Don't Take Any Wooden Nickels (39 page)

“I don’t know what you mean,” he said.

“I mean, you obviously loved your mother very much. You miss her.”

He was quiet for a while, looking out at the water. On the other bank, I could see a tree, vibrant orange, its leaves falling one by one and then floating away. I thought about the cycles of nature, about life and death and rebirth, and I wondered if Kirby knew the Lord well enough to understand that physical death wasn’t just an ending—it was also a beginning. For me, that knowledge was all that could comfort me after Bryan’s death.

“My mother was a wonderful lady,” he said. “It wasn’t fair how she had to go.”

“No,” I agreed. “It wasn’t. But she is gone now, and you’re not. It’s time to get your own life back. Time to focus. As you said, time to grow up.”

“It might help if I knew what I really wanted out of life,” he admitted. “Do I stay here and care for my grandmother until she dies, too? Is that my lot in life, to keep marking time while the women I love slowly waste away and die?”

“Oh, Kirby, of course not.”

“There were parts of my old job I really liked. The research. The fiddling around with new things. The inventing. But I don’t want to go back to the workaday world. I like knowing I’m helping out around here.”

“Then do both. Work from home. Combine research and development with taking care of your family. Seems to me, if it’s your father’s company, you can structure things almost any way you want.”

“I suppose that’s true,” he said.

“At least give it some thought.”

“I will. I mean, I hate to sound like a whiny rich kid, but it’s hard when you grow up getting everything you ever asked for. If it’s all available to you, how do you ever learn what really matters?”

“At the risk of sounding simplistic,” I said, “you go to the Bible. It tells you, straight out, what is and what isn’t important here on earth. Base your life on God’s Word and on His will, Kirby, and you cannot go wrong. I promise you that.”

“Is that what you do?”

“As much as I can.”

He nodded.

“By what I’ve seen,” he said, “it really works for you. I mean, you seem to go through life the way you paddle a canoe, Callie. Like you know where you’re going and exactly how you’re going to get there.”

“Ah, but there’s where you’re wrong,” I replied, smiling. “In life, my hands aren’t even on the paddle. I’m just holding on to the side of the boat, trusting the Lord—I guess you could call Him the Master Paddler—to take me wherever it is He wants me to go.”

Forty-Four

The phone was ringing when I walked in the door, and I caught it just before it went to the machine. It was Tom, calling to tell me he had been able to work things out for me with the INS, and that I would, indeed, be allowed to go along with them tonight, as long as I adhered to their lengthy list of rules.

“An Agent Litman will be in touch with you in a little while to work out the details,” he said. “I had to pull in some major favors for this one, so you need to be as unobtrusive as possible.”

“Don’t worry,” I replied. “They won’t even know I’m there.”

Sal was eagerly trying to say hello, so I cradled the phone against my shoulder as I bent down and scooped her up in my arms.

“Apparently, civilians are
never
allowed on something like this,” Tom continued. “But they’re willing to make an exception this time, especially given that you are already so involved with the case. Just keep a low profile, okay?”

“Okay,” I promised.

“Now, officially, you’re going to be under the watch of Agent Litman.”

“I’ve already had the pleasure,” I said, trying not to sound sarcastic.

“Well, listen, if you’re out there tonight and there’s any kind of problem and this Litman fellow isn’t available, I want you to ask for the other guy, Hank Quinn.”

“All right.”

“According to my contact, Hank’s a real stand-up guy. You can rely on him completely.”

“Okay. I will.”

I could hear something in his voice, some hesitation.

“What is it?” I asked. “Is there something else?”

“I was just wondering about your new boyfriend,” he said, an odd note to his voice. “Is he wanting to go along, too?”

I let that sit between us, trying to figure out how Tom had learned about Kirby so quickly. From one of the agents who had been there last night, I supposed. So Kirby holding my hand had not gone unnoticed!

“No, he’s not interested,” I said breezily. Let Tom decide how to respond to that.

He was quiet for a moment.

“Is it serious?” he asked, his tone more subdued. “This relationship with this guy?”

“Are you asking me that question as my boss? Because you know by law you have no right to intrude in my personal affairs.”

“It’s been a while since I was merely your boss, Callie.”

“I’m just saying you can’t ask me that.”

The line was silent for a moment.

“You’re right,” he said finally. “I’m sorry. I hope it works out for you. I’m off to Singapore tonight anyway, so I guess it’s all for the best.”

He was quiet, though I could almost hear the tension crackling between us. I set Sal back on the floor and went to the cabinet to get her a treat. Kirby had accused me of being in love with Tom, which was crazy.
I can’t love a man I don’t even know.

Can I?

“What about Janine?” I asked finally.

“Janine?”

“At the airport? The beautiful blonde with the big engagement ring?”

“What about her?”

I held out Sal’s treat in front of me, and she jumped up and snatched it in her mouth.

“Who is she to you, Tom? Was that your ring on her finger?”

Much to my surprise, he laughed.

“Is that what you thought?” he said. “Me and
Janine?”

“She implied—”

“Callie,” Tom said, “Janine was just helping me out. In an official capacity.”

“Oh?”

“She and her fiancé are old friends of mine. Janine is a high-ranking official with the FAA.”

“The FAA?”

