The Definitive Albert J. Sterne (44 page)

Nodding, she asked, “You squared him on that? He won’t make any trouble for us?”

“Yeah, he’ll keep quiet and let us get on with it, that’s fine.”

“Good.”

Fletcher lifted the coffee to take a sip, then ground to a halt and stared at it. “Hot, black and strong,” he murmured under his breath, “like I like my men.” And he began giggling helplessly.

Caroline eyed him warily. “Sounds like it’s been a long week.”

“Just an old joke, boss,” Fletch offered when he could. “You started it, actually.”

“I can’t believe that only last Monday I was asking why you were so unhappy. Then you were high as a kite all week - and now you’re glum again. That’s quite a roller-coaster ride, Fletcher.”

“You should sympathize, Caroline, I’m currently looking forward to spending a weekend with Albert. That would make even you glum, wouldn’t it?”

Caroline frowned. “Which case? Not the arson, surely?”

“No, don’t worry, it’s not an official visit, it’s more the case of friendship and sightseeing. We’re heading up into the Rockies  - which reminds me, I’d better give you the phone number at the hotel, just in case.”

“Better you than me,” was Caroline’s comment. “But I’m the fool who can’t imagine
Dr
 
Sterne progressing the case of friendship, aren’t  I?” They drank their coffee in companionable silence, then she asked, “Are you about ready to head off?”

“I am,” said Fletcher. “Especially if the report can wait until Monday.”

“Give me five minutes, and I’ll walk you to the parking lot.”

“All right.” He smiled as she bustled off, then turned to reshuffle the clutter of his desk prior to leaving.

Once they were outside the building, jackets and briefcases in hand, Caroline slowed their pace to a stroll. “I’ve been considering the conversation we had Monday morning,” she said. “I  told you that if you needed to talk, I’d be here for you.”

“Yes, and I appreciate it, Caroline, but really  -”

“No, let me finish.” A long pause, then she said very carefully, “You know the Bureau’s rules. They’re very prescriptive and they begin with,
Don’t embarrass the Bureau
. Strictly between you and me, I  can’t agree with all of them. On the other hand, I’ll follow the rules for the sake of furthering my career. You know I’m ambitious and you know how difficult the FBI can be for women.”

Fletcher nodded. “Yes, I know.”

She held up a hand to halt him. They were on the edge of the parking lot now, and there was no one within hearing distance. “I  don’t want you to say anything, Fletcher, I  just want you to listen. All right?” She looked up at him, direct and determined, and said, “If there is anything that I should know about as your supervisor, then as long as it doesn’t affect your work,
I  don’t want to know
. You’ve been on an emotional roller-coaster lately, which isn’t good for you or your work, but I want you to think very carefully before you take up my offer of talking about it, okay?”

“Okay,” Fletcher said, frowning.

“If there is anyone else you can talk to, who can help you, then do what you can, because I don’t want you throwing your career away either.”

“I’m fine, really,” he said. “But if I need to, I  can talk to Albert, and my father.”

She looked dubious. “Try your father,” was the advice.

Fletcher almost smiled, then opened his mouth to speak.

Again, Caroline held her hand up. “You’re an honest person, Fletcher, and that’s good. So don’t pretend you don’t know what I’m talking about, for your sake. And, for my sake, don’t go saying anything I don’t want to hear. You might think I’m being supportive but you should act on the assumption that I’m simply playing to win.” A pause, and then a smile. “Have a good weekend.” And she was gone.

So Caroline had figured it out about him and Albert, or at least had enough of the facts to suspect something. Had he even handed her a clue or two about him and Xavier? Fletcher knew he had to be far more careful, though he hated the lies that involved. Still, there wasn’t simply his career at stake, or Caroline’s, or Albert’s - it was a matter of life and death. Because he’d have even less of a chance at catching the serial killer if he were out of the Bureau.

And, anyway, Albert would dissect him very slowly if he knew Fletcher had given them away. Fletch definitely didn’t want to be the first live subject of an autopsy.

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

COLORADO

MARCH 1985

Albert was approaching amidst the crowd of arrivals, luggage in hand. Fletcher waited impatiently. Jittery at facing this difficult and unpleasant problem that required a solution, however inadequate, by the end of the weekend. Nerves and exhaustion affecting his sense of time so it seemed that Albert stepped in ponderous slow motion, when all Fletch wanted was for this trouble to speed by and for Monday to dawn bright and simple.

It occurred to him during the long wait that he hadn’t really put any thought into this, or at least no more than necessary. The first imperative was to get Albert away from the danger of Denver, because Denver was Xavier and passion and joy. The second was to unload the truth on Albert, make his apologies as gracefully as possible, and then to suffer through the consequences, get Albert safely on a plane back to Washington, and trust that something of the friendship - which seemed a very remote, intangible thing right now - would remain to be claimed and possibly healed in the future.

At last Albert was there, and events began rushing by Fletcher too fast. Nodding a greeting, Fletch asked, “Baggage?”

“No.” Of course not. Albert packed logically and lightly, and rarely had to suffer through baggage retrieval.

“The car’s this way.” Fletch led the man off, mentally kicking himself. The plan, such as it was, was to act normally until they had driven up into the mountains, and were settled in at the hotel. Then, late tonight or first thing tomorrow, Fletch would talk to Albert. At whatever length was necessary. Then listen to whatever abuse Albert felt was required.

Silence, until they were in the car and Fletcher was driving along the freeway heading out of town. Until he remembered that he hadn’t told Albert about even this much. “We’re going to drive up into the mountains,” Fletcher said. “I’ve made reservations at a hotel for two nights.”

