All the Light There Is

by Anise Eden

  “So you started up Team Forward as a business?” I asked, trying to sound innocent.

  “Exactly.” Skeet leaned forward and tapped his finger on the table. “We all know that there is a stigma around paranormal abilities. No one wants to admit to believing that they’re real, for fear of not being taken seriously. That applies to governments, businesses, investors—everyone. However, no one can argue with the kind of results we produce—the unique edge we can give to our clients. And in today’s world, even a marginal advantage is highly sought after.”

  “And like Ben said earlier, it’s not only a win for them. It’s a win for you, and for the sensitives,” I said. “The training you give them must be amazing. Asa said Michael was able to teach him how to read minds without getting headaches. You’ve found some real answers.”

  “Yes!” Skeet smiled across the table, taking in both Ben and me. “With the exception, of course, of the elusive secret of the double kheir. But we’re working hard to crack it.”

  “That’s an elusive one, all right,” Ben said without even a whiff of insincerity. “I have to say, I’m impressed with the way you’ve set up Team Forward. How you’ve recruited sensitives with a variety of paranormal gifts and other skills and enabled them to move in and out of activity, depending on what you need—that’s military-style efficiency. It must be a big selling point for your clients, to know that your team will never be out of commission.”

  “It is,” Skeet acknowledged. “You can’t very well sell a service to powerful global interests, and then not deliver one day because your telepath has the flu.”

  All of the men chuckled, so I joined in, even though I could feel the tension in the room rising. There was a pause. Finally, Tucker broke the silence. “Speaking of military-style efficiency, Ben,” he asked casually, “why is it that you left the Marine Corps? A man with your training and a Ph.D. in organizational psychology—Skeet told us—I’m sure they didn’t let you go without a fight.” He smiled broadly, and I could have sworn his teeth had sharp tips.

  Ben had hoped that question would come up. It gave him the perfect opportunity to mislead them. “It was a tough decision. I love the Corps, and as I’m sure you know, once a Marine, always a Marine. I left when I did because my father died, and my mother needed my support.” He paused as everyone nodded respectfully. “But the deeper reason—well, to be honest, Congressman, I just got tired of taking orders and following rules that didn’t make sense to me, particularly when no one would explain the reason behind them.”

  “You wanted to be your own boss,” Hencock summarized.

  “Yes.” Ben rubbed his jaw. “But not just that. The way the world is now, the only constant is change, and it’s accelerating. You have to be able to make your own judgments, to act without wasting time on bureaucracy and red tape.”

  “Well, we certainly agree there,” Tucker said. “Do you have any concerns about Team Forward giving information to foreign clients?”

  Wow, he gets right to the point, I thought, trying not to hold my breath while Ben considered the question.

  “Certainly not as long as you’re involved, Congressman.”

  “Oh? And what have I done to earn your trust?” Tucker asked, once again donning his crocodile smile.

  “You’ve dedicated your life to serving our country,” Ben said, smiling back. “A man like you would never be a part of anything that was contrary to our national interest.”

  “I appreciate that.” Tucker nodded slowly. “But let’s say for the sake of argument that you became involved with Team Forward, as I believe Skeet would very much like you to. As you’re now aware, one of our international clients is involved in uranium mining. Do you have any concerns about that?”

  “About Opretec?” Ben shrugged. “I have no doubt that you have a reliable vetting process in place. Although if I were involved with Team Forward, I’d probably want to know more about that process. As I mentioned, I like to know the reasons behind things.”

  “Of course,” Hencock said lightly, as though Ben had just asked if we could have mint juleps on the veranda. “Cate’s an owner, and as her husband, you’ll be on the inside, as well. You’ll quickly find that we like everyone to be fully informed about what the various branches of Mercier are up to. We prioritize openness. No secrets.”

  I pressed my lips together hard, fighting a wave of nausea. I knew very well that there were secrets. One was about my father’s death. And Hencock and Tucker were keeping at least one secret from Skeet. The air around me suddenly felt heavy.

  “Cate, are you all right?” Skeet asked.