“She was just doing me a favor, getting me on a flight at the last minute. Then she agreed to meet you to pass on my message in person.”

I wasn’t sure what to say. I was quite surprised and a little embarrassed. Primarily, however, I was overwhelmed with a great sense of relief.

“I…I broke things off with Kirby today,” I admitted. “We’re not going out anymore—not that we ever really were.”

Sal finished her treat and then ran to the door and scratched at it. I let her into her play yard, watching to make sure she didn’t run off through the gap in the fence.

“Would I be presumptuous,” Tom said softly, “if I told you I was really, really glad?”

I blinked, a surge of some emotion I couldn’t name clouding my vision.

“I wish I could understand,” I said, “the true nature of what you and I are to each other.”

“It is confusing,” he replied, “but we both know there’s something there. There always has been, since the very beginning of our relationship.”

“I know,” I said, “but considering the fact that I don’t know what you look like, that I don’t know any of the details of your life, that you seem to have spies in every tree watching me while I’m not allowed to delve into even the most minute, insignificant detail about you—I don’t know if I could call this a ‘relationship’ or not. A relationship requires participation by both parties, Tom. Alive and usually in person.”

“I don’t have spies in every tree. That’s not fair.”

“Then how did you know about Kirby?”

“The agents who were there last night said you weren’t working alone. They said that you and this Kirby guy seemed to be a couple.”

“A couple of what?”

“You know what I mean. A couple. Involved.”

I thought about all that Tom and I had shared, albeit over the telephone, and I wondered if part of the attraction for me with Tom was the very inaccessibility of it all. For a woman dealing with issues of seclusion and withdrawal, this fellow, who seemed to exist mostly in my imagination, provided a dangerous and convenient situation indeed.

The important thing, then, was not what had taken place with us so far, but what we were willing to do now. Could we take this relationship out of fantasy and into reality? And if we did, would
the reality of who Tom was come anywhere close to the man I had created in my imagination?

“Where do we go from here?” I asked.

“I don’t know.”

We were both quiet, confused by what was taking place. I let Sal back into the house and looked out at my wooded yard, at the sun setting behind the trees, and prayed for guidance.

“I just want to get this right,” he said finally, and I knew exactly what he meant.

More than anything, I wanted to get this right, too.

Forty-Five

We rolled at midnight. Wearing enough layers to stay warm even at the North Pole, I parked my car at the designated spot (the parking lot of a grocery store in Osprey Cove) and waited for Agent Litman to pick me up.

Since talking to Tom, I had eaten dinner, updated my database, and then tried taking a nap in preparation for another all-nighter. I’m not sure how much sleep I actually got, but it had still been restful to spend a few hours just lying down, drifting in and out. Now it was midnight. My mind felt sharp and clear, and my body was in much better shape than it had been earlier in the day. My sleep patterns had been so messed up the last few days, I wondered if I might need a week off to recover from my week off!

Agent Litman showed up exactly on time, and I left my car in the parking lot and got into his. As I sat down and shut the door, I braced myself, knowing I was about to become the target of his wrath.

“I don’t know who you know,” he said with controlled fury, “or how you managed to get yourself included here tonight. But I
just want to make certain you understand that this is highly irregular. The INS does not allow civilians to come along on a bust. Ever.”

He prattled on about security clearances and the Department of Justice Privacy Act, steering out of the parking lot as he ranted. I remembered Hank saying that Litman was strictly a by-the-book kind of guy. I would imagine someone pulling a few strings to get me here had really rattled his cage.

“So who is it?” he pressed, heading down the dark road at a pretty fair clip. “Who do you know who was able to get you on this mission?”

I shook my head, hoping we would get to wherever we were going soon.

“Someone important in the Department of Justice,” I said. “I don’t think you need to know anything beyond that.”

The fact that
I
didn’t know anything beyond that almost made me smile.
This is just how things work with Tom,
I thought but did not say.
Somehow he has the power to open doors.

Litman grunted but left it alone, turning instead to a long list of warnings about tonight’s mission. Apparently, this bust was to be the culmination of a nearly two-year investigation. No wonder he didn’t want me nosing around and messing it up!

Litman drove us to the marina in Cambridge, where we boarded a small vessel about the size of a tugboat. According to him, from there we would sail out to the Intracoastal Waterway and blend in with the other ships as we approached Manno Island. I understood their operation was multifaceted, and we would not be with the team who took the island. Instead, we would be with the observation and coordination forces at a nearby vantage point.

On board, the mood seemed somber but efficient. Litman positioned me inside the lower cabin at a window and told me that under no circumstances was I allowed to leave that spot. I gave him my word that I would stay put.

“We may seem like a peripheral part of tonight’s operation,” he warned me, “but our presence is as integral to this bust as any other part of the team. We’re monitoring the activity
electronically. In fact, I’m linked to Hank’s wire,” he said, pointing to a small earphone clipped over one of his ears. “I can hear everything as it happens.”

Once he felt that I was suitably impressed by the gravity of the situation, he went out the door and up some stairs to what I assumed was the main control room. I watched from my vantage point at the window as a number of people made their way around the small ship, some heading up the stairs after Litman, some preparing the ship to set sail. Everything was quiet except for the low hum of the motor, punctuated occasionally by the groans and creaks of the vessel itself.