The Alex Troutt Thrillers: Books 1-3 (Alex Troutt Thrillers Box Set) Read online

  Alex Troutt Thrillers

  Books 1, 2, and 3

  AT BAY

  AT LARGE

  AT ONCE

  By

  John W. Mefford

  Table of Contents

  AT BAY

  AT LARGE

  AT ONCE

  Bibliography

  Copyright Page

  ALSO BY JOHN W. MEFFORD

  The Alex Troutt Thrillers

  Alex Troutt Thrillers: Books 1-3

  Alex Troutt Thrillers: Books 4-6

  Alex Troutt Thrillers: Books 7-9

  Alex Troutt Thrillers: Books 10-12

  OR

  AT BAY (Book 1)

  AT LARGE (Book 2)

  AT ONCE (Book 3)

  AT DAWN (Book 4)

  AT DUSK (Book 5)

  AT LAST (Book 6)

  AT STAKE (Book 7)

  AT ANY COST (Book 8)

  BACK AT YOU (Book 9)

  AT EVERY TURN (Book 10)

  AT DEATH’S DOOR (Book 11)

  AT FULL TILT (Book 12)

  The Ivy Nash Thrillers

  Ivy Nash Thrillers: Books 1-3

  Ivy Nash Thrillers: Books 4-6

  OR

  IN DEFIANCE (Book 1)

  IN PURSUIT (Book 2)

  IN DOUBT (Book 3)

  BREAK IN (Book 4)

  IN CONTROL (Book 5)

  IN THE END (Book 6)

  The Ozzie Novak Thrillers

  Ozzie Novak Thrillers: Books 1-3

  Ozzie Novak Thrillers: Books 4-6

  OR

  ON EDGE (Book 1)

  GAME ON (Book 2)

  ON THE ROCKS (Book 3)

  SHAME ON YOU (Book 4)

  ON FIRE (Book 5)

  ON THE RUN (Book 6)

  The Ball & Chain Thrillers

  MERCY (Book 1)

  FEAR (Book 2)

  BURY (Book 3)

  LURE (Book 4)

  PREY (Book 5)

  VANISH (Book 6)

  ESCAPE (Book 7)

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  AT Bay

  An Alex Troutt Thriller

  Book 1

  By

  John W. Mefford

  1

  For a fleeting moment, I could feel my breath stutter against my chest. Then the smell of fear returned, choking every other sense.

  Piss. And not just a passing waft. It seemed like my head had been dunked in it, with a hint of crap lingering in the damp air. But there was more. An underlying scent of stale disinfectant clawed at my nostrils.

  I tried to swallow, but a sticky saliva filled my mouth. I would have hurled had I not been scared to death.

  I called out. No discernible words. I think I pushed air through my voice box, but I couldn’t hear a damn thing.

  Where was I? Why couldn’t I speak?

  Other than the pungent mixture of smells, a dark fog suffocated me. Suddenly, my chest lifted faster, and I heard a rushing thump. The rapid beating of my heart.

  I tried reaching out, but I couldn’t feel my arm. I wasn’t even sure I had an arm. I couldn’t feel a fucking thing.

  Somehow I sensed tears pooling. I hoped, begged to feel water run down my face. But it didn’t happen. Nothing happened.

  Was I alive? Maybe...partially. But not completely.

  Holding my breath, I squeezed my eyes and yelled as loudly as I could. But there was only emptiness. Loneliness.

  And fear. Fear that I’d never escape. Fear that I would.

  What was that? Something metallic, cold against my fingertips. It was smooth and rounded. My pulse quickened, and the hope that I was still of this world emerged from nothing.

  Centering all of my focus, all of my energy on my fingers, I found the edge of the metal object...and human skin.

  My breath stuck in my throat, and my heart exploded. I cried out.

  “Alexandra?”

  A flicker of light around the voice. A man’s voice. I sensed that I should know this person. But nothing immediately came to mind.

  “Your beautiful eyes are finally open. Guys, Doc, she’s awake. Look. She’s finally awake.”

