THEY WERE WALKING ALONG THE BEACH. Valerie carried her sandals while Sean slouched guiltily along, his head bowed, his loafers quickly filling up with sand. He had called Valerie because he couldn’t think of another promising line of investigation, and because of her husband’s conversation with Michelle. However, she’d pounced on him as soon as he’d stepped out of his car. She knew all about Sean Carter, including that his real name was Sean King.
“I take it you’ve talked to your husband?” he said.
“Oh yes! If there’s one thing old Ian is really good at it’s finding out stuff. You’re ex–Secret Service and you’re down here investigating those murders at Babbage Town. I can’t believe I fell for your lines. I really can’t believe it.”
“Valerie, it wasn’t exactly like that.”
She whirled on him. “Are you denying you used me to try and get information on my husband? Are you denying that you didn’t follow me to that bar after Ian told you to back off?”
“No, I don’t deny that. But––”
“Then there are no
buts
.”
“Yes I was fishing for information, but I was just doing my job.”
“What you did was unforgivable.”
“Valerie. I’m sorry if it hurt you. But when you’re trying to find out how people were murdered. . . . If I’d had any other way of getting info I would have.”
She stared up at him, her arms folded across her chest, her sandals in the sand where she had dropped them. The ocean breeze whipped her white slacks against her legs. Slowly the look of fury on her face faded. “I guess I never expected it to happen to me. I never expected to be taken in.
Not after Ian anyway.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean I thought he married me because he loved me. I was obviously wrong about that.”
“Why then?”
“Who the hell knows? And then you come along and for the first time in my marriage I think, what
would it
be like to be with another man. You!
You sonofabitch!”
Sean stared uncomfortably at her. “Valerie, I can only say that it was very difficult for me to keep a professional distance.”
“Professional distance!
Oh, that makes me feel so loved.” Tears were sliding down her cheeks and she angrily wiped them away.
“I’m sorry, Valerie. I really am.”
“Just save the lies for someone else. I don’t need to hear them.”
She stopped, stooped down, picked up a seashell and angrily flung it at a wave. She whirled around and grabbed his jacket with her hand. “And do you want to know the real kicker?”
Sean’s expression showed that, no, he really didn’t want to know the kicker. Yet he said, “Tell me, I deserve it.”
“Maybe you don’t.”
“Valerie, if I could take it all back, I would, but I can’t.
So just tell me.”
Her gaze finally broke off from him, but only for a second. “I can’t tell you how much I want to go to bed with you.
After all this shit.
After everything you’ve done, used me,
betrayed
me. How much of a loser am I? How much! Because I want to screw
your
freaking brains out. What the hell does that say about me,
Sean!
”
She started sobbing. He went to hold her but she pushed him away. He took her in his arms again and this time she let him hold her.
A few minutes passed while the pair stood there, swaying in the sand together.
Finally, Valerie pulled away, took a tissue from her pocket and wiped her eyes. “Look, can we just go somewhere a little more private than this. I . . . I mean . . .” She took a deep breath. “I should hate you, but I don’t. That first night in the bar when I blew you off, I left there thinking I was the biggest idiot in the world, because I could just sense there was far more to you.” She added quietly, “Far more than I ever saw in my marriage. So can we please just go somewhere?”
“Sure, we can go somewhere, Valerie,” Sean said. He took her hand. “But it can’t be more than that. And I know this is going to sound crazy, but I don’t think you want it to be more than that either.”
“Why?”
“Because I think you’re still in love with your husband.”
“This is really wonderful,” the voice said.
“Really special.”
They both looked up at the man as he walked toward them.
“Oh my God!”
Valerie hissed.
Ian Whitfield limped across the sand.
Sean stepped in front of Valerie. “This is not really what it looks like, Whitfield.”
Whitfield stopped directly in front of Sean. “You don’t really want to go down that road, do you? Because bullshit lies might make me even more upset than I already am. And that would be quite an accomplishment, I can tell you.”
“Ian, don’t!” Valerie said frantically.
He didn’t even bother looking at her. “You had drinks with my wife, then you had dinner with her and now you’re walking on the beach holding hands. Are you suicidal or just stupid?”
“And if you knew all of that, why am I still standing here? Why didn’t you have your goons take me out after the Mojito at the bar?” Sean took a step back and braced himself as the other man looked ready to start swinging.
“I’m not the mob, King. I don’t have people whacked. I’m just a civil servant working for the American people.”
“Okay, mister civil
servant, piece of advice, work
less and spend more time with your wife. The American people will understand.”
Whitfield glanced over at Valerie, who shrank back. “So you’re a marriage counselor now? I thought you were just an incompetent private investigator.”
“Just trying to do my job.”
“Your job includes seducing my wife?”
“I didn’t seduce your wife. And your wife keeps brushing me off because I think she loves you. Why, I don’t know. So maybe instead of playing the heavy with me, you and she might want to find some place private and talk it out. It’s up to you, big guy.”
Whitfield took a step back. Sean glanced at Valerie. “You want me to stay?”
She shook her head and mouthed the word, “No.”
Sean looked back at Whitfield. “Don’t blow it.”
Sean marched off leaving Whitfield and Valerie looking at each other as the beach wind swept over them.
MICHELLE SAT ON THE FRONT PORCH steps of Alicia’s cottage. Horatio had left and Viggie’s sobs could still be heard from inside the house. Finally, Michelle rose, stepped inside and spent a minute plunking a nameless tune on the piano. The sobs finally stopped. Michelle took a deep breath and headed up.
