She looked at me as I took the laptop from her, "I think the CIA is interested in the church because it really could be a mess they forgot to clean up and now it's collecting more trash." Kit leaned back, "I don't know if the CIA is running both, but they are involved. Reading Ivan's old emails about the network breaches being traced back to CIA owned or used ISP addresses." She shook her head absently, "If I lay it all out, I see it this way. The CIA may have started this interest in you sixteen or so years ago, but I think along the way, they fucked up and pissed someone off and you may have pissed that same someone off. Now that someone is using the CIA as the man holding the bag to covertly redirect you to the CIA and not focus on anyone else. Leaving them to come at you and the CIA. I might have watched a lot of spy movies, but this has a revenge double cross feel to it." She placed a hand on my back, "Think about it, Claire. The hill people aren't dumb hillbillies, they all have the CIA stink on them. We need to get to that church compound in Tennessee before it is lost."
I read over the documents and key points Kit figured out, frustrated that I had not caught it earlier. I sat back, leaning on Kit's shoulder, "I think you're right, the church is too perfectly sloppy, and too aggressive in their attacks on me. Always managing to leave just enough evidence to point us at the CIA." I typed quickly, emailing Davidek to dig further into the two men who attacked me at Kit's house. See if he or the FBI found anything that would fill another piece of the puzzle." I closed the laptop when I was done. "It also seems easy to tie them together. There has to be more, it all doesn't make sense."
Kit shrugged, "Sometimes no sense makes the perfect sense."
I looked around the room, "I need to get to that church, before the CIA will make whatever they find vanish." I looked back at Kit, "I don't know how to get there. I have no real reason to go down to Tennessee nor can I think of one to make up. I also don't know who to send in my place."
Kit's hand rubbed lightly at my shoulder, "Davey?"
I shook my head, "No, he is too tied into me and recognizable since he has moved into being the front page marketing man for his firm. People know him and his face, he would be spotted instantly in his thousand dollar suits in the woods of the south. It's bad enough I have him involved in monitoring the chatter."
My focus went to the ornate tin ceiling, "Who is this Alistair Montgomery and why does he hate me?" It had been the number one question since I read the inmate interviews. It was morbid, but I already knew why Beekeeper disliked me. I wouldn't share with them and that made them angry. Alistair, I couldn't find anything. Kit and I had searched news articles and federal files for any notations about him. He was a ghost, a ghost with me in his front sights.
Kit sighed, "I don't think this Alistair Montgomery is even real." She sat forward, "When do you go back to the office?"
"Monday morning the Senate is back in session. I need to make an appearance in the office and try to work on the budget packet before the trip to Geneva next month." A slight panic rushed forth. I had to get a handle on this mess before I started Beth's operations, or she could become a target by association. I made a mental note to call Erich later, have him look into moving the surgeries to the hive.
I barely heard Kit as I mentally created lists of what was needed in the hive and how long it would take to move everything I needed for Beth and to make Criterion Centre impenetrable, I blinked and snapped out of it at the sound of my name being spoken forcefully, "What?"
"Claire, I said we need to start setting up a security plan for you to go back and forth from the office." She moved the hand from my thigh, "I think I'm going to call Davey and see if he will come out here, walk the route with me."
I smiled hearing Davidek’s unique dialogue come from Kit. I had heard him utter the same thing when he was in the Secret Service. It was what he called investigating the route an asset would take, assessing the environment and possible threats along the way.
Kit stood up, removing her phone from the purple sweatshirt, "Let me call him now and get this set up." She smiled, looking down at me, "Then no more work for the day." She took steps to leave the office when she turned quickly back to me, "Um, one more thing. It's not really important." Kit stumbled a bit, chewing on the inside of her cheek until I raised my eyebrows telling her to continue, "My mom called me yesterday. My dad and she are in the city for one of her teacher conferences." Kit paused, visibly trying to work out what she was going to say next, "I haven't seen them in a year. Last time was when they had a layover in California and I had a hangover."
Kit was growing anxious by the second, I smirked to put her at ease, "Are you asking if I would like to meet your parents?"
Kit shrugged, smiling and sheepishly nodding, "I would like to see them now that I am sober and figuring life out." She stopped suddenly, waving her hands, "Never mind, I can postpone it or not call her back like I usually do," Her anxiety was taking hold. It was expected as she began to fully embrace sobriety and the fallout of what she had left in her drunken, destructive wake.
"Kit. Call your mother back. Invite her and your father to dinner with us at seven. I will make the reservations at the steakhouse over on Connecticut Avenue."
Kit's tight smile eased, "It's a risk to go out."
I picked up my phone, "It is, but I won't stop my life based on risks." I scrolled through my contacts, "And I certainly will not feed your parents leftovers or whatever food my dreadful attempt to cook would create." I found the number, selecting it, "The owner of this steakhouse was our family chef until I was six, when he left to open the restaurant. When I eat there, he calls in off duty law enforcement officers to eat a free steak dinner in exchange for keeping an eye on me."
Kit gave me a look as she chuckled, "I'm starting to wonder if you really need me with this intricate network of people you have."
