Blind Spot (17 page)

“What did you talk to Frank about?” Nathan asked.

Though he still didn’t have any proof to back it up, the talk with Frank had strengthened his suspicions and piqued his curiosity.

“So that’s what you were talking about the other night when you mentioned your parents,” Nathan said, once Sam finished relaying the conversation. “Are you sure you want to pursue this?” There were dark lines between his brows, and his lips were slightly downturned.

Sam couldn’t explain the feeling in his gut to Nathan. He could barely explain it to himself, but he knew he couldn’t let it go. He thought Nathan, of all people, might understand.

“I know it’s bad timing. But yeah.” He paused, trying to make sense of Nathan’s expression. “You think I’m crazy?”

“Of course not. I’d feel the same way. I
have
felt the same way.”

Emma.
Sam traced Nathan’s tightly clenched jaw with his fingers. “I hate feeling like this whole time I’ve been duped. I need to know what really happened, and maybe Janice can help.”

“Okay.” Nathan nodded, seemingly resigned to the new development. “Let’s see if we can track her down while we wait to hear from Tony.”

Nathan made a couple of calls, and Sam tried to find a number or address for Janice. He hadn’t spoken to her since his parent’s funeral. He was so messed up those days that he hadn’t given much thought to her getting another job and leaving town. Still, looking back, it seemed peculiar she hadn’t kept in touch. The last he heard, she’d moved to New York, but he couldn’t find any listing for Janice Wilkins in the online directory. He found several women with different last names. Out of those, surprisingly few stood out to him in the correct age range. He googled them one by one and had no luck until he reached
Janice W. Davis, age 43
. A quick scan of her resume confirmed he finally had the right woman. She’d been single when he knew her, so it was very possible she’d married since her move.

“Any luck?” Nathan asked once he was off the phone.

Sam gestured to the computer screen. “Looks like she’s been living in Westchester these past few years. I’ve got an address to try, but no phone number. Was that Rivera?”

“Yeah. Seems like the e-mail address leads to a dummy account. He traced the IP to a public computer in DC.”

“Well, that’s disappointing. You feel like taking a drive?” Sam stretched and yawned, and his shirt rucked up over his belly. He rubbed at it, but Nathan didn’t take the bait.

“I can get her number,” Nathan suggested.

Sam slumped back in his chair. He was hoping they could make love before they left the hotel, but that didn’t seem to be on the agenda. Sex was the one thing he could do without messing up.

“Well?” Nathan’s question brought him back to himself.

“Something tells me I should show up in person. I’m afraid if I call, and she doesn’t want to talk to me, I’ll lose my chance to hear the truth. Better to catch her off guard. See her reaction firsthand.”

There would be time later for love, Sam told himself. He just had to get through the day.

SAM FELT
positively itchy as they crossed the state border into New York. The I-95 corridor was backed up, so it would take them several hours to get to Janice’s house. It was Saturday, so he hoped they’d find her at home, but there was no guarantee. He drummed his fingers on the passenger armrest and earned a look of irritation from Nathan.

“Sorry.” He stopped, only to realize his leg was jumping too. With some effort he managed to control his limbs and take a deep, cleansing breath. “Maybe I should take up yoga or something.” What he really wanted was a shot of JD, but he tamped down the urge. Nathan was intently focused on the road, though the traffic was bumper to bumper, which hardly merited deep concentration.

“Being on the run isn’t as glamorous as it is in the movies,” Sam went on. “I mean if this were a Bond flick, we’d be speeding down the highway in an Aston Martin with a couple of hot chicks in the backseat. Not a Buick.” Still nothing. “Or maybe a chick for you and a hot dude for me.” Nada. Nathan was obviously brooding. Sam was tempted to react in kind, but he knew it wouldn’t get them anywhere. He’d done enough damage the day before.

“We’re not okay yet. Are we?” Sam asked.

Nathan glanced at him out of the corner of his eye. He seemed to be weighing his response. “We’re getting there. But I can’t pretend yesterday didn’t happen.”

It hurt to be reminded when he couldn’t stop reminding himself, but Sam understood. “That’s fair.”

“And when we visit Janice, I hope you won’t be disappointed if she doesn’t have any info. And if she does, well….” Sam could hear the end of the sentence.

