Saving Faith

by David Baldacci

  porches ran across the second and third floors, which gave it a plantation feel.

  There were gabled turrets and walls of lattice and glass; and immense displays of fountain grass erupted from the ground. Lee watched as the automatic sprinklers came on, along with the exterior landscape lighting. Behind the house he could hear the pounding surf. The house was situated at the end of a quiet cul-de-sac, although there were similar monster homes painted yellow, blue, green and gray lined up on the beach side in both directions as far as the eye could see. Although the air was warm and slightly humid, they were approaching November, and virtually all the other homes were dark.

  Faith said, "I've never really bothered to add up the square footage. I rent it out April through September. It covers the mortgage and nets me about thirty thousand a year-just in case you're interested." Taking off her helmet and running her hands through her sweaty hair, she said,

  "I need a shower and some food. The kitchen should be stocked. You can put the bike in the carport."

  Faith unlocked the front door and went inside while Lee parked the Honda in one of two bays of the carport and then carried in the bags.

  The inside of the house was even more beautiful than the outside. Lee was also grateful to see that the place had a security system. As he looked around, he took in the soaring ceilings, pickled wood beams and paneling, an enormous kitchen, Italian tile floors in some places, high-dollar Berber carpeting elsewhere. He counted six bedrooms, seven bathrooms and discovered an outdoor Jacuzzi on the back porch big enough for at least six drunken adults to flop around in. There were also three fireplaces, including a gas one in the master suite. The furniture was overstuffed rattan and wicker, all seemingly designed to beckon one to catnap.

  Lee opened a set of French doors off the kitchen, stepped onto the deck and looked down into the enclosed courtyard. A kidney-shaped pool was situated down there. The chlorinated water sparkled under the glow of the pool lights. A Creepy Crawly made its way through the water, sucking up bugs and debris.

  Faith joined him on the deck. "I had the people come out this morning and get everything going. They maintain the pool all year 'round anyway. I've skinny-dipped down here in December. It's gloriously peaceful."

  "There doesn't seem to be anybody else in the other houses."

  "Certain parts of the Outer Banks are pretty full about nine or even ten months out of the year now, what with the nice weather. But you always have the chance of hurricanes this time of year, and this area is pretty expensive. The houses rent out for a small fortune, even in the off season. Unless you can get a big group together to rent them, your average family isn't going to be staying here. Mostly, you see the owners come down this time of year. But with kids in school, it's tough to do that during the week. So empty we have."

  "Empty I like."

  "The pool's heated, if you want to take a dip."

  "I didn't bring my trunks."

  "Not into skinny-dipping, huh?" She smiled and was very relieved that it was too dark for her to really see his eyes. If his baby blues had hit her just right, she might have pushed him in the pool, dived after him and everything else be damned.

  "There are plenty of places in town to get some swimming stuff. I keep clothes down here, so I'm okay. We'll buy you some things tomorrow."

  "I think I'm fine with what I brought."

  "You don't want to stick out here, do you?"

  "I'm not sure we'll be here long enough for that."

  Faith looked out toward the wooden walkways leading past the sand dunes to where the Atlantic Ocean pitched and bellowed. "You never know. I don't think there's a better place to sleep than at the beach. There's nothing like the sound of waves crashing in your ears to drive you into unconsciousness. Back in D.C. I never sleep well. Too many things to worry about."

  "Funny, I sleep just fine there."

  She glared at him. "To each his own."

  "What's for dinner?"

  "First, a shower. You can have the master suite."

  "It's your place. I'm fine on a couch."

  "With six bedrooms, I don't think that would make much sense. Take the one at the end of the hall upstairs. It opens out onto the back porch.

  The Jacuzzi's out there. Feel free. Even without trunks. Don't worry, I won't peek."

  They went inside. Lee grabbed his bag and followed her upstairs. He showered and put on a clean pair of khakis, a sweatshirt and sneakers without socks, since he had forgotten to bring the latter. He didn't bother to dry his new buzz cut. He caught himself looking in the mirror. The haircut didn't look so bad on him. In fact, it had taken a few years off. He slapped his hard gut, even did an exaggerated flex in the mirror.

  "Yeah, right," he said to his reflection. "Even if she were your type, which she sure as hell ain't." He left his room and was about to head downstairs when he stopped in the hallway.

  Faith's bedroom was at the other end of the corridor. He could still hear her shower running. She was probably taking her time under the hot water after the long ride. She had held up well, he had to admit, hadn't complained too much. He was edging down the hallway the whole time he was thinking this, because it had just occurred to him that Faith might at this very minute be escaping out the back door while using the running shower as a ruse. For all he knew, she had arranged for a rental car that was parked down the street, and she was about to drive off, leaving him with not much of a life. Was she just like her old man? Running away into the night when things got tough?

  He knocked on her door. "Faith?" There was no answer, so he knocked louder. "Faith? Faith!" The water was still running. "Faith!" he yelled. He tried the door. It was locked. He pounded on the door again and yelled her name.

  Lee was about to hustle down the stairs when he heard footsteps and the door was flung open. Faith stood there, her hair soaked and hanging in her face, water dripping down her legs, a towel covering, barely, the front of her.

