Tyler's grandmother's house, which is introduced in this episode, exists only in my imagination. It and its location are amalgams of waterfront houses and environments that I've been privileged to visit.
TRAVELER, SEASON TWO
EPISODE 4: THE ROADBLOCK
For every failure, there's an alternative course of action. You just have to find it. When you come to a roadblock, find a detour.
Mary Kay Ash
Pain gnawing at his side woke Will before his body would have chosen to abandon sleep. He shifted from his stomach to his back, hoping that a change in position would ease the discomfort.
Groggy and sore, the words of his military drill instructor flickered through his mind: If you aren't hurting and tired, you're doing something wrong. By his standards, Will hadn't felt this right in a long time.
And he had no one to blame but himself for part of it. He should have patted down the FBI agent and the policeman in the alley behind Club Fervor. Uncle David would have hung him by his ears for such a rudimentary mistake.
Life at Yale had dulled his combat senses. He'd become immersed in a world that was far removed from war, fighting, and conflict. Even his training time had been restricted. Every absence had to be explained to Jay and Tyler. During the two years he'd spent in New Haven, he'd managed just two one-week sessions at Hometown's private training facility, telling his roommates he was visiting a cousin the first time and an old girlfriend the second. Other than that, he'd been on his own, exercising as much as his grad student image would permit and sneaking off to a shooting range for a couple of hours each week.
He was lucky that Jay and Tyler had enjoyed physical activities, from jogging to roller blade hockey to skiing and everything in between. If his assignment had matched him with two couch potatoes, he could have ended up severely out of shape. The bullet wound was hindrance enough.
A bullet wound that was still throbbing...
Which meant he'd have to move, because the pain meds weren't going to hop over to the sofa and jump in his mouth. As he hefted his reluctant body to its feet, he found himself shivering. Reaching down, he snagged the blanket that had been covering him and draped it over his shoulders before shuffling across the room.
The bottles of pills were scattered on the counter where he'd left them. He tipped out two pain pills and added another dose of antibiotics. It was early for the latter, but he didn't want to have to drag himself up again in a couple of hours. After washing the pills down with half a glass of water, he returned to the sofa.
His body sank into the softness of the cushions, his arm circling the pillow and pulling it under his head. As he wiggled about to get comfortable, he could feel something digging into the small of his back. Reaching around, he freed the gun that had been tucked in his jeans. He dropped it lazily to the floor while his eyes blinked shut. Maybe because his stomach was empty it didn't take long for the meds to layer a soothing balm over jagged nerve endings. As he drifted off, an image danced in his fading consciousness: a gun.
xxx
Chambers put his hands on his hips and glared at Whaley and Davenport. Two hours of cruising the streets in search of Traveler had done nothing to improve his foul mood. Once again, they'd come up just short of snaring their prey.
"Well, gentlemen, what do you suggest we do now?"
Rather than cowering, Whaley exposed his teeth in the manner of a predatory shark. "We need to draw them into the open."
"That's brilliant. How do you propose we do that?"
"Bait. Someone or something they want."
"When you come up with that person or thing, let me know. Davenport, you're on the payroll full time until this is over. I'll secure additional manpower in the morning."
Chambers dismissed them with a sweep of his hand. He still had to talk to Rosalind, but calling her at this time of night was nothing short of suicidal. That would also have to wait until morning. In the meantime, he needed to prepare a report for the Bureau. He could do that on his laptop outside of Jessie's dorm as easily as anywhere.
He badly wanted to send her to his sister's place in Oregon, but knew she'd never agree. Maybe she would move back home, at least temporarily, if he could get her to believe that he needed her there. Though given the fact that he'd hardly been home since the Drexler exploded, maybe that wasn't such a good idea.
The best way to keep Jessie safe was to eliminate Traveler. Which brought him back to square one.
Finding Traveler, Burchell and Fog would solve so many problems.
xxx
"Where were you, Will?" Maya asked in a sad, mournful voice. Her normally vibrant eyes were dulled to a wan blue that held only the faintest hint of color. "You promised you'd come back. You promised."
Any reply would be meaningless. He'd failed her, pure and simple. He'd been wrong to believe she was safe; stupid to assume that Hometown didn't know about their relationship. With his tongue still too tied in guilt-ridden knots to speak, she began to float away. Or maybe he was sinking. Whatever was happening, it was drawing them apart. He sensed that she was going to a better place, while he...
It was hot and growing hotter. He lashed out as if the fiery pit was an enemy he could defeat with brute force.
Kicking away the blanket that was twisted about his legs, Will broke free of the dream with a gasp. He stood up and found his feet tangled in the folds of blanket that now rested on the floor. After shaking free of its devilish grip, he strode to the bathroom, ripping off Jay's hoody on the way.
He turned the cold water on full force and let it run for ten seconds before filling his cupped hands and splashing it over his face. Only then did he look in the mirror. The crusted blood he'd expected to find wasn't there. He gently explored behind his ear and found a tender lump covered with a bandage. Someone had washed away most of the blood–head wounds always bled fiercely--and patched the small cut.
And removed his shoes, covered him with a blanket and tucked a pillow under his head, he realized as he recalled his quick collapse.
Returning to the outer room, Will felt unsettled. He'd slept solidly in the car, not waking when Jay, Tyler and Gabriel had gotten out, and he'd slept through whatever first aid Jay or Tyler had administered. While he'd trained himself to be able to sleep through a nuclear explosion, he only allowed deep slumber when he felt safe and secure. Their current set of circumstances was more on the order of precarious.
He was growing careless, losing his edge. Look at where he'd left the gun, on the floor by the sofa. Jay had used it to chase Davenport-Carter; it should have been cleaned immediately. Maybe that's what had been eluding him, why something about a gun kept haunting him.
As he broke down the gun and proceeded to clean it, he methodically backtracked through the encounter near the penthouse. When he got to the voice telling him to get down, the elusive ghost finally began to take form.
At the park he'd recognized the voice. It was the hotel porter, and he had to be the one who had wounded Davenport. It was a hell of a shot, hitting Davenport on the first try, with a handgun, at night, over some distance and quite likely at a bad angle. In Deer Harbor the Porter had made another crack shot, contacting Will's ankle while Will had been running away from him.
The man wasn't just good, he was very good.
Will dropped to the floor by his pack and searched through it until he found the Porter's gun, the one Will had taken from him the night the limo exploded. He examined it carefully and was left with a curious uncertainty. Why was the Porter, an obvious expert with a handgun, packing such an ordinary weapon? It wasn't that the Sig Sauer was a bad gun–it was better than the black market ripoffs Will had purchased from Jimmy--it just wasn't the match grade weapon that a top notch marksman would be expected to carry.
