“Need anything?” he asked from his position at the counter.
Marcus glared up at him, even as he rubbed his thigh. He looked to be working out a cramp.
“Does that happen often?”
Marcus’s mumbled reply contained more than a few curse words.
“Fine,” Drew said, moving back toward the table. “If you don’t need anything for your leg then we can get back to the conversation.”
Marcus looked up and gave him a you-gotta-be-kidding-me look, but Drew continued. “I happen to agree that your uncle was most likely set up. But the thing is, working in the areas I’ve worked in, I’ve become pretty good at following money trails. If there was any data planted in his accounts, chances are, between Naomi and me, we’ll be able to figure out not just that it’s there, but probably where it came from and also where it went.”
That seemed to pull Marcus’s attention away from his leg. His hand still rubbed it, working the muscle, but he focused on Drew. “So you think Naomi should be part of this task force too?”
“Along with Mikaela Marsh and maybe one or two of her trusted marshals, yes.”
“And Sam,” Marcus added, which Drew took to be a good sign.
“Dr. Buckley?”
“Yes, he has an eye for things like you wouldn’t believe.”
“Okay, so we have you and Carly and Vivi. Then we have the marshals, Dr. Buckley, me, and Naomi,” Drew summed up.
“And Wyatt.”
“Who’s he?”
Marcus told him about their former colleague, now an FBI agent, and mentioned how Carly had already talked to him a bit about electronic surveillance. Hearing this, Drew guessed that Wyatt was the man he had seen at Anderson’s with Carly.
“You trust him?” he asked.
“Yes,” Marcus answered without hesitation.
“Then I think we have a good team.”
Marcus said nothing but gazed out the kitchen window, his hand still on his leg. “I’m not entirely comfortable with it, but if it will make this all go away, then I think we should do it and you have my support. What are the next steps?”
Inside, Drew felt a band of tension release in his body. “Good,” he answered. “As for next steps: I’ll call my supervisor and start the conversations, but before we finalize anything, I want to talk to Carly to make sure she’s on board.”
“What’s going on between you and my sister?” Marcus asked.
Drew studied the man sitting across from him then lifted a shoulder. “I’m not sure,” he answered honestly.
Marcus’s eyes narrowed on him.
“But it’s not anything . . .” Drew paused in his effort to reassure Marcus that his intentions were good. He ran a hand over his face, then leaned back in his chair and shook his head. “I don’t know,” he repeated. Absently, he noted that the genuine confusion he heard in his own voice would not have reassured him had he been in Marcus’s position.
But oddly enough, what he’d said, or how he’d said it, elicited a chuckle from Marcus. “It’s like that, is it?”
“Like what?” Drew’s own eyes narrowed.
“You’ve met Ian, Dash Kent, and David Hathaway, right? And I know you know Garret.”
“Yeah, so?”
Rather than answer, Marcus gave him a flat look then shook his head as he stood and slipped his jacket on. His leg held this time and Drew watched as Marcus checked his weapon and pulled his keys out of his pocket.
“You know how to lock up?” Marcus asked.
“I know how to set the alarm but I don’t have a key.”
“Good, I’m glad to hear that. Set the alarm on your way out. You don’t need to lock it. If anyone comes in, the alarm will let everyone know.”
With that, Marcus left.
And in the silence of Carly’s kitchen, Drew continued to wondered just what Carly’s brother had meant. It’s like that, is it?
Chapter Eleven
When Carly turned onto her road, the sun hadn’t yet set but somehow the light seemed tired, softer in some ways. After the last several hours, she didn’t feel much like laughing, but the sight of Drew standing on her porch when she pulled up to her house did bring a small smile to her lips.
Idly, her mind flitted to the tracking device he had put on her car. She hadn’t asked him to take it off. Under normal circumstances she’d be furious with him for having done something like that. She also knew him well enough by now to know that, under normal circumstances, he would never have done such a thing.
Looking at him leaning against her porch railing, his black coat hanging open, she wondered what would happen if she walked up to him, wrapped her arms around his waist, and kissed him. No, scratch that, she had a pretty good idea what would happen: in less than two minutes he’d be backing her up the stairs to her bedroom.
Years ago, when she’d been a little girl on their horse farm, one of the grounds workers had told her that the shock from the electric fence came when you let go—not from touching it in the first place. She hadn’t ever tested that information, but when she thought about Drew, she thought being with him would be a little like touching an electric fence. If she decided to reach out for him, she better plan to hold on because, instinctively, she knew that letting go would hurt like hell.
“Everything okay?” he asked, knocking on her driver’s side window, making her jump. She hadn’t even noticed that he’d left the porch.
“Yes, fine,” she said loudly as she turned to grab her jacket and purse.
“You look a little tired,” he said, holding the door open for her as she exited the car.
She lifted a shoulder. “I didn’t do much today, but because it wasn’t the day I had planned for when I woke up, for some reason I do feel tired.” She rummaged on her key chain for her house key.
“You don’t need a key. It’s not locked,” Drew said. She looked up at him. “Your brother left before I did. I didn’t have a key to lock up, but I did set the alarm,” he explained.
