The White Iris

by Susanne Matthews

  “And the village?” she asked, her voice filled with hopefulness.

  “The one inland is okay, and while they’re grieving, they’ll manage.” He saw the relief on her face but knew it would vanish with his next words. “There’s nothing left of the fishing camp. The men will try to recover what they can, but the fire burned hot. It was definitely arson and had nothing to do with the storm.”

  “Damn. I have news, too,” she said, worry etched on her face. “I’ve been able to get enough virus from Maggie’s spinal tap for cultures, and now it’s a waiting game. I have something else to tell you, something I wanted to discuss with you earlier.”

  Before Trevor could comment, Cassie stood.

  “My cue to exit,” Cassie said. “I’ll see you at the house. Hope’s stroller is over there. It’s nice out. You can walk her home.”

  “Okay, what do you need to tell me that has Cassie so diplomatically heading for the hills?”

  He was pretty damn sure whatever it was, he wasn’t going to like it one damn bit.

  Chapter Twenty

  Julie lifted Hope onto her shoulder to burp her, almost as if she were using the child as a shield.

  Damn, how bad was this going to be?

  “A week after you came to Atlanta,” Julie began, and she slowly told him about the missing and then reappearing pathogens.

  “You’ve known this for weeks, and you didn’t say a thing? I don’t get it. That was exactly the kind of thing I asked you and Brad to do back in July—anything unusual.” He ran his hand through his hair and paced. “Damn it. We could’ve been working on a vaccine for months now. What the hell were you thinking?”

  “The same frigging thing you are, but Brad did report it,” she said testily, carrying the sleeping child to her small crib. “He did what he was supposed to do, so if you want to blame someone for keeping you out of the loop, blame L.D. Hamilton.”

  “L.D. Hamilton? What the hell does that son of a bitch have to do with this?”

  “Everything. Chain of command, something you should be familiar with. Brad told L.D. and he took it to POTUS. The president called it a matter of national security and issued a gag order. A day later Ellie and Brad were killed. I waited for you to contact me. Since I wasn’t supposed to know a damn thing about it, I couldn’t exactly shout it from the rooftops. I gave you every opportunity to tell me you knew about those vials, but when you didn’t mention them, I didn’t, either. Honesty and trust aren’t exactly our strong points, are they?” Her voice dripped with sarcasm.

  Trevor dropped onto the couch. After all this, after he’d risked his career to come out here and protect her, she’d still been withholding vital information.

  And she has the nerve to throw “honesty” and “trust” in my face?

  “You should’ve confided in me. Goddammit! I might not have been honest in the past about everything, but I gave you full disclosure about this case. Do you realize how close you came to getting yourself killed? Someone figured it out, Julie. That’s why they were tailing you. Those men we saw outside the restaurant … You could’ve told me you were being followed without mentioning the damn vials. Maybe if you had, Lenore would still be alive.”

  She blanched, her hands curling into fists. Tears teemed in her eyes.

  “Julie, forget I said that. I’m sorry.”

  “No, you’re right, and I’ve already accepted responsibility for her death, but trust is a two-way street, Special Agent Clark,” she said angrily, swiping at the moisture on her cheek.

  “It is, and this time, I’m not the one who lacked faith.” He stood, moving to the other side of the room. He was hurt, angry, and frustrated. “There really is no hope for us.” He shook his head. “We’re destined to go ’round and ’round on this ride whenever we’re together, and there isn’t a damn thing we can do about it. If you can figure out what the virus is, will you be able to stop it?”

  “I hope so,” she said, subdued, all the fight gone out of her. “That’s what the cultures are for. I think he may have done a little bioengineering on it, but once I have it, I’m certain I can break it down. It’s time we left here. Cassie will be wondering where we are.”

  “You’re right, but there’s something you need to know. I don’t believe L.D. Hamilton has shared this information with anyone; in fact, since I think he’s implicated up to his eyeballs in this, maybe he hasn’t even told the president, and the whole gag order was a sham.”

  What little color she had left vanished, her skin almost translucent.

  “But why? What would L.D. Hamilton gain by killing thousands?”

