With a frown, he turned back around and knocked on her door a second time. Again, he heard nothing. Wondering if perhaps she’d gone back to bed or was taking a walk, he stepped off the porch and started around the building. He’d just come around the corner and turned toward the lake when Carly’s figure appeared coming out of the woods.
He watched as she approached and noted the exact moment she spotted him. Her head came up, dropped down again for a brief moment, then came back up, her eyes meeting his. Dressed in exercise clothes, she’d been doing the same thing he had less than an hour earlier.
“Have a good run?” he asked.
She bent down, resting her hands on her knees, to catch her breath. After a moment, she looked up and smiled, then made a face.
“As good as a run can get,” she answered, making him smile too.
He followed her into her house and watched her walk to the sink and fill a glass of water before she turned and leaned against the counter.
“So what brings you here?” she asked, eyeing him with curiosity.
“I was hoping to run something by you. An idea I have.” He wasn’t her boss, she wasn’t part of his team, and he couldn’t dictate a plan. He’d have to convince her. And not just her, but Marcus too.
She set her glass down and pushed away from the counter. “I can take a wild guess what this is about, but I’m feeling pretty grubby right now. I’d like to take a shower first if you don’t mind.”
Drew shook his head, knowing her request probably had more to do with giving herself some time to prepare to talk about Marguerite and the situation again rather than getting clean. “That’s fine. But can you call Marcus and have him come over too? I think he needs to be a part of this. I assume you told him that I know?”
She tilted her head and studied him, then slowly nodded. “I told him some of what we talked about last night. He knows you know who we are. I’ll call him from upstairs and we can talk more when he gets here. In the meantime, can you make some coffee? I’ll want some when I come down. Marcus probably will too when he gets here. Feel free to make some for yourself, as well. All the stuff is there,” she said, waving to a cabinet behind her before heading upstairs.
As he measured the coffee and the water, he heard her mumbled voice, presumably talking to Marcus, and then the sound of the shower running. Of course, an image of her in the shower flashed in his head and he acknowledged that he wouldn’t mind being up there with her.
But even as the thought entered his mind, another even more disconcerting thought followed: what made him long to be up there with her at that moment wasn’t sex. He did, of course, want to be with her in that way at some point—of that there was no doubt—but at that moment, well, at that moment he found himself craving the intimacy of that type of situation more than the situation itself.
He wanted that connection to Carly, that sense of belonging and ease he’d seen between couples he knew—Dani and Ty, Jason and Sam. He wanted to be able to stand in the doorway of the bathroom as she showered and talk with her. He wanted comfort and companionship and trust. He wanted things with Carly that he’d never desired or sought with any other woman.
As the coffeemaker sputtered out its final drips, this realization settled, unfamiliar and uneasily, in his mind and he didn’t quite know what to do with it. Thankfully, he noticed Marcus’s police cruiser pulling in beside his car, giving him a distraction. Through the kitchen window, he watched Marcus climb out of the car. Pausing as he stood, the young officer cast his gaze around, then stretched and flexed his injured leg.
Opening the door before Marcus had a chance to knock, Drew greeted the man he had at one time viewed as a potential rival. Knowing better now, for right or wrong, he felt more charitable toward him. A feeling that did not appear to be reciprocal.
“Carmichael,” Marcus said, stepping into the house. “What are you doing here?”
Having thought Carly would have mentioned that he was there, Drew paused before answering.
“Well?” Marcus demanded, walking over to the coffeemaker and helping himself to a cup.
“I wanted to talk to you both about an idea—”
“We don’t need your help,” Marcus cut him off as he sat down at the kitchen table. “We’ll do fine on our own.”
Looking at the belligerence in Marcus’s eyes, Drew considered that perhaps Carly wasn’t the only one feeling a bit out of control. What Dani had said about the situation as it applied to Carly could apply to Marcus as well.
“Oh, Marcus, you’re here,” Carly said after she’d jogged down the stairs, stopping Drew from saying any more.
“I am,” Marcus replied. “You didn’t tell me Carmichael was here.”
“Coffee?” Drew asked Carly.
Her eyes bounced between the two men before she replied, “Yes, please.”
Drew poured her a cup and then one for himself before taking a seat at the table where Carly had joined her brother. He slid a cup of black coffee over to her and, with a mumbled, “Thank you,” she took a sip.
“So what do you want to talk about?” Her voice came out almost jocular and Drew’s gaze honed in on hers. Her strained expression told him that, even if she had doubts as to where this conversation would go, she wanted to hear him out. And she wanted to make sure her brother did too. If she hesitated, that would be reason enough for Marcus walk away. Any sympathy he might have felt for Marcus vanished, Carly did not need to be carrying the burden of Marguerite and managing her brother’s moods.
“We don’t need to talk to him about anything,” Marcus interjected.
“Marcus,” she reprimanded him with a glare. They held each other’s gaze for a long moment.
Finally, Marcus jerked his eyes away and muttered, “Whatever.”
“Drew?” Carly said, turning her eyes back to him. He let his focus go to Marcus, who was staring defiantly out the window, before returning his attention to her.
