Close Match

by Jerald, Tracey

  * * *

  Linnie’s still somber as we walk out into the sunlight from the Holocaust Museum. “I’d always wanted to see it, I just never had the time.”

  “It’s not something you can put into words. It’s something you have to experience,” I say honestly.

  She lifts a shaky hand to her stomach. “Those videos, Monty. Who would ever…” Her voice trails off.

  “One thing I learned in my years in law enforcement was that understanding the criminal mind is fascinating.” Linnie’s head whips toward me. “Not because of what it does, but because what makes it twist and do something so off-kilter. Take you, for example.” Linnie stops while we are walking.

  Indignantly, she glares at me. “Are you trying to say…”

  I steamroll over her. “You could have someone with a perfect life on the outside, but what would make you fall apart on the inside? What could drive you to do something crazy? The insane? The foolish? People have tried scientific study during a criminal’s life, and even after their death, and I don’t know if they’ll ever get it right.”

  “Any theories?” We resume walking to where the car is parked. We have to drive over the Anacostia River and get on base to get to my old office. Shaun agreed to get us both in. “Listen, she’s part of your family. Happy to give her a quick tour.” I didn’t mention how much that statement weirds me out when I can’t get her out of my thoughts.

  Or my dreams.

  A glance at my watch tells me traffic won’t start to pick up for at least another two hours. “Come on. We can discuss this in the car.”

  We reach the lot where I parked the Jag. After we slide in, I pick up where we left off. “Greed, insanity, or revenge. So far, those are the three main reasons I’ve seen criminals commit the acts they do.”

  Linnie’s thoughtful as we zip down South Capitol Street. “So what you’re saying is that anyone has the capacity for certain crimes with the right incentive.”

  We pull up to the Joint Base Anacostia-Bolling Main Gate when we’re stopped by a MA who I know damn well would have no problem shooting us if we posed a threat. I should—I helped train him when I was still at sea. “I need your ID“

  Reaching into my back pocket, I present both of our IDs to the guards while I patiently wait for the dogs with the other to do a walk around of the car.

  Linnie’s eyes get huge. “Holy shit,” she whispers. “This is what you had to go through every day?”

  I nod. “Coming on base is serious.” I’m about to run through a typical day’s protocols when I’m given the go-ahead to drive through.

  “You’re all clear. It’s good to see you, sir.” I nod at the young lieutenant, who’s run my ID and Linnie’s. I know by the time I pull up to the NCIS headquarters, Shaun and whomever he chose to escort Linnie will be waiting outside. Taking our IDs back, I toss mine on the dash while Linnie slips hers away.

  “Every day,” I confirm.

  Her eyes get big, but before she can gather her thoughts for comment, we’re pulling up in the parking lot near the nondescript brick building that holds so many of my memories and even more of my nightmares. A bead of sweat trickles down my back. I rub my hand across my neck. I nod. “So, this is it. NCIS Headquarters.”

  Linnie doesn’t say anything. I twist in my seat to face her only to find her not looking at the building but me. “Is everything all right?” Her voice reflects the concern etched on her face.

  I turn off the Jaguar, leaving us cocooned in silence. “Everything’s fine.” Until I pulled up to my old office, I thought I was improving. Now, I realize I’m no closer to stepping in through those doors than I was six months ago, the first time I received a call to determine my mental readiness to return to the job. Back then, I had Ev’s medical health to shield me. Now, there’s nothing but my fears.

  Even as I’m reaching for the handle, I give Linnie a quick rundown of what she can expect. “You’ll be escorted everywhere inside the building, even the restroom. You have to wear a badge at all times. There’s going to be areas you’ll pass that you may have questions about, but we won’t be able to answer, no matter how much you try to dig. If you can’t handle that, tell me now, and I’ll call Shaun over to say hi.” Part of me wants her to say no so desperately. I can almost taste the bile rising in my stomach at the idea of walking into my old life.

  Linnie nods. “I understand.”

