Jane wanted to argue. There was nothing to debate. She had become cynical, if not about life, about the way the world worked. Alex still held to the idea that most people possessed a moral conscience. That was a belief that Alex shared with President Reid, and with Cassidy. Jane admired her friends’ ability to maintain faith in the inherent goodness of people. “Perhaps,” she replied. “There is some truth to what you say,” she admitted. “It’s the part where people don’t care to see what is staring them down that concerns me,” she continued.
“I didn’t want to see it,” Alex confessed. “I didn’t want to believe that Taylor was capable of betraying me—of betraying John. Some days, Jane? I still can’t accept it. I know it. I can’t accept it. How do I continue forward if I believe that everything my father did was for money? How do any of us keep going if there is no hope of changing anything—if all that anyone cares about is money and power? Jim said something to me the other day. It turned my stomach. He said that my children would never have financial worries.” Alex let out a caustic chuckle. “Never have financial worries? Jesus, Jane. Is that why he thinks I went to Carecom—why Jonathan is there now? To secure our kids’ monetary future?”
“I doubt that’s what he thinks,” Jane said gently. “I’m sure he was attempting to illustrate a point.”
“Maybe. Don’t you wonder?”
“What?”
“What did our parents think when they started all of this?”
“I used to wonder about my father and about his father,” Jane confessed. “I suppose all I’m able to see now is where it has led. I don’t care why,” she told Alex. “I see where it leads. Cassidy never wanted to be part of this. Candace had no idea what she was stepping into. I chose my path. You chose yours. John was coerced, pushed at every turn from the day he was born—just like Claire. I don’t know what to think. It seems that no matter whether our parents spent their time attempting to prompt us to follow their path or push us away from the life they led, we all ended up in the same place. All I do know is that I do not want that same fate for my children or yours.”
“Neither do I. I need you to be open with me—tell me everything, even if you think it’s irrelevant. Everything.”
Jane nodded. “What do you want to know?”
“Let’s start with what you know about Gordon Brandt?”
“The Deputy Defense Secretary?”
“Him.”
“Not much. I do know that he worked for Matt when he was first at the Pentagon.”
“Matt? As in your brother, Matt?”
“It was years ago, Alex. It might not indicate anything at all.”
“Unfortunately, I think it does. Do you know Brandt’s roots—at all?”
“Other than the fact that he worked in Matt’s office when he was young, I don’t know much. I can certainly find out.”
“What about Kaliningrad? Claire is determined to make her way there later this week. Any chance that you—”
“I don’t have any influence with Kapralov’s government. None. Have you asked Jim?”
“Same answer you just gave.”
Jane frowned.
“You don’t believe him,” Alex surmised.
“I believe that he doesn’t have influence. Jim managed to survive out there for two decades. He didn’t do that alone.”
Alex’s head throbbed. No, he didn’t.
“I’ll dig into the weeds and see what assets we have in the area. Reliability might prove an issue. Gregorovich does not play by the same rules Kargen and Ivanov did.”
“Which means?”
“He has no connection to anyone in our alliance—not formally. It might be a good time to reach out to Edmond.”
“Any particular reason?”
“Edmond was closest to the Russian contingent,” Jane explained. “Most of ASA’s global operations are in Europe and Asia, not North America. Technologie Applique partnered on many of those ventures. He dealt with Viktor more than anyone in the Collaborative. Have Jonathan talk to Edmond.”
Alex groaned.
“Problem?”
“No. El has kept her distance from Edmond.”
“I’m aware. Maybe it’s time to bridge the gap,” Jane replied. “Not just for the sake of information.”
Edmond Callier had served as Jonathan Krause’s mentor. Krause considered the man a friend. That friendship was complicated. Callier was also Krause’s father-in-law. Eleana continued to struggle with the knowledge of her father’s past deeds, and his alliance with Admiral William Brackett. Alex wasn’t sure Eleana would ever forgive her father or Jim McCollum for the parts they played in covering up the murder of Claire’s mother. That event had destroyed the girl Eleana knew as Claire Brackett. While Claire sought to bury the past and ignore it, Eleana sought to avenge the wrongdoings of their fathers. “I’m not sure Eleana will ever forgive her father or Cassidy’s,” Alex said.
“Only one thing hurts more than being deceived.”
“What’s that?”
“Watching someone you love destroyed,” Jane replied.
If anyone understood what it felt like to witness the destruction of a person whom they loved, it was Jane Merrow. She’s watched her husband wrestle with guilt for years. John Merrow made the decision to let his conscience dictate his actions as president. That choice secured his fate. Despite any issues in their marriage, Jane and John Merrow always remained best friends. Their connection and their affection for one another had never wavered. In many ways, their relationship mirrored Claire and Eleana’s. Friends since childhood, lovers for a time, and always devoted to the other. Alex could even see similarities with Cassidy and her mother. Rose would always be more than a parent to Cassidy. She was Cassidy’s best friend. It wasn’t the loss of her father that continued to keep a wedge between Cassidy and her father. It was Rose’s loss of her husband. It was the pain Cassidy witnessed as a child; her mother crying through the night when she thought Cassidy was asleep. Alex understood. She couldn’t bear to see the people she loved in pain—shattered. It hurt her more than any bullet, bruise, or piece of shrapnel ever had.