The silence continued. Fletcher risked a glance at the man, who was looking over at him. Surprised, but apparently unwilling to ask. Fletch felt annoyance flood through him and then defeatedly ebb away. This was the trouble. Albert asking a question, even a relatively harmless one like this, would be too much like Albert expressing a need, a vulnerability. How had the man ever satisfied his intellectual curiosity? How had the man, or the boy he’d once been, ever learned about anything at all?

“I need a break,” Fletcher offered as a reason for this trip. It was true enough - he was so tired right now, though his mind was far too busy to let him relax even if he did have the opportunity. He belatedly asked, “Do you want anything from town?”

“No,” Albert replied, and turned to face the front again.

All right, Fletcher reflected, he knew Albert wouldn’t appreciate a bout of enforced sightseeing, like those few days in New England they’d spent together when they first became lovers. That was only last September but it felt like an age ago. And of course Albert knew Fletcher knew Albert wouldn’t appreciate it, but would acquiesce if Fletcher insisted.

Maybe that was part of why Albert was so unhappy these days - realizing how much power Fletcher held over him and realizing that Fletch knew it, too. Though Fletcher tried not to abuse the privilege, he really tried hard.

Except he was just about to hurt Albert, hurt him a lot.

Fletcher pushed the thought away. It simply had to be done, that was all there was to it. And, frankly, he didn’t want to feel that hurt, to empathize with what Albert was suffering, until he actually had to.

They traveled in silence, climbing into the mountains that began abruptly just beyond the town limits. There wasn’t much traffic and the moon was full, so Fletcher didn’t devote much effort to keeping his attention focused. He always maintained he’d be able to follow this road blindfolded, he knew it so well.

Continuing silence. Albert certainly made it easy for Fletch to keep a secret from him - and the younger man hated that. It was easy because Albert invited no confidences, extended no friendship, initiated no conversation. If he noticed Fletcher was unusually quiet and undemonstrative, he didn’t comment. He didn’t even mention the fact Fletcher hadn’t phoned him more than once in the previous week. Surely any other lover would demand an explanation of such gross dereliction.

It was amazing how few words Fletch and Albert could subsist on. Most of the time, that spoke eloquently, if silently, of a profound ease with each other’s company. Right now, it appeared sinister, especially compared with Xavier’s friendly, fascinating outpourings.

By habit, Fletcher turned the radio on for the news, then instantly regretted it. Too late to turn it off again, as Albert would consider that strange, though perhaps he wouldn’t comment on that either. Within moments, Fletcher’s fears were realized - Xavier’s voice, rich brocade even over the airwaves, laughing warmly and agreeing with the newsreader that, yes, he’d had an eventful week. A brief mention of the fire, and that it had been accidental, a  thanks to all the law enforcement people involved - Fletcher almost blushed in the darkness, wondering whether that had been for him - then a run-down of his more successful schedule, all of which Fletcher knew by heart, finishing with a confident prediction of victory.

Fletcher’s hopes that Albert hadn’t paid attention were now dashed. “You’ve closed the investigation?” he asked once the news was over, distantly polite.

“Yes,” Fletch said quickly. “Seemed like a combination of accident and carelessness.”

“You’re not sure? If we return to Denver tomorrow, I’ll examine the evidence for you.”

“No.”

Albert was obviously surprised at such a blunt refusal - usually Fletcher used Albert’s expertise, involved him in every case whether the older man liked it or not, welcomed a second opinion Fletcher could trust.

“I mean,” Fletch continued, trying to recover lost ground, “the police had jurisdiction, and they closed the case. There’s no need to go back over it, they knew what they were doing. Anyway, it’s not your field, is it?” He couldn’t help spitefully adding, “No one died, Albert.”

Apparently offended at this lack of faith, or maybe stung, Albert turned away. “I  assure you I’m capable,” he said dryly. “In fact, I  often investigated arson and bombings during my first years with the Bureau.”

“No, Albert, it’s over. And I need the weekend off.”

A return of the silence. It seemed heavier now, though Fletcher tried to tell himself that was only his imagination.

Of course there was one advantage in their need for secrecy. Fletcher had booked them two single rooms, rather than a double - though, now he came to think of it, he supposed that a twin room would be the best compromise between discretion and enthusiasm. The advantage was that once they’d eaten their room service meals, with Albert stoically not complaining about the standard of the food, Fletcher could retire to his own room and not have to worry about the fact he wasn’t going to ask for sex.

Usually, on the Friday night of a weekend together, Fletcher was ready, willing and able. It would normally have been two weeks or more since the last time, after all. Well, tonight he’d plead exhaustion, which was true, but attribute it to the case. He stood, and wandered over to the door. “I’m going to turn in early, all right?” Fletch waited, uneasy, but Albert did nothing more than nod curtly. Eventually Fletcher murmured, “Not tonight, is that okay? I’m really tired.”

“Of course,” was the reply, the phrase bitten off hard. The man didn’t even look up from the print-out of test results he was neatly annotating.

Another mistake. Normally they either had sex, on Fletcher’s initiative, or they didn’t, and no comment was made, no excuses given. Fletcher wondered whether Albert would add all this up. There had surely been enough discomfort and thoughtlessness this evening. Unless it merely seemed to be business as usual. He sighed.

And was thoroughly surprised when Albert asked, “Any progress on your pet serial killer?” There was Albert asking for information for the second time that night, making what might be considered small talk, expressing an interest. Amazing.

“No progress,” Fletcher said.

“I’d assumed you’d have more time for that while working on the arson case. Didn’t you anticipate your involvement would be minimal?”