  No, you don’t! I want to shout at her. You have no idea what the men and women inside that building go through daily. Flashes of the acceptance on Shaun’s face when he realized if I took the shot the through-and-through would be likely to hit him almost make me want to upend the lunch Linnie and I enjoyed near the museum. The horror of Tim McMann’s face as he ate the bullet. The devastation and ultimate blame turned on me by Commander Cindy McMann when she learned the full extent of what happened to her son.

  And the weight of it all in my mind.

  “Then let’s go,” I say brusquely, shoving my door open. Linnie follows at a slower pace. She silently keeps pace with my long strides, which I do not attempt to slow down. We reach Shaun and a female agent I recognize as Sandra Raines. After a quick introduction, the issuance of badges, and another briefing, the four of us enter the building. Linnie surrenders her purse for inspection. We both walk through metal detectors and into the shielded elevator to the third floor where my old team sits.

  As the door closes, I feel myself start to hyperventilate. Then whether by accident or design, a smooth hand jostles against mine.

  Linnie.

  She doesn’t say a word, but she doesn’t move away either. It was her presence that made stepping off the elevator possible.

  And the next few hours bearable.

  * * *

  Somehow, Shaun’s unearthed an official NCIS hat and T-shirt for Linnie. She’s charmed by the gesture until he casually says, “You should make sure there’s no blood on them. I stole them from Sandra’s locker.”

  Linnie turns a pale shade of green. “Umm…”

  I snicker, knowing Shaun would be more likely to have requested them for Linnie than ever do something like that.

  Sandra, who just wrapped up taking a call on a possible lead, throws him the finger. “He did not, Linnie. Don’t let him mess with your head. He got those just for you,” she says, confirming my suspicions.

  Linnie pokes Shaun in the chest. “You’re trouble, Shaun.”

  Sandra gets belligerent. “How is it Monty’s new woman has your number already?”

  Linnie and I choke on her assumption simultaneously. Linnie recovers her aplomb quicker though. Giving me a wink, she drops her voice and adds a touch of venom. “New woman? Darling, I thought I was the only woman.”

  I pretend to placate her. “Now, sweetheart, you know there were others before you.”

  “According to Sandra, it appears I’m one of a crowd. I’m not sure how I feel about that,” she sniffs. I want to howl with laughter. Based on the look on Shaun’s face, he wants to as well.

  “Do I need a song to go along with this little dramatic fit?” I drawl. This is way too fun. Leaning against the secure file cabinet next to Shaun’s desk, I cross my arms and my legs at the ankle.

  Linnie looks tempted. Her eyes narrow. “Don’t think I won’t. You know by now I have no problem with randomly bursting into song. It’s embarrassed you enough times. Particularly when we got into that fight at the coffee shop.”

  Shaun’s doing everything not to laugh, but Sandra looks enthralled. “Tell me, what song fits this little squabble?” I dare her.

  And damn if she doesn’t start to sing about someone having six wives and arsenic. I’m bracing myself on my knees to hold myself upright. Shaun’s pounding my back, wheezing with his laughter. And Sandra declares, “You just became my new best friend.”

  Linnie pops out of the pissed-off girlfriend role. “What’s even funnier is that we’re not together.” She shrugs. Giving me a warm smile, she tells the other agent, “We’re j
ust good friends.”

  A familiar male voice comes up behind us. “That’s a pity. And here I was hoping former Special Agent Parrish had got his head on straight long enough to get back to work.”

  Ah, fuck. Just who I didn’t want to run into: the director. Then I see Shaun and Sandra stand and Linnie’s eyes widen. Shit. That can only mean someone else walked up as well. Someone important.

  Taking a deep breath, I turn around to both of the men I wanted to avoid at all costs. “Mr. Secretary. Director Troy. A pleasure to see you both.”

  “We’re glad you think so, Parrish. How about a quick chat before you head out? I’m sure Johnson and Raines can watch your guest.”

  Knowing there is absolutely no way out of my current predicament, I nod. Turning to Linnie, I hide all of my churning emotions. “Stick with Shaun and Sandra, no matter what.”

