by Mark Stone
“You had a funny way of showing it,” I answered.
“A woman with a thousand faces can never show you her true features,” Natasha replied. “Just know you got closer than most, okay?”
I stared at her for a long moment, letting the past wash over me like a wave from outside.
“We have two days,” I said, shaking the thoughts out of my head. “We need to hurry.”
“Hurrying is all well and good, but I learned a long time ago that, if you don’t follow rules, you end up in a prison cell.” Natasha pointed to herself. “So, this body doesn’t move unless told to by her superior officer.”
“What are you saying?” I asked. “You want to run this by Merriman?”
“I’m absolutely going to run this by Merriman,” she said. “Going off book in the way you’re discussing is a federal offense, and not everyone has a best friend for a boss.” Natasha scoffed. “You two really are very Andy and Barney, aren’t you?”
“That’s a reference I didn’t expect to hear coming out of your mouth,” I said.
“What can I say?” Natasha grinned. “I’m full of surprises. But yes, I have to run all of this by the big guns. If they say it’s a go, then it’s a go.”
“And if not?” I asked, glaring at her.
“Then we have a choice to make, Stormy,” she answered, a rueful grin on her face. “And one of them would make us real criminals.”
Chapter 19
With Natasha gone into the other room, running everything that happened by her boss and waiting to see what he had to say about the whole thing, I spent the next few minutes digging a little deeper into the mystery that was Eve Jensen.
A quick Facebook search revealed that she was an English teacher from Moline, Iowa. Thirty seven years old, her husband died three years ago in a tragic accident in the factory where he worked. She had no kids, and though the settlement she got from the factory after her husband’s death seemed to be enough to live on (judging from the amount of Facebook friends telling her to quit her job and take one of those year long cruises around the world) she continued teaching. In fact, the first vacation the woman took after the death of her husband wasn’t a cruise. It was right here to St. Thomas, where two weeks ago, she disappeared into thin air.
The last posts on her Facebook wall was a photo of the outside of Oceana, a gorgeous restaurant in Frenchtown that looked amazing but was always too pricey for my grandfather and I to ever try during one of our trips here, and then another picture of her smiling with a dark-haired man in what had to be the inside of the restaurant.. I thought about it now, though, about my grandfather and I passing through Frenchtown. We would stroll along the marinas and look up at the sprawling hills dotted with colorful homes. I grew up in paradise. So, I knew what it looked like. This was just a different flavor of that, and part of me was happy to be back there.
The last trip my grandfather and I took to this place, a few months before I graduated high school and ran off to Chicago, we talked about how great it would be to retire here, to move to the island and live our lives fishing and meandering around the local strips and beaches.
That, of course, could never be. My grandfather and I, while as close as two people could ever be, were separated by time. He was close to retiring back then already, and I was just getting started in life. Now I had a wife and a life to lead, and my grandfather was slowly saying goodbye to his.
We’d never get to come here together again. I knew that. We’d never get to walk the piers of Frenchtown together again. We’d never get to strolls the beaches. But, if there were beaches in Heaven, I had no doubt the old man would be waiting for me on one of them, a drink in his hand and a smile on his face, free of the pain that held him back down here.
The door of the bedroom opened, and I watched Natasha walk out of it, stuffing her phone back into her pocket. The look on her face was a mixture of aggravation, disgust, and exhaustion.
This did not look good.
“Went that bad, did it?” I asked, standing from the desk where the computer sat and walking toward the woman.
“He wasn’t happy,” Natasha said. “In fact, the words ‘needlessly loud’ come to mind.”
“I can imagine,” I replied. “You should have told him that, if he kept a better handle on his ship, this wouldn’t have happened.”
“And, perhaps I would have, if the bastard had stopped screaming for two consecutive seconds,” Natasha answered. “In any event, he’s setting up security detail for your family back in Naples and making sure they’re safe.”
A rush of relief ran through me. Though my faith in the FBI, and Merriman in particular, had been shaken by this breach of intelligence, we were where we were. Having trained eyes looking out for the people I loved the most in this world was a good thing, and in truth, it would help me focus on what I needed to do here more easily.
“Thank you,” I answered, nodding.
“It’s quite literally the least we can do,” Natasha said. “As for the rest of it, he has to get approval from his superiors to make the call as to how we proceed now.”
“Are you serious?” I balked. Instantly, my gratitude turned to anger. “We have two days, Natasha. Two!”
“I’m aware of the situation, and I’ve explained that to him,” Natasha answered, sighing but keeping her voice level. “This is the way this works. He’s putting a rush on it.”
“A rush?” I asked, shaking my head, sure I was misunderstanding things. “We’re out in the thick of this. Our lives are at stake and this mission has gone completely off the rails, and you’re telling me that we have to wait on some bureaucrats in a building back in the continental US to make up their minds?” I moved toward the door. “I won’t do that. We can’t just sit back and do nothing.”
Natasha moved in front of me, blocking my path. “We can and we will. Otherwise, I swear to God, Stormy, I will arrest you right here and now.”