Granted, match grade guns weren't cheap. But neither were tracers.
Tracer! A laser site had been added to the Porter's gun, the kind that came with a rubber grip.
Even before he removed the grip Will knew what he'd find. And there it was, a thin disk that matched the one from Tyler's watch.
Hindsight made everything clear as crystal. The Porter had followed them with minimal stealth; he'd allowed Will to overpower him, then he'd given up the gun, which had been chosen and altered with the intent of delivering it into Will's hands. It had been a setup from the start, a rather dangerous one since Will might have killed him. But a risk that Will, himself, might have taken.
Will glanced at his watch. It was half past four. That didn't give him much time, but with the help of another stimulant it should be enough.
xxx
At the first ring of the phone Gabriel Fog came instantly awake. A quick glance at the luminous numbers on the bedside clock set his heart to racing. It was much too early for the call to be anything other than an emergency.
Primed for bad news, Gabe wasn't surprised to hear the female voice say, "Mr. Fog, there's been a change in your father's condition. We think you should get here as soon as possible."
Switching on the lamp with one hand, Gabe pressed the quick dial for the desk in the lobby with the other. The attendant on duty answered on the second ring. "Get me a cab," Gabe said. "I need one as quickly as possible."
Five minutes later he was riding the elevator to the lobby. As he stepped out he was surprised to find a man in a suit and tie walking up to meet him. "I understand that you saw your brother last night," he said.
"How did...?"
"You just told me." The man flipped open a wallet, displaying an FBI badge. "Fred Chambers," he introduced himself. "I'm in charge of the Drexler case."
"Look, I'm in a hurry. My father--" Gabe cut himself off. This isn't a coincidence. "That call wasn't from the hospital; it was one of your people. I won't say anything without a lawyer present."
"I could arrest you," Chambers said, "for aiding and abetting a wanted terrorist. Given that you're a war hero, I really don't want to do that, Mr. Fog. I know you've only recently returned to this country, so you aren't fully briefed on the situation. I've also heard that you're a young man of good character, someone who would find it difficult to turn in his own brother. So I might overlook your failure to notify us, if you cooperate with me now. I just want to talk."
Gabe bit on the inside of his lip. He hated to be outmaneuvered; his first inclination was to place a call to the family lawyer and drag this out until Chambers was old and gray. On the other hand, maybe Chambers would be more receptive if he didn't pull out the legal guns. "All right, I'll talk to you, because you need to hear what I have to say: my brother is innocent."
xxx
Will lowered himself onto Jay's bed without disturbing so much as the air hovering above it. With perfectly coordinated symmetry he braced his left hand against Jay's shoulder while clamping his right hand over the sleeping man's mouth. Jay came awake with a start, his eyes wide with fright, his arms lashing out. Seeing it was Will, he calmed almost immediately.
Will removed his hands and signaled that Jay should be quiet. He waved to tell him to stay where he was, then went to the other bed to repeat the procedure with Tyler. Tyler was slower to come awake and slower yet to recognize that Will wasn't trying to hurt or smother him. He bucked in a way that forced Will to lean into him to minimize the rustling of bed springs. He hoped he wasn't hurting him. He'd already done enough damage the night before, as evidenced by the purple hues and swollen tissue below Tyler's right eye.
When he had their attention, Will pointed to where he'd set out their clothes and wagged his head yes. Then he pointed to the bathroom and shook his head no. Finally, he picked up Jay's shoes and indicated that he wanted them to carry their shoes rather than put them on.
They understood that he meant for them to be as quiet as possible and acted accordingly. When they joined him in the outer room, Will gestured for them to go into the hall and wait. He hadn't trusted either of them with the backpacks–they were too likely to bump against something--so he gathered up the packs himself and crept out the door. After closing it silently behind him, he brushed his fingers over his lips then headed for the staircase at the far side of the building.
He hadn't wanted to go through the lobby, or the service area that would be bustling at this time of the morning, so he'd made a trip downstairs earlier and disengaged the alarm on the fire door at the bottom of the stairs. The alley beyond the door was clear. Once they were outside, he set down the bags and slipped on his shoes, nodding for Jay and Tyler to do the same.
"What's going on?" Tyler mouthed.
"I'll tell you later," Will whispered.
Two blocks past the hotel, Will knew silence was no longer necessary. Actually, it had probably been safe to talk as soon as they were in the stairwell, but he thought it better to teach Jay and Tyler to be overly cautious. "In here," he said, gesturing them into a narrow walkway between two apartment buildings.
"We have to leave the city. We'll take public transport to La Guardia and steal a car from the long-term lot." As he talked, Will reached into the pack slung over his left shoulder and pulled out the bag he'd put together while the others were getting dressed. "We need to hurry, to take advantage of rush hour crowds." He gave Jay an Australian bush hat, wire-rimmed glasses and fake teeth to slip over his upper ones. They pushed his lip out and widened the appearance of his mouth. With Tyler's face already distorted with bruises, Will decided a baseball cap, a teensy bit of chin hair and a thick sweatshirt to make him appear heavier would complete his make over.
Adjusting the cap on his head, Tyler said, "We don't have to steal a car. We can take one of Gabe's."
Which explained the keys and papers Will had found in the envelope stuffed in Tyler's pocket. He thought about it for a minute, weighing relative risks. "Where's Harrison?"
"Just this side of Newark. We can catch a PATH train at Herald Square, then transfer to the Harrison line at a couple of different places."
"How did a rich kid like you learn the subway system?"
"It's the quickest way to get around New York unless you have a helicopter. How did you know the cars were in Harrison?"
"I saw the envelope when I was searching your clothes."
Tyler clenched his hands into fists and glowered. "It's nice to know you trust us."
"I'll explain later."
"No," Jay said. "We're tired of later. Explain now."
"It's safest if we travel while rush hour crowds provide cover."
"Then explain quickly," Tyler said.
"I was looking for more tracers. There was one in the gun that I took from that Porter guy. I realized it in the middle of the night. I've spent most of the last two hours going through our belongings. Since he knew where we were, he might have planted others."
"Did you find any?" Jay asked.
"No."
"Now that didn't take long, did it?" Tyler reached for the blue pack. "Let me carry that."
"And I'll take the green," Jay added. "It's not that we don't trust you. We just feel better when you don't have possession of all our resources."
xxx
"Are you sure I can't get you some coffee?" Gabriel Fog asked. Dressed in faded jeans and a simple black pullover he looked out of place against the backdrop of Carlton's elegant penthouse.
"No." Chambers glanced at his watch. "I'm in a bit of a hurry. I have a funeral to attend this morning. One of my men was killed while chasing a Drexler suspect."
Shock spilled over Fog's face. "My brother?"
"Not this time. What was your brother doing here?"