  “I thought about it on the flight out here. The Prophet’s insane, but he’s shrewd enough not to get caught. Someone’s been funding him and his cult. L.D. Hamilton is a rich, overblown windbag. He makes grandiose gestures—he wants to be remembered. He works for the president, but he doesn’t respect him. Hell, I don’t think he agrees with half of what this country stands for. He’s got money but not ultimate power. Suppose he goes along with the Prophet, supports his crazy ideas, lets the guy think he’s a believer, but L.D. doesn’t believe in anything but himself. This virus is the ultimate power trip—just how much money would he make if he came up with the vaccine within weeks of the outbreak? He’d be the nation’s savior, a hero. He could ride that ticket all the way to the Oval Office and then turn on the Prophet.”

  Trevor watched the horror on her face grow.

  “So you were holding out on me, too.” She shook her head. “You’re right. We don’t have a hope in hell when it comes to being a couple. Do you really think this is about money and power? But hundreds, thousands could die.”

  “It’s always about money and power. Converting souls wasn’t the only reason the Spaniards came to America. Hamilton wouldn’t be the first man to rise to prominence on a sea of blood and bodies. The man’s hiding something. He’s a snake, a user who thinks he’s better than anyone else. I’ll bet the Prophet thinks he’s using L.D., but it’s the other way around, and I intend to take them both down. All I have to do is prove it.”

  “God, I hope you’re wrong. If what you suspect is true, they’re both insane. I have to figure this out soon before more people die.”

  “I may be able to help. Cartwright at Homeland Security has intercepted another batch of vaccine headed to Nome. I’ll have him send it here. If there’s a tainted vial in it, it may help you work out a vaccine faster. I’d love to steal L.D.’s thunder.”

  “If there’s a vial of virus, it could speed things up by weeks, and I have Hope’s antigens to work with, too.”

  “Then let’s take our ‘daughter’ and get out of here.”

  The last thing he wanted was to pretend they were a happy family, but that was part of the job he had to do, and come hell or high water, he’d do it.

  • • •

  By the end of the week, Julie was so strung out, it wouldn’t take much for her to break down completely. The lab work was moving slowly, way too slowly, and while the cultures needed time to grow, waiting for them was hell. By far, the worst of it was interacting with Trevor in front of others, pretending everything between them was fine, when it was anything but. Each casual smile and touch was agony. She doubted they’d spent any more than five minutes alone in five days.

  His accusations about withholding the truth about the vials had hit home. If she’d called him that day, maybe Lenore’s wouldn’t have been the only life spared. If the theft had been front and center, whoever was behind this wouldn’t have had time to orchestrate what she was sure had been a hit on Ellie and Brad. She had full disclosure in matters relating to the case, and yet whatever had kept him away from Carson Creek was a huge chasm of secrecy between them. How ironic.

  She hadn’t been sleeping well again. Instead of the nightmares she’d had in Atlanta, lying in her bed across the hall from him, a distance that might as well have been a million miles, she replayed the argument in her head, hearing the devastation in his voic
e when he realized she hadn’t trusted him. She’d been confused about the vials, but when it came to his job, she had faith in his abilities to protect her and Hope.

  More often than not, in her dreams, the fight ended differently, with him taking her into his arms for one of their infamous makeup sex sessions. Her body remembered his touch, his taste, and the sensations coursed through her, but the dream dissolved too soon, leaving her frustrated and in tears. It would take a miracle to repair their personal relationship, even to the level of a purely sexual one, and she was fresh out of those.

  Handing Hope to Ariel, she smiled wearily. “You’re sure you don’t mind babysitting for an hour or so?”

  “Don’t worry, Aunt Julie. I’ve gotten really good at this.”

  “I’m right here if she runs into trouble,” Cassie said. “Go. Do your thing. Dinner will be ready when you are.”

  Julie nodded. “I’m just going for a walk. I need to get some air, clear my head. I haven’t been sleeping well. Maybe this will help.”

  “Mind if I come with you?” Trevor asked, stepping into the kitchen.

  Was he psychic? Did he know she longed to set aside their differences and be friends again?—well, friends with benefits, but she knew that wouldn’t happen.

