by Mary Eason
“Spy? You think she’s working for the people responsible for Kate’s death. It makes sense in some weird way.”
AJ held up a hand. “Let’s not jump to any conclusions just yet.”
Booth got to his feet and paced around the small office space. “Don’t jump to conclusions? Dammit, AJ, she’s involved in this in some way. With Kate's death. She knows something.”
“We don’t know that yet.”
“You can’t rule it out either.” Booth dropped back into his seat, his nervous energy spent. “Tell me what you do know. Everything.”
AJ hesitated, no doubt trying to decide how much to tell someone who had become intimately involved with the victim. “I have a contact who is a nurse at Bethesda Memorial. Melinda first alerted me to the situation. She was part of the transplant team. She said the woman, Carrie Sierra, was in a coma for almost two weeks. The last few hours before she woke, she started talking. Melinda didn’t share this with anyone but me, but she said the woman, an elementary school teacher, described almost verbatim what happened to Kate that night in Afghanistan.”
“Gees.” Booth blew out a less than steady breath. His voice actually shook. “She must have been there.”
“Booth, she’s a teacher. She was teaching her first grade class the day Kate died. She collapsed that same afternoon. She wasn’t there, but she has to have a connection somewhere. I spoke with her doctor. He said he's never had a case like this before and he's preformed dozens of transplants. Said there's no medical explanation for it. He thinks that perhaps in time the delusions, flashbacks, memories -- whatever you want to call them -- will go away. But he doesn't know that for certain.”
“There's no medical explanation because these memories don't exist. She's involved in this. I need to talk to her.” Booth got to his feet and started for the door.
“Whoa, dammit, hang on a minute will you.” AJ barked the order loud enough to stop him in his tracks. “Not so fast. You don’t know all the facts yet. I had my doubts about her story, so I sent Zamora over to the hospital on the pretense of being you. He kept the story close to the truth, but with just enough falsehoods to trip her up. He gave the woman Kate’s cover identity. He even told her Kate died in a plane crash. She didn’t buy it. She told Zamora that was Kate's cover. She also referred to you Booth there was well. The clincher for me was, she knew you were left handed. Zamora is not.”
"Are you saying you believe she's Kate come back from the dead?" Booth couldn't believe he was hearing this from his "facts only" friend.
AJ let out an audible sigh. "No, I'm not saying that at all. I'm just saying, we don't know what we're dealing with here. Who we're dealing with. We have to tread carefully."
Booth's thoughts flew into a dozen different directions. Only someone close to Kate and him would know these little intricate details or their lives. Or someone who had been well briefed. A spy looking to ingratiate themselves into the case. See what the Agency knew about the killers.
“So she's done her homework. How do we go about getting the truth out of her?”
AJ looked him square in the eye. “We don’t. You are to avoid this woman at all costs. Don’t go anywhere near her. Stay out of this end of the investigation and that's an order. Tony’s back from Afghanistan. Get with him. Get up to speed on the investigation from his end. Kate’s contact is still missing. We need to find him. I’ll handle the woman personally. With congress breathing down our necks and the Pentagon launching an investigation into the mission, the last thing we need to do right now is tip someone’s hand that we might have a double agent working right here in the states.”
“Might? There’s no question about it. There’s no coming back from the grave. Kate's dead. I was there when she died. There's no coming back from that. Not even for Kate.”
Booth glanced at AJ. He'd turned as white as a sheet. He certainly looked as if he'd seen a ghost. "What is it? Something else is bothering you, isn't it?"
AJ shook his head. "I don't know. Maybe it's just residual emotions left over from Kate's death." He glanced up at Booth. "I know this is so much harder for you, but I can't help but feel this case goes much deeper than arms deals and Kate's death. That's why I need you to promise me you'll do as I ask. Stay away from the Sierra woman. I can't lose you as well."
AJ drew in a deep breath. "Enough of the drama, I'm glad your back, buddy. But you know he'll want to see you."
Booth cringed at the thought of meeting with the director.
"Don't worry, I handle that. He'll insist on a psychic evaluation, though. He'll want to make sure you're cleared for duty."
"AJ…"
His friend held up a hand. "Okay. I'll take care of it. Go. Meet with Tony. Get up to speed. We need you, buddy. I'm glad your back."
Booth didn't answer. He didn't share AJ's sentiment. This was the last place he wanted to be. The only place he needed to be.
He got to his feet and walked out of AJ's office without another word.
What AJ said, made sense, but he wasn't going to follow through with it. He couldn't. He needed to see the woman who claimed to be Kate.
****
It had been building since the moment he'd walked into the Covert Affairs Division at CIA headquarters in Langley and heard about her for the first time. Carrie Sierra.
Assistant Director AJ Bishop had told him she was the woman who had received Agent Kate Willow's heart two months earlier.