"He was worried about our dad. He only knew what he'd heard on the news."
"So worried that he'd risk his life?"
"Tyler cares about people. He's not a killer and he's not a terrorist. He'd no more plant a bomb than he'd cut off a little old lady's fingers."
"I'll keep that in mind if I come across any geriatric severed finger crimes." Chambers tapped his foot against the thick carpet. Carlton certainly had an easy life. "Who was with your brother?'
Gabriel hesitated before answering, "His friend Jay."
"Anyone else?"
"Not here. Another friend, Will Traveler, was outside."
"It took three of them to check on your father's health?"
"I don't know. I was happy to see my brother. Who is innocent, by the way. I didn't think to interrogate him."
"There were reports of gunfire in the neighborhood around eleven last night. What can you tell me about that?"
"Well," Gabriel dragged out the word in the manner of someone stalling for time, "obviously, your people weren't involved or you wouldn't be asking me."
"That's right."
"Then maybe you can tell me who else might be motivated to shoot at my brother and his friends."
"I have no idea."
"That's what happened last night," Gabriel stood up and pointed out the window, "right over there. There were at least two of them, and they both had large caliber handguns. Someone set up my brother to take the fall for the Drexler, and now they're trying to kill him to cover their tracks."
"That's an interesting theory. Have you been talking to Miss Doherty?"
Gabriel shook his head and said, "I don't know who that is."
"She's Burchell's girl friend. Now what did you say your brother wanted?"
"I've already answered that."
"Tell me again."
"He was concerned. Our father was shot. Do you know who shot him?"
"This is for your ears only. It was one of the Drexler suspects, one of your brother's associates."
"What? Which one?"
"That's all I can tell you for now. How did your brother get here? Wasn't he worried that the place would be watched?"
"He climbed up the trash chute."
"Really! I'll want to see it."
"It's in the kitchen. I'll show you." As he led the way through a dining room, Gabriel stopped and turned around. "I gave Tyler money. He didn't ask for it, but I gave it to him."
"How much?"
"Ten thousand dollars."
"That's unfortunate. It could make it more difficult to find him."
"I told you about the money because I want you to understand that I'm being completely open and honest with you. And when I tell you that Tyler's innocent, that's the truth, too."
"Then he should turn himself in and let the law sort it out."
"Why won't you listen to me? He's innocent! But his friend... Will... I'm not so sure about him."
xxx
Tyler looked enviously at Jay, who was slouched just to his left, asleep. His floppy bush hat was pulled over his face, hiding his eyes, but soft snuffling sounds gave him away. As tired as he was himself, Tyler was too busy studying the other passengers, checking for any sign that they might recognize him, to even think about sleeping.
"Here," Will stuffed a brochure into Tyler's hand, "read this."
It was a sightseeing guide for Manhattan. Had Will slipped a note inside? Flipping through it, Tyler didn't see anything out of the ordinary. He waved it in front of Will's face. "Why should I read this?"
"Because people are looking at us because you're looking at them. This is the subway; you're supposed to ignore everyone else."
That was true enough. But dropping his eyes to his lap left Tyler feeling exposed. He fiddled with his hat, pulling the brim even lower, until he almost couldn't see out from under it. Then he picked up the large backpack he'd set at his feet and placed it on his lap. It was tall enough that he was well hidden behind it.
"Now you look like someone who thinks a thief is going to run away with his luggage." As Tyler went to set the pack down again, Will added, "No, no. That's fine. A little paranoia isn't out of place. There are people who snatch bags."
"What about Jay's pack?"
For a split second Will's eyes flickered with fierceness. "I won't let anyone take it."
Tyler was still getting used to this new, scary Will, who appeared to be a cross between Jason Bourne and Jack Bauer, with a good deal of Benedict Arnold thrown in. How had he kept that hidden for two years?
Eleven months earlier...
"Give me the camera," Graham Dixon held out his meaty left hand while his right curled into a sledgehammer-size fist, "or I'll take it from you."
Will backed away, immediately bumping into Tyler. The room was crowded, the party raucous, and most of those in attendance, including Dixon, were drunk. Tyler was a bit tipsy himself, but not so drunk that he wasn't outraged that the gigantic Dixon was threatening the much smaller Will.
"Leave him alone," Tyler said, stepping in front of Will. He could feel Nell's warning hand on his elbow, suggesting he shouldn't get involved. But Tyler wasn't going to back down when his friend was in trouble. "It's not like he's going to run to the coach and show him the video of you drinking when you're supposed to be adhering to a training routine."
"He won't if I have the camera," Dixon growled.
"Back off." Jay slipped in beside Tyler.
"I didn't mean any harm," Will said in a placating voice. "I'm taping over that segment right now."
Later, Nell had pulled Tyler aside and scolded him. "You've seen Dixon on the football field, he's a mauler. He could have ripped the three of you apart and stomped the remains into fertilizer without getting winded. You were lucky. Besides, Will deserves what he gets, shoving that freaking camcorder in everyone's face."
"I suppose you could have taken Dixon," Tyler voiced his theory out loud.
"Dixon..." It took a few seconds for Will to sort out the reference, then a small, mirthless smile teased at his lips. "It wouldn't have come to that."
W ill ruffled a hand through his hair, took a deep breath, then turned to Tyler. "Look, I know you were trying to help that night, but you shouldn't have taken the risk. Dixon was drunk out of his mind; he would have been as happy to hit you as me. Never do that again. And never do what you did at the park. If we run into trouble, stay behind me. It's safer for all of us."
"Now you tell me."
"You should have put ice on it."
"Huh?"
"Your cheek. You should have put ice on it."
"Is first aid advice your way of apologizing?"
"No."
"I didn't think so." Sighing, Tyler wrapped his arms more tightly about the pack on his lap. "You know, Will, if I had never met you before Club Fervor, I probably wouldn't like you very much."
xxx
"He threatened my daughter, Rosalind."
"He killed my son, Fred. We both want him dead, but we need him alive, if possible, until we get the painting. Now tell me what you're doing about that."
"Whaley has a promising plan in the works; Davenport is helping him. I've called in half a dozen part-timers to search the East Side. I thought about notifying Captain Fitz and getting NYPD involved in the hunt. But Fitz is beginning to act as if I'm crying wolf when I tell him we've spotted Burchell and Fog. He's all but accused me of jumping at shadows, because he believes we'd have caught them by now if they were really popping up all over the place."
"Then use your FBI resources. If they get off the island, it will make finding them all the more difficult."
"I'm doing my best. Most of my people will be at the funeral this morning, but I'm going to have them out full force during the evening rush hour. If we've managed to spook Traveler and his friends, that's when they'll make their move." Chambers hesitated before continuing, "I paid a visit to Gabriel Fog this morning. He might be worth cultivating."
