I hunted him down and killed him without a twinge of guilt. By the time it was all over, I just didn't feel like dying anymore.
Annie left Bonnie to me, as it turned out. It should have been a doomed relationship; I was a rickety mess, Bonnie was mute as a result of the horrors she'd witnessed. But fate is funny sometimes. Curses can blossom into blessings. Apart, we were broken; together, Bonnie and I helped each other to heal. Bonnie began speaking again two years ago, and I'm happy to be alive, something, at one time, I thought would never happen.
I have learned to accept my disfigurement. I've never considered myself beautiful, really, but I used to be pretty. I am short, with curly, dark hair down to my shoulders. I have what my husband used to call
'bite-sized boobs,' along with a butt that's bigger than I'd like but which seems to have its own appeal. I had always been comfortable in my own skin, at peace with the physical hand dealt me. Sands's work had made me cringe every time I looked into the mirror. I had kept my hair brushed forward after the attack, using it to obscure my face. Now I keep it tied back in a ponytail and tight against my head, daring the world to look and not giving--as my dad used to say--a 'good God damn' if they don't like it.
All of this--my 'ah--story' as the Director had put it--had appeared in various papers, and it had given me a grisly celebrity with people both good and bad.
It had also established a ceiling for me at the FBI. There was a time when I was being considered for the Assistant Director's job. Not anymore. My scars gave me a good face for a hunter, or even a teacher of hunters (I'd been offered a teaching position at Quantico, which I'd turned down), but as far as being the administrative face of the FBI?
Photoshoots with the President? Not going to happen. I'd come to terms with all of this years ago. I won't say that I enjoy my job--
'I see,' I reply. 'Why did you agree?'
'Congressman Reid is friends with the President. The President is nearing the end of his second term. Reid is the front-runner for the Democratic nomination, as I'm sure you're aware.'
'President Allen's party,' AD Jones says, observing the obvious for me.
The puzzle pieces fall into place. The name the Director had dropped, the one that AD Jones couldn't ignore, had been the President's. And Dillon Reid was not just the President's friend, he was potentially the next President himself.
'I didn't know that,' I muse.
The Director raises his eyebrows. 'You didn't know Dillon Reid was a shoo-in for the Democratic nomination? Don't you watch the news?'
'Nope. It's all bad, so why bother?'
The Director is staring at me in frank disbelief.
'It's not like I don't vote,' I add. 'When the time comes, I find out who the candidates are and what they're about. I'm just not that interested in all the stuff that comes before.'
AD Jones smiles a little. The Director shakes his head.
'Well, now that you do know, listen up,' he says. Introductions are over, time has come to hand out the orders.
'At no time in this investigation are you to let politics or political considerations keep you from doing an honest investigation. You are expected to be considerate and to exercise discretion. I'm going to fill you in on some important facts. You're going to keep these facts to yourself. You're not going to write them down anywhere, not a note, not an e-mail. You're going to relay these facts to the members of your team that need to know, and you're going to make sure they keep their mouths shut. Understand?'
'Yes, sir,' I reply.
AD Jones nods.
'A transsexual child is political dynamite for anyone, but especially so for a Democratic congressman in what's historically a Republican state. The Reids dealt with this by essentially cutting ties with their son. They didn't disown him, but whenever they were asked, they made it clear that Dexter wasn't welcome at home as long as he insisted on pursuing a transgender path. It got its fifteen minutes and that was pretty much that.'
'But it was bullshit, wasn't it?' AD Jones says. I glance at him, surprised. Director Rathbun nods.
'The truth is, the Reids loved their son. They didn't care if he was gay, transgendered, or Martian.'
And now I understand.
'They helped pay for the sex-change, didn't they?'
'That's right. Not directly, of course, but they provided money to Dexter whenever he needed it, knowing it would be used for sexchange necessities. Dexter has also secretly attended every Reid family Christmas.'
I shake my head in disbelief. 'Is the lie really that important?'
The Director's smile at me is the smile you give a child who's just charmed you with their naivete.
'Haven't you seen the culture war going on in this country? Well, magnify that by ten when you hit parts of the South. It could be the difference between being President or not. So yeah, it's important.'
I consider this. 'I understand,' I say, 'but I don't care about any of that.'
Director Rathbun frowns. 'Agent Barrett--'
'Hold on, sir. I'm not saying I won't keep the confidence. What I'm saying is that I won't keep it because the congressman wants to be President. I don't give a rat's ass about that. I'll keep it because a family that lost a son wants me to.' I nod toward the body of Lisa. 'And mostly, because Lisa seemed content to keep it herself.'
The Director stares at me for a moment. 'Fair enough,' he replies, and continues. 'Mrs. Reid is going to be the family contact. If you have to speak to the congressman, she'll arrange it. Any permissions needed in terms of searching Lisa's condo--anything--she's the one you'll talk to. Stay away from the congressman unless it's absolutely necessary.'
'And what if this ends up pointing at the congressman?' I ask. His smile is mirthless. 'Then I know I can count on you to ignore political necessity.'
'Who's going to handle the press on this?' AD Jones asks.
'I'll deal with that. In fact, I don't want any of you speaking to the press, period. No comment and that's it.' He glances at me. 'That goes double for Agent Thorne, Smoky.'
He's referring to Callie Thorne, a member of my team. She's known for saying what she wants when she feels like it. I grin at him. 'Don't worry, sir. She's got other fish to fry.'
'How's that?'
'She's getting married in a month.'
He does a double take. 'Really?'
Callie is somewhat infamous as a serial non-monogamist. I'm getting used to the disbelief.
'Yes, sir.'
'Wonders never cease. Give her my best. But keep an eye on that mouth of hers.' He glances at the Rolex. 'I'm going to take you to see Mrs. Reid now. The ME should be arriving shortly. The autopsy results go to me and your team and that's it. Any questions?'
AD Jones shakes his head.
'No, sir,' I say, 'but I think I should see Mrs. Reid by myself. Mother to mother.'
He frowns. 'Explain.'
'Statistically, men are more ill at ease with transsexuals than women. I'm not saying the congressman didn't love his son, but if Lisa had a champion, someone she was really close to, I'm betting it was the mom.' I pause. 'Also, I think there's another reason she asked for me.'
'Which is?'
I look down at Lisa. She represents a new secret now, one the dead reveal, the old know, and the young will always ignore: life is too damn short, however long it is.
My smile at him is humorless. 'Because I've lost a child too. It's a members-only club.'
2
I WATCH AS THE CAR PULLS UP BEHIND THE MORGUE. IT'S black of course; preferred color of the government and its employees, almost comforting in its continuity. The back windows are tinted to