“Arrest me?” I balked. The idea seemed preposterous. Natasha Rayne, the same woman who built a life on conning people, the same woman who stole my grandmother’s wedding ring, the same woman who made me love her without telling me anything real about her at all was going to arrest me for trying to help someone. She couldn’t be serious.
“I can’t let you go off book,” she answered, folding her arms over her chest. “That’s not how things are done here.”
“And how are things done here exactly?” I shot back. “Aside from incompetently?”
“This is the federal government,” Natasha said. “I answer to people who answer to the President. You take matters into your own hands in this line of work and it earns you a jail sentence.”
I threw my hands out at my sides, my eyes going wide. “Aren’t you the same woman who just told me one of our decisions would turn us into criminals? You seemed fine with the idea then, all smiles and giggles. Now you’re telling me you want to take it back?”
“I was smiles and giggles because I didn’t think you’d take it seriously,” she replied quickly, pointing a long, painted fingernail at me. “I thought the great Dillon Storm would never consider committing a crime.”
“The great Dillon Storm is trying to do the right thing,” I answered with a sigh.
“I love how you say that like it’s so simple,” Natasha said, sighing herself.
“It is simple,” I responded. “Good and bad, right and wrong; they’re easy concepts to wrap your head around. Anyone who tells you any different is just trying to make excuses to do what they know they shouldn’t. A woman is missing, Natasha.”
“Women are missing all over the world!” she screamed. “You can’t save everyone, and if you try, you’ll end up blowing what we came to do in the first place.”
“All any of us can do is try, Nat,” I said. “I try everyday. I try to be the kind of man my mother would be proud of, the kind of guy she never had in her own life. I try to be the husband my wife deserves, and yes, I try to help the people who need me, includ
ing an innocent woman who just wanted to go on a vacation.”
“That’s a very low level way of looking at things,” Natasha said.
“What is that supposed to mean?” I asked, anger rising in me even higher than before.
“It means that, from where you’re sitting, you can’t see the chessboard. I’m sure right and wrong and good and evil are all very simple from where you’re sitting. But you don’t know how the world works, not really.”
“Is that right?” I balked. “Because, the way I see it, we’re both on the same mission here.”
“Oh, Stormy,” she scoffed. “We’re not even close to on the same mission. The truth of the matter is that you’re here because you fit a profile, because you have a scar that matches some surgical oddity, and because you’ve been known to be willing to throw yourself in harm’s way when the situation calls for it. You’re a prop and a gun. You’re a liability and I’m here to make sure you don’t screw everything up.” She shook her head. “You know, like you’re trying to do right now.”
I swallowed hard, trying to contain the indignation building inside of me. I was a wave at that very moment, a torrent that threatened to tear this entire place apart.
“You’re making a lot of assumptions about me,” I answered slowly, my jaw grinding together.
“I don’t have to make assumptions, Stormy,” she replied. “Let’s not forget that I know you.”
“You know who I used to be,” I replied. “You know the man in Chicago, the listless, anchorless, brokenhearted man who was looking for anything to make him forget that he had nothing.” I took a step toward her. “I don’t have nothing anymore, Natasha. I have it all. I have a life that I love, a family I can be proud of who has my back, and a job that I have proven time and time again that I am exceedingly qualified to perform.” I took just a beat before continuing again. “And I wasn’t talking about you when I said you were making a lot of assumptions.” I shrugged. “Well, I wasn’t talking about just you. You people with your special clearance and your federal positions might think you’re smarter and more capable than the rest of us. You say you can see the chessboard and you might be right, but all that means to me is that you miss a lot. You ever heard the expression missing the forest for the trees? Well, in my experience, most of the clues you need are down there in the trees.”
“Have you ever been a prisoner before Dillon?” Natasha asked. “And I don’t mean being held captive on that little cruise ship where you and your wife had your honeymoon.”
My hands tightened as I realized that Natasha knew more about my current life than I figured she had.
“If you know where I went on my honeymoon, I’ve got to figure you also know the answer to that question,” I shot back.
“I do,” she replied. “I know the answer and I know what it means. Regardless of the fact that I might not know everything about you, I know you’re not the type of man who needs to go to jail. You’re a good person, Dillon, and the world needs more people like you on the outside. Don’t force me to have you put away.”
“The thing is, Nat, if I didn’t do what I thought was right, I wouldn’t be the kind of person who needed to be on the outside.”
“Damnit, Stormy!” she answered, shaking her head. “You don’t know that this missing woman is innocent. You have no idea what her life has looked like or what kind of person she is.” She pursed her lips together. “You don’t even know that she went here on vacation.”
I peered into Natasha’s eyes. It became very clear to me what she was doing, that she was alluding to something that she couldn’t quite say.
“You know something I don’t,” I replied.
“I know a lot of things that you don’t,” she answered. “It’s the nature of the job. The nature of the job also dictates that I can’t tell you those things either. You just have to trust me. You have to-”
“I have to follow my gut,” I said. “It’s what I’ve been doing for years, and I’m not going to stop now just because you tell me that I should. You say I can’t see the chessboard, you say I’m not allowed? Well, then you should stop expecting me to act like I can. The woman I’ve seen, the Eve Jensen I’ve investigated is an English teacher from a farming town who has been through a lot. If there’s more to her, then I’m sure I’ll figure it out along the way. And if what I learn changes the way I think about her, that’s fine too. Because no one deserves to stolen, and no one’s family deserves to have to live with not knowing what happened to the person they love.”
