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chapter two

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of all the intersecting lines in the sand
i routed a labyrinth to your lap
i never used a map sliding off the land
on an incidental tide,
and along the way you know, they try
they try
--The Shins, "Sea Legs"

xx

March 22, 2003
12:45 pm

Martin was vaguely aware of the Senior Senator who was chatting beside him, rambling on and on about the fine dinner he and his wife had the privilege of attending the previous evening. Once again, he found himself grateful that as a child he had perfected the ability of smiling, nodding, and adding the occasional "Yes, of course" at just the right moment.

Senator Colin Adair was a pleasant man in his early 60's, and he sat beside his wife of nearly 35 years. Nancy rolled her eyes at Martin before patting her husband on the thigh. "I've got to excuse myself to the ladies' room, dear. Now do you think I can leave the two of you to your own devices and trust that you won't talk Senator Fitzgerald's ear off?" She walked off without waiting for his answer, but she had certainly done her job. Senator Adair fell silent, craning his neck to study his surroundings, much as Martin had found himself doing during the elder man's monologue.

"So, Martin, when are you going to find yourself a woman and settle down?"

Nancy Adair's work at quieting her husband apparently had a very short lifespan.

Martin groaned, "You sound like my sisters."

"Your sisters are wise women."

"Please do me a favor and never tell them that. I'll never hear the end of it." He laughed and turned his focus back towards the front of the church. "It will happen when the time is right."

Martin braced himself for his colleague's remarks at this, advising him that the time should get right soon, that he was nearly 32 years old and being single in their line of work never got anyone anywhere, but they never came. This was mainly because Nancy Adair had returned, announcing her presence as she leaned in to her husband to say "So, what did I miss?"

As Colin turned to face his wife, Martin allowed himself to scan the pews in front of him once again. He turned towards the side door at the front of the church, hearing it open, and was glad that both Colin and Nancy were otherwise engaged in conversation. All of the air immediately left his lungs as the most beautiful woman he was sure he'd ever seen stood at the front of the church, eyes scanning the crowds, apparently looking for someone.

Her blonde hair stood out against her dark coat, and her gaze finally landed about four rows in front of where he sat, on a tall Latino man who stood as she approached. The other man leaned in to whisper something in her ear as she made her way into the pew, and the woman made a casual gesture as though she were slapping him. She motioned to a petite dark-haired woman, sliding past her and sitting down between that woman and the other petite black woman who sat to her right. The blonde began chatting animatedly with the woman to her right, obviously blatantly ignoring the two to her left for one reason or another.

Martin wanted to inquire as to who the beautiful woman was, he was certain if anyone were to know it would be his elder colleague, but his pulse was still thready and his breathing still somewhat uneven. He did, however, manage to catch a snippet of Colin's rambling that immediately caught his attention.

"... and I think up there that's Paula Van Doren with Jack Malone and his team. It's such a shame that they couldn't find the body, but what can you do? ..."

Martin continued to listen intently, but to no avail as Colin was simply giving his wife a crash course in all of the people that she might not recognize who happened to be attending the services.

His mind went immediately back to the beautiful blonde woman who was apparently on Jack Malone's team. As the church fell silent and the gathering music began to play, he watched as she craned her neck to look at what he assumed was the organ in the back.

Yes, he decided after cautiously sneaking another glance at her face, she's definitely the most beautiful woman I've ever seen.

xx

2:10 pm

Martin had to admit that the service, when he'd been paying attention, had been beautiful.

That being said, he had paid very little attention to the service itself, his mind preoccupied with a certain blonde who sat just rows in front of him. He chastised himself casually for letting him get so taken by a woman he'd likely never even speak to. After all, she was probably just like every other woman he'd dated since announcing his campaign for Senate the year previous -- shallow, empty, and completely and entirely vapid.

He repeated this to himself over and over as he carefully made his way to the edge of the crowds and beyond to a small area of woods that stood at the end of the cemetery where the memorial for Delia Rivers had just been blessed.

So preoccupied was he with his own thoughts and musings that he did not realize that he was not, in fact, as alone as he had presumed.

xx

"Samantha!" seven year old Lindsey Spade called out. "Sam, where are you!?"

Five year old Samantha kept quiet, completely intent on her task at hand.

"Oh Sam! There you are!" Lindsey bent down to wrap her arms around her little sister. "We were so worried about you! What are you doing?" She asked, finally inspecting the scene around her.

Samantha was down on her hands and knees, digging in the dirt in the forest clearing.

"I'm going to find Dad all by myself," she announced proudly, her eyes never leaving the ground before her.

"What do you mean, Sammy?"

"Mom said that Dad wasn't coming back, just like she said Gramma isn't coming back." Samantha motioned back towards the path that led there from the church. "But when I find where they put Daddy," she turned her small body back to the hole that she had begun to dig in the ground, "I know he'll come back to us. Then he can take us to the zoo like he promised!"

"Samantha," Lindsey started, "Dad and Gramma, they're not the same. You're not going to find him here."

"Why not, Linds? Doesn't he love us anymore?"

Lindsey Spade stood up and dusted herself off, motioning for her sister to do the same. She wrapped her arm around Samantha's shoulders and turned to catch her eyes, which were still focused on the very small hand-made hole in the ground before them.

"I love you, Sam. And Mom loves you. We have each other and that's all that matters."