  I blinked several times, and I saw a man’s face hovering over me. Dark, dense head of hair. Thick beard like he hadn’t shaved. He brought a hand to his cheek. His eyes became moist.

  Other voices filled the air, competing against my racing heart. I moved my head a few inches left and right.

  “Alexandra, my darling. You’re in the hospital. Can you hear me? You’re in the hospital.”

  Why is he screaming at me? I’m not deaf.

  “Who...” I swallowed, then watched a horde of people lunge to the side of my bed. I focused my sights on the man with the thick beard, on the tone and pitch of his voice. I tried to speak, but my throat felt like it was full of cracked seashells.

  I didn’t recognize my own voice. I tried to lick my lips.

  “God bless that woman,” someone said. I looked around, but none of the other three figures in the room were familiar to me.

  “Get her some water, dammit,” another voice said, this one laced with an obnoxious accent. A thought zipped through my mind. I was supposed to know that voice too. And not for the most pleasant reasons.

  Something cold touched my lips, and my body quivered.

  The unshaven man said, “It’s okay. It’s an ice chip. You should suck on the ice. Your throat will feel better.”

  I let the ice roll down my tongue, and it tasted incredible.

  “More?” I gurgled.

  “Here you go, hun.”

  Hun? The question lingered for just a brief second, but the feeling of ice in my mouth made my body tingle all over. I motioned for more ice chips, and they were given to me. My teeth crunched the ice, which only added to the euphoria.

  Amid the low rumble of noise in my hospital room, I moved my fingertips again.

  “Look, she’s playing with my wedding ring. She must remember our wedding,” the man said with anticipation as he moved closer.

  My eyes shifted, and I saw his face again, full of hope and promise.

  “Who are you?” I asked.

  The room went silent.

  2

  “You’re kidding me, right?”

  Inching up in my bed while balancing a cup full of ice water, I felt a twinge in my lower back as I peered over the extra-large set of shoulders belonging to the person who purportedly was my boss. I spotted the man who earlier had claimed he was my husband, Mark. He was a good-looking guy. Broad shoulders, fit. Reminded me of a young Andy Garcia. Mark was speaking with a doctor and some other guy who wore a fedora and green suspenders. He looked a tad familiar. Or maybe I was just hoping to remember him—or anyone for that matter.

  My mind had been deluged with questions in the last two hours, ever since I’d awakened from my unconscious state, a result of a car crash from four days ago apparently. My so-called significant other had conveyed that news right after I’d delivered that hundred-mile-an-hour serve right past his shocked face: Who are you?

  How could I recall Andy Garcia, but not my own husband? And what was up with the tennis reference?

  Two beefy boss fingers snapped just in front of my eyes.

  “Alex, you’re n
ot drifting back into the dark world, are you?”

  “Oh, sorry, I, uh...” I rubbed my face and realized my fear had subsided, but was replaced by a sense of inadequacy.

  “Don’t beat yourself up, Alex. The doctor said it would take a while to get your memory back. Like a patchwork quilt.”

  “Right. A quilt. I’m just looking for that first square.”

  He chuckled.

  I squinted my eyes and looked at the big man. “What did you say your name was again?”

  He leaned down, his beady, green eyes staring down at me like I was a specimen. “Jerry Molloy. I’m your SSA.”

  “SS...what?”

  “Supervisory Special Agent. FBI. Damn, Alex, you’re just not the same.”

  “I, well...” I wasn’t sure what to say or how to say it. I felt conspicuous by my own presence, lacking understanding of everyone and everything. “Sorry, Jerry.”

  A twinkle of lights pulled my eyes toward the window, where a sparkly skyline interrupted the darkness. I pointed in that direction while turning back to Jerry.

  “Where are we?”

  His face stretched upward, then he ran his fingers through a thin patch of hair on his pumpkin head. “Whoa, we’ve got a ways to go,” he said, turning back to the others like I was nothing more than a caged animal.

  The people in the room shifted around, and then the man with green suspenders appeared next to my bed. He extended his arm for a handshake.

