Home of the Braised (10 page)

I’D ALREADY SWUNG THE DOOR OPEN, GRABBING
his free arm as emotion crashed over me in hot, happy waves. “Get in here and let’s get you dried off. Where were you? What happened?” My voice rose with each frantic word.

“Are you angry?” Gav took longer to make his way in than he should have. He winced with every step.

I heard Mrs. Wentworth’s door shut one second before I closed mine. “What happened?” I asked again, trying hard to modulate my tone. “I’m not angry with you. I’m . . .”

I struggled to sort myself out. I’d always been fully in charge of my emotions and able to remain objective. Since Gav had entered my life, however, I found myself suddenly more vulnerable, so much more at risk.

“I’m furious at whoever kept you from calling me,” I finally said as I got him a towel. “Who was it? What did they want?” A second later I noticed the deep creases around his bloodshot eyes. I noticed his clothes. “You haven’t changed since I saw you last.”

He waved away my concerns. “I’m fine.”

Finally softening my reaction, I said, “Sit down. What can I get you?”

He made his way in, lowering himself slowly onto the sofa in my living room. Although he looked as though he’d prefer to sprawl out backward and stare at the ceiling, he sat at the far end, looping his cane over the couch’s rolled arm. “I’m too tired to eat.” Patting the cushion next to him, he said, “Sit with me, Ollie.”

I sat down, one leg crossed underneath me, facing him. “You’re hurt.”

He reached an arm around me, causing me to shift so that we sat side by side. Pulling me in tight, he asked, “Have you told anyone what we saw at Evan’s? Anyone at all?”

“Sargeant knows that you and I encountered a problem, but I didn’t give him any specifics.”

Gav took a deep breath and let it out. “Good.”

“But two agents came to see me.”

Gav’s grip on my shoulder tightened. “Who?” he asked. “Did they give you their names?”

“It was two of the men in the gas masks,” I said. “Tyree and Larsen.”

Gav let his head drop back against the top of the couch cushion. “I told them to leave you alone. I told them.”

“What’s going on?”

He didn’t answer. “Let me guess: They wanted to know if any of the victims spoke, right?”

“Exactly. I take it they asked you that, too.”

He grunted the affirmative. “I told them to leave you alone,” he said again.

“What’s happening?”

Head still back, he rolled it side to side. “Whatever it is, it’s big.”

“Are we involved? Or now that they’ve debriefed us both, are we in the clear?”

“I think they’ll leave us alone. For now.”

“What do you mean, ‘for now’?”

“Did you read the newspaper?” He started to get up, but I pushed him back.

“I’ll get it.” I hurried to the kitchen and grabbed my copy. “Here,” I said, handing it to him.

He opened to page five. Down low, a one-column, three-paragraph story sat next to an ad for discount mattresses. “Take a look.”

The article was attributed to Daniel Davies of
The People’s Journal
. “That’s the guy who was giving Sargeant such a hard time,” I said, and explained about the press conference.

“He clearly didn’t get his facts right,” I said, pointing. The article reported the accidental deaths of Evan Bonder and four others, all named. The story went on to explain that the five men were apparently the victims of carbon monoxide poisoning. “This was clearly a murder. The victims were bound and gagged.”

Gav nodded.

“And he says they died of carbon monoxide. It’s summertime. Doesn’t that usually happen when furnaces back up?”

Gav took a deep breath. The stitches probably still hurt him, but he masked the pain. For my sake, I’m sure.

“No question that it’s a cover-up. Pure and simple. There’s much more at stake here, but it’s clear they want to keep the truth out of the public eye. Whether this reporter is in on it, or he’s been fed erroneous information, I can’t tell.” He tapped the paper. “Tyree warned me to walk away. Leave this alone. This article seals it. It’s clear they’ve got the power to keep this quiet.”

“But you aren’t going to walk away, are you?”

“Evan was my friend,” Gav said. “He asked me for help. How can I walk away? There’s no chance that this is a simple coincidence. He called me for help with a problem that he thought was too big for him to handle. Next thing I know, he’s dead.”

