Saving Chase

By C.K. Carlton

Saving Chase is the pulse-pounding story of former covert military operative, Cal O’Connor, as he risks his life to find a man he suspects is a serial pedophile, and save a boy he’s never met.

The story begins in Richmond, Virginia where Cal, after a wild night of partying, is sitting in his Jeep at a stoplight, contemplating what went wrong during his final tour in Afghanistan. To his left is a a beat-up Mercury Cougar with an older man behind the wheel and a young boy in the passenger seat. When the Mercury moves forward to take a left onto the cross-street, the boy turns, locks eyes with Cal, and mouths a word: “Help.”

What happens next will land Cal in a coma, and allow the man behind the wheel to continue on his path of destruction.

Saving Chase is a fast-paced thriller that takes you with Cal as he risks everything to find the man, save the boy, and uncover a network of abuse far more disturbing than he ever thought possible.

• Language: English
• Publisher: C.K. Carlton
• Release date: Feb 28, 2013
• ISBN: 9780989085311

C.K. Carlton

I began my professional career as a U.S. Navy intelligence officer. I spent six years in the Navy, making three tours, including a tour to the middle east in support of Operation Enduring Freedom.I left the Navy at the culmination of that tour, and after a few years in business school, I landed at The Martin Agency, an advertising agency in Richmond, Virginia.It all seemed like the right trajectory, but, as the story so often goes, the stress of hiding what I went through as a boy eventually caught up with me. So, one day, I walked away from my career and decided to focus on me. (quitting your career is never recommended)I got a low-stress job and began my recovery, and as I did, I journaled. That work became my first book, Nice To Meet Me, an often humorous and relatable book for anyone who struggles with their past.So, after a few decades of searching, here I am enjoying a career doing what comes naturally, writing fiction.I live and write in Richmond, Virginia with my wonderful wife and newborn son.

Book preview

Introduction

What readers are saying about The Cal O’Connor Series:

"Absolutely hooked!"

"Great thrillers that really suck you in. I read all 3 stories in just a couple of days and I can’t wait for the next book. I also love the short format which makes for a very quick read but packs more punch than a lot of full length novels I have read."

"I love these books! Saving Chase has a great hook, backed up with rich characters and really incredible detail. Cal O'Connor is a fantastic hero; C.K. Carlton is my new favorite!"

Thanks for downloading Saving Chase, the first book in The Cal O’Connor Series!

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Also, I’d love to hear from you when you’re done with the book. My email: [e-mail].

Thanks, and I hope you enjoy Saving Chase!

C.K. Carlton

Chapter 1

Cal slid his sunglasses down the bridge of his nose, squinting into the rearview mirror just enough to draw his bleary blue eyes into focus. How quickly the night before had evaporated into morning. The often clumsy transition from bar, to car, to apartment, to bedroom was a seamless blur. She was a nice girl, he thought to himself. Maybe he’d go out with her again.

The previous twelve hours had become the norm for Cal O’Connor since arriving in Richmond, Virginia from Afghanistan over six weeks prior. He had been drifting from bed to bed, one laugh-filled night after another, desperately but unsuccessfully trying to connect with the real world again.

Returning from deployment was different this time. After six years in the US Navy’s covert Human Intelligence, or HUMINT department, with an impeccable service record, he was abruptly discharged; he still didn’t know what had gone wrong.

Cal ran his hands through his full head of bourbon-brown hair, repositioning a few castaways no doubt caused by the sexual whirlwind that had occurred not twenty minutes before. He attempted a smile as he remembered the condition the room had been in as he’d slipped his jeans on and tip-toed through the small crack in the bedroom door while she showered.

He settled back in the driver’s seat. His smile quickly changed to a long distant stare through the license plate of the car in front of him as he replayed in his mind the altercation that sent him from Afghanistan to Richmond in the blink of an eye.

Cal snapped out of his trance and took a moment to enjoy the beautiful weather. Spring in Richmond was something from a Monet painting, with the dogwood and cherry trees that lined the streets beginning to show their brilliant, yet delicate colors. The air was cool and dry. It was nine o’clock in the morning on a Tuesday.

He waited for the light to change. His Jeep Wrangler, missing the doors and top, wasn’t the ideal year-round car for a place like Richmond, Virginia. But on this day, it was perfect.