“I think you need some help. From inside the bureau,” he said. And before either of the siblings could object, he continued. “Based on what you know, you believe your mother and uncle were involved in an investigation into a corrupt agent or agents. We also know Joe Kincaid is really Joe Franks and that he is currently a deputy director with the bureau, but we don’t know if he was part of the investigation or the subject of it.”
At this point, Marcus turned an accusatory glare on his sister. “You told him all this?”
“I learned about Joe from Naomi DeMarco,” Drew said, fighting an urge to reach across the table and smack him upside the head for acting like such a petulant teenager. “But what I know isn’t as important as the fact that someone connected to your mother’s death and your placement in the witness security program knows where you live. And even more important, they don’t appear to mind killing to get what they want.”
“Tell us something we don’t know,” Marcus said.
Drew’s eyes narrowed on the younger man. Marcus was making it very hard to like him. “So now, in addition to whoever that is, I now know who you are, and so does Naomi.”
“So?” Marcus demanded.
“Marcus,” Carly reprimanded again.
“So, secrets like the secrets you two have been living with are like a tapestry. Once one of the threads comes loose, the whole thing can unravel, if it’s not handled properly.”
“I didn’t take you for much of a seamstress,” Marcus said.
Drew sighed and looked back at Carly, who seemed to be considering what he’d said. “Has that been your experience? Really?” she asked.
“What the hell? He’s a businessman from New York. What does he know about these kinds of things?” Marcus asked, coming out of his chair.
“Don’t be an ass,” she shot back, rising to go toe-to-toe with her brother. “May I?” She gave Drew a quick glance then turned back to Marcus.
“Please.” That she’d had the forethought to ask pleased him.
“I told you he was law enforcem
ent of some sort, but he’s actually intelligence,” she said, holding her own with her brother. “Drew has been with the CIA for, how long?” she asked not taking her eyes off Marcus.
“Just over eighteen years.”
“Over eighteen years” she repeated. “I would wager he knows a hell of lot more than you and me combined about these kind of things.”
Marcus looked about to contradict his sister but then seemed to pull back his frustration and let what she’d said sink in. After another moment, his eyes flitted to Drew. Marcus’s posture hadn’t changed, but Drew thought he might have seen a shadow of hope flicker in his eyes.
“Is that true?”
“It is. I joined the agency right after I finished my masters. I was an active agent for about twelve years, working mostly in Eastern Europe and North Africa before coming back to the home office. Now I run a team of agents that work in the same area.”
After several tense moments, Marcus seemed to capitulate and he sank back into his seat and let out a deep breath. Drew didn’t harbor any illusions that Marcus welcomed him into this situation, but again, he thought he caught a glimpse of hope in Carly’s brother’s eyes. That maybe he could help them.
“So what is your idea, Carmichael?” Marcus asked.
“You need to handle this properly, which means you need help from inside the bureau. You have someone you trust already, use her,” he said.
Marcus looked up and blinked at him, possibly surprised he hadn’t suggested that he take over the investigation. His potential involvement needed to be discussed eventually, but he wanted to at least get them to consider, if not commit, to bringing in someone.
“You mean Vivi,” Carly said.
“Yes.”
“But she doesn’t work these kinds of cases,” Marcus said.
“Vivi has been working with the bureau for many years and I have no doubt she is both well-liked and well-respected. I suspect that if you told her what you know about your past, as well as what Naomi has been able to dig up, she’d be able to help,” Drew said.
“Help with what, though?” Carly pressed. “We don’t even know what to do ourselves.”
“You know how capable she is,” he said. “My guess is that once she has the details, she’ll be more than able to help come up with a plan to determine exactly what was going on back then and we can use that to figure out what is happening now. Her background with cold cases will come in handy as well, I would bet,” he added.
Both Carly and Marcus sat back in their chairs. Carly took a sip of her coffee, but Marcus kept his arms crossed over his chest. After a moment, their eyes met.
Drew could feel the tension coiling in his body as he waited to hear their verdict. Had they been on his team, he would have simply issued an order. But with the way Marcus teetered on the edge of anger and acceptance, any show of force on Drew’s part would shut the conversation down.
Carly looked at him. He felt a glimmer of hope that they’d agree, but suddenly her cell gave a shrill ring, making them all jump, and he knew he’d have to wait.
“It has promise,” she said. “But let me get this first and then we can talk.”
At least she hadn’t said “no,” but he wanted that phone call over with and the both of them on board with his idea before they had any second thoughts. Unfortunately, listening to Carly, he realized that finishing their conversation would have to wait.
“When? At the house? Is anyone there yet? Yeah, okay, I’ll be right there,” she said, then hung up.
She set her phone down, paused, then looked at Drew and her brother. “I have to go.” she said. “That was Carl, one of our part-time officers,” she explained to Drew. “There were reports of gun shots being fired at Mary Hanson’s house.”
“Why the hell did they call you and not me?” Marcus rose from his seat but paused when she waved him back down.
“They’re on their way already and Vic is with them, along with Jake. They have enough police power. Carl wanted me to know, well, because, you know,” she said, giving her brother a meaningful look.