“You think I’ll do something stupid? You think I’ll go on a bender?” Of course, with his recent behavior, he couldn’t exactly blame Nathan for the thought. He winced internally at the realization he’d harmed Nathan’s perception of him—maybe forever.

Nathan gripped the wheel with both hands. “That’s not what I was going to say. I know you want closure. I want it for you. But if there’s one thing I’ve learned over the past couple of years, it’s that closure comes from inside. I hope, whatever happens, you get what you need.”

A stadium rock anthem came on the radio, and Sam leaned forward and switched the channel to something lighter. Nathan brought new perspective. Sam had learned to live with his parents’ deaths and Tim’s condition, but he never experienced the kind of closure Nathan described. And what if whatever he learned in his search made it worse? What if he learned nothing?

He’d have to let go. What if he couldn’t?

There was obviously something else on Nathan’s mind. He kept sneaking looks across the seat. “I also wanted to tell you….” Sam steeled himself for the worst. He had no idea what to expect from the length of the pause. Nathan let out a long exhale. “I really am sorry about how distant I’ve been. We’ve had a little trouble with the case, and I’ve been questioning whether I want to continue doing this kind of work.”

“What do you mean? What happened?” When Nathan said he would quit his job, Sam hadn’t taken him seriously. Maybe he had been.

“To be frank I’m not sure anything illegal is going on in Jersey, aside from some recreational drug use. I’ve spent some time with the local cops. Some good people, but the chief down there is a real homophobe, and so are some of the detectives. They’re not exactly respectful of the subculture either. You should have seen them look down their noses at Eric. And one of the guys we met at the club is an outspoken critic of the cops down there. He’s got a following too. It reeks of entrapment to me.”

“Shit,” said Sam. “So you think they’re looking for any reason to arrest this guy?”

Nathan nodded. “Could be. As far as I can tell, there aren’t any mob ties either. I feel like this whole thing has been a waste of time and resources. I guess you could say I’m disillusioned, and maybe I’ve been avoiding telling you. It makes what I put you through…. Well, let’s just say these haven’t been the best weeks of my life. I feel like a fool.”

“I’m so sorry. I had no idea.” Sam rubbed Nathan’s knee. He hated the despondent look on Nathan’s face. He was so honest. He believed in the law and he needed to know he was working for the greater good. Sam hated to think all his hard work—all this distance between them—was for nothing. “And you’re not a fool. Don’t ever say that. It’s not your fault you were misled. So, what can you do?”

“We’re putting together an advisory report for the agency, recommending a cease of the investigation,” Nathan said tightly.

“So it’s over?”

“Just about.”

A car honked at them as they switched lanes, and Sam flipped him the bird. He was getting sick and tired of being in the car, and he wanted to give Nathan a hug.

“Nathan?”

“Yeah.”

“You’re not serious. Are you? About quitting?”

“I don’t know. I… it’s more than this case, but maybe it took this case to make me see it clearly. I lost Emma because of my work, and I almost lost you. Nothing is worth that price. You’re the best thing that ever happened to me.” Nathan was quiet for a minute, and a slow song started on the radio. It was a song Sam’s mother had loved—a seventies ballad crooned by a woman with a beautiful voice.

“Me too, Sid,” Sam said. Nathan gave him a grateful smile, and the knot in Sam’s gut began to unravel. Things weren’t back to normal yet, but they were close.

“What would you do if you quit the FBI?”

“I don’t know. And I guess that’s what scares me. But whatever happens, I want you to be there.”

Sam squeezed Nathan’s thigh. Nathan was always so sure of himself. It was no wonder he’d kept his troubled thoughts secret. It made Sam feel horrible for his suspicions and his selfish needs.

He would make it up to Nathan—somehow.

“I will be,” he promised.

IN SPITE
of Sam’s former eagerness to speak with Janice, his feet were leaden as he followed Nathan to the door of the quaint blue house. Unlike many of the other homes on the street, the yard of 325 Elm was unkempt, and the weeds growing from between the flagstones of the front walk were evidence it hadn’t been tended in some time. Sam might have worried the inhabitants had moved, if not for the car in the driveway. The June sun beat down on Sam’s neck from behind. He rubbed at it and shuffled his feet while Nathan knocked. The bell didn’t seem to be in working order either.