"Gabriel. I remember what a gallant little boy he was. He almost fell into the Potomac chasing after my hat. I think that's the last time I saw him. Carlton didn't socialize much after the divorce. Perhaps I should plan a trip to New York to offer Gabriel my support during these difficult times. Yes, I might just do that."
Chambers suppressed a groan. "We have to go slowly with him. Why don't you call Carlton and see if he can instill doubt about Tyler's innocence."
"Carlton. Such a disappointment. But I'll call him... and I'll check my schedule to see when I can get to the City. Goodbye, Fred."
Fred Chambers set the phone aside and called for a car and driver to take him to the church. While he waited for the request to be processed, he thought about Jessie. He 'd phoned three times this morning, and he could tell she was close to letting his calls go to voice mail. Maybe he'd put a guard on her, though he'd never hear the end of it if she found out. She was fiercely independent.
She was also bright, beautiful, kind and caring. And he loved her more than life itself.
"I'll drive," Will said as he slammed shut the hatch on Gabe's SUV.
Since it was Tyler's brother's car, Jay left the front seat for him, while he slid into the back. "Where are we going?"
"Connecticut," Will said, "but we have a couple of stops to make first." He retraced the route they'd walked from the train station and pulled into the parking lot of a small hardware store. Jay and Tyler waited in the car while Will shopped.
"What's in Connecticut?" Tyler asked.
Jay shook his head, equally puzzled. "A lead? Maybe Will left another stash there."
"I hope we're not going back to New Haven; we almost got caught the last time we were there."
"We almost got caught a lot of places," Jay recalled, "and did get caught at a few of them."
"Maybe we can write a book when this is over. We can call it On the Run instead of On the Road."
"Let's hope it turns out to be a very slim book," Jay said soberly and without a hint of humor.
Less than fifteen minutes after he'd left, Will came out pushing a cart filled with an odd assortment of items: two plastic buckets, a spade, one paint stirrer, and a dozen gallon jugs of water.
He stowed them in the back, then slipped into the driver's seat. "Now we need to find a vacant lot or a park."
He drove around for almost ten minutes before locating a street that dead ended at a strip of land that bordered a canal . "It's a perfect place to appropriate some dirt."
"Dirt," Tyler echoed. "I assumed the shovel meant we'd be disposing of a body. I'm disappointed."
Since there wasn't anyone around, there was no reason for Jay and Tyler to stay in the car. They stood outside and watched Will put a shovel full of dirt in each bucket. Then he mixed in water from the gallon containers and threw the resulting mud onto the SUV, starting with the rear license plate. He repeated the process until he'd worked his way around the entire car and they were out of water. By which time it looked as if the SUV had been off roading. It made the license plate harder to read without making it look like a deliberate attempt to obscure it.
Tyler grimaced as he studied the Jeep. "I'm glad we didn't take the Porsche. Gabe babies that car. If it gets so much as a smudge, he takes it in for a wash and wax."
"Let's go," Will said. He left the buckets, shovel, stirrer and water containers in the lot. "Keep your hats pulled low, we're going back through the city. It's a bit of a risk, but it's the shortest route to Connecticut."
"Why Connecticut?" Jay asked.
"We can lay low there." Will glanced at Tyler. "Your grandmother has that place on the coast. You said no one ever went there except you."
"That's right. Gram hasn't been there since her arthritis got so bad she couldn't manage the stairs. Now that she's in a care facility, she definitely won't be going back. Even if Mom weren't living abroad, she wouldn't step foot there. She hated the cottage. Once dad bought the estate in the Hamptons, she never went back."
Jay leaned forward, resting his hand on the back of Tyler's seat. "I remember you said it was isolated."
"That's right. It's at the end of a road, on a bluff that overlooks Long Island Sound; the nearest house is at least a mile down the hill. Most of the land in the area is a designated wildlife preserve and the rest is pretty rugged. There's a beach below, but it's only accessible via a wooden staircase that runs down from the house. I've never known anyone to go there who wasn't staying at the house."
"It's exactly what we need," Will said.
"But only if it's okay with you," Jay directed his words to Tyler. "You never allowed us to go there when you checked up on the place."
"I was afraid you'd want to throw a party," Tyler said. "It would have been trashed in a weekend." He sighed mournfully. "I don't think we'll be hosting parties anytime soon."
"So?" Will ask.
"I guess it's okay. The house is going to be mine someday. Gram said she was leaving it to me because I was the only person who loved it as much as she did." He tilted his head to the side, leaning it against the glass of the window. "With her Alzheimer's and all I'd have taken care of it for her even it weren't going to be mine. Just don't expect much. It's not like dad's fancy Fog properties."
"Which increases its desirability," said Will. "You said she was your mother's mother, so there's a couple of layers of maiden names people would have to get through to trace it to you."
"Hiding out isn't going to solve our problem," Jay said, thinking of Kim and wondering when they could be together again.
"It's temporary," Will explained. "The Drexler won't be front page news for long. Once the manhunt quiets down, it will be safer for you to be out in public."
"I want to do something," Jay said. "What about the research we started at the hotel? There should be coverage in this area. Which bag has the computers?"
"Neither of them. It would have been impossible to know if they were free of tracers. I trashed all of our electronics, including the phones. The numbers were compromised. We can pick up replacements in a few days. Right now, we lay low until we're sure we've shaken that guy."
"I had work saved on that computer," Jay said, frustrated. "Don't we get a say in anything?"
Will turned on the radio. "You can choose a station. Music, sports, news, just name it."
xxx
Carlton wished his voice was less raspy. It was important to never display weakness when dealing with Rosalind Freed. Ruthless was how he would and had described her. She might look like a lady, but her temperament was closer to a rabid dog.
"Listen," he said into the phone, "if you want me to help you, I expect something in return. I want the charges dropped. I know you have the influence to arrange that."
"My dear Carlton, I'll get started immediately. I can't imagine what Fred was thinking when he permitted your arrest. Jack would never have sanctioned that."
"Of course not," Carlton played the game and didn't mention that Jack had to have been behind the attempt on his life. Chambers would never have dared that on his own.
"So you'll talk to Gabriel?"
"I will," Carlton said as the door to his room opened. "I have to go now. My son is here. I appreciate your call and your concern."
"You look better," Gabriel said. "How are you feeling?"
"I slept well. The rest will come with time. How was your evening?"
Gabriel pulled a chair next to the bed and sat down. "I saw Tyler."
Carlton acted shocked. "Where? How? You can't tell anyone; they'll arrest you."
"The FBI already knows." Shoulders hunched and head drooping, Gabriel looked like a wayward child. "I was stupid. Agent Chambers tricked me."