  “I think we should start from the beginning,” he said.

  I glanced at his hand, then moved up to his face. Not exactly an Andy Garcia. He had soft lines, seemed like a calm guy. I reached out and shook his hand. I think a smile crossed my face.

  He tipped his hat. “Nick. Nick Radowski, FBI. Nice to meet ya.”

  “I’d give you my name, but, uh, it doesn’t seem right to use a name I don’t recognize.”

  “No worries. I know who you are, and you will too, eventually. I’m just here for you whenever you have a question. To help you start to piece together—”

  “The patchwork quilt. Same thing that Jerry said.”

  “See? You’re remembering things already.”

  “Short-term, yes, but long-term? I might have a better chance at whipping Steffi Graf in a straight-set match.”

  A vacuum of silence fell over the room.

  “Okay, guys, I’m not real fond of being the butt of everyone’s joke right now. What did I say this time?”

  Suddenly, Mark pushed himself between Nick and me, his hands grabbing mine. They were strong, yet gentle. But why did I want to pull away?

  “This is great, Alexandra. Right, Doc? This shows she’s starting to come back to life.”

  A regal man with silver hair framing his face cleared his throat and approached the bed. He rested his hand on my arm as he eyed Mark, then turned to address me.

  I appreciated the admission of my presence.

  “Alexandra, you’ve suffered a substantial head trauma. I’m not surprised to see you’ve lost part of your long-term memory.”

  “It’s Alex,” Nick interjected.

  “Shut up, Nick,” Mark said without turning around, his lips puckered at me like I was a cute little baby doll.

  “As I was saying, you banged your head pretty badly inside that metal cage. It was probably a good thing you’ve been mostly unconscious the last four days. It’s allowed your body to rest and recover a bit. But more is warranted,” the doctor said. “The memory thing...I wouldn’t worry about it. Easy for me to say, I know.”

  He offered up a three-second chuckle, as if it were a part of his doctoral performance. I just listened, unworried about pretense.

  “It’s good for you to listen to old stories, try to recognize faces of friends and family. I’d be surprised if you didn’t fully recover. I’d still like you to see a speech therapist, someone who will help you with mental exercises to improve your memory. Your other injuries are minor. A few scrapes and bruises. I noticed earlier, when you tried to move, your back seemed to tug at you. We haven’t identified any issues there yet. Might just be some inflammation. If you’re okay for now, I can have the nurse provide you a cold compress, and I’ll ask the on-call orthopedist to drop by in the morning. Any other questions for me before I go home and try to catch the last half of Jimmy Fallon?”

  I looked down and puffed out a breath, wondering if I should ask the doctor the myriad of questions bouncing around my empty brain or simply wait and ask one of these other guys. Just then, I noticed my sheet was down past my hips, and my hospital gown was shoved up a bit too high. I grabbed the sheet and pulled it over my coochie.

  “It’s okay, I’m the only one who saw,” Mark whispered at me.

  I felt my face burn. Embarrassed.

  The doctor said, “Don’t stay up too late trying to piece together your memory.” He rested his hand on my shoulder, and I spotted his name tag.

  “Dr. James Spurlock.”

  “Yes, that’s my name. Sorry if I didn’t introduce myself properly,” he said, stepping toward the door. He stopped and pointed at the others. “Let her get some rest tonight, okay?”

  All three agreed, maybe a little too eagerly.

  Jerry followed the good doctor toward the door, dumping a can of soda in the trash.

  I stopped him with, “You can’t leave yet. I have some questions for you.”

  A tired smile washed across his face as he moved toward the bed. “I’m all yours, Alex. Ask me anything you like.”

  Before I could respond, Mark yawned and reached for the ceiling. “I’m bushed. Been spending most of my days up here, working at night, tending to the kids when I can. Thank God for Sydney.” He crossed himself.

  “We’re Catholic?” I asked.

  He forced out a chuckle and shifted his eyes from Jerry to me.

