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  “Seriously, though,” he went on, “we may have had our bumps in the road, but this investigation is a perfect example of how federal and local authorities can work together in the face of a major threat. I’m proud of what Detective Cross and I accomplished here, and I hope the city’s proud of us, too.”

  Apparently even Siegel’s good side had a huge ego. But I was in no mood to be picky or small. If he wanted the face time, he could have it.

  I held back for the next several questions, until inevitably someone asked, “What about motive? Can you tell us definitively at this point that Talley and Hennessey were operating on their own? And for what reason?”

  “We’re looking into all possibilities,” I said right away. “What I can tell you is that the two gunmen responsible for the Patriot sniper killings are now deceased. The city should go back to normal. As to any open aspects of the investigation, we have no comment at this time.”

  Siegel looked at me but kept his mouth shut, and we moved right along with our dog and pony show.

  The full truth, which we would never share with the press, was that we had plenty of reasons to believe Talley and Hennessey had been following someone else’s game plan. Maybe we’d find out whose, and maybe we wouldn’t. If I’d had to guess that morning, I would have said this case was as closed as it was going to get.

  It happens. A lot of police work is about skimming the bottom layers off things without ever getting to the top. In fact, that’s exactly what the people at the top count on. The ones who work for them — the guns for hire, the thugs, the street criminals — those are the ones who absorb most of the risk, and all too often they’re the only ones who take the fall.

  Something about “foxes in the henhouse” comes to mind.

  Chapter 108

  AFTER TWO MORE DAYS of boring and exhausting paperwork, I took a long weekend and spent some time playing what the kids like to call Ketchup. Mostly it’s just me turning off my cell and hanging out with them as much as possible, although Bree and I did sneak away for a few blessed hours on Sunday afternoon.

  We drove up to a place called Tregaron, in Cleveland Heights. It’s a huge neo-Georgian mansion on the Washington International School campus, available for rentals in the summer months. We got a tour from their tightly wound community relations director, Mimi Bento.

  “And this is the Terrace Room,” she said, walking us in from the grand foyer.

  It was a parquet-floored hall with brass chandeliers, open to a canopied patio at the back. Beyond that were the pristine gardens and a view of the Klingle Valley. Not too shabby. Beautiful, actually. And classy.

  Ms. Bento checked her leather folio. “It’s available August eleventh, twenty-fifth, or… next year, of course. How many guests were you thinking?”

  Bree and I looked at each other. It seemed weird that we hadn’t thought about this in much detail, but we hadn’t. We wanted to keep it somewhat small, I guess. It was all kind of new for us.

  “We’re not sure yet,” Bree said, and the corners of the woman’s mouth turned down almost imperceptibly. “But we definitely want the ceremony and reception in the same place. We’d like to keep everything relatively simple.”

  “Of course,” she said. You could just see the dollar signs getting smaller in her eyes. “Well, why don’t you look around a little more, and I’ll be in the office if you have any questions.”

  Once she was gone, we walked outside to see the terrace. It was a perfect spring day, and easy to imagine a wedding happening here.

  “Any questions?” Bree said.

  “Yes.” I took her hand and pulled her in. “Is this where we’d have our first dance?”

  We started swaying right there while I hummed a few bars of Gershwin in her ear. No, no, they can’t take that away from me.…

  “You know what?” Bree said suddenly. “This place is absolutely gorgeous. I love it.”

  “Then it’s settled,” I said.

  “Except I think we should skip it.”

  I stopped dancing and looked at her.

  “I don’t need to spend the next few months thinking about what color the invitations are going to be or who’s going to sit next to who,” she said. “That’s someone else’s wedding, not mine. Not ours. I just want to be married to you. Like now.”

  “Now?” I said. “Like — now?”

  She laughed and reached up to kiss me. “Soon anyway. After Damon comes home from school. What do you think?”

  I didn’t have to think. All I needed out of this wedding was for it to be exactly what Bree wanted — fancy mansion or Washington courthouse, I didn’t care. As long as she was there.

