I knew what I had to do. One way or another, I was going to have to end this. I only hoped that I would live to tell the tale. Giving Holbrook’s bedroom, with its gaping window, a final look, I slung my bags over my shoulder and walked out into the living room where my Men in Black entourage waited to escort me downtown.
“Let’s go, fellas,” I said as I cut a path through them, scooping Loki up from the back of the recliner on my way out the door. I knew Santos and Holbrook were watching me, but didn’t dare look at either one of them for fear that it would break my fragile resolve.
***
Holbrook sat in the back of the SUV with me as we drove from his house to FBI headquarters, but I wasn’t in the mood to talk. I hadn’t realized how long it had taken for the bodies of the security detail to be removed from the property and for us to be given the all-clear to move out until I gazed out of the car window and saw the sun alighting on the horizon. Rush hour traffic was already at work clogging the highways, slowing our progress to an excruciatingly slow crawl along the highway. Every impatient honk of a horn or hiss of a semi’s airbrakes set my nerves on edge.
Holbrook’s hand settling over my bouncing knee clued me in to the nervous tick, and pulled my gaze away from the traffic jam.
“Hey,” he said, offering me a smile that should have set me at ease. Instead it made the anxiety claw at my gut with renewed vigor, reminding me that all too soon I’d be running out on him, leaving him possibly for the last time.
“Hey,” I replied, unable to muster up the energy to force a smile of my own.
“We’re going to figure this out. We’re going to get Reed, I promise.”
Pretty words, it’s a pity they don’t come with any guarantees.
Rather than speaking my bitter thoughts, I nodded and compressed my lips into what I hoped looked like a smile. Mollified by my reaction, he squeezed my leg and turned his attention to his buzzing phone, though he left his hand in place to trace circles against the side of my knee with his thumb. Normally I would have reveled in the affectionate contact, my years of solitude having not erased my need for human touch, but the small repetitive motion just made my skin crawl with the desire to get away.
I spent the remainder of the drive across town trying to figure out how the hell I was going to sneak away from the FBI, and by the time we pulled into the parking garage my stomach had been reduced to a writhing ball of nervous energy, making me feel as if my gut held a bowl of wriggling snakes.
“You okay?” Holbrook asked, drawing me out of my uneasy thoughts.
Rubbing at my gritty eyes I replied, “Hmm? Oh. Yeah, I’m fine. Just tired. It’s been a long couple of days.”
Grasping my hand, he squeezed my fingers. “It’ll be over soon.”
It took a herculean effort to stop the hysterical laughter from bubbling up out of my throat. Instead, I forced a wan smile and squeezed his hand in reply, hoping he’d let the subject go.
You have no idea.
Chapter 34
AN AURA OF sadness had fallen over the building, word of the incident spreading quickly, leaving everyone cocooned in their own bubbles of sadness and introspection. The usual sounds of dozens of people going about their daily business still filled the open work space when the elevator doors opened, but they seemed hushed somehow, and there were several groups gathered together speaking in low voices. Many of them stopped when I stepped out of the elevator, their eyes tracking my movement. Most of them just looked at me with the same sense of sadness and loss as they did their coworkers, but more than a couple had an accusatory glint in their eyes.
I hung my head and trudged along behind Holbrook like a recalcitrant child being led to the principal’s office, wishing that the floor would open up and swallow me whole.
The sooner I get out of here the better.
We settled in Holbrook’s office, the air of melancholy extending even into his small corner of the building. He looked bone tired, as if the weight of the world were resting on his shoulders, and I supposed that in some ways it was. He was as responsible for the deaths that morning as I was, and that had to have been weighing heavily on his mind. He had known those men, worked with them, risked his life alongside them, and now they were gone, their lives so easily, and pointlessly snuffed out. Because of me.