Chapter SEVENTY-FIVE
Jock got a call from Dave Kendall late that afternoon and left immediately for Tampa. He would spend the night in an airport hotel and leave early the next morning for Houston. He had a new assignment. “Back to the jungle, podna,” he said as he hugged me goodbye. “See you soon.”
“Be careful, Jock,” I said. “Come back whole.”
My day had started with a feeling of lassitude and was ending in agitation. I took a beer to the patio and sat quietly, watching the darkness unfold and slowly work its way over the key. I was worried about Jock. Gene’s death, or at least the necessity of it as decreed by an agency to which he had given his life, had rattled him in a way I had not seen before. I worried he might lose focus, and I knew that even a small amount of distraction could prove fatal in the violent environment in which he worked.
J.D.’s reaction to Jock’s disclosure that the order for Gene’s murder had come from an arm of her own government was one of disgust. I knew her well, and I knew that she would understand the necessity of the director’s actions, but she would never be able to reconcile them with her innate sense of justice. She had left the turmoil of Miami for the relative peace of Longboat Key and found herself enmeshed in the actions of a governmental agency that seemed unbounded by the normal rules of civilized behavior. At least in Miami, there had been an order of sorts in the discord created by the criminal elements. Their actions didn’t always make sense, but at least she knew that at the root of whatever evil they perpetrated on the city, there was always money. There was a certain symmetry to criminality that was absent in the world of the terrorist who killed merely for the shock murder always generated.
I was not unaware that when J.D. left, she hadn’t muttered the usual pleasantries. No promise to “see you later” or “I’ll call” or even a “goodbye.” She was angry at the uselessness of the murders on Longboat, at the sheer lunacy of the attempts on her life, at Jock and everything he represented, and maybe even at me for being Jock’s friend.
I’d have to give her time to wind down, see if she’d call me or stop by. If I didn’t hear from her soon, I’d call her. Probably the next day. If that was too soon, the hell with it. I went for another beer and thought some more.
There was nothing I could do if she chose to leave the island. That would be her decision, and I’d have to live with the emptiness, kiss a phase of my life goodbye, and move on. Not a pleasant thought, but I knew I’d survive and I knew I’d always wonder about the what-ifs. Over the years of the future, thoughts of J.D. would bring smiles and some pain, but the pain would diminish over time, leaving only the good memories. It was the way of human nature. Perhaps it was time for me to tell her that I loved her. If she left, at least she’d take that knowledge with her.
The evening wore on, and I thought myself through an entire six-pack and went to bed without reaching any conclusions, other than I’d probably have a headache in the morning.