  “After Damon comes home, then,” I said, and sealed the deal with another kiss. “Next question: do you think we can sneak out the back, or do we have to tell Mimi?”

  Chapter 109

  THE BACKYARD WAS BEAUTIFUL, the way everyone did it up for us. Sampson, Billie, and the kids had put little white lights in the trees, and candles everywhere you looked. There was jazz in the air, and a dozen high-backed chairs arranged on the patio for the friends and family we’d invited on short notice.

  The kids stood up with us for the ceremony — Ali, with the rings; Jannie, beaming in the beautiful white dress we’d let her splurge on; and Damon, looking like a taller and much more self-aware and confident version of the kid we’d dropped off at Cushing last fall.

  As for Bree, no surprise, she was stunning in a simple white strapless dress. Simple and perfect in my eyes. She and Jannie had the same little white flowers in their hair, and Nana sat proudly in the front row with a single hibiscus tucked over her ear and a sparkle in her eyes that I hadn’t seen in the last few years.

  At six thirty sharp, our pastor from St. Anthony’s, Dr. Gerry O’Connor, nodded to Nana that it was time to start the proceedings. She’d made one request for today — that she be allowed to offer up a convocation of her own sort.

  “I believe in marriage,” she said, standing up to address the group. You could hear the church in her voice already. “More specifically, I believe in this marriage.”

  She came over to where Bree and I were standing and took each of us by the hand. “You two haven’t asked me for this, but I’m giving you to each other tonight and I am so honored to do it.

  “Bree, I never knew your parents, God rest their souls, but I have to believe they’d be pleased as punch to see you marrying my grandson. This man is a good man,” she said, and I could see a few rare tears brimming in her eyes. “He’s my one and only, and I don’t share that lightly.

  “And you,” she said, turning to me. “You have hit the jackpot here, mister.”

  “Don’t have to tell me that,” I said.

  “No, but when did that ever stop me? This woman is love, Alex. I can see it on her face when she looks at you. I can see it when she looks at the children. I can even see it when she looks at loquacious, silly old me. I’ve never known a woman more generous with her spirit. Have you?” she asked the larger group, and they all came back with a decisive “No!” or, in a few cases, “No, ma’am!”

  “That’s right,” she said, and leveled a bony finger at me. “So don’t ever mess it up!”

  She sat back down while everyone else was still laughing, many of us through our own tears. Just a few words, but she seemed to have covered everything beautifully.

  “All yours, Pastor,” she said.

  And when Dr. O’Connor opened his book to begin, and I took in that circle of smiling faces around me — my best friend, John Sampson; my grandmother; my beautiful children; and this amazing woman, Bree, whom I’d come to realize I couldn’t even imagine trying to live without — I knew that his first two words could not have more perfectly captured everything that was in my heart and mind at that exact moment.

  Those words were “Dearly Beloved.”

  Chapter 110

  THE BEST PARTY EVER lasted long into the night. We didn’t skimp on the food, bringing in a friend’s
catering company for endless amounts of jerk pork, coconut rice, fried plantains, and something Sampson had decided to call a Breelex. It was two kinds of rum, pineapple, ginger, and a cherry — or just pineapple, ginger, and a cherry for the kids, although Damon sampled the adult beverage once, that I know of.

  Jerome Thurman jammed with his combo, Fusion, in the backyard, where there was plenty of dancing under the stars and even a little bad singing from me, after a Breelex or two. Or three. The kids said I was “pitchy” and “absolutely dreadful.”

  We were all up bright and early the next morning, though. A cab took us to the airport for a flight to Miami, and then on to Nassau. At the other end, a limo picked us up and whisked us off to the aptly named One&Only Ocean Club.

  Bree and I had seen this place in my favorite James Bond movie, Casino Royale, and I swore I’d get her here one day. The Bond jokes started as soon as we pulled into the familiar teardrop-shaped driveway, with the drool-worthy cars everywhere you looked.