She blinked at him. “You know how to set my alarm?”
He hesitated, then answered. “I have a good attention for detail.”
She studied him. His blue eyes met hers, unblinking and unapologetic. Of course he’d have a good eye for detail. She doubted anyone lasted in the CIA for nearly two decades without having a good eye for detail.
She cleared her throat. “You should have let yourself in.”
“That would have been presumptuous. Just because you left me here with your brother five hours ago doesn’t mean you’d want to come home to find me sprawled out on your couch.”
She couldn’t help the not-so-little twitch her lips made at his comment. It was so like Drew to be so conscientious of propriety. But, she wouldn’t have minded finding him sprawled on her couch, not that she thought he ever actually sprawled anywhere.
His eyes narrowed on her, so rather than keep fighting the smile that tugged at her lips, she turned toward the door. “Please come in,” she said, entering her house and leaving the door open behind her.
She heard him follow and shut the door as she typed in her security code. He was in her kitchen by the time she hit the last button.
“You look like you could use a drink.” He was more right than he knew. She also wouldn’t mind a little down time on her back porch and maybe a chance to watch the sunset.
She smiled her agreement and draped her jacket on the back of one of her kitchen chairs. A few minutes later, Drew held both their drinks as she wrapped herself up in a blanket and sat. Once she’d settled, he handed her a glass and took a seat beside her.
They sat, not saying anything, watching the evening activity—the sun began its descent, a few evening birds made an appearance, and two ducks came back to the pond. A few times, she took a deep breath, inhaling the comfort of Windsor in the fall.
“Did you catch up with Marcus?” he asked after several quiet minutes.
She shook her head. “No, what did you decide? I think what you
were suggesting is a good idea, and we all trust Vivi.”
He agreed then updated her on his conversation with Marcus as well as his subsequent conversation with his supervisor.
“So you think she’ll be able to put a task force together?” Carly asked. She knew the murder of a federal marshal and the possibility of a compromise in the witness security program would, more likely than not, be the primary reason to authorize such a task force. But to her, because Drew had been the one to ask, it felt like something everyone was doing for her and her brother.
“If anyone can do it, Rina can. The question really depends on how much energy she wants to put into it.”
“Do you think she’ll blow you off?”
Drew lifted a shoulder and took a sip of his drink. “Rina’s an interesting woman. She holds a lot close to the vest. I like her and I trust her, but I don’t always know what’s going on in her mind. Which, I admit, is probably a good thing.”
“So you think she might not come through?”
He tilted his head one way and then the other. “At this point, I think it’s fifty-fifty. She said she would try to see what she can do, and she’s done things like this before—put things in place based on a personal favor—but I guess it depends on whether or not something else comes up that requires her attention.” Drew sounded like someone hoping for the best but preparing for the worst.
Carly mulled this over. If his boss didn’t come through, at least she, Marcus, and Drew were all in agreement that Vivi and Wyatt could still be brought in. And with Vivi could come Naomi. So, even if Rina didn’t come through with the authorization, the only people they’d be missing from their group were the marshals. And Drew—in his official capacity. Because even if his supervisor didn’t come through, she knew he wouldn’t be stopped from doing what he could. What repercussions that might have for him professionally, she didn’t know, and that might be the “worst” that he was preparing for.
They sat in a comfortable silence as the sun dipped behind the hills. Carly took another sip of her drink and let her head rest against the back of her chair as the liquid flowed down her throat and warmed her body.
“Do you like your job?” Drew asked suddenly.
Carly lifted her head and looked at him. She heard a depth of interest in his question that she didn’t often, if ever, hear when other people asked her that very same thing. Drew didn’t seem to be asking to make idle chitchat and the curiosity in his tone gave her pause—like maybe he’d been asking himself the same question.
Slowly, she turned her glass in her hands as she thought about how to answer, as she thought about whether or not revealing some of her own frustrations, questions, and truths might help him with his. After a long pause, she spoke.
“Today was supposed to be my first full day off in weeks. Don’t get me wrong, I like working and I’m glad I have a job that I enjoy and am good at, but it can be draining.”
“Aren’t you only supposed to work a certain number of hours a week?”
Under her blanket, she lifted a shoulder. “Firefighters are held to stricter hours than we are, but we’re understaffed and someone needs to work. I’ve been earning a lot of overtime, which is great, but I’m glad Vic, our chief of police, is finally getting serious about hiring some new people.”
“But,” he prompted.
She let out a sigh. “Honestly, it’s not the hours that are draining. We deal mostly with things like theft and minor assaults around here, but then there are people like Mary.”
“What about people like Mary?”
“I told you I’ve known her for years, and for about as long, I’ve known that her husband abuses her. She’s isolated from most people, has no friends—it’s the classic situation. Because I got involved once, when I first moved in, I’m kind of her go-to-girl when it comes to dealing with law enforcement.”
“And?”
