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Standard protocol was to ask lots of questions you already knew the answers to, and his hint of a smirk said he knew the answer to this one.
The noose had tightened considerably.
“My place. Hers was trashed a few days ago by SMK, looking for the jewelry.”
Zalenski gathered up the pictures. “It’s pretty clear to me that you let your personal involvement with the protectee influence your judgment, and that’s what precipitated a routine operation degenerating into a public shooting in downtown DC that makes us all look bad.”
SMK’s death looked bad on the evening news, and I’d become the sacrificial lamb.
Baker continued. “This looks like a repeat of your uncle’s mistake, letting emotion alter your decisions and ending up with a tragic outcome. But, hell, why should we expect anything different from Jack Cartwright’s nephew?”
My fists clenched, but I held back from responding angrily. “I think we’re done here.”
Zalenski put the photos away. “For today.”
As I walked out, what bothered me most was that Baker had been right. This did look like I’d repeated Uncle Jack’s mistake, only in reverse. He’d let his Benson hatred lead to a shootout that should have been avoided, and I’d let my love for Kelly lead to another shootout that could have been avoided.
Love? Had I really just used the word, even in my head? The thought rattled around. Did I know what the word meant?
My feelings for Kelly had grown into something I couldn’t quantify, something I couldn’t control.
Dempsey found me shortly after the Inspection Division creeps and I left his office. “To be clear, the Benson protection is off.”
“Yes, sir. I got it.”
He’d probably seen Neil’s photos of Kelly and me.
Justice Department ethics rules didn’t prohibit me from becoming friendly with Kelly, but Dempsey clearly had interpreted the images as me getting way toofriendly.
When I got to my desk, I looked up a number for the Smithsonian.
* * *
Kelly
Adam had successfully snuckout this morning, and I’d woken to an empty bed.
I found a note on the nightstand.
Sugarbear
You are safe now. I’ve been pulled off of protection.
The back door at your house has been fixed if you want to start the cleanup. I wish I could help, but I’m needed at the office.
See you tonight,
Adam
The note brought a smile to my face and warmth to my heart. I was safe—and that was great news. But it was more than that.
I held the note to my chest—my first morning note from a guy ever. I could hear his voice as I read it, and feel the conviction. My safety had been his number-one concern. The forced togetherness had ended, but he still wanted to see me—not because he had to, but just because.
I’d watched hundreds of movies where the hero swept the heroine off her feet. In the fantasy world, he didn’t leave after a quick romp in the hay, but stayed around, and you could see in their eyes they were committed to each other. The heroine got her happily ever after, something I’d wondered if I would ever feel. A first note didn’t sound like much, but it was closer to the fantasy than I’d ever come before.
The decision to stay and face the Ghost had been the most difficult of my life, and now the most rewarding. At every turn, Adam’s challenge to me to step out of my comfort zone had worked out pretty well, and I was ready for more—so long as it didn’t involve converting to coffee.
Adam wasn’t a math guy, but in a dozen ways, he was better.
