comes from the other side of the door. But his presence is strong as if the man is standing there on the porch next to her.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” she asks. “Why didn’t you tell me my father died by friendly fire?”

She hears a shuffling of feet from the other side of the door.

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