Alone. Alex… she thought, and waited to see what feelings bubbled up. There was still anger, and loss, and self-recrimination, but the balance had shifted subtly over the course of the day. In the hours that had ensued since Paul Wingate’s early-morning visit, she’d had the sneaking suspicion that maybe she’d overreacted.
He’d gone into Paul’s office, she reminded herself. He’d broken into the desk when he’d specifically promised her he wouldn’t. He’d broken his word. On the other hand, he’d only done it once he’d discovered the real statue was at risk, and done it because Paul was coming into the lab and he didn’t have a choice.
But now Paul was gone, escaped precisely because of Alex’s showboating. Then again, given the way their morning had played out, Alex was right—Paul would very likely have escaped long before they’d managed to convince security to detain him. The only real difference in the outcome, now that she thought about it, was that the museum still had the statue, whereas otherwise it would have been out of the country by now.
All things considered, Alex had been something of a hero.
All things considered, Julia had been something of a horse’s ass.
She made a noise of frustration and started down the hall to the waiting room.
All things considered, she owed Alex an apology. Not that he probably wanted to hear it from her, after the way she’d treated him. She’d deal with it tomorrow. First things first, she’d get home, brush her teeth—bliss—take a shower, sleep until she woke up.
And maybe call Alex that night, just to get it over with. But the toothbrush, shower, and bed experience were crucial. At least the toothbrush and the shower. Maybe she’d do that, then call him, then sleep.
Or, she thought, fumbling for her cell phone, she could just—
Walk across the waiting room and tap him on the shoulder.
Alex sat in the corner, head tipped back against the wall, eyes closed. He looked rumpled and exhausted, jaw dark with a three-day beard, circles under his eyes. He could have been home hours before. He’d stayed, she realized, stunned.
He’d stayed for her.
She crossed the room to stand next to him and swallowed. Tap him on the shoulder? Sit beside him? Say his name? Tentatively, she reached out a hand just as a couple of uniformed cops came out the door she’d just left, honking in laughter. Alex started, eyes opening, turning to look at the source of the noise. Turning to look at her.
And he smiled, making Julia’s heart do a lazy flip-flop.
“Hey,” he said.
She moistened her lips. “Hey, yourself. What are you doing here?”
He sat up and scrubbed his hands through his hair. “I figured I’d wait for you, make sure everything came out okay. I take it everything did?”
“All done.” She held out her wrists. “The handcuffs didn’t even leave a mark, look.”
“Wow, that ten-year sentence went by quick.”
“They gave me time off for good behavior. Speaking of which…”
“Yeah?”
She took a glance around, noticing the handful of people waiting. “Can we go outside?”
“Sure.” He rose and they began walking to the exit. Outside, the afternoon was warm, with a light breeze sending clouds scudding across an impossibly blue sky. Alex stopped. “Okay. So what did you want to say?”
She took a breath. “I owe you an apology about this morning. I’m sorry I flew off the handle and accused you of…”
“Oh, crimes of state? Babynapping? Consorting with wild animals?”
She flushed. “Look, I’ve had time to cool down and think about it and I realize that you did what you had to do. I wish it hadn’t worked out that way, but the museum’s better off for it.”
He looked at her steadily, not saying anything.
“I shouldn’t have lost my temper. You didn’t deserve it. I was just worried about everything and upset and I didn’t understand what had happened. I should have listened better.” She paused expectantly. Why didn’t he say something, dammit? Was it possible he was still furious with her? Was it possible he’d actually been hanging around for some totally different reason? “Anyway,” she blurted, “I’m an idiot and I apologize. But I’m sure you want to get home so I’ll, um, I’ll just get out of your hair now and let you—”
“The hell you will,” he said. “Why do you think I stayed?”
“Oh, well, I didn’t—”
“I was waiting for you.” He caught at her hands and turned her toward him. “To try to talk one more time. I feel like crap about what happened in the lab. I hated going against my word like that, I hated it, but I felt like it was the only choice I had. I know this sounds ridiculous after what’s just happened, but under normal circumstances, when I give my word, I keep it.”
“I know that,” she said, realizing that as she said it, she did. “I learned a few things this weekend, Alex. About myself and about you. I’ve made assumptions about who you are and they were wrong. It’s time to throw them all out and focus on learning who you really are. And I’m wondering….”
“Yes?” His eyes were nearly incandescent.
“I’m wondering if you meant some of the things you said last night. About us.”
His eyes were steady. “I meant them. Did you?”
“Yes, I did. But I’m thinking now that what we really need to do is just start all over. From the beginning. No assumptions, no biases, just you and me, taking each other at face value, like we’ve never met before.”
“I’d be happy to take you at face value,” he said, looking her up and down, “but it’s what’s behind the face I’m most interested in.”
Julia swallowed and stuck out her hand. “I’m Julia Covington. Nice to meet you.”
“I’m Alex Spencer,” he said, taking her hand in his.
“I don’t suppose by any chance you’d like to go get some coffee, would you?” she asked him.
He laughed and pulled her into his arms. “I’d love to.”
Epilogue
Tuesday, May 9, 1:00 a.m.
RAIN STREAKED THE WINDOWS of the car as it lurched over potholes and uneven pavement. The road—if you could call it that, was unmarked and dark; no one worried about streetlights, not here where the only after-dark pedestrians were the security guards who walked the wharves. Beyond, over on the water, the shadowy bulk of freighters rose like ghost ships in the night.
They were far from the fashionable addresses, with their glossy tenants and glossier rents. This stretch of waterfront was strictly utilitarian. Oil slicked the dark water, a toxic soup perfumed with the twin stenches of diesel fuel and rotting fish.
Allard sat in the backseat, the taste of hopelessness gritty in his mouth. Plastic zip strips bound his wrists and ankles. Renouf’s men sat in the front seat, the tall one looking back with the gun to cover him. There would be no escape from these men, he understood that now.
Just as the mouse, long ago, had in the end succumbed to the cobra, so, too, he would succumb.
As they turned the final corner, he saw the gleam of eyes staring at him from beside a pile of rubbish. A cat, crouched in the night, eyes red in the reflected light.
And in a kind of helpless resignation, Jean Luc Allard was about to meet his doom.
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CAUGHT
Copyright © 2006 by Kristin Lewotsky.
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Caught Page 21