I moved to stand in front of her, "I vaguely recall a few times last night where I told you exactly how much I needed you." I raised my eyebrows, smirking before kissing the flustered redhead. A quick, simple but very effective kiss, "Go make your calls, then we can figure out what to do for the rest of the day until dinner."
Kit closed her eyes, mumbling, "I can think of a few things." She opened her eyes, the big hazel eyes smiling with her, "I'll meet you upstairs in my room? The uh, TV is bigger in my room." Kit turned, leaving the office with a swagger. Her hips purposefully moving in a way that turned me on and she knew it.
I hated that I was about to deceive Claire, or semi-deceive her. I did want Davey to come down and help me work out a protection plan for her, but I also wanted to ask him to stay by her side for a couple of days so I could sneak down to Tennessee and check out the church. There was a definite connection there that I had to get my hands on before it went up in smoke. I would have to think of a cover to excuse me having a day or two away from her. I had a side thought that maybe I could use my parents visit as the excuse to have Davey stand by. I let out a sigh, shaking the idea away.
Looking down at my phone, the word MOM sitting on the screen as I walked into my room. I was about to hit the green button to call her. My mom had called yesterday and I ignored the call like I always had over the last couple of years. Wanting to wait a day or two, call her back at a time I knew she would not answer and leave a the usual voice mail. A hey, I'm still alive, I'm still okay and then disappear for another month until she called again.
My thumb hovered over the button, the main reason why I was growing the balls to call her back knowing she would answer, was because I was sober for the first time and the longest in two years and really did want to see my parents. Show them their daughter had found her way out of the bottle and the hell I lived in.
I closed the bedroom door, walking to the window, hitting the button to dial my mom. Listening to the phone ring as I pulled back the curtain to look out across the rooftops shining brightly from the sun striking white snow and ice. I tapped my right ring finger on the edge of the window. Nerves building, silently hoping that the
call would go straight to voice mail.
I hadn't really spoke to either of my parents in months or seen them in a year plus. Last Christmas was the last time, they had a layover in San Diego during their flight to Seattle to visit the rest of my extended family for the holidays. My parents found a raging drunk hung over when they knocked on my front door. A drunk who ignored them and ran to Tito's house to hide until I was sure their flight had left California.
I ran from them because I saw the pain and disappointment in their eyes. Neither of them knew what happened in Montreal or knew about Callum. I had wanted to wait until after the Montreal trip to tell my mom first about the man I was certain I would marry.
I just randomly called them one day. Drunk and sobbing on the phone, telling them I had been let go from the agency and was moving to San Diego for a new job. In San Diego I cut them off like I did the rest of the world, barely communicating as I spiraled away. I cut them off because I didn't want to drag them into my messy life and watch them fight a hopeless battle with me.
The fourth ring echoed in my ear, one more and I would get her voice mail. I took a deep breath preparing my message when I heard, "Caitriona?"
My mom's soft questioning voice made my throat tighten. "Hi mom." There was an awkward pause before I mustered the courage and words to speak, "I got your message yesterday."
Another pause before my mother spoke.
"Yes. Your dad and I are in Washington for a teacher’s symposium. We drove by your old apartment and thought about you."
Pause.
"How's the weather out west? It's been a rough winter out here."
The idle chit chat was strained and broke my heart, I cleared my throat, "I'm actually in Washington as well. I, uh, got a new job earlier this month and transferred back." I leaned my forehead against the cold glass, cringing at the fact I had been so horrible to my parents.
A quiet, "Oh." came from my mom.
I sucked in a breath, forcing myself to stay on the phone, "Are you and dad free tonight? For dinner? Claire...um, my boss...friend and I would like to see you." I rolled my head against the glass, hating how much I was stumbling. There was a long pause, my mom obviously at a loss for words. I almost asked if she was still on the phone when I heard, "Your father and I would like that. What time?"
"Seven. At the steakhouse on Connecticut Avenue. I will send you the directions when I get them." I squeezed my eyes shut. This was harder than I thought.
"We will meet you there."
Pause.
“Caitriona, you sound different. How have you been?"
I let out a breath, knowing exactly what she was asking. My voice was different. Gone was the rasp of sleeping everywhere but a bed or not sleeping. Gone was the ever present slurring from always being drunk when I called her.
My mom was asking in her way if I had finally gotten my shit together. "I'm sober, mom. Have been for three weeks and counting. I have a new job and...I'm sorry mom. There's a lot I have to tell you and I don't want to do it over the phone." I pressed my head harder against the glass.
"Mhmm. Well you sound better. You can fill your father and I in at dinner. Who is this friend you are bringing?" My mom's tone was in-between kind and disappointed. I expected it from her because she always expected better from me and I only gave her my worst.
"Claire. She is technically my new boss." and the woman I am horribly in love with. "She is nice, I think you both will like her." I groaned and went to say something else when my mother spoke, "Your father is on the other line. I have to let you go. He was getting the rental car and I think he got lost. We will see you at dinner, Caitriona."