“How long were they like that before we arrived?”

“They’re not going to share pathology with me,” he said, “but from what I could tell, it didn’t look as though they’d been dead for very long.”

We were silent for a while, then Gav said, “I owe it to Evan to look into this on my own. I don’t trust that Tyree and his cohorts will keep me informed.”

“Can I help?”

He shook his head. “Not with investigating,” he said. “I know these people and you don’t. They’re liable to resort to drastic measures if they think security is at stake.”

“Is it?”

“There’s too much to take in right now for me to know what’s going on. I have to dig. Quietly, though.” He must have seen the look on my face because he added, “You know I’ll tell you whatever I learn. We’ll talk. You have good instincts, Ollie. I’ve always said that. Don’t worry, you’ll be involved. I just can’t have you out on the front lines.”

I considered that. And understood. “What do you make of their fixation on one of the victims having talked? Do you think they were hoping that one of them might have told us who did this to them?”

“I’m convinced of it,” he said. “They thought I knew more than I did, that’s for sure. Did they try to intimidate you?”

I liked the way he phrased that—“Did they
try
,” as though he knew they wouldn’t succeed. Gav’s faith in me made my heart swell.

“A little,” I said. A second later I realized that their attempts to intimidate Gav wouldn’t have been nearly as polite as mine had been. “They didn’t hurt you, did they?”

He gave me a sideways glance. He seemed amused by the question. “Tyree’s not that foolish. They questioned me hard, but they did everything by the book. I had no reason not to comply.”

“Who are
they
, anyway?”

“Friends. At least, they used to be.”

“Not Tyree, though.”

“No, not him.” Gav straightened. “Tyree’s smart. Top of his class at Glynco. Kicked everyone’s butt in training. He’s good. Really good.”

“You usually hold people like that in high regard. What’s different about this guy?”

“Tyree is out to make a name for himself. Always has been,” Gav began slowly. “Most of the time that wouldn’t bug me. I get it. We all strive to go above and beyond, and if we’re recognized for our efforts, all the better.”

I waited.

“Tyree and I were friends at first. Not the kind of friends who hang out together on our days off, you understand, but we liked each other. Respected one another.”

“Until?”

“Until the first time we had to work together. It was one of those team-building exercises. You know, the kind of setup that isn’t life or death, but trains you for that kind of situation. Tyree and I were the senior members of a five-person group. The three others were recent recruits. All men. The idea was for the two of us to work with the new guys and assess them. Submit reports.” He waved a finger in the air, emphasizing. “You need to understand that this was a first run for the younger group. We allow mistakes. At that point in training, we
want
them to make mistakes. Sometimes that’s where you learn the most.”

Gav took a deep breath, tensing again. I knew he was exhausted, but he was determined to finish his story.

“These kids were good. Really good. Instead of Tyree being supportive, however, he knocked them down at every opportunity.” Gav stared up at the ceiling as though watching it all happen again. “Could be he thought that by being tough he’d get more out of them, I suppose, but I got the impression Tyree felt intimidated.”

“By newbies?”

“That’s the thing,” Gav said, turning to face me. “It was like he saw these kids as a threat. Anybody who was in the service before him, or who came in alongside him—me, for instance—was considered worthy in his eyes. Not so the rookies. Worse, one of the three kids came across like a comedian. I’m pretty sure he was using humor to keep his head straight. We all have coping mechanisms to keep fear at bay. This was his.”

Gav shrugged. “Tyree hated that most of all. The guy has no sense of humor.” He held up his free hand in a helpless gesture. “I find that to be true with anyone who can’t laugh at himself or herself. They resent those who can. Anyway, I could practically see fireworks shooting out the top of Tyree’s head whenever this kid had a good idea, or suggested a method or tactic we hadn’t tried before.”

“Why would that bother him? I’d think that if your subordinates succeeded, that would reflect well on both of you.”