  Ben turned to look at me. “You do look a little green around the edges. She used to get seasick,” he explained to the table. “She’s been all right lately, though, so we didn’t think it would be an issue. Plus, she didn’t want to take a Dramamine; they make her drowsy.”

  “What would help?” Tucker asked. “Some fresh air?”

  The thought of fresh air was extremely tempting, but I didn’t want to leave Ben alone in the shark tank. “Maybe a Coke on ice, with some lemon?”

  Tucker snapped his fingers. In less than a minute, the waiter was pouring my soda into a glass and squeezing in a fresh-cut slice of lemon. “Thanks.” At least the distraction had eased the pressure in the room a bit. The waitstaff also took advantage of the pause to clear away our dinner plates and deliver after-dinner drinks. I began to sip my soda quietly. “Feeling better already.”

  “Glad to hear it.” Tucker smiled, then refocused on Ben. “Well, you’re right; we do have a robust vetting process for our clients. I’m on the Ways and Means Committee, and some of the other owners are well placed in the government, so we have access to privileged information, which helps. And of course, we’re careful never to take on clients whose work could undermine our national interest—although as you said, the world today is in a constant state of change. Some of those changes mean that there are often disputes over what is or is not in the national interest at any given moment.”

  “Hell, that’s always been the case,” Hencock said.

  “True, but now more than ever.” Tucker eyed Ben carefully. “What’s your take on that, Ben?”

  “To be honest, sir, since leaving the Corps, I’ve been focused on helping my mother set up the clinic. But from what I hear, the geopolitical landscape has grown so complex that it’s nearly impossible to get a handle on what’s what. I don’t envy you your responsibilities, Congressman.”

  That answer appeared to satisfy Tucker. He leaned back in his chair and idly rubbed his belly. “Well said—at least I think so. Cate, do you share Ben’s viewpoint?”

  I laid my hands on the table, palms up. “I don’t really know enough to say. I mean, everything that’s been said makes sense to me, but politics isn’t really my area.” There was enough truth in that for me to say it with some sincerity.

  “Of course; your focus has been elsewhere,” Tucker said indulgently. “Well, you two won’t be in the dark much longer—any more than you want to be, that is.” He leaned forward. “I know you like to know what’s going on behind the scenes, Ben, and as a Marine, I know you can handle anything we’ve got to tell you. And Cate, you clearly have a keen mind. But I’ll warn you both, the kind of knowledge Mercier has access to can be a heavy burden to bear. There are limits to how much some of us can share, of course. Ben, you understand; there are things that are top secret, confidential. But we’ll always tell you as much as we can.”

  “Of course.” Ben flipped me a thumbs-up sign under the table, indicating that he had all of the information he’d come for. That meant that if I still wanted to, it was my turn to play investigator.

  The truth was, I had heard all I wanted to hear, and my tolerance for tension and subterfuge was reaching a breaking point. But I knew it might be my only opportunity to get answers, and that I’d hate myself later if I passed it up just because I was feeling overwhelmed.

  Allowing my genuine emotions to show on m
y face, I said, “I don’t mean to change the subject, but I just wanted to say, it’s so nice to get to know you—friends of my father’s.” Everyone visibly relaxed; apparently, I wasn’t the only one who was grateful that the conversation was shifting to a new topic. “It’s a source of great sorrow to me that I never knew him, especially since I found out that he wanted to be a part of my life all those years.”

  “He truly did,” Hencock said. “And it was his greatest sorrow that he had to wait so long to reconnect with you, but looking forward to that moment was also his greatest joy.”

  “Thank you; I appreciate that. And I feel that by getting to know you and becoming a part of Mercier, I’m finally making some connection with him, after all.”

  Tucker lowered his chin to his chest. “Your father’s death—it was terrible. A great loss.”

  Hencock nodded. “Terrible, indeed. We couldn’t quite believe it when it happened.”

  When it happened…? I blinked. “Were you there when he died?”

  “The three of us had gone out hunting together,” Tucker said, nodding toward Hencock. “It was the damndest thing. You hear about these hunting accidents, but you never think it could happen to you. The tragic truth is that it can happen to anyone.”