I mumbled out an okay followed by a small goodbye. When I was off the phone, I threw it on the bed and pressed both hands against the glass, tears welling up. Fully realizing the Grand Canyon sized distance I had shoved between my parents and I. Two people who raised me with all their love and loved me when I was a mess but gave up on me when I forced them to as I ran from them. I had to fix that like I had to fix a thousand other things I broke.
I didn't bother calling Davey, sending him an email instead. He replied a minute later telling me he would definitely be down the next flight out, to help. I would tell him my plan for Tennessee when he was here. Giving him less chances to tell Claire or stop me.
I sat on the edge of the bed, my head pounding from the awkward call with my mom. I had left a huge mess behind me while I forged ahead making my life a mess. I wondered if I could do it, repair my broken relationships.
The door opened, Claire poked her head in, grinning at me, "Can I come in?"
Looking in her eyes with the genuine smile, I knew as long as I had her by my side I could do it. I held my hand out to her, "You never have to ask, Claire."
Kit's knee bounced so much it was beginning to make me anxious. Her nerves flooded the front seat of the Lincoln. My hand settling on her knee slowed the bounce down to a light tremor. "You will be fine."
Kit chuckled nervously, "Easier said than done." She looked over at me as I pulled the car up to the valet in front of the steakhouse. "I haven't seen or really spoken to my parents in a couple of years." She flipped the visor down, checking her hair, while nervously straightening out the collar of her shirt, "I didn't even tell them who you are." Kit slapped the visor up, "Just that you are my friend, my boss."
I smiled, stroking her knee before my hand had to leave her as the valet ran up to the car, opening the door. "I am sure Mr. and Mrs. Witmer will understand." I handed the keys off, hearing Kit exhale, "It's actually Mr. and Mrs. Neumann. Witmer is my mother's maiden name, my grandpa's last name." She smiled firmly, "I changed it after he passed away to honor him and have more privacy as an agent, like the instructors recommended in the academy. My dad's first name is Walter and my mom is Elsa." Kit's words came out rapidly, her nerves and anxiety starting to rise quickly.
I was focused on her father's name. Walter Neumann held a strange sense of recognition in me. I had heard and knew that name from somewhere, but my expansive photographic mind couldn't place where quick enough. I exited the car, walking to stand next to Kit, "Caitriona Neumann to Kit Witmer. Gaelic German to all American girl. I wouldn't mind seeing you in pigtails and those little German skirts."
I grinned as she groaned about being nervous, ignoring my poor attempt at humor to ease her. I took her arm in mine, "Relax. I'll be right here the entire time. If it gets awkward for you, I will fill the air with stories about the first time I met the President." I pulled Kit with me, entering the steakhouse.
Inside a cheery, smiling hostess informed us that the other half of our party had arrived and were already seated. Walking towards the back of the restaurant, I heard Kit blow out a nervous breath. Her eyes were on a table tucked in the corner where a man and woman who looked to be in their fifties were sitting, looking around at the rich interior of steakhouse that was more than likely, well beyond anywhere they had ever eaten. I also spotted the handful of police officers dotting the tables throughout the restaurant, eating their free steak dinners and giving me a slight nod as I walked by. I was safe here, allowing me to relax and focus more on Kit and being there for her.
Kit leaned into me, "That's Mom and Dad."
I looked to her father first, instantly recognizing him, my mind finally placing his name and his face. He had a more grey in his hair and his mustache, but Walter Neumann looked the same as he did when I met him at my father's steel mill in Pittsburgh when I was nine. I had spent a few weeks one summer with my father, learning about the steel business and his mills. I was introduced to Kit's father, the foreman of the morning shift and he took it upon himself to show me how the mill poured the steel beams that held up bridges and highways.
Walter explained everything, realizing I was not a normal nine year old in the first twenty questions I asked him about this and that. He was kind to me and even let me operate the huge crane used to pour the wells of molten metal.
As we watched the prod
uction line carry the orange-red liquid metal to cure, he would tell me stories about his own little girl and how she was smarter than her own good at eight. Walter told me he was saving as much money as he could to send her to college and away from the steel business, hoping his little girl would be a biologist or a lawyer. He even offered to introduce us the next time I came to Pittsburgh, since we were about the same age and would probably get along. I never met Walters little girl, I left the next day to spend the rest of the summer at my grandparents lake house up in Rhode Island.
It would take me twenty two years to meet his daughter.
I glanced at Kit, smiling at the strange fact I was standing next to that little girl who had grown into the woman I fell the hardest for.
Kit caught me staring and the dreamy look on my face. She nudged me, "You looking at me like that is making it worse. I am so nervous I may throw up."
I whispered an apology and walked to the table, watching Kit's parents light up with restraint and joy as they saw us, saw their daughter. Her father stood up quickly, walking around the table to stand right in front of her. He didn't hide his happy grin, "Hey kid." In the grin he was trying to hold back from scooping his only child up in a crushing hug, but was tentative as her mother came over to stand next to him.
Elsa had a pained looked on her face, but her smile was genuine, "Caitriona."
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