chapter six: trust no one

The restaurant was small and intimate. Instead of electric lighting, there were hundreds of candles around the room, lending the place an aura of otherworldliness. When Kilmer had found out about it a few months back, he'd thought it was something Frankie would enjoy. Now that she was out of hospital, he'd decided to take her on an official date.

Frankie smiled at him across the table, her mind still on the encounter with Fasil. She hadn't told Kilmer he'd attacked her, knowing that would only upset him.

He put his hand on her leg. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah. I'm just tired."

Concern etched on his features, Kilmer touched her face, brushing a lock of hair behind her ear.

"Stop worrying," she said.

"Never."

"It was a rough day."

He moved his chair closer. "Do you want to talk about it?"

Frankie broke eye contact and picked up her glass of wine.

"Frankie?"

She exhaled. "Yes and no."

Kilmer put his arm around her shoulder, letting her know he was there while giving her time to collect her thoughts. Eventually, she raised her eyes to meet his and gave a small smile.

"Seeing him again was harder than I thought it would be. I had to do it though. I had to let him see that he hadn't won." She traced the rim of the glass with her thumb. "I think I also had to prove to myself that he hadn't broken me."

"I'm proud of you, you know that? Not many people would be able to face their tor—" He couldn't say 'torturer'. "Their captor."

Frankie shrugged. "It's my job."

"That doesn't change anything."

"I made an appointment with one of the Bureau's trauma counselors."

He smiled. "Good. I'm glad."

"Atkins was going to make me do it anyway. I thought it may as well be on my own terms, with someone I trust."

"You know you can talk to me too, right?"

"I know." Frankie kissed him, then smiled. "Let's get the bill and go home."

"What about dessert?"

"Oh, I intend to have my dessert." She sat back in her chair and dropped her gaze to his mouth.

Fifteen minutes later, the bill was paid and they were in a cab on the way back to Kilmer's apartment. Sitting close together on the back seat, Kilmer nuzzling her neck, Frankie couldn't remember the last time she'd felt this content.

In retrospect, she should have known it was too good to be true.

Atkins was waiting for them with two men belonging to the Military Police. Instinctively knowing something was wrong, Frankie moved nearer to Kilmer.

Atkins stepped forward, a folded piece of white paper in his hand. He looked deeply troubled. "John, I have a warrant for your arrest."

Kilmer frowned. "What?"

"I'm sorry, John." He gestured to the MP's, who handcuffed Kilmer then led him away.

"Wait," Frankie said. "I don't understand. What's going on?"

Atkins handed her the warrant. She skimmed through it, then looked at Atkins, shaking her head in disbelief. "There must be some mistake. John's not a traitor."

"Frankie, we have evidence—"

"Well, it's wrong!"

"I'm sorry." Atkins turned away.

"I'm coming with you."

"That's not a good idea."

"Damn it, Roger." The use of his first name stopped him in his tracks. "You know this is wrong."

"Frankie, if a mistake has been made, we'll find it."

For a while, Frankie was too stunned at the absurdity of the situation to do anything. When Atkins had left, a figure stepped out of the shadows at the end of the hall.

"Frankie, we need to talk."

"Angel?"

"Can we go inside?"

Frankie dug in her bag for the keys then unlocked the door. When she turned back to Angel, she was surprised to see another woman at her side. "Nurse Hatcher?"

Margo Hatcher smiled. "Once upon a time. Now I'm Special Agent Hatcher with the Secret Service."

"Margo was assigned to protect you during your stay in the hospital," Angel explained. "Please, we need to go inside."

Frankie let the women enter ahead of her, then locked the door. "I think you need to tell me who you really are."

Angel sat on the couch, waiting for Frankie to sit before she continued. "I was assigned to the Threat Matrix team to find out whether or not Kilmer was a traitor. I know he's not but I can't prove it. The real traitor has covered his – or her – tracks too well."

"A traitor." Frankie shook her head in disbelief.

"You're the only member of the team who knows why I'm really there. You can't tell anyone." She paused to let the words sink in. "Everybody is a suspect."

"You don't seriously think it's one of our guys?"

Angel's silence was answer enough.

"How can I help you?"

Angel looked at Margo then back at Frankie. "I haven't told you everything. I think that you're a central part of this, that your kidnapping set everything in motion."

Frankie was suddenly cold. "They tried to use me to hurt him."