On the surface, she certainly appeared innocent enough. A schoolteacher who didn't have so much as a speeding ticket until she'd woke up from a two-week coma and claimed to have dreamed about Kate's death.
He'd waited until nightfall. AJ had warned him to stay away from her entirely. If caught here after AJ's warnings, well, it would be good for him. He'd be removed from the case entirely and with that, his only chance at extracting revenge for Kate's death would disappear. Yet he needed to know. Couldn’t stand the second-guessing, the suspicions any longer. He didn’t believe in ghosts. She was flesh and blood. He didn’t give a damn that she had Kate’s heart. She wasn’t Kate.
Booth spotted the Agency car, a nondescript sedan, parked down the street from the woman's apartment. He'd parked a couple of blocks over and covered the rest of the space on foot, carefully avoiding any streetlights.
He stood outside the light illuminating from an open window and listened for any sounds coming from inside that might indicate she wasn't alone. There was nothing.
While he debated on his next move, a woman opened the door and stepped out into the night, leaving him to wonder, had she known he would come.
Stunned into immobility for the moment, he got his first real look at the woman who claimed to have dreamed about Kate's life and death. Barely five-foot-five, blonde, and petite, she wasn’t anything like what he’d expected even though he didn’t know what he’d expected. She wore a faded gray Virginia Tech tee shirt, ordinary jeans, and the evidence of her recent illness made itself known in her ghost-white pallor. She didn’t have an ounce of color in her face, which made her green eyes appear luminescent.
It took her a second longer than him to recover, but when she did, she marched up to him and slapped him hard across his cheek.
She was crying. “Why didn’t you come for me? I needed you, Booth. Why the hell didn't you come after me?”
He grabbed her arm when she would had slapped him again and forced her back inside the apartment and against the opposite wall, kicking the door shut in the process.
“What are you talking about? Who are you? Who are you working for?”
Shock, followed by what could only be described as gut-wrenching pain made it impossible for her answer. The sorrow he saw in her eyes sucked the anger out of him. He watched a single tear slide from the corner of her eye.
Booth let her go and moved away. “How did you know my nickname?”
The question obviously surprised her. She scrubbed a hand over her eyes. "I don't remember."
"Stop it."
She was lying. He'd shared how he'd gotten his nickname to only a handful of people, Kate being one of them. The information wasn't in some CIA file anywhere.
Kate had loved the idea of his roommate at the University of Texas giving him the nickname of Booth after a night of drinking. Mark had thought it was hilariously funny that "Booth" was from a small Texas town called Booth.
This woman's use of the name, well, it added more fuel to his anger. "You know what I mean. Who told you that story? Who the hell are you really?"
She seemed incapable of answering for a moment. She shook her head and stared at him. “No one. I’m…I don’t know. I know what the CIA tells me happened to her and yet I can’t stop the dreams of her.” Her voice trailed off into a sob.
“Well you're sure as hell not Kate because she’s dead. I should know. I found her.”
She jerked her head up at those words. Those haunting eyes pinned him with guilt. “I know. Oh God, I know. There was so much she wanted to say to you, so many things she wanted you to know, but she couldn’t speak. Couldn’t say the words.”
For a second, her sincerity got to him. He could almost believe she was speaking for Kate. He swallowed down the lump lodged in his throat. She was good. He'd give her that. “Stop it. Cut the act. Tell me who you’re working for before you find yourself in more trouble than you are already.”
She looked as if she might collapse at any moment. Booth remembered the severity of her condition. “Are you okay?” He watched her take several deep breaths before he stormed over to her, picked her up, and sat her down on the couch then knelt in front of her and studied her expression. The last thing he needed was to be the cause of another death.
After a second, she spoke. “Don’t you think that I don’t know I sound crazy? Trust me, I know this is hard to believe, but it still doesn’t change the facts. Booth, I'm having dreams about Kate’s life. Vivid dreams. It's as if I'm seeing bit of her life, that night, through her eyes." She shook her head. "I can't explain it, but I know how much she….cared for you. I've dreamed about her final mission. I can almost see the face of the man who killed her. I’m sure in time it will come to me.”
Booth stumbled to his feet and away from her. What she was saying was crazy and yet he could almost see Kate in her eyes when she spoke of her. What scared the hell out of him the most was that this woman never once changed her story. Either she was damn good at lying or she truly believed what she said. Or maybe she'd just been trained well.
“Please, don't look so sad.”
He realized she'd been watching him, seeing everything he was thinking.
He turned away. God he needed to get a grip on his emotions. “Stop it. Stop trying to play me for a fool." He returned to her and squatted in front of her, inches from her face. "I suggest you start talking. Who are you working for? You're either a spy, or a nut, so which is it.”
“No, dammit, Booth, no. I'm not working for anyone. Why can't you just listen to what I have to say for once. Stop trying to analyze everything and just listen.” The word escaped into another sob. She was crying again.