  “I’m in the mood for a milk shake, and Luke told me there’s a dairy bar not too far from here. I’ve got some good news.”

  If he’s offering an olive branch, I’m not going to turn him down.

  Anything that might alleviate the tension between them was welcome.

  “I haven’t had a milk shake in ages. You’re on.”

  The evening was crisp and clear, and Julie was glad she’d grabbed her fleece jacket.

  “How about we hold hands? We’re supposed to be a happy couple with a new baby. We need to look like it,” he said, nodding to Cassie’s neighbor, who came toward them.

  He reached for her hand, and she was about to protest when a couple of Coasties walked by and said hello.

  Work. This is all about work, and appearances are everything.

  “Julie, can we bury the hatchet?” he asked, surprising her. “I’m sorry I got so upset the other day. I overreacted. I said things I shouldn’t have said, words I regret. I just thought we’d gotten past the trust issue, and realizing you hadn’t confided in me about something that critical brought it all back. I’ve burned my bridges in this relationship, I know that, but the other day when I arrived, I thought we’d managed to be friends again.”

  “I’m sorry I didn’t mention the vials. I realize things could’ve been a lot different if I had…”

  “Don’t beat yourself up about it. We can’t predict the future. Who knows, if you’d called me that day, things could’ve been a whole lot worse.” He squeezed her hand. “Friends?”

  “Friends.” It should make her feel better, but it didn’t.

  “I’ve had a chance to get a good look at this place and it’s incredible,” he said, changing the topic, and she relaxed.

  “It reminds me of home,” she conceded, ignoring the heat coursing through her where their palms touched. “The air is fresh, not clogged with the smell of gasoline, garbage, and whatever other noxious aromas there are in Atlanta. I guess that’s why I enjoyed camping so much. Ellie and I went a few times. The last time we did was the day you came to Atlanta in July. We watched the meteor shower that night. Brad came with us. He bought me my own tent. Good thing, because it would’ve been awkward sharing ours with the two of them … Keith and Colleen came to the memorial service.”

  “Do you remember the first time we went camping and Colleen found that turtle?”

  “Oh God, yes. She was so excited. I thought she was a seasoned camper. You asked her if it was a painted turtle, and she got all serious and said no, it was a real one. I almost peed my pants.”

  Trevor laughed. “She can be so naïve. What about the time she decided to take the dog out with them in the canoe and the dog jumped out?”

  “She jumped out after it, almost tipping them over. I’ve never seen Keith so angry. I’m amazed he even talked to her that night.” Julie laughed. “We had some good times together, didn’t we? We’re here,” she said indicating the dairy bar.

  “What flavor?” he asked.

  “Chocolate, but can we share one? I don’t want to spoil my supper.”

  “You’ve got it.”

  Moments later, he was back with two small plastic cups.

  “I figured you’d prefer this to a large one with two straws.”

  She nodded, reminded that they were only friends and any intimacy between them was make-believe.

  “So, what’s the good news, or was that just an excuse to talk to me?”

  “A bit of both. Luke and I went to see Shirley. She’s enjoying her ‘spa vacation,’ as she calls it, but is getting antsy to leave. I still think it’s too dangerous to let her go. We showed her the picture IDs and she verified all of them were at the camp when she delivered Maggie and the baby, but when we showed her Mr. X, she had no idea who he was.”

  “Could he have come from one of the fishing boats?

  “Maybe, but he doesn’t show up in AFIS, and we’ve run facial recognition and nada. Tomorrow, we plan to broaden the database. We’ve contacted the RCMP. It’s possible he’s a Canadian.”

  “Finding out who he is will be critical. For some reason, the virus hit him a hell of a lot harder than it did Felix and Maggie. With no other bodies to test … I need to know where he came from.”

  They finished the milk shake and returned to the house. By the time they arrived, she felt better than she had in days. They’d never be the couple they’d been, but perhaps in time, once the Prophet was in jail, L.D. was neutralized, and the threat of the Great Burning was gone, she could look to the future. With luck, she’d have Hope, and if Trevor was there on the fringes, life might not be so bad after all.