She didn’t bother to knock on Viggie’s door, she just went in. Viggie was lying on the bed on her stomach, her head underneath a pillow. Her body was still shaking with grief. Michelle gently lifted the pillow off. Now Michelle could hear that Viggie was reciting numbers, very long numbers.
Michelle thought to herself,
She
lost her father and I’ve treated her like shit. Never really bothered to understand how much she’s hurting.
She sat down on the bed, put a hand out and laid it on Viggie’s back. The girl immediately tensed.
“Viggie, I am so sorry for what I did. I had no right to do it. I hope you can forgive me. I’ve, well, I’ve not been doing all that good lately. I have some issues, like we talked about before. Some days, well, some days are better than others. I guess this was just a bad day. But I shouldn’t have taken it out on you. I know you were just trying to help.”
Michelle was looking at the wall and didn’t notice that Viggie had turned over and was staring at her. When Michelle did see her she reached out and took the girl in her arms, sobbing almost as hard as Viggie had been earlier. Now it was Viggie who comforted her.
“
It’s
okay, Mick. I have bad days too. I . . . I get crazy sometimes. I can’t seem to understand anything, which makes me so mad.”
Michelle cried harder and Viggie tightened her grip on the woman. “It’s okay. I’m not mad at you. I . . . really like you. You’re my friend.”
Michelle squeezed Viggie and whispered in between sobs, “You’re my friend too, Viggie. I’d do anything for you. I will never hurt you again. I promise. I promise.”
When Sean got back home he found a red-faced Michelle sitting in the living room of the cottage.
“You okay?” he said quickly.
“Anything wrong with Viggie?”
“She’s fine. I’m fine.”
“You sure?” he said doubtfully.
She nodded slowly as though talking required an energy she simply didn’t have.
He sat next to her. “Well, I’m not doing fine.” He relayed to her what had happened on the beach.
“God, Sean, he could’ve killed you.”
“He still could.”
“What do we do now?”
“Go to sleep. Something tells me it’s going to be a busy day tomorrow and a good night’s sleep will do us both good.”
Unfortunately, neither one of them would get it.
Michelle, always a light sleeper, slid her hand under her pillow and gripped her pistol as the door to her room slowly opened. Michelle eased her eyes to slit-wide until she could make out the person coming at her. Viggie was in a long T-shirt that hung past her knees. She was holding something in her hands.
She stood next to the bed for a moment and then slowly placed the item she was carrying on top of the bedspread. A few seconds later Michelle heard the door close. Moments after that Michelle heard Viggie’s door close.
She immediately sat up in bed and turned on the light on the nightstand. Grabbing up the item Viggie had left for her she saw that it was a large manila envelope. In it were two articles: a letter in a regular envelope and a photograph. She was so excited that she slipped out into the hall still wearing only what’d she’d been sleeping in, panties and a short tank top. She quietly knocked on Sean’s bedroom door. There was no answer. She rapped again, a little harder.
She pressed her lips against the door. “Sean? Sean?”
Finally she heard a grumble, some muttering followed by the squeak of a mattress. Then a light was switched on, footsteps came her way, and the door opened.
He was sleepy-eyed and wearing striped pajamas.
“What is it?” he demanded.
A smile twitched across her lips. “You wear pajamas to bed?” she said, staring at him.
“For real?”
He said nothing for a moment as his eyes cleared and he focused on her half-naked body. “And you wear nearly nothing when
you
go to bed?
For real?”
She appeared startled, looked down at herself and quickly put a hand across her chest, holding the manila envelope in front of her even more private areas.
Now
Sean
was smiling. He said, “No, really,
Mick,
not on my account. Having been woken out of a dead sleep, it’s hard for me to focus on things like breasts and . . .” He glanced down at the manila envelope. “Well, you get the picture.” When she didn’t say anything, and just stood there looking awkward, he added, “Is there something you wanted, other than to ridicule my choice of sleeping apparel?”
Michelle slipped past him and into his room, sat on the bed and motioned him to join her there. “Hurry up. I’ve got something to show you.”
“I can see
that
!”
“I’m not horny, okay? I’m talking about something else. It’s important.”
He sighed, walked over and slumped down next to her. “What is it?”
She told him about Viggie’s visit and showed him the items.
All weariness was now gone from Sean’s features. He studied the letter and then the photo.
“Where did Viggie get these?”
“They had to come from her father. Wouldn’t they?”
“So Viggie gave them to you; the music and now this.
Why?”
“She likes me. I saved her life. She trusts me.”
Sean looked at her curiously. “I think you hit it on the head, Michelle. She
trusts
you.” He put the items back in the manila envelope. “You need to go and talk to Viggie, right now. This letter mentions something else, another piece of information, that we need to make sense of all this. She gave you this much, she should give you the rest.”
“I’ll try.”
Michelle returned to her room, put on a bathrobe and went to Viggie’s room. Ten minutes later she returned to Sean’s room looking disappointed. “Not only would she not tell me anything else, she wouldn’t even acknowledge what she had given me.”
They spent the next hour trying to make sense of the letter and the photo. Finally Sean said, “Okay, not that I mind having a nearly naked woman in my bed, but you need to get dressed.”
“What?” Michelle said, startled.
“You woke me up, now we’re going to wake Horatio up. I want his opinion on something.”
As she rose and left the room, Sean looked down at the envelope. Maybe this was finally the key they needed. He desperately hoped so, because they were running out of options. And he didn’t want their only remaining option to be going over the fence at Camp Peary.