Chapter Thirty-three

Monday, October 1

Savard heard the sound of footsteps on the deck and watched the door with a combination of anticipation and uncertainty. She'd awakened alone after arriving at Whitley Point late the night before, having cajoled and badgered the medical staff into allowing her to leave the hospital twenty-four hours early. Paula had slept in a chair by her bed and had risen early to check in with the commander. She wanted Paula's company, her comfort, but at the same time, she wanted to be alone. She needed time to find a place for the anger and terrible disappointment that had plagued her since 9/11, and she didn't want to inflict her doubts and disillusionment on her lover.

"I've got coffee and scones," Stark said as she edged through the doorway with a tray. "Hungry?"

"Yes." Savard smiled. She couldn't help it.

Stark appraised the position of Renee's leg, propped up on several pillows on the sofa. "How are you feeling?"

"It doesn't hurt much at all. Just a big old cut is all it turned out to be. If it hadn't been for the temporary shock to the nerves, I probably would've been able to walk on my own." She grimaced, still embarrassed that she'd put the commander's life in danger.

"You couldn't help getting shot, honey." Stark poured coffee and placed a blueberry scone on a paper napkin. She set them both on the end table within Renee's reach.

"I nearly blew the whole thing. Big time."

Carefully, Stark settled onto the sofa and laid her hand on Renee's thigh.

"But you didn't, did you."

Savard looked down at the strong hand. Paula loved her. Paula also was one of the few people in her life who could really understand what it meant to struggle against an evil so pervasive that the fight felt endless. Paula would understand that sometimes she just wanted to give up, to give in, to say it was all too much and to walk away. To have a normal life, where it was still possible to believe that the world was safe. She sighed and traced the tendons and veins on the top of Paula's hand with her fingertip. "It was close, for a while. I wasn't certain we were going to make it." She looked into Paula's concerned brown eyes. "For a while now, I haven't been sure I would make it."

"Do you want to talk about it?" Stark asked gently.

"No." Savard kissed Paula softly, knowing that the love this woman offered her was the one safe place in her world. "But I will."

And as she told her everything, she felt the first stirrings of peace.

Blair watched Stark disappear into the guesthouse and turned to smile at Cam, who sat at the table. "Between Savard on crutches and you barely able to manage a whisper, I feel like we're running a rehab center around here."

Cam grinned.

"Don't talk," Blair warned, joining her at the table. She sat down and reached for Cam's hand. "I'm going to talk, and you're going to nod. Okay?"

"Yes," Cam whispered.

"Cameron, don't push. I've been going easy on you because you were hurt." Blair's eyes flashed. "But I haven't forgotten that you said you'd stay with the rear action, and you ended up practically getting yourself blown up."

"No—"

Blair held up a hand, cutting her off. "I didn't say anything to you yesterday because you needed to rest, but I spoke with Lucinda. I got some of the details."

Cam frowned.

"Oh, I know. You would have preferred to tell me yourself, so that you could downplay the danger. I know how you operate." Blair reached for Cam's hand and held it. "They put up more resistance than anybody figured, didn't they?" When Cam nodded, a frustrated expression on her face, Blair continued, hoping to fill in the blanks so that Cam wouldn't need to speak. She knew that Cam probably needed to talk about it almost as much as she needed to hear it, even though Cam wouldn't want to share all the details. Well, she'd just have to. "And that's how you ended up right in the middle of things. There was no rear action." She lifted Cam's hand and rubbed it against her cheek. "You wouldn't have put yourself in danger like that unless you had to, right?"

Cam shook her head carefully while holding Blair's gaze.

"I know, you promised." Blair tried to sound matter-of-fact, but Lucinda's dispassionate recounting of the events still terrified her. She shivered with the chill of what might have been. "I believe you."

"Thanks." Cam's voice was a whisper, but she gave no indication that it pained her to speak. Blair put her fingers against Cam's mouth nevertheless.

"Hush. Wait until I get to something I don't know the answer to, and then you can tell me." She leaned forward and kissed Cam's cheek. "You're being very good. I love you." She took a breath. "Some things Lucinda told me you don't know. The assumption is that he was going to blow himself up along with most of the compound and everyone in it to prevent you finding what was in the office—cabinets full of transcripts and tapes of incriminating conversations with all kinds of people, personnel files, maps, schedules—a gold mine of vital information." She brushed her fingers gently over Cam's injured cheek. "From the looks of your neck and face, you kind of made it difficult for him to finish setting the charges."

Cam lifted a shoulder.

"Here's what no one is clear on. Who shot him in the head, Cam?"

Cam was silent for a long minute, staring out the back door into the blazing sun. The rain had finally stopped. The storm clouds had blown out to sea and had been replaced by clear, cold air that signaled the first hint of fall. If she knew how much forensic evidence was available, she could formulate an answer that might protect Renee from any kind of investigation. But she didn't, and a lie could put her at greater risk. She met Blair's questioning gaze. "Renee."

"Well," Blair said quietly, "I owe her a great deal, then, don't I?"

"She...won't...think so."

Blair smiled tenderly. "Oh, I know. And I won't embarrass her about it." She stroked Cam's cheek. "I spoke with Lucinda again this morning, darling. It wasn't Matheson."

"I know." She'd known the instant she'd seen him behind the desk. The man had probably been Matheson's number two, designated to destroy the evidence if Matheson wasn't there to do it himself.

"According to Lucinda, Matheson seems to have disappeared. There's no record of him leaving the country, but he's just...gone."

"CIA."

"Lucinda won't say even if she knows, will she?"

Cam shook her head.

"But you think they took him?"

"Yes." Short words were less painful than moving her neck.

"Valerie?"

"Not...her...personally."

"No," Blair said, "but they probably picked him up as soon as she told them who he was. Is that what put you all in danger? What Valerie did?"

"No."

Blair was relieved. Diane had left that morning to return to Manhattan in the same vehicle that had brought Stark and Renee back to the island.

"I think I want to get away for a while," Diane had said. "Maybe Paris."

Blair had kissed her cheek and wished her luck. "I'm glad, because Diane loves her. I think she's gone after her."

Cam smiled wryly. "Valerie...will...find...her."

Blair rose and came around behind Cam's chair and rested her hands on Cam's shoulders. She gently massaged her. "Luce said that there's so much information in what they confiscated from that camp that it will take months to go through it all, but these people...they're just one link in a much bigger chain that extends around the world, like a global net of terrorism." She closed her eyes, trying to absorb this new horror that was now a part of their daily life. "What you did, what all of you here did, was buy us time to prepare for whatever is coming next."

Cam reached back and clasped Blair's hand. "I love you." "Thank you for that. It means everything to me." Blair crouched down by Cam's side, put her arms around her lover's waist, and leaned her head against her shoulder. "And thank you for being who you are, Secret Service Agent Roberts."

Cam leaned her cheek against Blair's and held her tightly, knowing that whatever the future held for them, they would face it together. And they would win.

Date: 2015-12-11; view: 710