“Yeah, but Calista Dauplaise . . .”
“Yeah? That’s pretty rich, coming from you. After everything she did to your family. Yet time came, you struck a bargain with her. Didn’t you? Not that I’m not blaming you. Believe me, I understand. Sometimes all we can do is make the best deal that’s on the table, and sometimes the enemy of my enemy is my friend. But don’t hold me to a different standard.”
“I had to ask.”
“Did you?”
Jenn stalked out of the room and downstairs to the kitchen. Gibson heard the refrigerator open and slam shut. So much for not starting off with a fight.
“Yeah,” Gibson said under his breath. “I’ve missed you too.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
Reunion off to a roaring, dysfunctional start, the two took a break from each other. Jenn disappeared into the dining room, burying herself in work. Gibson left Toby a message, apologizing for missing his shift and explaining that he wouldn’t be in for a couple of weeks. He left it vague, knowing this was probably his last strike with the Kalpars.
“Are you sure this is a good idea?” Bear asked after he hung up the phone.
“This is Jenn we’re talking about.”
“I know she’s important to you,” Bear said. “But you haven’t dealt with the existing mess, and you’re thinking about starting a whole new one. And what about Nicole’s e-mail? You still need to explain. Fix things.”
That had been on his mind since he’d first opened Nicole’s e-mail. But he didn’t know where to begin, and every time he reread what she’d written, he felt less certain. Calista’s reappearance had only served to back up Nicole’s argument.
“I don’t see where I have a choice, Bear. If I don’t play ball, Calista puts in a call to the CIA.”
Unconvinced, Bear took her book and went looking for a quiet place to read. Gibson waited for Jenn to finish working, but she wasn’t done being angry. He sorted through his belongings, unpacked only as much as needed, and put aside the few things that he actually cared enough about to take if he had to leave in a hurry.
Eventually, he got ready for bed. He was tired, but even with all the lights on, sleep wouldn’t come for him. He crept past Jenn’s door and went downstairs. Turning on the television, he surfed around until settling on a Paul Newman movie he’d never seen. Newman was driving a pickup down the sidewalk at Philip Seymour Hoffman. Unable to get comfortable on the wide, plush sofa, he curled up on the floor and watched the movie until he drifted off. He liked the background noise. A reminder that there was a world beyond these walls, and that was enough to help him sleep.
“Gibson. Gibson. Wake up.”
His eyes flicked open. Jenn knelt beside him, shaking his shoulder.
“What is it?” he asked, only partially awake.
“You were screaming.”
Wide awake now, he said, “I was what?”
“Screaming. Are you okay?”
He fought gravity to a sitting position and rubbed his face with both hands. “I’m sorry. Did I wake you up? I’m sorry.”
“It’s all right. Do you do that a lot?”
“I don’t know.”
He expected her to be irritated. They hadn’t settled their argument before he’d gone to bed, but he saw only concern in her eyes.
Jenn said, “When you disappeared . . . Where did you really go?”
“You want the long version or the short?”
“Make it the long. I haven’t had a normal conversation in ages.”
“Won’t be anything normal about it.”
Jenn chuckled, and Gibson smiled at the implausibility of the situation. Two old friends reuniting on Calista Dauplaise’s nickel. It was a tender goddamn moment. In many ways, they barely knew each other, but in other ways, ways that mattered more than Gibson could hope to articulate, this woman was the only person who might understand him.
Jenn sat on the floor beside him and waited for him to begin. At first, he was hesitant, but once he got rolling, he couldn’t stop. He found he wanted to tell her the story. Needed to tell her. And as he talked, Gibson felt lighter and lighter. A wonderful, weightless relief. He couldn’t think of anyone else he trusted to believe him. Jenn never interrupted but instead listened intently, letting it all tumble out. She never once looked away. He didn’t think it would last, but he felt as close to right as he could remember.
The only part of the story he left out was kidnapping Damon Ogden. Jenn Charles had spent eight years in the CIA, and he doubted that even she would have much sympathy or understanding for what he’d done. After all, if he didn’t, why should she?
“And then Jenn Charles opened the door. The end.”
“Not if I can help it.” She reached over and squeezed his hand and didn’t let go. After that, they sat in silence. Side by side. She didn’t ask questions. He didn’t think he could say anything more. She didn’t offer words of comfort, tell him she was sorry for his suffering, or promise him that things would get better. He didn’t want to hear that anyway.
“Do you see them as people?” Jenn asked, referring to Bear and Duke.
He nodded. “As real as you or me.”
“But you know they’re not. Right? You can tell the difference.”
“I do. Intellectually, I know. But . . .”
“They feel real.”
“Something like that, yeah.”
An old Robert De Niro movie played on the television. De Niro was in first class beside Charles Grodin, who was afraid to fly. But he wasn’t really . . . it was all an act. Gibson had seen this one before; one of Duke’s favorites. Gibson looked around for his father, expecting him to appear, but it was only Jenn and him. Of course, Jenn hadn’t seen the movie—she was the only person he knew who made him feel hip—so they watched for a while until the tension had left the room.
“Come here,” she said. “Get up on the couch.”
“Why?”
“Just do it. Lie down.”
“I can’t sleep like that.”
She stared small burn holes in his forehead until he did as she said.
“Happy?” he asked.
She climbed over him and lay behind him on the couch, fitting herself against his back. She put an arm around him and held him close to her.
“Sleep,” she said. “I’ve got you.”
He didn’t remember anything after.
In the morning, Gibson woke up alone. He yawned contentedly. He felt oddly good. The best night’s sleep he’d had since he couldn’t say when. Since the cell. And now he no longer felt the urge to retreat back into sleep. Instead, he wanted to get up and help Jenn. Whatever she needed. He still had no idea what to do about Damon Ogden, but he believed that if he could help Jenn, it would make it easier to face the consequences of what he’d done.
“Aren’t you going to fight me on this?” he asked Bear, who was watching him from across the room.
She closed her book carefully. “No, I think you’re right.”
“Really?” he said, failing to keep the surprise out of his voice. “You do?”
“I do.”
“I think it might fix things.”