“I know what you are thinking,” Jane said. “We all share that in common, don’t we? We’ve all been forced to watch someone we love torn to pieces by someone they love. Trust me, Alex. Edmond is the best resource you will find if you want more information on Kaliningrad. He’s always had a soft-spot for Jonathan. Start there.”
Alex nodded. “Pandora’s Box,” she uttered.
“That it is.”
LODZ, POLAND
Claire was content to walk with Eleana in silence. She’d visited Poland a handful of times. She’d never taken the time to immerse herself in the history or culture of the places she traveled. She went where she was told when it was necessary. Sight-seeing had never been her purpose. She watched Eleana’s gaze as it traveled along the buildings in the city. Wonderment painted Eleana’s brown irises. Claire envied that in her friend. She saw a similar childlike expression in Mackenzie and the twins, and she even noted it in Cassidy from time to time. She couldn’t imagine how Eleana and Cassidy managed to see the world through rose-colored glasses. “You really are something else,” she commented.
“Me?” Eleana asked.
“Yes, you.”
“Is that a bad thing or a good thing?”
Claire shrugged. “Maybe just a thing,” she replied.
“I’m not sure I want to know what brought that comment about.”
“How do you do it?”
“What did I do?” Eleana asked.
“Look at the world like it is full of possibility.”
“It is.”
Claire shook her head with disbelief. How could anyone who had seen what she had—what Eleana had witnessed believe that life was anything but a mess?
“Look,” Eleana instructed Claire. “Look around.”
“What am I looking at?” Claire asked.
“Everything. Look at the buildings—the pe
ople in the street. Imagine that some of these buildings have seen people as they passed for centuries.”
“And?”
Eleana stopped walking and grabbed hold of Claire’s arms. “Look.” She directed Claire to look ahead. A young man was holding the hand of a little boy and pointing at one of the buildings. “Don’t you remember when we were kids?”
Claire had two lives; the life she led before her mother’s death and the life she was given after. She tried not to think about her childhood. Claire spent years looking back. It was always Eleana that she remembered. Now, those memories seemed determined to conjure regret and pain. She preferred to live in the present. The past was gone, and the future was uncertain. Hopefulness was too fragile an indulgence in Claire Brackett’s book, and reminiscing too painful. “I remember,” Claire said flatly.
Eleana looked at the little boy again. “You were like that once.”
“Like what?”
“Curious and excited about everything,” Eleana replied.
“I’m still curious.”
Sadness welled in Eleana’s veins. She looked at Claire who would not meet her gaze. Typical. Eleana didn’t require an explanation. Claire couldn’t disguise her fear, regret, or her longing from Eleana. It made Eleana’s heart ache. They had both moved forward with their lives. Claire shared her life with Charlie Hawkins. Eleana was confident that Claire loved Hawk. Eleana loved Jonathan Krause. Looking at Claire, the truth became undeniable. She could love another. Claire could love another. Claire Brackett would always be the love of Eleana’s life. If soul mates existed, Claire was hers. Too much had transpired for them to build a life together. If only that stopped Eleana from loving Claire. She took a deep breath and took Claire’s hand. “Let’s keep walking.”
“Who is this mysterious person you want me to meet?” Claire asked. “I don’t mean his resume.”
“Filip is a friend.”
“Like Illya?”
“Yes and no,” Eleana replied. “Illya became a friend through the work that we both did when I was in Belarus. Filip is a friend.”
“Who has helped you.”
“Yes, but he isn’t part of any organization. That’s what I value most about what he offers.”
“So, he’s what? A historian or something?”
“Or something,” Eleana began. “He grew up in Lodz.”
“And?”
“It’s his story, Claire. All I will tell you is that he has a different view of the world than most people I know.”
“I think we have a pretty different view than most people.”
“True,” Eleana conceded. “Just wait. Talk to Filip. Trust me; Claire.”
“I trust you more than anyone.”
Eleana’s heart skipped several beats. I know you do.
WESTPORT, CONNECTICUT
Dylan walked into the kitchen and stopped. Alex sat at the table with her face in her hands. Her laptop was open. A full glass of soda sat beside her left arm. He debated whether he should disturb her. She stirred slightly. “Alex?”
Lost to her thoughts, Alex made no comment.
“Mom?” Dylan called again.
Alex dropped her hands and met Dylan’s worried gaze. She smiled half-heartedly. “Sorry, I didn’t hear you.”
“It’s okay. Are you—okay?” Dylan asked.
“Tired,” Alex replied.
“Somehow, I think it might be more than that.”
Alex closed her laptop and gestured for Dylan to take a seat. “I’m all right. Work stuff. How are you?”