A few seconds later, a woman answered the door, her look of confusion plain when she encountered Nathan. When she saw Sam, however, she visibly tensed. A thin smile formed on her lips, but it didn’t meet her eyes. She was still pretty, but she’d lost the bloom of youth, and her wariness put Sam on alert. He came forward and held out his hand.

“Hello, Janice. It’s been a long time.”

“I can’t believe it,” she said. Her face paled considerably. “Sam Flynn. How many years has it been?”

Her palm was clammy in his hand. “Too many. Can we come in?”

With obvious reluctance Janice opened the door wider, allowing both Nathan and Sam to pass through. The interior of the house was messy, and though the furnishings were of high quality, they were dusty. On the living room mantle, there were several framed photographs of Janice with a man in a wheelchair.

“You must excuse the state of the place,” she said, as though reading Sam’s mind. “My husband passed recently, and with work, I’ve had a hard time keeping up.”

“I’m sorry to hear about your loss,” said Nathan. “I’m Nathan Walker, by the way. Sam’s partner.” As they shook hands, her eyes widened.

“His…. Oh. Oh. How nice.” She tried and failed to disguise her surprise.

Sam took a seat on the couch next to Nathan, and Janice sat across the coffee table in a large, overstuffed armchair, her thin frame dwarfed by its size. It was hard to know where to start. Launching directly into “Hey. Do you by any chance know if my parents were murdered?” seemed a little insensitive, especially given the fact she’d recently lost her husband.

“I didn’t know you’d gotten married,” he said, perhaps equally tactlessly.

“About five years ago. Steve had ALS, and we knew we didn’t have much time. It doesn’t make it any easier, though.”

“Of course not.” Sam nodded. “I’m so sorry.”

“How’s your brother?” she asked, obviously eager to change the subject.

Sam met her eyes. “He’s the same.”

“I always hoped he’d wake up.”

“Yeah,” Sam said. “I still do.” A moment of uncomfortable silence passed as they looked at each other, and Sam realized they needed to cut to the chase. “You’re probably wondering why I’m here.”

“I have a feeling I know why.” She sighed. “To be honest I’ve wanted to reach out to you for a while. But in the end, I thought it best to let the matter drop. I wondered if you’d ever contact me.”

“You do know something about the accident. Don’t you?” Instinctively he reached for Nathan’s hand and laced their fingers together. “Please tell me.”

She sat back in her chair and stared up at the ceiling, her sloping shoulders relaxed. Then she took a deep breath and steeled her face into a determined expression, more like the Janice he recognized from his childhood. “Your father and I were having an affair.”

“What?” Sam felt the blood drain out of his face.

“I’m sorry to blurt it out, but it’s the truth. I didn’t know how else to say it.”

“For… you and my father?” Sam was stunned. She had to be lying.

“I know this is difficult to hear. I’ll spare you the details, but I want you to know I loved him very much. I think he loved me too, but of course he loved your mother more. He never would have left his family for me. I knew that going into it.”

“My mother. Did she know?”

Janice smiled sadly. “I don’t know. And believe me, I would rather not have told you, Sam. I don’t want you to think any less of your father for this. He was a good man.”

“Then why are you telling me?” he nearly croaked.

“Because it explains what happened about a week before your father’s death. He seemed out of sorts. Sometimes he got a little moody, so I didn’t think much of it. But one night I forgot my house keys at the office and I went back to get them. Your father was still there. He was sitting at his desk, having a drink.”

She trailed off, as though lost in the memory, and Sam squeezed Nathan’s hand harder. He couldn’t imagine what she would say next. “What happened?”

“I remember it so clearly. Like it was yesterday. I asked him if everything was okay, but he just laughed. It scared me, frankly. And then… he kissed me and he told me it was over. He told me I should leave. Not only that night. But for good. He said he’d give me a good reference for a firm in Boston or New York.”

Sam held his breath. Nathan sat equally tense at his side.

“I was heartbroken of course. He apologized—profusely. He asked me to forgive him. I understood why he needed to break off the affair, but when he kept insisting I leave town as well, I got angry. I accused him of being heartless. I suppose I could have sued him, but I would never have told our secret to anyone.” She smiled mirthlessly. “I haven’t… until today.”