  “Cross,” she said as I helped her out of the limo. “Bree Cross.”

  She’d surprised a lot of people, I think, by taking my name. It was entirely up to her, but I loved that she did. I liked hearing it as much as saying it.

  “Dr. and Mrs. Cross, checking in,” I told the gracious, very welcoming woman at the front desk. Bree squeezed my hand, and we laughed like a couple of kids. Or maybe just a couple of newlyweds. “How soon do you think we can be out in that ocean in your backyard?”

  “I’d say about three and a half minutes,” the woman told us, and slid our keys across the desk. “You’re all set here. That’s one double suite in the Crescent Wing and one ocean-side villa. Enjoy your stay.”

  “Oh, we will!” Jannie had just come up behind us. Nana, Damon, and Ali were still outside ogling the white sand beach and turquoise water. It really was turquoise.

  “Here you go, Miss J.” I handed her the suite key. “I’m officially putting you in charge of that, and we’ll see you guys for lunch tomorrow.”

  “Daddy, I still think you’re crazy for bringing us,” she said, and leaned in as if she had a secret to tell. “But I’m really glad you did.”

  “Me, too,” I whispered back.

  Besides, it would still be a honeymoon. That’s what DO NOT DISTURB signs are for.

  Chapter 111

  OUR VILLA WAS the pièce de résistance. Just like in the movies, as they say. There was a full wall of sliding louvered doors that opened up to a private terrace and infinity pool, with stairs leading down to the beach. The staff had placed fresh flowers everywhere, inside and out, and the mahogany California king bed alone probably cost a year’s salary.

  “Yeah, this will do,” I said, closing the door to the outside world behind us. “Good enough for Double Oh Seven, and all that.”

  “Oh, James, James,” Bree joked some more, pulling me down onto the bed. “Ravish me, James, as only you can.”

  And that’s what I did. One thing very quickly led to another, and our immediate beach plans got moved to sometime in the future. Still, we did manage to work up an appetite. By the time we were on our feet again, the sun was dipping down and we were both ready for a great meal.

  I’m not sure which was better that evening — the French-Caribbean food at Dune, the amazing bottle of Pinot Noir we ordered, or just the feeling of having nowhere else I needed to be for a change, nowhere else I wanted to be either.

  We made a full night of it, too, and stopped at the casino at the Atlantis Resort after dinner for some blackjack. Bree was up for a while, then I was, but we left around midnight a few dollars in the hole. And who cared? Not us.

  We walked back to our place the long way, holding hands along the beach.

  “Happy?” I said to Bree.

  “Married,” she said. “Happily married. It doesn’t even feel real yet. This is the real world, though, isn’t it? I’m not dreaming this, am I, Alex?”

  I stopped to put my arms around her, and we stood watching the moon’s reflection bouncing off the ocean.

  “You know, we still haven’t been in that blue, blue water yet,” I said. My fingers started in on the top buttons of her shirt. “Up for a night swim, Mrs. Cross?”

  Bree looked around. “Is that a dare?”

  “Just an invitation,” I said. “But I’d feel a little silly, all naked and alone out there.” She was already working on my pants.

  We left our clothes on the sand and swam out. I could hear steel drums coming from the hotel somewhere, but it was as if we had the whole ocean to ourselves. We kissed in the water for a while and then ended up making love again, right there on the shore. It was a little risky, and sandy, but just the kind of danger I’ll take any day of the week.

  Chapter 112

  WE SLEPT IN LATE the next morning and took our time getting ready for the day. Bree was just looking over the room-service menu and I was pulling on a T-shirt when the phone rang. It was still early for the kids to be calling, but I didn’t mind. Actually I was looking forward to taking some razzing from them.

  “Good morning!” I answered.

  “Yes, it is.” Kyle Craig’s unmistakable voice wormed into my ear. “And how was the wedding?” he said.

  I should have seen it coming. Should have taken more precautions. These calls had become a signature of Kyle’s.

  Before I said another word, a plane roared overhead — and I realized with a sudden jolt that I could hear it over the phone, too.