"Gabriel, I don't want you to get involved in your brother's troubles."
"But dad, we have to help him."
"I tried to help him, and the man I hired ended up dead."
"What are you saying?"
Carlton rubbed a hand over his face. "I'm not sure. I mean, of course, Tyler is innocent, but there's so much I don't understand. Why would--"
Before he could say more, a nurse entered the room. "It's time for your meds, sir." She studied Gabe and smiled. "Are you his son?"
"Yes."
"He hasn't stopped talking about you. I'm glad you could be here for him. But now he needs to rest; I'm going to have to ask you to leave."
Gabe gave Carlton's arm a gentle squeeze. "I'll be back as soon as they'll let me in the room," he promised.
When he was alone again, Carlton closed his eyes thinking the sedative couldn't kick in soon enough. It wasn't supposed to be like this. It was supposed to be quick and clean. Tyler should have died in the Drexler. Carlton wouldn't have had to see him or face his accusations or set him up a second time. He would have been the grieving father, putting on a brave face as he accepted everyone's condolences, and Gabriel would never have had to get involved.
It was all Jack Freed's fault. He'd chosen Traveler for the job. Carlton had known from his first glimpse of the young man that he wasn't up to the task. It was only fitting that Freed had paid the ultimate price for his mistake; he hoped Rosalind would realize that.
As for Tyler, Tyler was lost to him. He was a walking dead man, and Carlton wouldn't allow himself to regret the decision he'd made over two years earlier. The Fog family was more important than any one individual, even when that person was his own son.
xxx
Marlow managed to hold together until the bugler began to play taps. Then it hit her that Borjes was really gone, forever gone, and her eyes flooded with tears. She stepped back, away from the crowd of mourners, and remained in semi-private seclusion while the service concluded.
With the loss of Borjes, she felt very alone. She didn't know who else in the office she could trust. At least she still had Harold Stone. If she needed information, she'd contact him.
While Borjes' military comrades couldn't help with the investigation, she could count on them for moral support; she knew they were as eager as she was to see Otis Whaley brought to justice. They'd exchanged phone numbers the night before and promised to keep in touch. They'd also kindly invited her to join them after the funeral, but understood when she told them she preferred to mourn on her own.
She knew exactly what she wanted to do. She was going to buy a sandwich and take it down to Battery Park for a solitary picnic lunch. She and Borjes had spent many hours on its benches, batting ideas back and forth, with Lady Liberty looking on. It seemed a fitting place for her final farewell.
xxx
Jon Anselmo muttered a string of curses in three different languages, then pulled out his phone and punched in a dial code.
"Good morning, Jon," his employer's voice came through the phone.
"Sir, I have bad news. They found the tracer. They've taken off and I don't know where."
"I thought you said last night's contact wouldn't have given them cause for suspicion."
"It shouldn't have. The gun was here all evening. I didn't use it to track them. I don't know what would have prompted one of them to remove the grip. I never heard any of them mention it. They appeared to be settled in for the night when I went to bed. I got up about seven. When I hadn't heard anything by eleven, I came up to check. There was a Do Not Disturb sign on the door, but the room had been cleared out."
"That's unfortunate."
"It could have been worse. The tracer was in a GPS unit they left in the room. I imagine they were hoping someone would take it and I'd end up following it for days before realizing it wasn't in their possession."
"What should we do?"
"Research. Use your contacts to try to find out where they might be; I'll do the same. Maybe Fog's brother knows something. After I give their room a thorough search I'll see what I can find out about him."
"All right. I'll call my man and tell him to keep an eye on the pipeline."
"I'm sorry, sir. I should have kept a closer watch on them."
"You're only one man, Jon. You have to sleep. We knew this wasn't going to be easy. I'm the one who insisted you work on your own. I trust that we'll find them again. Call me if you learn anything; I'll do the same."
xxx
Seated in a seven-year-old silver Honda Civic provided by his employers, Ed Carter tapped on the steering wheel, impatient to finish his assignment. The one thing he hated about Hometown was the waiting. Waiting last night outside of the Fog penthouse; now waiting again on a side street in Queens.
The excitement part he generally enjoyed. There was nothing like the adrenaline rush of battle to make him feel really alive. And most of the time the Hometown force prevailed. Last night had been an exception, one he hoped they would rectify soon.
In the meantime, he'd continue to sit, continue to wait, and hope that Whaley's call would come soon.
xxx
"Will, would you quit fiddling with the temperature. Since we started out, you've had it roasting one minute and freezing the next."
"I'm driving. I'm not familiar with the car. You're as close to the controls as I am. You set the temperature!"
"I'll do that," Tyler said, reaching for the knob.
Listening to their bickering, Jay had to hold his tongue to keep from joining them. Tyler was right about the temperature fluctuations, and Will was right to point out that Tyler could have adjusted it himself. But they didn't have to be so grumpy about it.
Jay blamed the flat tire delay for their ruffled tempers; it had them on edge. After the blowout, he and Tyler had had to hide behind a clump of evergreens on the far side of the guardrail while Will replaced the damaged tire with the undersized spare. They didn't want to be in sight if a Good Samaritan motorist stopped to offer help. The precaution paid off when a highway patrol vehicle pulled in behind the SUV. The five minutes that Will had spent chatting with the officer had felt like an eternity to Jay.
With the continuing worry that someone would recognize Jay or Tyler, Will had left them to wait behind a dumpster at a boarded-up bowling alley while he'd purchased a new tire. When he'd returned with a glower as large as the state of Rhode Island, Jay had thought it best not to ask what had taken close to two hours.
Now they were on the road again, barely, headed back toward the highway.
Spotting a convenience store in the next block, Jay said, "I could use a food stop." Having missed breakfast, his stomach was making noises that suggested it didn't want to skip lunch as well.
Will looked perturbed over another delay, but he pulled into the lot without voicing an objection. "What do you want?" he asked.
Tyler rubbed his hand over his stomach as if he weren't quite sure how it would respond to food after its upset the night before. "Granola bars and a quart of milk," he finally said.
Jay had already made his decision. "Two breakfast sandwiches on bagels, a large coffee, and something sweet, a doughnut or a Danish, the gooier the better."
While Jay and Tyler ate, Will leaned against the car and sipped Perrier, staying outside even after a light rain began to fall.
"How far is it to your grandmother's place?" Jay asked between bites.
"Maybe an hour, depending on traffic."
"I wish Kim was with us."
"She's got to be safer where she is. How did she sound?"
"Confused. Stressed. But hanging in there."
Will opened the door. "Time to go."
"I'll drive." Tyler sounded considerably more cheerful after getting food in his belly. "I know the way; it's easier than giving directions."
"Fine," Will said. "Jay, you ride up front."
