by Matt Lincoln
“Jump!” I shouted, running for the edge of the railing.
Rachel tightened her grip on Malia while Ramirez bent at the knees and slung Ward’s still form over his shoulder, and then we jumped as a group, flinging ourselves as far away from the ship as we could. My arms windmilled, trying to carry me forward that extra bit, and then I hit the water with a mighty splash, the cold slicing through me.
The water burned my broken nose but washed the blood away as I plunged down, down, down into the dark, losing sight of the others. Immediately, I kicked away from the boat, still submerged, wanting to be as far away from it as possible before it blew, trusting my friends to know to do the same.
I’d lost track of the seconds, and the explosion came sooner than I expected. With my head beneath the water, the sound of it was muted, a dull thump rather than a powerful boom, but a second later, I felt the shock-wave and rush of heat against my back, shoving me forward through the water in an uncontrollable tumble. Bubbles burst all around me, and there was a great flash of light from behind me, and moments later, pieces of rubble began to rain down into the ocean. They left white bubble trails behind them, and I swam deeper to avoid them, my heart thundering in my chest as my ears rang from the sudden shift in pressure.
With the fire lighting the water, I cast around for my friends. I spotted each one of them arrayed in an uneven line around me, all of them moving, though Ramirez was floundering under his burden. I kicked toward him, lungs already beginning to burn. I grabbed one of Ward’s arms, and together, Ramirez and I pushed for the surface. The ship’s rubble was no longer falling around us, so I figured we were safe.
My head broke through the water, and the heat of the burning boat hit me like a slap, immediately drying the droplets on my skin. Treading water, I spun to look at the destroyed yacht, Ramirez and I awkwardly supporting Ward between us. Flames leapt toward the night sky even as they died, the boat sinking bit by inexorable bit. There wasn’t much of it left. Most of the ship was scattered all around us, trapped in a slow fall toward the ocean floor.
Other heads broke the surface around us. Lex, then Graham, and finally, Rachel and Malia, the two of them clutching each other close. We formed a little cluster while we waited for Linda, Meg, and Cal to come and retrieve us, warmed by the flames licking off the decimated boat, which floated as a bright beacon against the dark sky until it finally gave up the ghost and slipped silently beneath the waves.
30
All of us agents, Marshal Graham, Linda, and Meg, sat in the MBLIS conference room with the heater going full blast, wrapped in soft sweats and blankets as we shivered and tried to dry off and warm up. Malia sat in a chair with her mother, and Rachel hadn’t let her go since Linda and Meg had fished us out of the ocean. The little girl was pale and silent, watching the group with wide eyes while Rachel ran her fingers endlessly through her damp hair and pressed kisses to the back of her head. There was food scattered across the table, though most of it was untouched since we’d yet to regain our appetites.
A medic, called by Barrett, had met us at the dock when we cruised in, and she set my nose and checked over Malia, though Rachel wouldn’t allow her daughter to be carted away to the hospital. Since Malia clearly wasn’t physically hurt, the EMT had relented, no doubt scared of Rachel’s intensity. My nose felt swollen and hot, even after being set, and there was white tape strung across it. I struggled to keep from picking or scratching at it while we sat around the table, staring at each other, and Meg reached out and took my hand to keep me away from my nose. Ward was upstairs in an interrogation room, still wet, where we were letting him stew before Graham went to interrogation. She would take him back to jail in Texas and put him under maximum security.
“It’s okay if you don’t want to talk,” Rachel was saying to Malia when I zoned back into what was going on into the room, Meg’s fingers warm on mine. “I get it. I won’t push. Just know that you’re safe now, honey. I’m here, I’m with you, and that bad man won’t get anywhere near you ever again, okay?”
Malia nodded and turned her face to bury it in Rachel’s chest, hands clutching Rachel’s shirt. Tears dripped down Rachel’s face and into Malia’s hair as she rested her head on top of her daughter’s, squeezing her eyes shut.
