She said nothing.
“Well?”
“You need to get a life.”
4
Christie and I had met in the spring, married in the fall, and only nine weeks after the wedding, she found the lump in her breast. She passed away before the one year anniversary of the day we met.
Tessa had grown up without ever meeting her father, and, regrettably, things had been strained between us from the start. Then after Christie died, it only got worse.
In time, though, Tessa and I started to feel comfortable around each other, even close-until a few weeks ago when she stumbled across her mother’s diary and discovered that her biological father was alive and well and living off the grid in the mountains of Wyoming.
Her real father.
At first when she’d asked to meet him, I’d been hesitant to say yes, but of course I couldn’t deny her the chance to meet her dad. So, we’d visited him, and despite my reservations, Paul Lansing seemed like a good man. Reclusive and private but hard-working and honest. A sculptor, a carpenter, a man who preferred living off the land. Paul and Tessa seemed to hit it off, and meeting him had only served to make things more complicated between Tessa and me.
Some people might have questioned my decision to do a background check on him, but as her legal guardian, more than anything in the world I wanted Tessa to be safe. As Calvin used to say, “Truth is not afraid of scrutiny.” So, if Paul had nothing to hide, he had nothing to fear.
Paul’s record was spotless, maybe a little too spotless, so I remained somewhat uneasy about him. Until we knew more, I decided to let Tessa email him, as long as I reviewed her emails first to make sure nothing personal-a phone number, address, or anything about my job-inadvertently made their way into the messages. Tessa didn’t like it, but until I knew for sure I could trust him, I wasn’t going to take any chances.
It wasn’t clear to me what role he wanted to play in her life, but ever since that trip to Wyoming I’d noticed a crack forming in the foundation of my relationship with Tessa. The past had climbed into our lives and wedged itself between us.
“You’re glad to be back, aren’t you?” she asked, interrupting my thoughts.
I glanced at her.
“For the last couple weeks. Teaching this inter-session thing.” She pointed to the sign at the entrance to Quantico. “You’re glad to be back here, at the Academy.”
“For the summer; it’s just for the summer.”
“I know.”
A pause.
“Why do you say that-that I’m glad to be back?”
“You’re easy to read.”
Currently we live in Denver, having moved from New York City after her mother’s death. Now, as I answered her question, I opted for the nickname I’d affectionately given her last year. “Yes, Raven, it feels like I’m coming home.”
She was quiet then, and I wondered whether she was thinking about Denver, or New York, or possibly one of the small towns in Minnesota where she’d lived as a child.
“That’s good,” she said simply.
I had the urge to ask her what felt like home to her, but I wondered if it might somehow relate to her finding her dad, so I held back and she quietly unfolded the newspaper to finish her puzzle while I pulled into the line of cars waiting to be cleared to enter the Marine Base.
Washington DC
Astrid and Brad stepped into the security office of the primate research facility they’d chosen for tonight’s game. The timing of the shift change had worked in their favor. They’d drugged the security guard, so except for the gorillas and monkeys, they had the place to themselves.
This game, over the next three days, would be the most thrilling, the most satisfying game of all.
Brad’s game.
Already Astrid could feel the excitement this night would bring, the glorious surge of power filling her, releasing her, preparing her for the passion they would share with each other later in their bedroom.
Brad was reconnecting the security camera console’s router.
“I’m almost done,” he said softly.
“How long?”
“Five minutes, max.”
One of the Marines held up his palm, motioning for us to stop.
I handed my credentials to him through my open window. “Evening, Sergeant Hastings,” I said. “Good to see you again.”
“Dr. Bowers.” He took only a quick glance at my ID and verified the plates on my car. Despite the stoic look on his face, I heard warmth in his voice. “What’s it been, sir? A year?”
Sergeant Eric Hastings was in his early twenties. Caramel eyes. Short blond hair. Probably less than 6 percent body fat.
This was the first time this summer I’d seen him, and the first time I’d brought Tessa to an Academy function. “Almost. And when are you going to just call me Pat like everyone else?”
A small grin. “When I’m not in this uniform, sir.”
Tessa was handing her driver’s license to me, trying not to stare at Eric, but her eyes betrayed her. I accepted my creds from Eric, gave him Tessa’s license.
He leaned over to compare her face to her license. He took his time. “Ma’am,” he said respectfully.
“Hey,” she said. I could tell she was searching for the proper way to address him. “Sergeant… sir.”
His scrutiny seemed to bring out her shyness, and she lowered her eyes. Demure. It made her even cuter than usual, and I was suddenly anxious to get going. At last he handed her license back to us. “Welcome to Quantico, ma’am.”
“It’s Tessa,” she said, a little too loudly in reply.
Tessa felt like smacking herself in the head. Hard.
Okay, first, you’re like totally gawking at the guy and then you tell him your name right after he’s been studying your driver’s license? Brilliant, Tessa Bernice Ellis. Just brilliant.
As Patrick pulled forward, she stared out the car’s side window and tried to distract herself from thinking about the cute sergeant and the ditzy impression she’d left him with.
It didn’t work.
Patrick didn’t like her seeing older guys.
And now, she caught herself wondering what her dad would think-her real dad.
She knew it wasn’t fair, comparing the two men like that, but ever since she’d met Paul, she’d found herself doing it more and more.
And in her imagination, Patrick was having a hard time measuring up.
Everything had become so confusing.
And oh, then there was this, another thing she’d been doing that was guaranteed to screw things up between her and Patrick-in addition to the emails he knew about, she’d been secretly emailing Paul on her own almost every day.
She didn’t do it to purposely dis her stepdad, it’s just that there were things she needed to ask her dad, things she didn’t feel comfortable asking with Patrick looking over her shoulder. However, the emails had become a fractious little secret that she was keeping from the one person she didn’t ever want to deceive.
I left Tessa alone with her thoughts.
We passed signs to the Marine weapons ranges and obstacle courses, then cruised past some intersections that, quite intentionally, had no road signs. After all, there are sections of the Quantico Marine Corps Base best left unadvertised to visitors.
We passed the sprawling, ultra-modern FBI Forensics Analysis Lab, the most advanced forensics laboratory in the world; then came to the turnoff for Hogan’s Alley, a sixteen-acre vacant town the FBI built in the eighties to use for training agents to collect evidence, respond to hostage situations, perform felony vehicle stops, and apprehend hostile suspects in urban areas. I didn’t mention to Tessa that the body farm lay in the stretch of woods just beyond it.
Instead, I said, “Here we are,” and pulled into the parking lot beside the Academy’s administration building, and then I led her inside.