Split Second

dawn?' she asked.

King shrugged. 'To tell the truth, no. I never thought that far ahead. I was always more of a live-in-the- present sort of person.' He added thoughtfully, 'I'm more of a long-range thinker now.'

'And where do your long-range thoughts lead you?'

'Nowhere until this mystery is cleared up. The problem is, even if we solve this thing, the damage has been done. I really might have to move from here.'

'Running away? That doesn't sound like you, Sean.'

'Sometimes it's just best to strike the tent poles and move on. You sort of get tired of fighting, Joan.'

He sat next to her and took over the tiller. 'Wind's changing. I'm going to tack back into it. The boom's going to come across. I'll tell you when to duck.'

After he completed this maneuver, he let her take the tiller back, but he stayed next to her. She wore a pantsuit but had taken off her shoes and rolled her pant legs over her knees. Her feet were small and her toenails were painted red.

'You favored purple toenail polish eight years ago, didn't you?'

She laughed. 'Red is always in but purple may mount a comeback. I'm actually flattered you remembered.'

'Purple toenails and packing a.357.'

'Come on, fess up, it was a wicked, irresistible combination.'

He sat back and gazed off.

They were silent for some minutes, Joan looking at him nervously and King doing his best to avoid eye contact. 'Did you ever think about asking me to marry you?' she asked.

He glanced at her with an astonished expression. 'I was married back then, Joan.'

'I know that. But you were separated and your marriage was really over.'

He looked down. 'Okay, maybe I did know my marriage was over,but I wasn't sure I wanted to attempt another one. And I guess I never really believed two Secret Service agents could ever make a marriage work. That life is just too crazy.'

'I thought about asking you.'

'Asking me what?'

'To marry me.'

'You really are amazing. You were going to ask me to marry you?'

'Is there a rule somewhere that says the man has to propose?'

'Well, if there is, I'm sure you'd have no problem smashing it to pieces.'

'I'm serious, Sean. I was in love with you. So much so that I'd wake up in the middle of the night with the shakes, terrified it would somehow all go away, that you and your wife would get back together.'

'I didn't know that,' he said quietly.

'How did you feel about me? I mean really feel about me?'

He looked uncomfortable. 'Honestly? I was amazed you'd let me have you. You were on this pedestal, professionally and personally.'

'So I was what, a trophy to be mounted on the wall?'

'No, I actually thought I was.'

'I didn't sleep around, Sean. I didn't have that reputation.'

'No, you didn't. Your reputation was the iron lady. There wasn't one agent I knew who wasn't intimidated by you. You scared the shit out of a lot of tough guys.'

Joan looked down. 'Didn't you know, prom queens tend to be very lonely creatures. When I joined the Service, women were still an anomaly. To succeed, I had to be more ‘guy' than all the other guys. I had to make the rules up as I went along. It's a little different now, but back then I really didn't have a choice.'

He touched her cheek and turned her face to his. 'So why didn't you?'

'Why didn't I what?'

'Ask me to marry you?'

'I was planning to but something happened.'

'What was that?'

'Clyde Ritter's getting killed.'

Now King looked away. 'Damaged goods?'

She touched his arm. 'I guess you really don't know me very well. It was a lot more than that.'

He looked back at her. 'What do you mean by that?'

Joan looked more nervous than King could ever remember. Except on that morning, at 10:32, when Ritter had died. She slowly reached into her pocket and pulled out a piece of paper.

King unfolded the paper and read the words there.

Last night was wonderful. Now surprise me, wicked lady. On the elevator. Around 10:30. Love, Sean

It was written on the stationery of the Fairmount Hotel.

He looked up to see her staring at him.

'Where did this come from?'

'It was slipped under the door to my room at the Fairmount at nine o'clock that morning.'

He stared at her blankly. 'The morning Ritter was killed?' She nodded. 'You thought I wrote this?' She nodded again. 'All these years you thought maybe I was involved in Ritter's death?'

'Sean, you have to understand, I didn't know what to think.'

'And you never told anyone?'

She shook her head. 'Just like you never told anyone about me on that elevator.' She added quietly, 'You thought I was involved in Ritter's death too, didn't you?'

He licked his lips and glanced away, his features angry. 'They screwed us both, didn't they?'

'I saw the note that was on the body found in your house. It clearly implied the person was behind the Ritter assassination. As soon as I read it, I just knew we'd both been used. Whoever wrote the note that was slipped under my hotel room door pitted usagainst each other in a way that guaranteed our silence. Or at the very least would have cast suspicion on one or both of us. But there was a difference. I couldn't reveal the truth because then I'd have to tell what I was doing on that elevator. And once I did, my career was over. My motive was selfish. You, on the other hand, kept silent for another reason.' She placed a hand on his sleeve. 'Tell me, Sean, why did you? You must have suspected I was paid off to distract you. And yet you took the full blame. You could have told them I was on that elevator. Why didn't you?' She took a long, anxious breath. 'I really need to know.'

The jarring sound of the cell phone startled them both badly.

King answered it. It was Michelle calling from the house.

'Kate Ramsey phoned. She has something important to tell us. But she wants to do it in person. She'll meet us halfway, in Charlottesville.'

'Okay, we're coming in now.' He clicked off, took the tiller and silently steered the boat back. He didn't look at Joan, who, for once in her life, had nothing to say.

51

They met Kate Ramsey at Greenberry's coffee shop in the Barracks Road Shopping Center in Charlottesville. The three bought large cups of coffee and took a table near the back of the room, which only had a few patrons in it this time of night.

Kate's eyes were puffy, her manner subdued, even deferential. She fingered her coffee cup nervously, her gaze downcast. She looked up in surprise, however, when King pushed a couple of straws toward her.

'Go ahead and make your right angles. It'll calm you down,' he said with a kindly smile.

Kate's expression softened and she took the straws. 'I've been doing that since I was a little girl. I guess it's better than lighting up a cigarette.'