I was exhausted all the way down to my bones, we all were, but Malia’s father was en route from the safe house, and we’d all agreed to wait for his arrival before we did anything else. My eyes kept threatening to slip shut. Now that the adrenaline was gone, my body clamored for sleep, and I was more than half-inclined to indulge it.
The bell by the front door rang twice, each burst sharp and short. Rachel’s head snapped up, and her daughter stirred against her at the sudden movement.
“I’ll get it,” I groaned and heaved myself up from my chair, every muscle protesting. Meg squeezed my hand once and then let go, turning to speak quietly with Linda, who sat beside her. I was envious of how dry she, Meg, and Cal were.
I staggered for a few steps before I got my feet under me. The floor still seemed to pitch and sway beneath me as it had out on the water, and I had yet to find my land legs, as Meg had told me the first time she’d watched me stumble across solid ground, grinning all the while. She and Linda had had no trouble adjusting.
By the time I reached the door, my steps were almost steady again, but the walls still swayed slightly in my periphery. I pulled the door open, and Jack Harrison stood on the front step, his police escort parked on the curb behind him. He twisted a baseball cap between his hands, though I didn’t see how that fit with the sweater vest and slacks he was wearing. He clearly hadn’t shaved in a while, his stubble thick and unkempt across his cheeks, and his eyes were bright and red as he looked down at me, his tall shoulders stooped.
“You really found her?” he demanded in a voice that said he barely dared believe it.
I nodded. “Come on in.”
Relief broke out across his face as his shoulders slumped further, and he almost collapsed against the doorframe. I stepped back to allow him to enter after he’d gathered himself and then closed the door behind him. I led Jack into the office and toward the conference room. As soon as he spotted Malia through the glass, he pushed in front of me and rushed through the open door, dropping to his knees beside Rachel’s chair. Malia looked up hesitantly, and Rachel urged her to slip down and hug her father, though she kept a hand on Malia’s shoulder the entire time.
I entered the room quietly and moved to drop into my chair, smiling as I watched the three of them reunite. Meg put her hand on mine again and leaned in.
“You did good work,” she whispered in my ear.
“So did you,” I murmured back, the last of the tension releasing from my spine. Meg lightly pecked me on the cheek, her lips chapped from the night’s constant exposure to the wind and salt of the ocean.
As Jack and Rachel spoke to Malia quietly, the rest of us watched while pretending that we weren’t actually spying on them. It was rare to get such solid and concrete proof of the good we did outside of putting bad guys in jail. So often, we worked after the fact, solving the murder of someone we could no longer save, but here was someone whose life would return to normal because of us, someone who was alive because of our actions. It felt like weights I hadn’t even known were there had lifted off my heart, making me lighter than I’d ever been before.
I glanced over at Lex. She’d been reserved and withdrawn ever since we’d been pulled from the water, and I hoped that seeing this would help bring her back some from wherever dark place she’d gone, but she was staring out the window instead.
I slipped my hand out from under Meg’s and rolled my chair closer to Lex’s, passing Cal on the way, who was busy doing something on their tablet since they weren’t terribly good at sitting in silence. I scooted right up beside Lex and propped my sock-clad feet up on the table, the twin thumps drawing her attention to me.
“How are you doing?” I asked quietly, not wanting to draw Rachel’s atte
ntion away from her daughter.
Lex’s eyes met mine only briefly before they drifted away again, and there was definitely something missing in their dark depths. “I don’t know.”
“You’ve never killed anyone before.”
She shook her head.
“Do you want to talk about it?”
“I don’t know. Not yet maybe. But will you sit with me a while?”
I nodded and offered her a small smile. “Of course.”
I spun my chair, so my arm rested against hers atop the armrest, hoping that the physical weight of it would let her know that I was there. We lapsed into silence, Lex’s eyes floating back to the window. I wished I could tell her that it would be okay or that it would get better or easier, but that simply wouldn’t be true. That feeling just changed, and there was never really any knowing what it would change into.