He glanced at the car in the turn lane to his left. A 1967 faded yellow Mercury Cougar with a torn, greenish vinyl top. Cal knew the car from working on cars with his dad when he was young. Surely this one was a week or two from finding a place next to the other Cougars in a junkyard somewhere. The inside of the car was littered with stacks of paper, and in the rear window sat an assortment of faded baseball caps; the kind of interior Cal would come to expect from the bald, overweight dreary-looking man behind the wheel. Cigarette smoke billowed from the three-inch gap in the passenger-side window.

Cal’s eyes moved to the passenger seat where a young boy, probably nine or ten years old, sat staring forward. It’s a little late for this kid to be heading to school, Cal thought.

The traffic light for the turn lane changed from red to a green arrow, and the yellow heap began to inch forward. Just as it did, the boy turned back and made eye contact with him. There was a strange concavity to his expression. With a swift movement, the boy raised his left arm and placed his hand at the top of the window. The car continued forward, beginning to make its turn onto the cross street. The boy’s eyes stayed locked on Cal’s, and just as the car began to turn, the boy mouthed one word: Help.

Cal sat for a brief moment, almost in disbelief at what he just witnessed. Was this a cry for help? Did the boy actually say Help, or was it Hello, Cal questioned. He felt a chill up his spine.

He couldn’t hesitate, and immediately maneuvered his Jeep to the left, hitting the corner of the rear bumper of the car in front of him. He continued into the turn lane, the light changing from yellow to red. His driving tactics course with the CIA served him well, and he popped the clutch to gain the most engine torque possible as he hopped over the median to stay ahead of the fast-approaching traffic. It wasn’t enough. An eager morning driver in a Dodge Durango had lurched off the line, and in a split second, the car slammed into the passenger side of Cal’s Jeep like a runaway locomotive. It was the perfect T-bone, catching the Jeep in just the right spot to lift it up on two wheels and roll it on its side in a forceful explosion of metal and glass. Cal felt the burn of pavement on his left shoulder as his body was thrown to the road with his vehicle. His head slammed into the roll bar that framed the driver’s side door. The unmistakable sound of crunching metal quickly transitioned to silence. He opened his eyes, which filled with blood until his vision was entirely lost. He felt for the seatbelt latch. He knew he had to get out of the car and get to the boy, but he was losing consciousness. What little light he could sense was being overtaken by darkness. His head slumped to the ground. He was out.

Chapter 2

Panjwai District, Kandahar Province, Afghanistan.

Six weeks earlier.

Panjwai District in late-February reminded Cal of Naval Air Station LeMoore in central California. The morning air was crisp, then quickly transitioned to a dry, comfortable sixty-five degrees with rolling desert hills beneath steady sunshine. It was no wonder why the Taliban called Panjwai home.

This day was different. The rain had begun falling overnight and would make the day’s work a little more difficult.

In his two years in Afghanistan as a US Navy HUMINT covert operative, Cal had become spoiled by the abundant sunshine, and now hesitated stepping out of his comfortable Toyota Land Cruiser. Accepting his fate, he exited the vehicle and briskly walked across the road leading up to the dilapidated outpost.

Cal entered the makeshift building and wiped his hiking boots on what was left of a towel covering the cracked linoleum floor. His wet soles squeaked across the back of the crowded room as he made his way to a cup of coffee in the far corner.

Lieutenant, you want to keep it down over there? The enemy still shoots at things… hammered the tall, fit, forty-year-old civilian standing at the front of the room.

The outpost filled with laughter. All fifteen pairs of eyes turned toward Cal in anticipation of his daily verbal sparring session with J.P.

Yeah, I’m testing these new soles out for Hey, Somebody Fucking Shoot Me Outfitters back in the States. I hear you’re on the cover of this month’s catalog, Cal responded.

Not his best work, but it would do.

The room seemed satisfied with the morning’s duel and finished with a laugh before turning back around and preparing for the briefing.

J.P. was a State Department official, which in most circles was understood as a CIA operative, responsible for managing relationships with Afghan civilians within and around Panjwai District.

He had a rare understanding of the subtleties relating to tribes and sects and dialects, and his relationship with locals ran deep. He just blended in—not a simple task