“That’s how I saw it.” Gav shook his head. “Tyree told me he was going to wash the kid out. Write up a report that would have him tossed from the program. I told him I thought he was nuts. The kid was smart, quick, and exactly the sort of guy we needed on the job. Tried to explain the young guy’s humor, but Tyree wouldn’t listen. He filed his report. I filed mine.”

“And the kid?”

“He got to stay. They took my word over Tyree’s. I made the case to my superior that Tyree might have anger management issues. They took it under advisement and sent him for a psychiatric evaluation.”

“You have to do that before you join the Secret Service, don’t you?”

“That doesn’t mean they can’t order follow-ups.” Gav’s shoulders relaxed as he continued. “Tyree passed, but his career stalled.”

“All of this from a report he filed?”

Gav fixed me with a look. “The last thing you want in the field is an out-of-control agent. This episode with Tyree, due in part to my involvement, sent up warning flags. He must have realized how close he came to blowing it because he toed the line from that point on. Since then, he’s become the model agent. Never steps out of bounds anymore. Never shows emotion.” With a sigh of resignation, he added, “I had a feeling it was all simmering beneath the surface. Got my proof today. Loud and clear.”

“Can’t you do something? Report him?”

“If I thought he was a threat to national security, I wouldn’t hesitate to do everything in my power to see him pitched. But that’s not the case here. Anyway, he managed to beat the anger management issue. Maybe he deserved to.”

“He sounds like a jerk.”

“Arrogance isn’t a deal breaker.” Gav’s arm snugged tighter. “Good thing, otherwise I’d have been bounced a long time ago.”

“You’re not arrogant.”

“Oh yeah? Think back to when we first met. Remember that guy?”

I did. Tucking myself in closer, though careful not to press hard against Gav’s stitches, I mumbled a nearly incoherent, “Uh-huh.”

He pressed his lips against the top of my head. “At that point, did you ever envision this?”

I laughed. “Not a chance.”

As we talked, Gav’s limbs loosened and his words started to come more slowly. “Get some rest,” I said.

He didn’t argue. As I disengaged myself from under his arm, he peeled open one eye. “President is talking tonight. Don’t forget.”

I glanced at the clock. President Hyden would be on in about ten minutes. While it was still unusual for the president to schedule an address on weekends, we were getting used to the practice. Recently, President Hyden had begun taking advantage of the all-news-all-the-time culture that had evolved over the years. He’d said he hoped the move toward more transparency would benefit us all. “Wouldn’t you rather sleep?”

“Let’s watch,” he said, stifling a yawn.

I grabbed the remote and tuned to a local network; a reality show was just winding down. I switched to an all-news channel where political pundits were doing their best to predict what the president might have to say tonight.

Making my way to the kitchen, I said, “I’ll get you something to eat.” Even if he didn’t touch it until after he’d slept for a while, Gav needed strength to heal. He’d been coming along well since his emergency surgery, but the last few days’ events weren’t exactly what the doctor meant when he’d ordered time off.

I put together a very basic ham and cheese sandwich, grilling it just long enough to melt the cheese and toast the rye bread. With about thirty seconds to spare before the presidential address, I scooped some leftover pasta salad onto Gav’s plate, and rinsed off a few fresh strawberries for dessert. By the time I made it back into the living room, President Hyden was greeting the American people and Gav was fast asleep.

I placed the plate on the coffee table and turned down the TV’s volume so that Gav wouldn’t be wakened by spontaneous applause from the audience. The presentation was being held in the Brady Press Briefing Room. How appropriate, I thought. That was one of the places where Gav and I had first gotten to know one another.

The president talked about our country’s relationship with Durasi and then segued into the reasons for the upcoming state dinner. I’d have thought that any discussions of peace would be welcomed throughout the land, but it wasn’t so. Outside the White House, across Pennsylvania Avenue in Lafayette Square, a group had arranged an anti-Durasi rally. I wasn’t entirely sure what they hoped to gain by protesting the Durasi president’s visit, but they’d been a loud and vocal presence lately, nonetheless.