"I think so. Frankie, the only reason I'm telling you this now is because I don't think the danger has passed. Margo's going to be watching you for the next couple of days."

Frankie just nodded.

It was strange for Frankie to wake up alone the next morning. She went through the motions of getting ready for work. If Angel was right, someone on their team had set Kilmer up.

She felt ill. She couldn't go to work today, not when she had no idea who had betrayed them.

When she called Atkins, he told her Kilmer was being questioned. He couldn't tell her where he was or when she could see him. Frankie had no way of telling if it was because he didn't know or if he wasn't allowed to. She hung up without thanking him.

Just before noon, there was a knock on the door. Michael Watson was on the other side. Although Frankie really didn't want company, she invited him in out of politeness. She made him coffee and tried to think of a plausible reason to get rid of him.

He hadn't changed, she thought. She remembered the false concern after the miscarriage – remarkably similar to the fake sympathy he was displaying now – and she wondered why she'd let him into the apartment. She knew better.

"It must be hard," he was saying, "to find out that he was a traitor all along. Especially now that you've reconciled."

Michael put his mug on the coffee table and slid along the couch until he was almost touching Frankie. He put his hand on her arm. "If there's anything I can do to help . . ."

"You know as well as I do that John's no traitor." Frankie stood and began to clear up, needing to break the contact.

Michael followed her into the kitchen. "I've been hearing some disturbing things, Frankie. I didn't want to tell you, but maybe it's better if you heard them from a friend."

Frankie turned around, folding her arms across her chest. "I'm not interested."

"How well do you know John?"

The man just didn't give up, Frankie thought. After all of these years, he was still trying to come between her and Kilmer. She sighed. "John's a good man. He loves his country. He would die before selling out."

"He might love his country, but does he love you?"

She fought the urge to throw something at him. "Yes. He does."

"Some of what's being said is that he arranged for your kidnapping."

Frankie took a deep breath and silently counted to ten. At length, she asked, "Why did you come here, Michael?"

He stepped closer. "I thought you could use a friend."

"We haven't seen each other in – what? Seven years? – and now you want to be my friend?"

Michael's smile was decidedly sheepish. Frankie was about three seconds from forcibly kicking him out.

"I think you'd better go."

"If that's what you want."

She nodded and walked him to the door. "Oh, Michael? Don't bother coming back. John and I could do without friends like you."

Frankie saw in his expression the realization that he really had lost and she almost felt a flicker of sympathy. If he hadn't spent his life trying to meet other people's standards, he might have been happy.

It was late that night when Frankie was finally able to see Kilmer. He was being held in the brig at Fort Meade. Frankie wondered why he hadn't been transferred to Guantanamo Bay yet and could only think that Angel had something to do with it. She'd discovered that Angel had more authority than she'd first thought; it was Angel who had arranged for Frankie to visit.

Kilmer looked exhausted. Frankie ignored protocol and went around the table to hug him.

"God, Frankie, it's so good to see you."

"Are you okay?"

He nodded. "I'm hanging in there. No one will tell me anything, which is frustrating, but what can I do?"

"Have they interviewed you yet?"

"No."

Frankie frowned. Atkins had told her he had been questioned. "That's strange."

"They're treating me very well for a suspected traitor."

She wondered what Angel hadn't told her. "Well," she said brightly, "you won't be in here long."

"I hope so." He took her hands. "Does my mother know?"

"No."

"Don't tell her. She'll just worry."

He pulled her onto his lap. She kissed his forehead, wishing she could ease the tension she saw there. "It'll be okay."

He smiled. "I love you. You know that, right?"

"Yeah, I figured." She smiled as well. "And I love you."

An MP stepped into the room. "I'm sorry, ma'am. Time's up. I'm going to have to ask you to leave."

Frankie kissed Kilmer again. "I'll come back when I can."

The prospect of another night without Kilmer was almost depressing. In the short time they'd been together again, Frankie had grown so used to his company. She missed him.

And when he slept next to her, he kept the nightmares at bay.

Too restless to sleep, Frankie got up to fetch a glass of water. Though Angel had said Margo was keeping an eye on her, Frankie hadn't seen the other woman.

Just goes to show how good she is, Frankie thought.

It was strange how the dark seemed less oppressive when Kilmer was around. Frankie reached out to switch on the kitchen light, then froze mid-gesture. Something didn't feel right.

Suddenly there was the cold blade of a knife at her throat, and a familiar voice in her ear. "You're a hard woman to get rid of, Frankie."