  I ran to the front window to look out. “Kyle? Where are you? What’s going on?”

  “Did you notice I kept my promise?” he said. “I told you I’d let you get married, and I did.”

  “Let me?”

  There was no sign of him outside, but that didn’t mean anything, did it? He could have been hiding anywhere. Clearly, he was here. And close, too.

  “And do you want to know why?” he asked.

  My breath was heavy in my chest as I continued to check out the grounds. “No,” I said. “I don’t.”

  “Because I believe in marriage,” he said, aping Nana’s voice. “Isn’t that what she said the other night?”

  Suddenly I couldn’t breathe at all.

  “And besides,” he went on, “a wife’s so much more fun to take from a man than a girlfriend. I’ve been patient, Alex, but it’s time to move on.”

  “Move on? What the hell are you talking about?” I said, but I was afraid I already knew.

  “Enlightenment, my friend,” he said. “Look down toward the water. See what you see.”

  I threw back the glass door and looked out. It took me a second, but then I saw them.

  Jannie and Ali were down on the beach, waving my way. A few steps behind them, somehow, impossibly, stood Max Siegel. He was in shades and a loud shirt, with a beach towel covering his right hand and a cell phone in the other. He smiled when he saw me, and then as his mouth moved, I heard Kyle Craig’s voice in my ear.

  “Surprise,” he said.

  Chapter 113

  IT FELT AS if my heart stopped and then started up again. My mind was racing. Kyle must have had some kind of major procedure. His face wasn’t Kyle’s at all.

  “That’s right,” he said. “Everything you’re thinking right now is true. Except for the part where you save everybody. That’s not happening.”

  Farther up the beach, Nana was watching from under an umbrella. Damon, the only one not to have met Max Siegel, was on a lounge chair beside her, listening to his iPod.

  “What do you think, kids?” Kyle said, putting some Siegel back into his voice. “Want to go give your dad a good-morning kiss?”

  He pocketed the phone and took up Ali’s hand, making sure to show me a flash of whatever was under that towel. A gun of some kind.

  God, no. This wasn’t happening.

  We’d left our own weapons back in DC, very much on purpose. Now that seemed like a horrible mistake. I’d have to improvise. But how? Using what as a weapon?

  I whispe
red fast and low to Bree as they came across the beach. There was no time to consider options. There was just my instinct, and a quick prayer that we got this right.

  “Hey, Daddy!” Ali called out as they came toward the terrace stairs. He tried to pull ahead, but Siegel — Kyle! — kept hold of his hand. It was everything I could do to stay where I was.

  Jannie ran ahead of them. “Can you believe Mr. Siegel is staying here, too?” she said, and kissed me on the cheek. “Is that crazy or what?”

  “Unbelievable,” I said. Neither she nor Ali seemed to notice how hollow my voice sounded.

  “Sorry to drop in like this,” Kyle said, as Max. He was grinning at me, daring me with his eyes, obviously wanting me to make some kind of move. And the voice — it wasn’t Kyle’s, but it was Kyle’s. How could I have missed the similarities before? It’s amazing how the brain follows what the eyes see — or don’t see.

  “No problem,” I said. I kept the charade up for the kids’ sake and moved back inside. “Come on in. Bree’s taking a shower, but she’ll be right out.”

  Kyle put a hand on Ali’s shoulder, and my stomach turned. “Why don’t you go and get her?” he said, smiling. “I’ll wait here with the kids. I’m sure she’d like to know I was here. What a coincidence. Is this crazy?”

  Something like an electric charge passed between us — something a lot like hatred. “Bree?” I called out. I moved toward the bathroom with my eyes still on Kyle. “Can you come out here?”

  For just a second, I poked my head in. “Max Siegel just dropped by,” I said, loud enough for his benefit.

  Bree was slipping out of her T-shirt and sticking her head under the running water while we stared helplessly at each other.

  “Be right there!” she called back.

  I turned to face Kyle again. He was still holding on to Ali.