  • • •

  In two weeks, Hope had wormed her way into everyone’s heart, and as the days passed, Julie knew it would kill her to have to give up the child as well as the easy camaraderie she and Trevor had established. Nana had always said that life was meant to be shared, and the thought of being alone in a few weeks or months was too painful to dwell on.

  “We shouldn’t be long,” she said, handing the baby to Cassie.

  She hurried down the steps to the basement apartment they occupied. By the time she reached the table, Trevor had everything under control.

  Of course he does. He’s back in case mode.

  To be fair, he’d kept her in the loop and had gone out of his way to make her feel a valuable part of the team. She’d even spoken to Faye, Rob’s wife, when Trevor had called Australia to bounce his theory about L.D. Hamilton off of her. For the first time, she understood how much his work meant to him. Maybe she shouldn’t have dismissed its importance two years ago. She wished they could talk about what had happened, but other than sharing anecdotes about their camping trips with Colleen and Keith, their past was a closed book.

  “Sit here,” he said, smiling at her. “It’s cool down here. I’ve turned on the heat, but I was later getting back tonight than I expected. How’d it go at the lab?”

  “I started a few new cultures. I’m having some luck breaking down the virus and separating the RNA, but I can’t identify that third part.”

  A chime sounded from the computer, indicating Boston was signing on. Within minutes they were joined by Jacob and Lilith from Reno, and Cartwright in D.C.

  “Good afternoon, or evening as the case may be. I suppose you’re all getting ready for this year’s Halloween craziness,” Trevor said. “It’s only a couple of days away.”

  “My kids have been on a sugar high for a week,” Cartwright said and laughed. “As far as the nation goes—we haven’t gone up to yellow alert yet, so that’s a good thing. Now, if it just stays that way, I’ll be happy. I moved Mitchell and Parsons to a more secure location. We’ve got them on suicide watch and in solitary. Ne
ither of them seems to know much, but Mitchell admits to giving Felix and Joe their flu shots—he doesn’t seem to realize what he’s done. Parsons doesn’t know anything, but we subpoenaed his flight logs. He’s made a lot of flights to a new research facility in the Misty Fjord Monument in late August–early September, and he had a regular cargo run scheduled for the rest of the year. We’ve got one of our guys doing it, looking for anything suspicious. So far, all he’s seen are the half-dozen men who unload the stuff, but he’s convinced there have to be more people in the area. There’s a couple of Quonset huts set up and that’s it, but it’s a White Iris Petroleum project, so we’ll sit on it, like we are sitting on everything else that company touches.”

  Julie watched Trevor as he took notes, interacted with his team members, and occasionally with her as general information was bandied back and forth. He was focused, driven to find the answers. Time was running out, and they all knew it. While they hadn’t found any more bodies, she was convinced the worst was yet to come.

  “What about you, Jim?” Trevor asked McNamara, who now chaired the Boston team. “How are things going?”

  “It’s quiet, but we’re definitely on yellow, maybe even leaning toward orange, but we’d be that way regardless of any threats by the Prophet. A two-night Halloween is hell—costumed drunks who think they can get away with anything. As far as this case is concerned, Declan’s been working with the cyber unit, monitoring social media, but he hasn’t found a call to arms similar to the one we eventually found for those boys arrested in September in Vermont. I don’t like it. Something’s up. The month the Prophet gave us ends in five days, and there’s been nothing.”

  “We didn’t get any warning before the first plague,” Trevor pointed out.

  “I know,” McNamara said, “but not knowing what’s coming next is killing me. He didn’t mention the fourth plague, but I’ve looked it up. It’s flies.”

  “Your friend L.D. Hamilton showed up at the mayor’s office on Monday, and I got called in. He wanted an update on the case. When O’Connor made it clear Boston wasn’t going to negotiate or make any deals with a terrorist, Hamilton got angry and pulled a Pontius Pilate and washed his hands of it, saying there was nothing he could do if the city wouldn’t help itself. You’ve pegged him, Trevor. He certainly sounded like someone’s mouthpiece. I don’t get it. For years, that guy’s done nothing but kiss ass and fork out money to get to where he is, and now he’s willing to toss it all away for some lunatic with delusions of grandeur.”