  They’re admitting they were the only other people there when he died, I thought. And someone shot him. That means they did it. They murdered my father. I just ate dinner with murderers.

  I nearly fainted from the combination of fear and fury that blasted through me. My head started to fall backwards, but Ben was there, sliding his fingers up the back of my neck and into my hair, supporting me. He rested his other hand on my forearm and squeezed gently. “Cate?” I could sense that he was feeling the same thing I was: the horror of realization. “Congressman, can we trouble you for a fresh drink?”

  No sooner had he said it than a new drink appeared. I took a moment to gather myself as I sipped the soda. “Thank you,” I whispered. I couldn’t look Hencock or Tucker in the eyes, but I managed to ask, “Can you tell me what happened?”

  Hencock began softly, “We were goose hunting early one morning at Mercier. I’m not sure how much you know about hunting, but we were down in a pit, like a trench, with all our equipment and the dogs, waiting for the geese to fly over.”

  I thought back to the morning I’d overheard them in the field. Icy tendrils trickled along my arms.

  “When the geese came, we all jumped up and grabbed our shotguns, the way we always did…” Hencock choked up with what appeared to be real emotion, unable to continue.

  “Like we’d done a hundred times before without incident,” Tucker confirmed. “But Joe hadn’t been hunting in years; he must have forgotten that you’re not supposed to lean your gun up against the wall of the pit. Anyway, he had just leaned it up there so he could tie his bootlace when the geese came. I don’t know if the barrel was slippery from the fog, or if he tripped on a root, or what happened.” He hesitated. “Are you sure you want to know this, Cate?”

  Not trusting my voice, I just nodded.

  He sighed heavily. “When Joe reached for his gun, he stumbled, and ended up grabbing it by the trigger while the barrel was pointed at him.” Tucker tried to reach across the table for my hand, but pulled away when he realized I wasn’t reaching back. “I’m so sorry, Cate. There are no words.”

  The only words I could hear echoed through my head, and they were spoken in Kai’s voice: “He didn’t shoot himself, after all; someone else pulled the trigger.” I knew if I stayed there much longer, I was either going to pass out or lunge across the table at my father’s killers. It was time to find a path to the end of that conversation so we could get the hell out of there.

  I forced my eyes to flit upwards long enough to meet Hencock’s and Tucker’s. I could sense their genuine regret, although for what, I couldn’t say. Maybe they had really liked my father, and were sorry that they’d felt the need to kill him—why, I might never know. But sorry or not, they’d done it anyway. I worked to unclench my teeth. “Thank you for telling me. I know that was hard, but it helps me to know.”

  “Of course,” Skeet said, his voice raked with sadness. I looked over at him and saw the grief of a man who had truly lost a friend. Suddenly, it dawned on me: Skeet doesn’t know. He still believes it was an accident. This is the secret they’ve been keeping from him.

  In spite of myself, I suddenly felt sorry for Skeet. I wanted to say something to ease his pain. “I’m glad he had you—that he had such good friends.”

  His grateful smile pinched my heart, and I knew I couldn’t take much more. It was time to give Ben my five-minute warning. I leaned over and whispered, “Ben, what time is it?”

  He met my eyes, and his told me silently that he understood: I needed to leave. “I don’t know,” he admitted. “I didn’t wear a watch tonight, and my phone…” He looked around the table.

  Skeet checked his watch. “Well, look at that. It’s eight thirty. I hadn’t realized it was so late. Phil is probably outside with the speedboat already.” He stood, and the rest of us followed suit.

  “Unless you’d like dessert?” Tucker asked. “Phil can wait. We have some homemade ice cream—”

  I managed a light laugh. “After that amazing meal, I can’t think of eating another thing. Don’t forget, I have to fit into a wedding dress soon.”

  “You have nothing to worry about,” Ben said, giving me a broad wink.

