The Face of Death

'There's a motivation that encompasses both pain and justice.'

'Yeah, I know.'

He raises an eyebrow. 'Really?'

'The oldest one of all,' I say. 'Revenge.'

'Thought I might have the jump on you with that one.'

I kiss his cheek. 'Don't feel bad. When exactly did you have time to think of that, anyway?'

He grins at me. 'Orgasms clear the brain.'

'So what you are saying, basically, is that this came to you?'

He rolls his eyes.

It occurs to me that I feel better. A lot better. I'd felt bad, he'd called, he'd come. We'd had sex and talked about work and--

I jolt inside as a whole new thought comes to me. Oh my God--are we a couple?

It's an idea as strange and alien as it is comforting and familiar. One of the things about being married for many years is the feeling of security that develops, the certainty of knowing that you always have someone in your corner. If everyone else fails you, or dies on you, or betrays you, you always have that other person. You are never really alone. To lose that is to lose a part of yourself. The empty space in the bed itches in the night like a phantom limb.

Have we crossed that line? The one that says 'casual' on one side and 'couple' on the other?

'What?' Tommy asks.

'Just . . .' I shake my head. 'Just thinking about us. Never mind.'

'Don't do that.'

'What?'

'Don't think something and say it's nothing. You don't have to tell me what it was, but don't tell me it's nothing.'

I search his eyes. Find no anger there, only honesty, concern.

'Sorry,' I say. 'I was just wondering . . .' I swallow, once. Why is this so hard to get out? 'Tommy, are we a couple?'

He smiles at me. 'Is that all? Of course we are.'

'Oh.'

'Look, Smoky, I'm not saying it's time for us to move in together, or to get married. But we're together. That's how I see it.'

'Oh. Wow.'

He shakes his head in amusement. 'You were married for a long time. You're used to 'together' meaning love and marriage. I don't love you.'

Something in my stomach tumbles and I feel sick. 'You . . . you don't?'

He reaches out, strokes my cheek. 'Sorry, I didn't mean that the way it sounded. What I mean is, I'll never say it unless I mean it, and I'm not ready to say it yet. But I can see a point coming where I will. If we keep going the way we're going, I'm going to wake up one day and love you. That's the road we're headed down. We're together.'

More butterflies now but not the nausea-inducing kind.

'Really?'

'Truth.' He squints at me. 'How do you feel about that?'

I snuggle into him. 'I like it,' I say, realizing it's true. I do like it. Better, it's guiltless. I don't feel any disapproval from Matt's ghost.

But what about Quantico? Gonna make him fall in love with you and leave him flat?

It's another factor to take into account, I reply to myself, stubborn. More choices. Choices are good. Except it's not that simple and I know it. I could hurt Tommy with what I decide. The simplicity of a 'new start' is an oversimplification of my life. I know that Alan and Callie and Elaina would back me to the hilt should I decide to take the position. Everyone would be sad, but the bonds there are too old and too strong. We wouldn't lose each other.

You can have a long-distance relationship with friends and family. Not with a guy who loves you.

Don't forget about your mute foster-daughter, your pill-popping friend, and 1for-two-me! Don't forget about a restless house you haven't finished packing away and a friend who just beat cancer and the fact that Matt's and Alexa's gravestones are here, not in Virginia. Who'll place the flowers?

'Know what I want?' I whisper, willing my ghosts away, for now. He shakes his head.

'I want you to take me upstairs and help me sleep.'

He lifts me into his arms without a word and carries me up the stairs. We move past Alexa's room, but I don't think about that, and then we're in my bed, and he's got me, he's there, and I'm able to start drifting away, while he keeps me safe, my guardian against the dead. 14

'I TALKED TO THE HOSPITAL THIS MORNING,' BARRY TELLS ME

as we walk through the parking lot. 'They said that the girl was treated for shock, and she had some bruising on her wrists and ankles, but that otherwise there's nothing physically wrong with her.'

'Well, that's something, I suppose.'

I fill him in on my thoughts of last night, including my theory regarding vengeance as motive.

'Interesting. What doesn't add up, though, is Sarah. If we cut her and the Kingsleys out of the picture, it makes sense. Vargas is into kids, has been for a long time. Maybe he likes torture too, caning their feet. One of the kids grows up, comes and kills him. It even explains why he went easy on the girl. Closing the eyes. No disembowelment.'

'Yes.'

'But Sarah and the Kingsleys? I don't see where that fits in.' He shrugs. 'Still, I do like the revenge motive.'

'Perhaps Sarah can shed some light on things.'

'Hang on a sec,' Barry says as we get near the entrance, nervous. 'I need a smoke before we go in.'

I smile at him. 'You don't like hospitals either?'

He shrugs as he lights his cigarette. 'Last time I was in one, I was watching my dad die. What's to like?'

Barry looks bleary-eyed. I notice he's wearing the same clothes he had on last night.

'Did you ever go home?' I ask.

He puffs a few times and shakes his head. 'Nope. Simmons didn't wrap up until almost seven A.M. I had to call in a couple of software experts too. They're still there.'

'Why?'

'The boy, Michael? His computer has some kind of super-duper protection program installed on it. They gave me the technical rundown, but it's over my head. Enter the wrong password and it wipes the hard drive clean. That part I understood.'

Hey, try 1-for-two-me. You never know!

I suppress an eye twitch. 'Interesting.'

'It gets better. They say it's a custom job, very advanced, and--get this--they don't think the boy put it on the computer.'

'Why?'

'Too advanced. Something about the level of encryption provided. We're talking beyond military-grade.'

'It could have been put there by the perp then.'

'That's my thought.'

'It would make sense. He has something to say to us. That's why the writing on the wall at both scenes, why he called me to tell me about Vargas. He's telling us something, but he's doing it at his own pace.'

'I like it when they get all clever like that. It means they're ripe for fucking up.'

'Was anything else found?'

'We have the footprints and the computer. No prints, no hairs, no fibers. The feet are good though. We catch him, we can definitely get a match. Like I said--fucking up. Bodies went to the medical examiner, we'll see what