“I don’t know,” Drew said.
“Mary and Bill Hanson were my old landlords.”
“At that place you lived in above the appliance store?” he asked, not bothering to keep his opinions on her former apartment from bleeding into his impression of the owners.
“How do you know where she used to live?” Marcus demanded.
“He helped in the investigation when Kit was attacked,” Carly said to her brother as she crossed the room. Turning to Drew as she spoke, she related a too common story of domestic violence while she pulled on a pair of boots and rummaged in the coat rack for her jacket.
“So now you’re on call every time something happens to Mary?” Drew asked, again not bothering to hide how he felt about the situation.
She stopped and eyed him. “Yes, I am. She has a two-year-old daughter and she’s a woman who’s been isolated from everyone else other than those whom her husband lets her see. I’ve been a friend to her for a long time. If there’s a possibility that one of these days she will finally listen to me and get help, then, yes, I’ll go every time they call.”
For the third time that day, a disconcerting thought had set him off balance. First, he’d realized that he’d stopped exploring life. Then, he’d found that he wanted intimacy, real intimacy, with a woman for the first time he could remember. And now he was coming to understand that he’d, apparently, turned into a cold-hearted bastard.
“You’re right, of course, but do you at least have a vest or something?” he asked, not having any idea if Windsor police even owned Kevlar vests.
She shook her head. “I’m not going to go near the house until the others have cleared it. I will grab my weapon and badge from upstairs in a second, but I’m there as a friend.”
Drew said nothing more, but Marcus seemed about to protest. Carly quelled him with a single look before she bounded upstairs to get her gun and badge. Two minutes later, she stood at the door, sliding her weapon into her hip.
“Marcus, stay here and work with Drew, hear him out. It’s not a bad idea and you know it.”
“I should be there,” Marcus said.
“There are four on-duty officers there now. If they need you, they’ll call,” she said before walking out the door and leaving him with her brother.
A brother who looked even less happy now than he had fifteen minutes earlier.
“You’re going to let her go?” Marcus demanded, looking him in the eye.
“Even if I wanted to stop her, I couldn’t.”
“You don’t want to stop her from heading to a scene where shots have been fired?” Marcus asked, disbelief sounding bitter in his tone.
“Of course I want to stop her, in a theoretical way. But it’s her job. A job she does well. And more than that, what she’s doing for Mary is part of who Carly is. She cares about this community and the people in it.”
Marcus grunted and sat back down. “Sometimes I think too much.”
Drew didn’t agree with that assessment so he said nothing. He could see, every day, how much she loved her community. But given what had happened to her, in his mind, she hadn’t yet let herself fully embrace Windsor as home. She still rented a house when she could buy one—a small one to be sure, but still a place for her to put down her own roots. She also hadn’t invested anything in making this new rental a home. Oh, it was cozy and had all the right furniture, but it held nothing personal—no pictures of her with her friends, no paintings or prints, not even a throw pillow on the couch.
“So, what do you think of my idea?” Drew asked, bringing the conversation back to his original train. Carly had appeared to have given Marcus decision-making authority, so he shifted his tactic a bit and prepared a few new arguments if needed.
“I think Carly likes it,” Marcus said after a moment’s hesitation.
“And you?”
Again, Marcus hesitated.
“Do you
trust Vivi?” Drew asked.
“Yes,” Marcus answered immediately.
“Then?”
Marcus let out a deep sigh. “Then nothing. It does make some sense. You have to understand that, after all these years of keeping our past a secret, it doesn’t come easy to suddenly be out in the open about it.”
Drew did understand and he gave the younger man credit for his astute observation. “I get that, believe me, I do. Secrets have a way of taking on lives of their own sometimes.”
“There’s more, isn’t there? Your idea involves more than just Vivi, doesn’t it?”
This time, Drew let out a deep breath. Taking a sip of coffee to buy himself some time, he found it lukewarm. Rising from his seat, he dumped the remaining contents out in the sink. “Yeah, there’s more,” he said as he poured a fresh cup. He leaned against the counter to face Marcus. “I’d like to ask my supervisor to have an inter-agency task force set up so I can participate.”
For a moment, Marcus did nothing but blink, then he managed to say, “There is nothing about this case the CIA has any jurisdiction over.”
“Your uncle was accused of funding terrorist groups, some of which operated in North Africa.” This was an argument he’d cultivated after talking to Dani.
“That was a lie! He wouldn’t have done anything like that!” Marcus countered, coming up out of his seat in protest. When his injured leg seized he went crashing back down with a litany of curses.
Drew knew he had two choices: to look away, pretending he hadn’t seen anything, or face Marcus’s condition head on. But even if he could pull off the former, he found he didn’t want to. Marcus’s body had been wrecked and nearly destroyed when he’d tried to save a woman and her child. And now, with the body of Marguerite Silva being dumped in his backyard, he was in mental turmoil too. And he couldn’t ignore the fact that Marcus was someone who cared about Carly. He deserved Drew’s respect and acknowledgement, though not his pity.
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