Samantha's big brown eyes stared back, finally, trusting her older sister implicitly. "Always?"

"Absolutely."

The day they buried their grandmother was same day Samantha had first realized that her father would never be coming home. And, surprisingly enough, it didn't seem to matter.

Twenty-four years later, a much older, much more embittered woman bearing the same name stood in a small clearing of trees, wondering when it had all gone wrong.

She didn't hear the footsteps as another body padded softly through the leaves along the edge of the clearing, but her senses jumped to alert when she heard this other body begin to cough, as though he was clearing his throat.

He jumped as well, clearly not aware that he had company.

"Crap! I'm sorry! I thought I was alone."

She turned to look at the man who had intruded on her quiet moment, suddenly realizing that this wasn't just any man at whom she had just nearly drawn her gun. She found herself face to face with none other than new Senator Martin Fitzgerald, the son of the Deputy Director.

Wow, she thought. He looks even better in person than on television. And then immediately chided herself for such thoughts. He was speaking to her again, and she was missing what he was saying entirely.

"Hi," he stuttered just a little, and she wondered if maybe he was nervous at being away from his security detail. "I'm, uh, I'm Mart--"

"I know who you are, Senator Fitzgerald," she found his nervousness endearing and smiled at him, trying to reassure him that she wasn't some crazed terrorist. "I voted for you, after all."

He seemed to be considering her words, then finally offered his right hand. "Please, it's Martin."

"Samantha," she said, reaching her hand out to shake his, "Samantha Spade." She felt her cheeks flush at the contact, and was suddenly very glad that the trees overhead provided some degree of shade.

She could feel the wheels in his head turning as he was undoubtedly making the mental connection.

"I know what you're thinking..." she started, but she didn't manage to complete her thought as he interrupted her.

"So I was right!? You are David Spade's sister, then?"

She couldn't help but laugh and smile up at him. Not a bad smile, either, she thought to herself as he grinned back.

"Senator Fitzgerald," she began, not entirely sure why she was teasing him with his proper title. "I have a feeling that this is the beginning of a beautiful friendship."

The moment was broken when an incessant buzzing started echoing from her coat pocket, she smiled apologetically as she flipped her phone open.

"Spade"

She couldn't hear anything but static on the other end.

"Spade!" she repeated, this time more insistently. She sighed in frustration, unable to pick up the signal. She turned back to face Martin; she could feel him watching her intently. "It's my boss," she wasn't sure why she was explaining herself. "I should, uh, I should get back."

"Walk with you?" he inquired, and she nodded in affirmation, not really wanting to leave just yet.

He fell easily into step beside her, and she was surprised at how comfortable it felt to walk in silence with Martin Fitzgerald.

They reached the edge of the woods in no time at all and were greeted immediately by several members of the Secret Service, all of whom jumped immediately to aim their weapons at Samantha.

"It's alright, Dennis! Stand down!" She heard Martin call out beside her, but the three agents made no move to let them pass. This was going to be more difficult than she thought.

"I'm Special Agent Spade, I'm FBI," she decided she might as well use her status to her advantage. "If it's alright, I'm just going to get out my badge?" She looked over to the one Martin had called 'Dennis'. When he nodded, she reached into her back pocket, pulling out her badge and tossing it forward.

After over a minute's careful inspection, Dennis seemed to buy her story. He motioned for the two other guards to stand down and stepped forward to giver her badge back.

She wanted to turn and say something to Martin, but before she got a chance she heard Jack calling her name as he walked quickly towards the scene they had caused at the edge of the cemetery.

"Sam!" He was flanked by Danny on one side and Vivian on the other. "We've got one!"

"You're kidding me, right? Can't Pruitt's team take it?"

"Francis Caldwell, 25, last seen last night in the reference section of the Law School Library. Security cameras have her entering the library at 5:47 pm, no footage of her leaving..." Martin watched surreptitiously as the black woman rattled off facts before pausing, apparently pondering something. "Hey Sam, where's Naomi? We figured she'd be with you."

"Yeah, and wait 'till she hears about the scene you just caused. She'll be so disappointed!" the Latino man exclaimed. Martin couldn't help but crack a smile when Samantha shoved the man before retorting.

"Excuse me for not keeping constant tabs on your girlfriend!"

Dennis, his chief of security, and the other agents made motions as though they were ready to get moving, but Martin didn't want to leave without at least saying 'goodbye.'

"Samantha!" He called out, and her entire team turned to look in his direction.

She stepped forward before answering. "Yes?"

"It was nice to meet you." Lame, he told himself. Very, very lame. But what could he do? They had quite the audience at this point between her team and his security detail.

"You, too." She smiled back at him and he hoped his cheeks didn't flush too much.

He turned to leave and she immediately turned back to her team.

"So you're thinking the same guy who got Jennifer McClure and Carrington Culthburt?" she asked the other three.

As Martin made his way back to the cars that were parked at the end of the street, he thought he saw the dark-haired woman who had been in the pews with them during the services making her way back over to the group. As she passed, she got the distinct impression that she had been crying, but dismissed the notion as he watched her re-unite with the team. It seemed that the Latino man had told a joke, likely about what had just happened as he saw the other man laugh along with other two woman, while Samantha simply shrugged her shoulders.

Martin climbed into the vehicle in front of him, trying to escape the strange feeling that was settling in the pit of his stomach as he watched the beautiful blonde woman fade into the distance as the car pulled away.

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