  She reaches up and brushes her hand gently on my chest. A simple gesture but one I appreciate. The brand of her fingertips transfers much-needed strength. It’s enough for me to turn and follow my former bosses to the director’s office one floor up.

  This exact confrontation was what I was hoping to avoid.

  Thirty-Five

  Evangeline

  We’re driving back from the tour, and Monty’s quiet. I’m not sure if that’s due to the storm outside or the one I saw brewing in him as we made our way to his SUV. Things were fine until he went into a closed-door meeting. When he came out, his face was a blank mask. Instead, I scrambled to comply when he said, “There’s a storm coming. We need to go.”

  Shaun and Sandra escorted us downstairs. I thanked them profusely, but it wasn’t until we were off base and well on our way that I realized I left my gift on Shaun’s desk. In the grand scheme of things, it means nothing in comparison to getting Monty away from that place as soon as possible.

  I want to ask him what’s wrong, but the pounding rain slamming against the glass needs his attention. He has on a local radio station. After a few more minutes of crawling along, he jerks the car to the right, abruptly pulling off at a turnoff overlooking the Potomac River that he pointed out on the way into the city. “It’s only supposed to last a little while longer,” he assures me, though his voice is flat.

  “Whatever you think is best,” I concede quietly.

  Suddenly, out of nowhere, his hand slams against the steering wheel in frustration. I jump in my seat. “It was supposed to be a quick in-and-out tour—not that.”

  “Not what?” I seize the opportunity to help. As an actress, I usually see when someone’s playing a role—Monty’s good at it, no doubt. But the masks can only be held up for so long before they disintegrate. Unfortunately, Monty’s just did.

  Finally, I’m about to see the man underneath the rock that everyone leans on.

  “Not an ambush to come back. I’ve barely got to the point where it doesn’t require drugging myself to be able to sleep and even now the nightmares…” His voice trails off. A crackle of lightning rips out overhead.

  “Have you talked to your Mom or Ev about it?”

  “With everything that’s going on at home? Hell no, I haven’t.”

  “Why not?”

  A bitter laugh boils up. “It’s just one more piece of crap piled on top of all the others they’re dealing with. I almost couldn’t handle it. I was such a mess after I quit, and when I got the news about that, I decided to stay drunk for an extra day.”

  Something about what he says niggles at the back of my mind, but I push past it. Monty’s my concern at the moment. “What happened, Monty?” I lay my hand on his arm. He stiffens beneath me. “There’s no one here but you and me. And I’m not here to judge you.”

  “Everyone else has; from the secretary down to Shaun. What makes you so different?”

  “Because I know what it’s like for the whole world to look at your life and say what they would do differently or better. Until they’ve stood in your shoes, they have no idea what decisions they’d make.”

  His jaw goes slack as the impact of my words hits him. Scrubbing his hand down his face, he mutters, “I never thought of it like that.”

  “Not many people do,” I say quietly.

  The rain pounds on the windows outside. The force of the wind rocks the car a little bit, but I’ve never felt safer. We’re not two strangers right now; we’re two survivors of our brand of pain. Our pain bonds us at this moment more surely than if he leaned over and laid his lips on mine. I don’t pressure him; knowing from experience, he’ll speak when he’s ready. It doesn’t take him long.

  “None of my—our—cases were easy. From the moment I joined the agency, I was challenged. God, I’m not supposed to talk about them.”

  “Then how are you supposed to get back to where they want you to be to do the job they want you to consider doing again?” I ask pragmatically.

  “The hell if I know. They seem to think a few sessions with a shrink and…” His voice trails off before his whole body shudders. “I can’t go into the details. I’m under a sworn vow; it’s part of the reason I haven’t told anyone at home. But that’s helping—working with the family, seeing happy, healthy kids. Helping those Ev sponsors who aren’t well off enough. Seeing their smiles, their frustration, their hope, that’s helping.”