A few minutes later, Graham stood and cleared her throat, drawing the attention of the room to her. Graham had changed in that short time since Rachel had confronted her and coerced her into letting us on the case. There was still a proud lift to her head, but some of that imperiousness had left her eyes, and her lips curved more easily into a smile as she looked around at us.
“I’m going to go up to speak with Ward soon,” she began once all eyes except for Malia’s were on her. “We don’t need a confession from him given that we caught him red-handed and he escaped from prison, but I intend to find out if he has any other plans in the works. Knowing him, there’s probably something. All his goons are either at the hospital or the precinct, and I’ll need your help to interrogate them in the weeks to come to make sure they don’t know anything of use.”
Rachel nodded, and the rest of us agents followed suit. I rather looked forward to interrogating some of Ward’s cronies. They put us through hell; it would feel good to repay the favor in kind somehow.
“I’ll personally escort Ward back to prison and then come back to help mop up,” Graham continued. She looked at Malia, who had her face buried in Rachel’s sweatshirt again. “I’ll make sure he’s not getting out again. You’ll be safe now.”
Rachel smiled wanly at Graham, but I caught a twist of something a little sour on Jack’s face. He smoothed it away again very quickly, but I suspected he and Rachel weren’t done arguing about the dangers of her job. I fought back a scowl. With everything Rachel went through to get Malia back, you’d think he’d see it another way now.
Graham pushed back her hair and adjusted her glasses. “Anyway, I should also thank you and apologize for my behavior since I arrived here. It’s hard for me to admit when I’m wrong, as I’m sure you’ve guessed, but in this case, I was wrong. I should have accepted your help from the beginning. Perhaps things would have gone more smoothly. That is on me, and I’m truly sorry for that.”
Rachel nodded, accepting the apology, carding her fingers through Malia’s hair.
“And thank you for forcing your way into the investigation,” Graham said with a small smirk. “You’ve got a pretty impressive squad here, Detective Bane.”
Rachel shrugged. “They do alright.”
Graham clapped her hands together. “Okay, I’m going to go start tying those loose ends up. Good work, everyone.”
She left the conference room, and I quickly stood up and went after her, catching up when she was halfway to the stairs.
“Marshal Graham,” I said, and she turned, an eyebrow raised. “I just wanted to say thanks for your help, and if you ever need us, we’re happy to provide some assistance.”
“And vice versa,” she said, holding out her hand. “That time you brought me a sandwich was definitely just an excuse to spy on me, wasn’t it?”
I shook her hand and then rubbed at the back of my head. “I mean, yeah. Sorry, not sorry.”
Graham laughed, shaking her head. “You’ve got my number. Don’t be afraid to use it.”
She nodded to me and then turned and headed for the stairs, off to interrogate Simon Ward. I watched her go for a moment before I made my way back to the conference room. Linda and Meg rose as I entered, and Linda smiled around the room.
“We should go, too,” she said, looking around the room. “Unless there’s anything else you need from us?” She directed the question at Rachel.
“I don’t think so,” Rachel said quietly. Her legs had to be numb and asleep by now with Malia’s constant weight on them, but Rachel didn’t seem to mind. “We couldn’t have done it without you. We’re in your debt.”
Linda waved her words away. “It’s what we do. I’m glad we were able to help. Meg, let’s go. We’ve got a lot of work to catch up on.”
“Be right there,” Meg said as Linda headed for the glass door. Meg turned to me, elbowing me in my, thankfully, uninjured arm. “Call me, yeah?”
“Of course,” I promised, and she winked at me as she sauntered after Linda. I watched her go, smiling softly.
“You all can go, too,” Rachel said to the rest of us. “Go get some well-deserved rest, and take a few days off, too. You’ve earned it.”
“You don’t need us?” I asked.
Rachel shook her head. “You’ve done plenty, thank you. You guys have been amazing. I don’t know what I would have done without you.”
I led the way out of the room, and as we each filed by Rachel, we lightly touched her on the shoulder, and she smiled at us. Jack still crouched beside her, though his knees had to be hurt by now, and he looked up at us as we passed but didn’t offer much more than a nod. I felt like one of us should remain to make sure that he didn’t dig into her about her job, but Rachel probably wanted some alone time with her daughter.