  “It’s one of those long stories. We’ll save it for another day.” He patted my hand, giving me the distinct impression he was blowing me off. I felt a seed of resentment in the pit of my stomach. And it didn’t settle well.

  “Wait.” I reached for his arm where his sleeve was rolled up. So hairy, and I thought of a baboon. I quickly removed my hand.

  “Yes, hun?”

  His tone sounded insincere to me. Or maybe I was just being overly sensitive.

  “We have kids?”

  His smile returned. “Erin and Luke. I’ve already spoken to them tonight. I’ll have Syd drop them by in the morning.”

  A long nod. “Syd.”

  I searched my thoughts for memories of kids. A few images flashed through my mind faster than a speeding comet, but nothing stuck.

  “Right. Sydney. She’s our nanny. Lots to catch up on, Alexandra. I’m sure Nick and Jerry here can bring you up to speed on some of it. Hopefully it will start to click in the next few hours for you.” Mark walked to a chair and picked up a navy-blue peacoat. “I’m beat. I need to get some shut-eye if I’m going to appear in court tomorrow.”

  My eyes shifted to Jerry and Nick.

  Jerry flipped his thumb toward Mark. “He’s an attorney,” he said, then stuck his thumb in the front pocket of his jeans, over which hung his commanding gut.

  “Damn straight, I am. Work for the most powerful firm in the city,” Mark said, leaning in and kissing my hand. He let it drop as his dark eyes looked through me, or beyond me. It was hard to say.

  “So you’re going to work tomorrow?”

  “Hun, if you were...you,” he said with a chuckle, “you would have already checked yourself out of this hospital over the objections of doctors and family, and you’d be trying to find the guy who caused you to crash. Or solving the case you were on when you crashed. Or both, all before your morning coffee.”

  Mark attempted to rustle some laughter from Jerry and Nick. They seemed mildly annoyed.

  “I’m off. I’ll try to drop by during a break tomorrow.” He waved his hand over his head as he walked out the door.

  “Is he for real?” I said with a
serious gaze at Jerry and Nick, who looked at each other then burst out laughing.

  “Ha! Whew, Alex, you’re too much right now,” Jerry said. “Mark has been the same for the forty-one years he’s been alive, that much I assure you.”

  I shrugged my shoulders. I’d get into that scene later, but I had other questions right now for the two FBI employees.

  “Where am I?”

  The pair glanced at each other, then back at me.

  “The hospital, Alex. Geez, do we need to call in the floor nurse?” Jerry’s schnoz seemed to grow as his face scrunched up.

  “I understand that part. I’m just looking for a state, a city or town.”

  “Boston, Mass., Mrs. Giordano,” Nick volunteered.

  I looked toward the corner and spotted a blank TV screen. I immediately saw the irony, but kept my feelings to myself. “So that’s my last name. Giordano. Very Italian.”

  “That’s Mark. His family has roots back to Sicily. At least that’s what you told me before,” Nick said.

  I pursed my lips. “Sorry I’m not able to, uh, you know...”

  “It’s perfectly fine, Alex. That’s why I’m here to help. Plus, he told me I had to be here.” He tried to look serious as he pointed at Jerry. But then a smile broke through.

  I grinned. “Ah, sarcasm. My perceptive powers are apparently working okay,” I said.

  “When you were on a roll, they were the best I’ve ever seen. It’s like you had some type of voodoo power. Able to read right through somebody’s bullshit.”

  “I know you were joking, but why are you here? I mean, I know he’s my boss, but...you?”

  Nick ran his thumbs up his suspenders, rocking forward on his feet. “Once upon a time, we were—”

  “Don’t say it.” I threw up my hand.

  “Did you think I was going to say...?” Nick left the sentence unfinished and released another sly smile. Jerry almost bounced out of his chair he laughed so hard.

  “No. Ugh, I don’t know, Nick. Tell me the truth, man.”

  “I always have, Alex.”

  “Okay, waiting...” I gestured for him to keep going, my patience for receiving facts running a little thin.

  “We used to be partners.”