  “He sponsors kids to ride?” I’ve seen kids of all ages around the farm, but I assumed they were there for the classes I’d heard people talking about. It never occurred to me there might be more than just that. In my quest to get to know my father, we’ve never really talked about the business. It doesn’t surprise me though. Knowing what he’s told me about his background and the kind of people I know Ev and Char are, I can totally see them sponsoring underprivileged kids. Another part of my heart warms toward my father and his wife. I feel Monty relax a little beneath my hand.

  “Yeah.” Even though I can’t see his face, I can hear the smile in his voice. “These kids come in with no confidence, and the idea is to get them to build up trust. Build up their faith in the world around them.”

  “Has it done the same for you?”

  My question lies in between us in the small confines of the car. Monty’s harsh breathing is all I can hear despite the raging storm outside. “I’m not prying, but I’m assuming this involved a child. You don’t have to tell me,” I add on quickly.

  “It’s always worse when there are children involved.” There’s a sting in the back of my eyes I ignore. If he wants to talk, I’ll listen to every detail without showing a single ounce of emotion. “And when decisions have to be made in a split second, time is only a luxury in the aftermath.” He lowers his head to his clenched hands. I doubt he notices my hand smoothing up and down his broad back. “Should I have made a different call? Would things have turned out differently?”

  “In the aftermath of my mother’s death, I asked myself that and a lot of different questions.” His head whips around to mine. “I noticed some oddities that she waved off; she overheated at the oddest times, out of breath. Did I dismiss them because she wanted me to or because I didn’t want to see? Would she still be alive if I trusted my intuition more?” The tears I swore I wouldn’t shed spill over. I swipe at them angrily. “I’m sorry, this isn’t about me.”

  “I had a choice of trying to talk a boy down from taking his own life or taking a shot to disarm him that almost certainly would have taken Shaun’s.” I can’t hold the gasp in no matter how hard I try. “Turns out he was too far gone to leave it up to my decision. How do I live with that? How do I trust my judgment when I spent the next month being berated for making the wrong call? By my chain of command? By his mother?”

  “How do they know he wouldn’t have tried at another time?” I wonder aloud.

  “Excuse me?” Monty whispers. I struggle as I try to clarify the question.

  “Not knowing anything more than what you just said, it seems like this poor soul was determined, Monty. It’s a horrible tragedy. It happened, and you feel you made the wrong decision, but
if he was willing to do something so tragic in front of strangers…” I shake my head. “He would have found a way to do it alone for sure. He was searching for a way out, not for a way to be helped.”

  “How can you be so sure?” The uncertainty in his voice is my undoing.

  “Because he may not have thought there was a reason to get help when he saw no way out. He couldn’t see past his own pain to see who else would be impacted by the decision he made. He was just a kid, Monty. His reasoning was impaired by what happened. There was no way for him to know it might have been the hardest fight of his life, but he could have survived.”

  At his doubtful look, I give him my truth. “It took a long time, but my mother realized her drinking while pregnant with me caused me lifelong complications. It’s not my fault she drank; I wasn’t even born yet. She was determined to get help though. Even though she spiraled on and off in her journey, she kept trying. Eventually, she had a reason inside why she was trying to get sober.” Sitting back, I wrap my arms around myself to ward off the chill that runs through me.

  Monty hasn’t moved a muscle. I push forward. “Don’t you get it? You’re a victim of what happened just as he is. That’s why you don’t want to go back. Whatever happened is eating away at your soul because you’re carrying the burden for everyone.”

  “How…” he chokes out. There’s a single tear running down his face. No one’s ever explained it from this point of view to him because he felt he had to be a hero and hold it all in.

  “Because you have the same look on your face that I remember seeing on mine when Patrick told me that rehab failed for my mother. Again. You look lost and terrified.”

  Shifting in his seat, he faces me. “How old were you?”

  “Which time?”

  “Any, all of them.”

  “My earliest memories of my mother drinking and cheating on Dad—Patrick? God, I was no older than two.”