As he switched seats, Jay couldn't help but think of their departure from New Haven, when he'd had to chase the car for a block before they'd stopped to let him in. It had been annoying at the time, but preferable to now, with Will practically ordering him to take the choice seat. The camaraderie of the road trip seemed to be lost in what felt like the distant past.
xxx
Kim paced in a tight circle, stretching her arms above her head, which was about the only exercise the small space permitted. She'd been at the consulate for less than twenty-four hours and she was already bored to near craziness. After writing a short note to her parents, there had been nothing to occupy her time.
The magazines couldn't hold her attention. While her hosts had brought her a small TV, the daytime hours didn't offer much in the way of compelling viewing. Besides, she wanted to keep it tuned to CNN in case there was any mention of Jay. The Drexler was all over the news, but the current focus was an FBI agent's funeral. Reports said his death was connected to the bombing. She knew neither Jay nor Tyler would have shot him. She wasn't as sure about Will. Though, truth be told, Will had never been listed as a suspect or even as a person of interest. And that was another puzzle entirely.
Marlow said they knew Will existed. And when Chambers had questioned her after the incident at Club Fervor, he'd intimated that Will was with Jay and Tyler and that they were looking for all three of them. Yet there was no public indication that Will was under suspicion. It was very strange, indeed.
xxx
A stiff breeze whipped Marlow's hair into a frenzy. She had to continuously brush strands away from her mouth so that she could nibble at her corned beef sandwich. It wasn't really outdoor weather, but she didn't mind. It meant she had a bench to herself.
Glancing over her shoulder, she stared at the space where the twin towers had streaked into the sky. The bombing of the Drexler had brought 9/11 back for many people. She saw the wary faces in the subway, the eyes that turned skyward at the sound of a car backfiring. Even now, more than a week after the blast, she'd heard that attendance continued to be down in area schools. Parents were worried about their children's safety, and who could blame them when danger was as close as a field trip to a local art museum.
They needed to find out the who, what and why behind the Drexler before people would feel safe–well, relatively safe–again.
Marlow set her unfinished sandwich on the bench and pulled out the notebook she kept in her purse. But she couldn't think of anything to write down. There were no new leads to pursue. She had lists of people who were possibly involved in the Drexler case--such as Joseph Langdon, a private consultant, and Otis Whaley, an undercover Federal agent–but no way to connect them. Traveler was connected to Joseph, was he also–?
The chimes on her phone signaled an incoming call. A quick check of the screen showed it was from the Boston Field Office.
"Hello."
"Agent Marlow, this is Seth Watkins. I was very sorry to hear about your partner, and normally I wouldn't bother you with business when you have that on your mind, but we've got a major problem."
"What is it?"
"The picture of Traveler never reached law enforcement agencies."
"You told me every cop on the street had it."
"That's what I thought. It's what was supposed to happen, but there was some kind of computer glitch. I didn't find out until today."
"What about the TTY?"
"The same thing. The attached picture was corrupt; no one could access it. The library's security records that we copied to disk were full of gibberish, including the frame grab of Traveler. The file names were there, but nothing else."
"Then you'll have to go back to the library and get another copy of their surveillance footage."
Watkins coughed lightly. "Tech thinks the problem originated at the library. Their system crashed an hour after we left. They lost everything."
"But we saw the picture on their computer screen. We printed out a copy. It was fine."
"I know. Tech has their hard drive but can't pull anything from it. They suspect a virus got into the system."
"A virus got into a closed surveillance system?"
"They think it must have been on the disk we put in to copy the file. We never looked at it again. We sent it as if it was there. The long and short of it is that you have the only print of Traveler's picture. I need you to fax it to me."
A computer virus? Was Watkins that naive? Or was he responsible for the corruption? Marlow wanted to think the likable young agent was simply gullible, but she couldn't take that chance, couldn't share her suspicion that the FBI was involved in the Drexler affair.
"I wish I could send you the picture," she instinctively lied and wasn't sure why. Because Traveler had saved Borjes' life in Iraq? Because she didn't trust that the FBI wouldn't shoot a valuable resource on sight? "I don't have it. I'd been carrying it around with me; in fact, I took it to Yale yesterday. It got crinkled to where the picture was distorted. I assumed I could easily print a replacement."
"You don't have it."
"I'm sorry. I left Kim Doherty's drawing in my office. I'll call and have someone fax that to you."
"That's better than nothing. It's not as if it was a clear picture." Watkins sounded like someone who was trying to cheer himself up. "Have you heard anything new on the case?"
"No. I'm taking a leave of absence. You'll have to check with Chambers for updates."
"Well, you take it easy. I really am sorry about your partner. Thank you for your time."
So the elusive Will Traveler was still being protected. Or was it that someone didn't want him to be found? He was the link, the link to Joseph, the link to Fog and Burchell, and perhaps the link to others who were involved in the Drexler. If Traveler fell into inquiring hands, the entire conspiracy might tumble after him.
xxx
"Next exit is ours," Tyler announced. The light rain had ended, and the sun was glimmering behind puffy gray clouds.
"Pull over before the ramp," Will said.
"Why?"
"Just do it."
Tyler didn't bother to argue. If the three of them were a team, then Will was their Chad Johnson, the showy Bengals receiver who supposedly didn't listen to anyone, including his coaches. Yes, that was Will, a temperamental prima donna.
As he directed the car onto the shoulder, Tyler just managed to resist saying We're here, your majesty.
With his small pack slung over his right shoulder, Will slipped out of the back seat and slammed the door shut behind him.
Jay lowered his window. "What's going on?"
"It's better if we split up."
"What?" Jay jumped out of the car and confronted him. "You don't really believe that?"
Tyler followed more slowly. As annoyed as he'd been with Will a minute ago, he wasn't surprised to find he agreed with Jay. They belonged together.
Will had a different perspective. "I work better alone. You and Tyler should be okay at his grandmother's place."
"I'm not going to let you leave," Jay said.
"You don't really have a choice." With his arms dangling at his sides in the manner of a fighter who held no respect for his opponent, Will's body exuded arrogant confidence. "It's not as if you can stop me."
Jay looked ready to take up the dare. "Don't," Tyler said, "you might hurt him." Under different circumstances, the dumbfounded expression that flowed across Will's face would have been amusing. But nothing about this disagreement was funny. Tyler stood his ground, saying, "Jay beat you up once before."
"That's right," Jay said. He pointed to Will's side. "And you still aren't a hundred percent."
Tyler jabbed his finger into Will's chest. "You were the one who said we had to come with you; you were supposed to help us get our lives back. Are you reneging on that, already?"