  I knew he was trying to help me relax, but with every passing moment, I felt even more urgency to get off the boat and away from those people. We all filed up to the deck and said our goodbyes and thank yous. If Tucker and Hencock suspected that we’d been less than genuine, they didn’t show it. Instead, they warmly reiterated how glad they were that we would be joining Mercier. It took everything I had left in me to smile and shake hands with them before we departed.

  While a crewmember gave Ben back his phone, Skeet announced that he was spending the night on the yacht. They had an early morning fishing adventure planned. “I was right,” he said, “Phil is here already. You two have a pleasant trip back, and good luck with the engagement ring search tomorrow!” He pulled me into a hug and pumped Ben’s hand. “Congratulations again!”

  “Thanks!” Ben and I called out, joining Phil near the stepladder. We climbed into the speedboat, and I pulled Ben to the bench in the back. I wanted to be able to bury my head in his chest and cry without Phil overhearing.

  Chapter Twenty

  Ben took off his jacket and draped it over me, holding me against him as I let the tears fall. I didn’t even know why I was crying. Was it just from relief that we’d managed to get away, safe and sound? Was I releasing the rage and horror I’d felt while sitting at that absurdly fancy dinner, surrounded by murderers? It couldn’t be grief over losing my father, a man I’d never even known. But I had wanted to know him, and now I would never have the chance—all due to a combination of greed and whatever Machiavellian philosophy Mercier’s owners embraced.

  There on the water with Ben’s arms wrapped around me, the tears slowly grew lighter, and my heart calmed. Once we returned we’d meet with the others and put a plan in place. I closed my eyes and felt the cool breeze, listened to the way sounds were dampened as they were absorbed by the wide water and the even wider sky. Ben produced a tissue from somewhere. But as I dried my cheeks, I noticed the mascara stains on his shirt. “Oh!” I quickly straightened. How many of Ben’s shirts had I ruined in the past few weeks by crying on them? “I’m so sorry,” I said, pointing to the stain.

  “About what?”

  “I ruined your shirt again.”

  The sky was completely overcast—we couldn’t see any stars, and just a soft glow from a cloud-covered moon—so Ben had to lean down close to see the stain. He chuckled, then looked over at me, the affection in his eyes visible even in the dark. He tucked his mouth down near my ear and murmured, “Never apologize. All I want to do is be here for you, and those marks on my sh
irt mean I’ve done my job. I consider them badges of honor. Besides, with that big nest egg you’re getting, you can buy me a new shirt.”

  “Oh, please,” I moaned. “I could never accept that nest egg. It’s probably made up of illegal gains that will end up with the IRS anyway. I’m going to stay poor forever.”

  “Then I’ll buy myself some shirts, and you can work off the cost by picking them out for me.”

  I felt the beginnings of a smile tugging at my mouth. “That’s a very brave offer. Vani says I have no fashion sense.”

  “I trust you.”

  “Hmm.” I slid down the bench away from him, handing him back his jacket as I looked him up and down. “How do you feel about plaid?”

  “I’m a MacGregor. Our clan has its own tartan, so I’m pro-plaid.”

  “You’re kidding, really?” I’d never seen him in plaid, so I’d been hoping to shock him.

  “Yes, really. You have your own tartan, too—Duncan.”

  “I do?”

  “You didn’t know?”

  My mother and I weren’t big into family history, so I’d never given it any thought. I shook my head.

  “Are you saying,” he teased, “that I have to show you yours and show you mine?”

  At that, I laughed my first real laugh in ages. The boat lurched slightly, tossing me back towards Ben. He caught me handily around the waist and swooped in for a kiss. I started to get lost in the dreaminess of kissing him on a boat as we sped across the Bay in the dark, but then we heard the engine sputter and go silent. Phil cursed up by the steering wheel. With reluctance, Ben stood and hitched his thumb toward the front of the boat. “I’d better check it out.”

  “You do that,” I said breathlessly. It looked like we were getting closer to the shoreline. I could see the contrast between the moving shadows of the water and the consistent dark line of the land. We would be back at the lodge soon, and the murderers would be far away, asleep on the yacht. I closed my eyes and imagined being locked in my room with Ben, with that stopper device against the door—temporarily safe, at least.