  "What?" she demanded. "What's wrong?"

  Lee found himself staring at the elegant bone development of her shoulders, the now fully revealed Audrey Hepburn neck, the tightness of her arms. Then his gaze slid down to her upper thighs and he quickly concluded that her arms had nothing on her legs.

  "What the hell is it, Lee?" she said loudly.

  He snapped back. "Oh. I was just wondering, um, how about I make dinner?" He smiled weakly.

  She stared incredulously at him as a puddle of water collected on the carpet at her feet. As she wrapped the mostly wet towel around her, Faith's small, firm breasts were now fully outlined against the thin wet fabric. That's when Lee began thinking seriously about taking another shower, only this time with water cold enough to turn certain parts of his anatomy the same color as his eyes.

  "Fine." She slammed the door in his face.

  "Very fine," Lee said quietly to the door.

  He went downstairs and examined the contents of the refrigerator. He decided on a menu and started pulling food and pans. He had been living alone for so long that he had finally decided, after years of Golden Arches food, that he had better learn how to cook properly. He actually found it therapeutic, and he fully expected to live an extra twenty years now that he had cleaned his arteries of all the grease. At least until he met Faith Lockhart. Now all bets on a long life were off.

  Lee laid out talapia on a baking sheet, brushed the fish with butter he had melted in a pan and let it soak in. Then he added garlic, lemon juice and some other secret spices handed down to him through generations of Adamses and put the fish in the wall oven to broil. He sliced up tomatoes and a slab of mozzarella, arranged them nicely on a serving plate and doused them with olive oil and seasoning. Next he prepared a salad and then slit a length of French bread, buttered it, added garlic and placed it in the lower oven. He got out two plates, silverware and cloth napkins he found in a drawer and set the table.

  There were candles on the table, but lighting them seemed like a cheesy idea. This wasn't a honeymoon, and
they still had that nationwide manhunt thing to consider.

  He opened a small, built-in wine cooler next to the fridge and selected a chilled bottle of white. As he was pouring out two glasses of wine, Faith came down the stairs. She wore an unbuttoned blue denim shirt with a white T-shirt underneath, a pair of loose-fitting white slacks and red sandals. He noted she still wore no makeup, at least that he could detect. A silver bangle bracelet dangled at her wrist. She also wore turquoise earrings done in a loopy southwestern design.

  She looked surprised at the kitchen activity. "A man who can shoot a gun, lose the Feds and cook too. You just never cease to amaze me."

  He handed her a wine glass. "A good meal, a quiet evening and then we get down to serious business."

  She glanced coolly at him as he clinked his glass against hers. "You clean up well," she said.

  "Another one of my talents." He went to check the fish while Faith went over to the wall of windows and stared out.

  They ate quietly, both of them apparently feeling a little awkward now that they had arrived at their destination. Getting here, ironically enough, seemed to be the easy part.

  Faith insisted on cleaning up the kitchen while Lee turned on the TV.

  "Did we make the news?" Faith asked.

  "Not that I can see. But there must have been reports of the FBI agent being found. A murdered Fed is still pretty damn rare even in this day and age, thank God. I'll get a newspaper tomorrow."

  Faith finished cleaning up, poured herself another glass of wine and joined him.

  "Okay, our bellies are full, the booze has us about as mellow as were going to get, so now's the time to talk," Lee said. "I need to hear the whole story, Faith. As sweet and simple as that."

  "So you feed a girl a nice meal, fill her with wine and you think she's yours for the asking?" She smiled coyly.

  He frowned. "I'm serious, Faith."

  Her smile disappeared, along with her coyness. "Let's go for a walk on the beach."

  Lee started to protest but then stopped. "Okay. It's your turf, home rules apply." He headed up the stairs.

  "Where are you going?"

  "Be right back."

  When Lee came back down, he had on a windbreaker.

  "You didn't need a jacket, it's still pretty warm."

  He spread open the front of the jacket, revealing the clip holster and the Smith & Wesson in it. "Didn't want to spook any sand crabs we come across."

  "Guns frighten me to death."

  "Guns also prevent death, when properly used. Usually sudden, violent death."

  "No one could have followed us. No one knows were here." His reply chilled her to the bone.

  "I hope to God you're right."

  CHAPTER 30

  REYNOLDS DIDN'T USE HER BUBBLE LIGHT but would have if a patrol car had tried to pull her over, as she was exceeding the speed limit by more than twenty miles per hour on the few open stretches of the Beltway before having to slow down in a sea of red brake lights. She checked her watch: seven-thirty. When wasn't there a rush hour in this damn area? People got up earlier and earlier to go to work, or stayed later and later before going home to avoid the traffic. Pretty soon the two groups would smack right into each other and the twenty-four-hour-a-day highway parking lot would officially begin. Luckily Anne Newman's house was only a few exits down from hers.

  As she drove, Reynolds thought about her visit to Adams's apartment building. Reynolds had thought she had seen and heard everything by now, but Angie Carter's statement about the FBI had stunned her, and the shock of it had moved her and Connie into hyper speed They'd notified their superiors at the Bureau and