Chapter 3

"We are now above the altitude at which approved portable electronic devices may be used."

Terry automatically tuned out the rest of the flight attendant's announcement and continued gazing out the window. They were just passing over downtown, having taken off over the ocean before making the long 180-degree turn to head east. She saw the dark line of I-5 heading to the northwest, and then the Glendale Freeway snaking northward towards Montrose. She could make out the park near Don's apartment, and if she pressed her nose to the glass, she could just see his street. She looked for his building, but it was lost in the early morning haze.

He wasn't there, of course. He was going to head into the office after dropping her off at the ungodly hour of 5:45. At least he would beat the traffic, he joked, and maybe even get in before David, who seemed to delight in regularly showing up before anyone else in the office. He'd often teased David that they couldn't find him a partner until someone else joined the office who could work before 6:30 A.M.

She hadn't asked once, of anyone, how soon Don would be assigned a new partner, or who it might be.

As they passed over the San Gabriel Valley, she put her fingertip on the window to trace I-10 as it cut eastward through the endless sprawl of the Los Angeles Basin. She tracked the familiar landmarks of the interstate crossings, the Los Angeles River, and the giant railyards, the latter two of which she'd seen many times in far different ways than the average person did.

The Wilmington field office concentrated mostly on white-collar crime, thanks to the high concentration of financial and insurance headquarters in the low-tax state of Delaware. She probably wouldn't be chasing criminals down concrete ditches or through warehouses much anymore. Which, all in all, was probably a good thing. She'd ruined one too many pairs of shoes in some nameless puddle of industrial gunk before giving in and wearing the most plain and functional footwear she could get away with.

They were rising higher now, and the mass of the San Bernardino Mountains was coming into view, marking the eastern edge of the valley. This early in the morning, the mountains were still clear, but she knew they would soon be smothered in brown haze as the smog from the morning commute blew downwind until it was trapped by the tall peaks. Around the sides of the mountains, a few tendrils of suburban sprawl snaked into the desert. Then the landscape was empty but for the thin ribbon of interstate and the tiny vehicles moving along it through the orange-brown desert.

Terry sighed and turned away from the window. Twenty minutes into a six-hour flight, and she was already fidgety. At least there was no one in the middle seat, so she had a modicum of room to herself. She supposed she should get some sleep -- heaven knew she

didn't get much last night -- but the coffee Don had made to keep them awake enough to get to the airport was still running through her veins.

They hadn't had time for anything more than coffee, not with the way they put off getting up as long as they could. The alarm had jerked her awake just after 4 A.M., but they hadn't risen for at least another half hour. It had been so nice to wake up next to him, to feel his arm around her and against her bare skin, to be surrounded by his masculine scent. There were no last-minute emotional revelations, no wait-you-can't-go pleading. Just a feeling of contentment as he lazily played with her hair and they exchanged slow, soft kisses. As if pretending that that was the way it could have been.

They'd already showered last night, after, and so it didn't take more than a few minutes to make the coffee, get dressed, and head out. Traffic had been fine, and she'd arrived at the airport with time to spare. Their goodbye at the terminal was a lingering hug and a final, sweet kiss before the airport traffic cops urged Don to move along.

They hadn't said anything, but then there wasn't really much to say. "Curiosity satisfied?" she'd teased as they laid in bed, sweaty and spent.

"And more," he'd answered, before they both drifted off to sleep.

Well, at least now she knew what she'd be missing.

The plane banked gently to the right, and she could see the unnaturally green circles of the irrigated Imperial Valley. Coyotes, she thought. The case with the smugglers who trafficked in the bodies of desperate immigrants. Everything in Southern California reminded her of a case, probably always would. Every time she heard "Hollywood" or "Malibu" or "Pasadena" she'd think of some crime or offense.

She wondered how long it would take before she stopped thinking of Don with each one.

Sighing, she reached down for her bag, stuffed under the seat in front of her. She pulled out the tiny travel guide for Wilmington that was the only one she'd been able to find, and started paging through it. She'd already memorized the map, found the most likely neighborhoods to live in, seen what was near the FBI field office and what there was to do in town. Not a lot, as it turned out.

A folded piece of paper was sticking out from the latter pages of the book. She paged back to the section on sports and recreation, finding the paper inserted next to the description of the Wilmington Blue Rocks, the city's minor league baseball team. A slow smile spread over her face. She wouldn't have pegged Don for the love-letter type.

Shooting a quick glance to the side to make sure the occupant of the aisle seat was uninterested in what she was doing, she unfolded the paper and leaned back against the bulkhead.

"Dear Terry,

I don't know if you'll read this in a couple of weeks when you pick up this book after you've moved in, or if you've already found it while sitting at the gate. I figured we wouldn't get to talk much this morning, for lack of time as much as anything else. I just wanted you to know some things."

She took a deep breath before reading on.

"First, I'm glad we had last night. What you said on the pier that made me laugh? It wasn't a problem."

She grinned. No, the sex had not been a problem at all.

"Second, what I said on the pier afterwards. It wasn't a problem either. I mean -- " a sentence was crossed out and rewritten -- "I think it would work with us. You were right. We were friends first, and that would always be there. It's a heck of a time to figure that out, but like I said, it wouldn't have worked with you here and technically under my chain of command."

She sighed. He was right. It was good to know he'd been thinking the same thoughts she had, but it was still bittersweet.

"I'm sorry it took you going away to realize how special you are to me. I mean, I'm not going to take the next flight out to Delaware to talk you into coming back, and I don't think you'd want me to. But I do care about you, Terry, and I want you to be happy. And if that means being with me at some distant point in the future, in L.A. or somewhere else, that would be great. If it's with someone else, that'd be okay, too.

"I know we're not the same people we were ten years ago. And next time I see you, we won't be the same people we are today. That's why I'm not making any promises, and I wouldn't hold you to any. Just think about me sometimes, and know that I'm thinking about you. I'll miss you.

"Your friend, Don."

She folded the letter back up and stared out the window. She'd been wrong. It was exactly the kind of gesture Don would make. Not romantic as such, but understanding that they needed to say things to each other that they wouldn't have said face-to-face. And knowing just how to word it so that she'd understand what he meant. She pictured him scribbling it on the nightstand while she was in the shower, hastily folding it up and slipping it in her bag before taking his turn in the steaming water.

She wished she could see his face when he got home tonight and saw her letter on the bed saying almost exactly the same thing.

The engines dropped back to a low drone as the plane reached its cruising altitude. Terry stared down at the red rock desert 35,000 feet below, feeling every mile that was growing between her and Los Angeles. Then she fingered the paper in her hands and gave a sad smile. Don was right. She didn't want him to be on the next plane out. She had things to prove, at least professionally speaking, that she couldn't do in L.A. And she had a feeling that while maybe last night had been a revelation to both of them after all, it required some time to think through.

But given enough time, maybe things would work out. She had an old FBI friend at the San Diego field office. Maybe giving her a call would be a good start. After all, they could probably use someone in a few years who had experience leading a field office.