“Yeah. I hope they realize that they have the wrong woman.”
Guilt jabbed at her again. She wanted to comfort him, tell him that Tara was alive, and in safe hands—sort of—but how could she do that without betraying what she knew. She felt like a complete two-faced bitch. They were searching in all the wrong places.
But if she told them what she knew, it would be the end of her career. Besides, betraying the government went against everything she had ever believed in—they were supposed to be the good guys.
They were silent for the rest of the drive. Faith rested her head against the back of her seat and stared out at the passing streets.
Ash followed her into the house carrying the food and wine he’d collected from the backseat of the car. Chinese. Her favorite, but she didn’t think she could manage to eat anything. Her stomach was churning.
A letter lay on the carpet inside the door. She picked it up. It was from the hospital—she’d almost forgotten about her other little problem. How had her life got so complicated that she had overlooked the fact that she was very likely dying and there was absolutely nothing anyone could do about it?
The letter only told her the results were ready and could she come in as soon as possible.
“Bad news?” Ash murmured from beside her.
“No, not really.” She crumpled the paper and tossed it on the table. She’d phone in the morning, see if they could fit her in. No point in worrying about it now—she was getting good at that.
In the kitchen, she turned on the oven and put the food in to warm while Ash poured them red wine.
“Okay, let’s forget everything for a while. Time out,” he said and handed her a drink.
Forgetting everything sounded like an excellent idea to her. Though she doubted that it would be that easy. For either of them. Ash paced the room, almost crackling with energy. She let him get on with it while she got plates and things from the cupboards and set them out on the small dining table.
The meal was delicious, but they picked at the food. Ash gave up, put down his fork, and sat back.
“Sorry,” he said. “I’m not good company tonight.”
She put her own fork down and pushed her plate away. “It’s not surprising. You’re worried about Christian and Tara.”
“Yeah.” He sighed. “So tell me about you.”
“There’s not a lot to tell.”
“Tell me why you joined the police force.”
She picked up her glass and sipped for a minute. She’d never told anyone about why she had joined the police. Not really. But maybe some part of her thought that if she told him this, she would make up in some small way for all the things she was holding back.
“When I was twelve, my mother was murdered. They never caught the killer. I thought they didn’t search hard enough, and I wanted to do better, make sure that the bad guys got caught—the people like the ones who murdered my mother, murdered Julie Foster.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be. It was a long time ago.”
“There are some things that change the whole course of our lives.”
“You sound as though you know what you’re talking about. What happened to you—what changed your life?”
“Finding my wife.”
“Finding her, or losing her?”
He sat back, a slight frown on his face as he considered the question. “A few months ago, I would have said losing her—for a while everything went dark. I could see nothing but my own grief. But I’ve come to see that she left me a better person than she found me.”
“What was she like?”
“She was good. Pure of heart, and that’s not easy in this world. She was beautiful. She looked a lot like—”
His phone rang. He frowned but pulled it out of his pocket and listened for a moment.
“That was Christian. He’s awake.”
Faith glanced out of the window. The sun had set while they ate. It occurred to her, briefly, to wonder what he was doing asleep at this time of day, but maybe they’d had a busy night, and her mind skittered away from examining the idea to closely.
“Christian is picking me up here, and he’ll bring your guard for the night.”
“I don’t need a guard.”
“Yes, you do. I’m not losing anyone else.”
In some ways, his words pissed her off. As though she was incapable of looking after herself. In another, they made her feel all warm and fuzzy. She’d never had anyone look out for her before. At least not since her mother.
“I’ll go with Christian,” he said. “Your guard can have my vehicle. In fact, he can stay in there. Don’t let him in the house.”
“Why?”
“Because he’s one of Carl’s guys, and they’re not housetrained. They’re a load of hot-blooded assholes. You don’t want to know them.” He rose to his feet and held out a hand to her. “Come here.”