“I’ll see you all later,” Lex said over her shoulder, already headed for the door to the parking lot. I opened my mouth, and half held my hand out to her, but the moment to say something passed too quickly, and she was gone. I’d check in on her later. Lex was strong. She’d be able to work through this.
“I’m out, too,” Cal announced. “I’m about to go to sleep for about five hundred hours. Jace, promise you won’t go to the art museum without me?”
“Promise,” I said, and Cal flashed me two thumbs-up before they hurried for the door, too, leaving Ramirez and me alone.
“Hey, can I talk to you a moment?” I asked, putting my hand on Ramirez’s shoulder before he could slip away from me again. He looked at me warily but crossed his arms and waited for me to continue. “I need to know what Christian Haverford told you at the gala. We were starting to establish a rapport before that, and now things are awkward and strained. We can’t work together like that. It’ll get one of us hurt before long. So please. What did he tell you?”
I looked at him pleadingly, and he stared back at me with lidded eyes. “He said that he was working a mission with you in Cairo. You went against direct orders and put a bunch of people in danger. He said you lied about it to the higher-ups and got away with it.”
That little snake.
“Did he say what, exactly, I did?”
Ramirez shook his head. “What did you do?”
I thought of a dim hallway, a small head of tousled hair, and a raised gun. “I did what was right, okay?”
Ramirez scowled. “That’s not an answer.”
I opened my mouth to tell him more, but the words stuck in my throat, anxiety over what they might release stopping them up like glue. Ramirez read that hesitancy in my face and took it to mean the worst, his scowling deepening as he turned to leave. I caught his arm again, swallowing the wad in my throat painfully.
“I saved someone’s life. I wasn’t supposed to. I’m sorry I can’t tell you more. I can’t put him in danger.” I spoke quickly, my words tumbling over each other in my struggle to get them free.
Ramirez regarded me, weighing my statement seriously.
“Okay,” he said finally. “I suppose I can work with that.”
“Thank you,” I said and released his arm.
Someone started shouting within the conference
room, and Ramirez and I snapped our heads around to look. Jack was on his feet, towering over Rachel, who still clutched Malia in her arms.
“She’s coming home with me,” he was saying, yelling, really. “Your life is dangerous, Rachel. Look at our daughter! She was kidnapped by a maniac. She’ll be traumatized for the rest of her life. She needs to be as far away from more stuff like that as possible.”
Ramirez and I glanced at each other and then rushed for the door. I shoved it open and burst into the conference room, the door banging noisily against the wall.
“What the hell is going on in here?” I demanded.
Jack glared at me for the interruption, but after giving him a pointed scowl, I ignored him and focused on Rachel, who had tears in her eyes, Malia’s arms wrapped tightly around her as she hid from the argument.
“Nothing,” Rachel sniffed. “It’s okay.”
“It’s clearly not okay.” I jabbed a finger in Jack’s direction. “This couldn’t wait until Rachel and Malia had a chance to recover from their ordeal or even, say, when Malia isn’t in the room to listen to you yell at her mother?”
“Stay out of this. It’s none of your damn business.” Jack tried to sound intimidating, puffing up his chest, but he was wearing a sweater vest, so it definitely wasn’t working.
“It is actually,” Ramirez said coldly, placing himself right between Rachel and Jack. “Since you’re screaming at our friend. Rachel went through hell to get your daughter back. You should be thanking her. Not accusing her.”
“But--” Jack began, but I cut him off with a short jerk of my hand.
“Guess what? We don’t care. Now, I’d suggest you get out of here before I throw you out the door myself. You can have this conversation when you’re both rested and able to act like civil human beings. Do I make myself clear?”
For a beat, it looked like Jack was going to continue to argue, but then he looked Ramirez and me in the eyes, read the danger there, and decided against it. He gritted his teeth, glancing past Ramirez at Rachel and Malia, and finally, he nodded.