With a slight shake of his head, Will ground out a reply. "You heard what Freed said: the Drexler was about fear and control. This is far bigger than framing the two of you for the bomb. We don't know how deep its roots are or how widespread its branches."
"Which makes it all the more imperative that we expose those who are responsible," Jay said.
"The three of us?" Will asked, sarcasm dripping from every word.
Tyler shrugged his shoulders. "Isn't that better than the two of us and the one of you?"
Will scuffed at the dirt with the toe of his right shoe, not saying anything. The eerie post-storm light accented the planes and angles of his face. He looked more like a stone carving than a flesh and blood human. "You just don't understand. You have no idea."
"Between the bombs and the bullets, we have something of an idea," Jay countered. "But if you want to give up, be my guest." He spun on his heel and headed toward the car.
Tyler took a last look at Will before following Jay. He was almost to the car door, when Will called, "Okay. We'll do it your way."
xxx
Otis Whaley set aside his binoculars and punched a number into his cell phone. When the man on the other end answered, he said, "Davenport, there's movement at the Doherty house. Female. Hair is short, stylishly cut, sandy colored. She's approximately five feet, four inches, medium build, wearing dark pants and a pale lavender quilted jacket. She's headed east. Possible destination is the subway station. Circle the block, get behind her and take care of this."
"Will do."
"I'll swing around and pick you up when you've finished."
xxx
The last house was a good mile and a half behind them. The road was climbing now, slowly and steadily, with a thick border of hemlock, hickory and conifers on both sides. Tyler notched the gear downward, as the SUV bounced over gaping potholes. Maintenance on this section of the road was spotty at best; it didn't look as if so much as a patching crew had been through in the long months since the previous winter.
He eased through the sharp curve that marked the end of the forest, and seconds later they were rolling over the flat, open promontory with the house straight ahead. It looked bleak and lonely, set at the tip of the triangular shaped bluff, with gray sky above and gray water below.
"There it is," Tyler said, hoping Jay and Will wouldn't be too disappointed. He knew the house was a weathered relic of a bygone era, but whenever he saw it a seductive sense of peace flowed through his entire being. He'd spent many a carefree summer day here, away from the critical eyes of his father, who always had some reason or another to stay in New York rather than accompany the rest of the family to the beach.
Though calling it a beach was something of a misnomer. The narrow strip of sand and pebbles at the foot of the cliff all but disappeared at high tide.
"I like it," Jay said as Tyler pulled to a stop. "It's got character."
Tyler climbed out the car and stood with his hands on hips, trying to view house as others might see it. "My mother always said it was an architectural nightmare," he said. And he could understand why. There was the door that never quite closed on the large outbuilding, the uneven steps leading to the front porch, and the assortment of additions that didn't match the rest of the house: the expanded kitchen and the utility room on the first floor, not to mention the cupola that had been built on top of the Widow's Walk. "There's a newish deck in the back," he said as he stepped out of the car. "Wait until you see the view."
"I can already see it." Walking along the path that circled the house to the right, Jay's eyes swept the horizon. "This land must be worth a fortune."
"It would be if anyone could build on it," Tyler said. "There were provisions in my great grandfather's will that restricted the use of the site to the original residence. The land reverts to a trust if the house is torn down. You can add to it, with certain limitations, but you can't tear it down and rebuild. Ethan Worth was something of a visionary. Even way back then he could foresee what a developer would do to the property–they would have squeezed six houses up here--and he wasn't going to allow that to happen. He didn't even want a McMansion, not that they called them that back then, because he didn't want to have to entertain visitors. He kept it small so that he'd have a quiet retreat away from the bustle of the city."
"Can we get the car in there?" Will nodded toward the large structure to the left and slightly in front of the house.
"We might have to move a few things," Tyler answered, "but there should be plenty of room. It was originally a stable. Gram brought her horses with her when she was a little girl. But most of the stalls have been removed and now we just use it for storage. There's nothing much inside, a kayak, deck furniture, beach chairs." He walked up and pried open both doors, revealing the spacious, but slightly cluttered interior.
"Horses," Jay echoed. "Is this the same grandmother that dragged you to the Drexler?"
"No. That was my Dad's mother. Let's unpack, then we can shove stuff around to make room for the car." The storage area of the SUV was filled with groceries that Will had purchased at the first supermarket they'd encountered after exiting the interstate. "Save ourselves a couple of steps."
"That's a good idea." Jay turned back to the car, but pulled up short before he reached the rear hatch. "Will, what are you doing?"
Will was slipping a shoulder holster over his t-shirt. "I don't think I missed any tracers, but in case I did, I want to be ready." He patted the gun he'd stuck in the holster. "I'm going to take a look around." With that, he headed for the path that Jay had recently abandoned.
Tyler clicked open the back hatch. "I guess we get to do the grunt work. When we've finished unpacking and get the car stowed, I'll give you the grand tour."
xxx
Marlow tossed her trash into the mesh receptacle and headed for the subway. The emotional impact of the funeral wrapped about her like a heavy cloak, causing her shoulders to sag and stifling her energy. What should have been a five minute walk took twice as long.
She was almost to the entrance when her phone rang. It was Hanley. If he put forth a second invitation to their wake, she thought she might take him up on it.
"Hi, Pete."
"Jan, just a second. It's noisy in here. I'm almost outside." The background din faded before Marlow could have counted to twenty. "Okay, that's better."
"Are you guys okay?"
"No, but we will be. That's not why I called. You remember that Stewart had to get back to his post?"
"I know he said something about an assignment; I don't remember the particulars."
"The particulars aren't important. It's his trip to Newport that turned up something of a surprise. He thinks he saw Nightingale."
"What?"
"Yeah. We're talking about him last night for the first time in I don't know how long, then Stewart thinks he sees him. He almost didn't call me; he thought his mind might have been playing tricks on him."
"Playing tricks? I don't understand."
"It's because it happened so quickly. Stewart was zipping along 95 in the far left lane when he noticed an SUV pulled over on the shoulder. There were three men standing beside it. And he's pretty sure one of them was Nightingale."
"Three men." Marlow felt her pulse speed up. "What did the other two look like?"
"He didn't say. By the time he could get over to the right lane, he was well beyond where they were. He ended up getting off at the next exit and circling back around. But the SUV and the men were gone."
"I have to talk to Stewart."
"Do you think it might have been Nightingale?"
"I'm not sure," Marlow said, though the mentioned of three men had her hopeful. "Where's Stewart now?"
"Back on the road. But he's got a hands-free device, so go ahead and call."
"Will do. Thanks, Pete."
xxx
Stretched out on the bed, Kim couldn't tell if she was awake or dreaming when she heard someone say Doherty. Blinking open her eyes, she braced herself on her elbows and looked toward the door. "Who's there?" she called.
Only heavy silence answered her.