“And she talks to me, she tells me everything. But she doesn’t want me to help her. She just wants me to get other officers, or sheriff’s deputies, off her back. I took on the role at first because I thought I might be able to get her to trust me and eventually let me help her help herself. But she doesn’t want help. Or is too scared to ask for it, or get it, or doesn’t trust herself. Or maybe just doesn’t see herself as worth it.”
“Or, a combination of all those things.”
“Most likely a combination of all those things,” she agreed. “But she has a kid now. They have a kid now. The two-year-old I mentioned. Emily. And while there isn’t ever an excuse for what goes on in that house, it seems like, after all these years, maybe Emily should be enough to give Mary the motivation to get help.”
“But she hasn’t, has she?”
Carly shook her head. “No, Mary is still insisting on staying with Bill. And Bill is still beating her. To my knowledge, he hasn’t touched Emily yet. We’ve tried to get CPS in there but lies and secrets come easily to Mary and Bill, and there’s nothing CPS can do.”
“People can’t always be helped.”
“And they can’t always help themselves, either.”
“Not unless they want to.”
A few minutes of silence passed as she let her mind drift over her day and even her career. Then she let out a deep breath. “So, yes, there are things I like about my job. I like helping when I can and I like the occasional challenge. But there’s a lot that is hard for me to accept—I don’t like that I can’t do more to help some folks. Mary might not want my help, but then for each situation where someone doesn’t want our help, there are situations where people do need a hand, but because of my official role, I can’t give it. Or I can’t officially give it, I should say.”
That seemed to get Drew’s attention and out of the corner of her eye, she saw his head turn toward her.
“Thomas Rutledge had a drinking problem and was going to lose his farm,” she said. “He was a good man who sank into depression after his wife died from cancer about three years ago. I helped him get help and get his farm back running.” Carly hadn’t told anyone this story. Not even Marcus.
“And how did you do that?”
He probably wouldn’t approve. Hell, she didn’t even really approve of what she’d done, but it had worked out. “I got him into a rehab and helped cover his loans for a few months. It bought him enough time to get sober and get his land back to production. And before you ask, yes, it was a loan I made to him and, yes, he is already paying it back.”
Beside her, she could feel Drew’s disbelief. Or maybe she felt her own doubts bouncing off of him and coming back at her.
“There are more, aren’t there?” he asked, his voice quiet in the falling dusk.
There were more. Not as many as she would have liked, but there were more. A young woman she’d sent to Naomi for a fake ID so she could escape her abusive father. A young man she’d helped get into the military with the hope that he’d have a better life than his crack-addicted mother could offer him. And Anne Kramer, the little girl with Downs syndrome—her parents loved her dearly but couldn’t afford all the treatments and classes, like physiotherapy, that the doctors recommended. Carly hadn’t exactly abused her position by convincing local doctors and therapists to help the Kramer family, but being the deputy chief of police—and a good friend of the county sheriff—hadn’t hurt.
She shrugged and waited for Drew to say something, to question her decisions or judge her actions. But beside her, all she heard was a chuckle.
Surprised she looked over. “What?”
He met her gaze with a lopsided smile. “Earlier today I was thinking you hadn’t really settled here at all. Your walls have no pictures, you rent rather than own, and while your home is cozy and I like it—a lot—there is very little of you here. I thought it was because you hadn’t allowed yourself to settle in. But now, my guess is that’s because most of your spare cash and time go to helping others. Am I right?”
She looked away, feeling embarrassed. “It’s not like I have
that much to give—or loan—away. I do only make a cop’s salary,” she said, rather than answer his question directly.
“I think it’s crazy, Carly, I really do, but I also think it’s pretty amazing. Look at me, my family has more money than we could spend in the next four generations, and while we do make significant contributions to a lot of charities, we don’t get on the front lines like you’ve done. Like I said, crazy but pretty amazing.”
She recognized his underhanded praise, but his honesty meant more to her than the actual words.
“What about you, Drew? Do you like your job?” She’d offered him a lot of truth in the last few minutes and she wondered if he would offer the same in return. She hoped he would.
His long hesitation told her more than he’d probably intended. She knew a lie could roll from his lips sweet as candy. But the longer he took to answer her, the more certain she became that his eventual answer would be the truth.
He took a deep breath, let it out, then started speaking. “I do like my job.”
“But,” she prompted, because she heard it coming.
He paused again, took a sip from his glass, then set it down gently on the arm of his chair. “I took a run this morning. I went up the trail to Churchkill Road, then toward the Kirby farm. I met Judith Kirby who was out getting her mail—and her son-in-law drove by as well.”
“She’s a nice woman,” Carly said, interested in where this was going.
“She is and she let me run through their property to the creek and church and hamlet you told me about that day we hiked up the trail to where we found Marguerite. I followed the old road, saw it all, then came back up Lancaster to Churchkill and down the hill to Kit’s.
“When I got back to Kit’s, it occurred to me that the little journey I’d just taken had been the first thing in recent memory I’d done without an objective, without an end goal.”
She frowned at this. “I imagine in the world you work in, having an objective is pretty important.”
An Inarticulate Sea Page 15