“I still haven’t talked to Maggie, if that’s what you mean.”
Alex nodded.
“You think I should,” Dylan said.
“What I think isn’t important.”
“It is to me,” he replied softly.
“You need to handle this the way that feels best for you,” Alex said. “But, I think you need to talk to her, Dylan.”
“She doesn’t want to talk to me.”
“I doubt that’s true. She’s probably afraid to talk to you.”
“Maybe.” Dylan could tell that Alex was worried about something other than his relationship issues. “Alex?” He began cautiously. “You don’t have to tell me anything. Is everything okay?”
“Everything is okay.”
“I hope you won’t get mad when I tell you I think you’re full of it.”
Alex laughed. “Maybe I am. Just a case that feels never ending,” she told him.
“For the FBI?”
Alex only smiled.
“That’s what I thought. Are you worried about Mom?”
“Mom? Why would I worry about Mom?”
“I don’t know.”
“Dylan?”
“I just noticed that you’ve been out with Grandpa a couple of times.”
Alex sucked in a deep breath. She often lost sight of the fact that Dylan wasn’t a little boy. He was a young man; a young, observant, and perceptive man. She was tempted to explain her recent one-on-one time with Cassidy’s father as benign. Dylan would accept her explanation. He would also see through it. “I had some questions,” Alex said.
“About when he was gone?”
“About a lot of things.”
“Did he have answers?”
“Some.”
“Not that satisfied you,” Dylan guessed.
“I don’t think he’s told me everything he can,” Alex replied honestly.
“Can I ask you something?”
“Go ahead.”
“Do you think that he told you the truth about why he left Mom and Grandma?”
“I do,” Alex said.
“Really?”
“I think it’s his truth,” Alex replied.
“You make it sound like there is more than one version of the truth.”
Alex wasn’t certain how she should respond. She would love to claim that the world was black and white; maybe even that it existed in shades of gray. The world was a confusing array of color. Perception colored truth. She understood that more now than ever. Claire and Cassidy challenged her to see things she preferred to ignore. Experience, emotion, and education all effected perception. Jim McCollum believed that he’d made the only decision he could to protect his family. Whether he’d spent years convincing himself that narrative was true, or whether he had held to that conviction from the beginning, Alex couldn’t say. She was sure that he believed it. It wasn’t unlike Dylan’s dilemma. Alex and Cassidy talked about Maggie’s decision to terminate a pregnancy without informing Dylan for hours. Alex was inclined to see Maggie’s actions as a betrayal. Cassidy framed the situation differently. Cassidy didn’t condone what happened. She was able to view it through a clear lens—much clearer than the one Alex or Dylan looked through. Alex had learned to listen to Cassidy. Cassidy listened carefully before she responded to a situation. Alex continued to marvel at her wife’s ability to step back and put herself in someone else’s shoes. She guessed that it would surprise most people to realize that Claire Brackett possessed that same ability. Neither Claire nor Cassidy afforded themselves the same latitude they granted others. “Version of the truth?” Alex shook her head. “There are facts and there are truths.”
“What’s the difference?”
“There’s a big difference,” Alex said. She noted Dylan’s skepticism. “I know what you think. I used to think the same way. Black and white. Facts are not the same as truths.”
“That doesn’t make sense.”
“No? Sure, it does. Look at what you are facing with Maggie.”
Dylan flinched.
“Hear me out,” Alex requested. “There are facts and there are truths. Maggie kept something important from you. That’s a fact. Maggie made a decision that affects you without consulting you. That’s a fact.”
“Exactly.”
“Mm. It’s also a fact that you’ve made it clear for years that graduation from the Naval Academy is your dream.”
“That doesn’t—�
�
“Let me finish,” Alex said. “It’s also a fact that you are pursuing that dream. Maggie chose school here in the state. You chose to move away. You both chose to stay together. And, you both chose to have a sexual relationship.”
“That doesn’t give her the right to lie to me.”
“No. But from her perspective, Dylan, she protected you.”
“By lying to me?”
“Maybe.”
“That’s bullshit!”
“You accept your grandfather’s explanation for lying to your mom and grandma.”
“That’s different. He thought they might get hurt.”
“And Maggie knew that no matter what she did you would be hurt. So, she did what she thought would hurt you less.”
“It’s not the same thing.”
“It is the same. Sometimes, we cause intense pain for others with the best of intentions, Dylan. Sometimes, we hurt people by our carelessness or our need to protect ourselves. I’m not telling you it is right. I am telling you that facts and truth are not always the same thing.”
“Then why worry about facts?”
“Because they are a barometer for truth. But facts are only the beginning of the story. I’ve been investigating crimes for twenty years. I uncover evidence. Evidence is meaningless without context.”
Dylan considered Alex’s explanation silently.
“I wish it were always black and white. People aren’t that rational,” Alex offered.
“Then how do you convict anyone?” Dylan asked.
“Good question,” Alex admitted. “Facts do matter, Dylan—so do intentions.”
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