The fact that what she'd just said was word for word Kate pushed him over the edge.
On an impulse he couldn’t begin to explain, Booth blew out a breath, picked her up in his arms, and carried her from the apartment. The foolishness of his actions hit him hard when he remembered the agents watching her house.
“Dammit.”
She finally overcame her surprise. “What do you think you're doing? Put me down.”
“Shut up,” he growled the order at her. He shouldered through the neighbor’s gate and kept in the shadows until he reached his truck. Booth dumped her in the driver’s seat and got in next to her. She scooted across the seat and reached for the door handle but he grabbed her hand.
“I don’t think so.”
“Are you crazy?”
“Probably, but this…” he waved his free hand over her. “Whatever this is, ends here. Tonight. Whoever you are, whatever end game you have, I want you to see the truth once and for all.” Booth let her go and put the truck in drive, bouncing her back against the seat. He wasn't giving her time to escape.
It took her another minute to steady herself. “Where are you taking me?” Was it just his imagination, or was there real fear in her tone. He hoped so. He hated it just the same.
He didn’t answer her question. He was beating himself up about his decision to snatch her in the first place. He could almost hear AJ yelling at him when he heard about his latest fiasco.
His only excuse was the shock of hearing about this woman's claim to Kate, combined with the jetlag he'd experienced upon leaving New Zealand. He was running on empty. Hell, he was empty. The time he'd spent away from the job at his ranch in New Zealand hadn’t helped the pain. It had gelled his decision to get out, though. This was it for him. As soon as he found Kate’s killers, he was gone.
The ghosts of the life he and Kate shared together here in D.C. was everywhere tonight, calling out to him. Reminding him of the passion, they’d once shared. And all but guaranteeing he’d never move beyond loving Kate.
He turned off the highway into Arlington National Cemetery.
The truck’s headlights swept over the pink marble stone. He could find her gravesite even in the pitch-dark moonless night.
Rebecca Kate Willows. Patriot. Bullshit. She was just a woman who believed in a cause that didn’t exist. In the end, it had gotten her killed. Barely thirty and dead.
There were times at night when he could almost imagine her lying next to him in bed. Her lean sexy body tanned and firm from the constant workouts, the six-mile-a-day runs. Kate was just shy of six foot. If she stood on her tiptoes, she matched his six-foot-two. He still pictured her long black hair sprayed across her pillow, dark, sultry brown eyes watching his every move, reading him like a book. His Kate.
A vegan and a health nut, she'd been trying to convert him since day one. She’d failed miserably. Growing up on a cattle ranch in central Texas, he'd been raised on beef and lots of it. He wasn’t about to give it up now, not even for Kate.
He hadn’t realized how much he loved her until it was too late. God he missed her badly. He’d give just about anything to hold her one more time.
The sight of the simple headstone was too much. He lost it. He’d shed a thousand tears, thought a dozen times he’d reached the end of them, and yet every little memory brought the return of them.
He could almost hear her laughing at this new, sentimental Booth.
“You wait until now to tell me how you feel about me? You always were slow on the uptake, Booth.”
He scrubbed a calloused hand over bloodshot eyes. Kate always said what she felt, thought, or suspected. She was quick to give you a piece of her mind and usually she was right. If the tables were turned, she’d analyze every clue without emotion. She say, “Find my contact, and you’ll find out who did this. Find who killed me, Booth. Bring them to justice. For me. You owe me that much.”
He dug in his pocket and brought out the locket he’d found amongst her things. The only piece of jewelry she ever wore. She’d told him her grandmother gave it too her on her sixteenth birthday. Booth placed it on the headstone.
He'd forgotten his passenger and his purpose for a moment. Seeing Kate’s name carved in stone always got to him. As did the quiet of the place. It cried out the finality of death. There was no second chances here. No coming back from the dead.
He became aware of Carrie seconds before she dropped to her knees in front of the headstone. “No.” He barely caught the word. He didn’t need to look at her to realize she'd starting crying too. The sound of her heartbreak seemed fitting in such a somber place.
Booth didn’t try to comfort her. He didn't have it in him. He was grieving himself. He leaned against the hood of the truck and listened to a total stranger crying over the loss of someone he loved.
It felt like hours, in reality it was probably only a handful of minutes befo
re the deathly silence of the place overtook them once more. She reached for the locket and gathered it against her heart. He didn't stop her. He couldn't stand to look at it any longer. Maybe it would bring her some peace.
Neither of them spoke. She stood slowly and got back into the truck. Booth drove the distance to her place in silence. He parked one street over and killed the engine.
“We're watching your apartment. It’s best if no one knows I was here.”
She nodded and got out of the truck and slammed the door. Carrie Sierra never looked back. And he let her go. Because there was nothing left to say between them. Kate's grave had said it all.