“You’re not going to stop, are you?” Natasha asked, her eyes closing and her shoulders slumping.
“Not unless you stop me,” I answered. “If you want to put cuffs on me right now, I guess I won’t fight you. But, if you don’t, I’m going to walk out that door and do my job. I’m going to go follow my gut.”
“I can’t follow you,” Natasha answered. “Not until I get the go ahead. I’m not like you. I’ve been to prison before, Stormy., real prison. I’m not going back. I don’t care what the circumstances are.”
“Understood,” I murmured. “What about me? Am I going to prison?”
She glared at me, her nostrils flared. “Just get the hell out of here,” she said in a huff. “And try not to make too much of a mess of things.”
“Good choice, Nat,” I answered, walking toward her, pushing my way out the door, and going to work.
Chapter 20
Heading to Frenchtown, I knew I had to be more resourceful than usual. Going into Oceana, the last place Eve checked in at on the Facebook before she went missing, would be more complicated than usual.
I couldn’t just walk in there as Dillon Storm, flashing a badge and asking questions out in the open. For one thing, I didn’t have jurisdiction out here. Without the backing of the FBI, I had no authority to run around demanding answers from people. The more pressing issue, ofcourse, came from the fact that I couldn’t be Dillon Storm out here at all. Though Nate (and, if he could be trusted, other people on the island) knew the truth about who I really was, I was banking on the fact that the Archer was still in the dark. If this mission was actually going to be a success, I was going to have to keep my head low as I attempted to find Eve Jensen, wherever she was.
Straightening my shirt, I took a look at myself in the glass window of the restaurant. It was a swanky place, the kind of eatery where you normally needed a tie and reservation. At the moment, given the way I stormed out of the bungalow without stopping to check myself, I had neither. The sneer I received from the hostess as I walked up to the outdoor counter told me the way I looked wasn’t going to go unnoticed or forgiven.
“We’re booked tonight,” the woman, a short brunette with a severe haircut and black eyeshadow said as she turned back down to the clipboard in her hands.
“And, if I have a reservation?” I asked.
“In addition to being as surprised as I’ve ever been in my life, I would inform you that you need a tie and coat to dine at our restaurant,” the woman said, without looking back up.
“A tie and coat at a beachside eatery is a little over the top, wouldn’t you say?” I asked.
“I suppose that would depend on where your personal ‘top’ was,” the woman responded. “I’m going to assume yours is much lower than the other people here tonight. So, if you don’t mind making room for guests who might actually be serious about dining with us, that would be wonderful.”
“Jensen,” I answered. “Eve Jensen.”
“Your name is Eve Jensen?” the woman asked, looking up at me in a way that told me, though we’d only know each other for fifteen seconds, she was already tired of me.
“The woman I was here to meet is named Eve Jensen,” I answered.
“What a lucky girl,” the woman groaned, looking me up and down again. “In any event, she’s not on the list.”
“I’m talking about for the 11th,” I said.
“The 11th?” the woman asked. “Of next month?”
“Of this month,” I replied.
The woman behind the counter rolled her eyes and scoffed at me. “Sir, we’re very busy tonight as we are every night. I’m afraid I can’t just give you credit for some missed reservation from two weeks ago.”
“That’s the thing, though,” I replied. “It wasn’t a missed reservation. She was there. We were there on the 11th, and I was wondering if I could talk to someone who might have been there that night.”
The woman’s eyes narrowed. “And why would you want to do that?”
I blinked, taking a deep breath. “Because we had a really good experience that night, and I’d really like to thank them for their amazing service.”
“We at Oceana always strive for the best. No thanks is necessary. Now, if you would please-”
“Is she giving you some trouble?” a familiar voice asked from behind me. Turning around, I saw Terry, the red haired woman who helped spring me from the transport vehicle and then shot the man who tried to kill us in cold blood, standing behind me.
“Ms. Monogal,” the woman behind the counter said, demuring a little as she spoke. “I’m sorry. This man-”
“Is a friend of mine,” Terry said. “A new friend,” she added, reading the confusion on my face. “But a friend all the same. Now, if you don’t mind, I’ll take my usual table and add an extra place setting for Mr. Davidson here.” She motioned to me.
“But-but the dress code,” the woman behind the counter mumble.
“Should be irrelevant, given who you’re speaking to,” Terry responded. She waved a gloved hand at the woman. “Now, run along and do as I say before I persuade your boss to find someone who will.”
“Yes, ma’am,” the woman behind the counter said, scurrying off into the restaurant with her tail between her legs.
“I’m sorry about that,” Terry said, smiling a cold smile at me as I looked back at her. “She’s new. She hasn’t really learned the ropes yet. Of course, neither have you. Once you’re here more often, you won’t have to deal with that sort of thing.” She held her arm out for me to take. “I’d have invited you out. I just figured that, after the sort of day you’ve had, you might want to take it easy.”