Puzzled, she swung her legs off the bed as the TV to her right chattered away. "...about an hour ago in Queens. Local police have cordoned off the area and are awaiting the arrival of the FBI, who were called in because of the victim's connection to the Drexler."
Queens! Drexler! Kim snapped her head around to study the screen. The banner headlines were scrolling across the bottom. ...abandoned the car at the scene. Eileen Doherty was taken by ambulance to New York Medical Center..."
Kim didn't wait to read more. She jumped out of bed, pulled open the night stand drawer, and grabbed the top two bills. Among the clothes provided by her hosts were a pair of athletic shoes. She jammed her feet into them and dashed out of the room.
xxx
Jay trotted down the stairs ahead of Tyler. "That room at the top is amazing. It's so high, you almost think you could see halfway around the world if the sky was clear."
"It wasn't always a room. Originally, it was open, a Widow's Walk, like women used to watch for their sea-faring husbands. Gabe and I were always pestering Gram to let us sleep up there, but she was afraid we'd fall off. One night we waited until everyone was asleep and snuck up with our sleeping bags. Gram found out the next morning. An hour later she was calling contractors to get a room built over it. She said if we were going to sleep up there, she wasn't going to be up all night worrying about us."
"Sounds like a sensible solution," Jay said.
"Not when you're a kid . We felt cheated." Tyler hopped on the banister and slid past Jay, skipping off at the bottom and landing on his feet. "She didn't like it when we did that, either."
"Racing cars in upstate New York, sleeping on a roof, climbing about trash chutes, you and Gabe must have been a handful."
"We egged each other on," Tyler admitted. "Even when we were small, we went through nannies faster than we outgrew shoes. Those were good times." He pointed down the hallway. "How about a beer later? I've got Heineken and Guinness in the pantry; I'll put some bottles on ice."
"That sounds like a plan." Now that they were somewhere safe, Jay thought they would benefit from an opportunity to unwind.
Jay turned left into the great room that ran from the front of the house to the back. As Tyler explained it, the entire first floor had been gutted and modernized, including this area that had originally been two smaller rooms.
Jay spotted Will at the square table in the far back corner of the room, where an expanse of windows looked out on the Sound. He was digging first aid supplies out of his pack and lining them up on the wooden surface.
Walking toward him, Jay said, "We divvied up bedrooms while we were upstairs. Yours is the one in the right front of the house."
"Can I see the road from it?"
"Yes," Tyler answered as he entered through the door that connected to the kitchen. "Jay and I are in the bedrooms in the back. I thought you might want to be in the front."
Will pulled up his t-shirt and began plucking at a corner of the tape that held a bloodied dressing in place. "The good news is there's only one way in here. If he's still tracking us, the Porter will have to come by the road. The bad news..." he paused, sucking in a sharp breath as he yanked the tape and bandage free, "is there's only one way in here. We don't have an escape route unless we want to swim."
"I wouldn't recommend trying to swim," Tyler said. "You'd have to swing wide to get around the rocks. The water temperature is already cooling; you'd end up with hypothermia." He paused, his expression thoughtful. "We used to have a couple of wetsuits. They might be in the stable."
"Wetsuits would give us an out." Dropping into a straight-backed chair, Will dabbed at his side with antiseptic coated gauze. "See what you have. I'll purchase whatever else we need to outfit the three of us."
"Do you need more light?" Without waiting for an answer, Tyler walked over to the wall and flipped a switch.
With light from the chandelier flooding the area, Jay could see that Will's forehead was dotted with small beads of sweat. It didn't look like a healthy, heavy exercise type of sweat. "How's your side?" he asked as Will ripped open a second packet of gauze.
"There's some infection," Will answered in a casual voice that he might have used to announce an overdue library book.
Tyler wandered closer, glanced down and immediately turned away. "That doesn't look good."
Will's shrug suggested he wasn't concerned. "I'm dealing with it," he said just before a hiss whistled from between his lips. "Do you have scissors?"
Tyler retrieved scissors from a desk drawer and handed them over. "I'll check on those wetsuits," he said and beat a hasty retreat.
Jay was half tempted to follow him. Staying meant an awkward repeat of the shop in Chinatown, when they'd sat and watched Will treat himself. Jay had kept seeing two Wills: the familiar Will who had been his friend and confidant and the man who had betrayed them. He'd avoided cringing on behalf of the former by concentrating on the Will who had lied to them about everything, including the dead father.
Now it was happening again. Every instinct from the past two years told him to offer to help, and he had to keep reminding himself that the other man wasn't a close friend, he was a stranger. Digging his hands into his pockets, Jay strolled to the window and stared out, but the only thing he saw was the faint reflection of his own troubled face, jaw squared and lips pressed together.
"Go on, Jay, say it."
He turned slowly, trying to figure out what Will, this new Will, meant. "Say what?"
"Whatever you have on your mind. I know that look."
"Well I don't know your look," Jay said, "and it turns out I never did. That's what's on my mind. How did you do it, Will? How were you two different people at the same time? You pretended to be our friend. How did you keep that separate from the person who was setting us up?"
Intent on taping a dressing in place, Will didn't so much as glance Jay's way as he answered. "I've had a lot of practice."
"That's all you're going to say?" Jay threw his hands in the air.
"You asked how I did it. I answered you."
Jay felt his right hand curling into a fist. He wanted to slam it into Will. Not because he had a desire to hurt him, but to elicit a response, any response, that would make Will recognizably human, something that would help him figure out who Will was as a person. But his hand relaxed almost as quickly as it had tensed. It was one thing to punch Will before he knew about his injury; he couldn't do it now, not with the smell of antiseptic ripe in the air.
The storm that had been building in Jay receded. "I guess I'm going to have to get to know you all over again."
Will did glance up at that, as if the words caught him by surprise. His face was guarded, uncertain. Before Jay could begin to read meaning into Will's expression, the other man jerked to his feet. Almost immediately, the blood drained from his face and his body appeared to go boneless. He grasped the edge of the table and folded toward the floor in a semi-controlled collapse.
As he set his legs in motion, intent on catching Will, Jay realized he wasn't surprised. A bullet didn't rip through human flesh without exacting consequences. Someone, most especially Will himself, should have taken that into consideration, but none of them had.
Dropping to his knees, Jay slid his hands under Will's upper arms just before the other man let go of the table. Jay eased him down until Will's head rested against his bent knees. His hair no sooner contacted Jay's jeans when Will's eyes fluttered shut.
"Will," Jay said, calling gently at first, then louder. "Will!"
end of Episode 4
(Note to readers: We're heading into the wild –well, maybe not quite into the wild, but we will be visiting Alaska–for two weeks in June, so Episode 5 will be delayed.)