Chapter 15

Who are you? Who are you really, Miss Vivien? Sam walked out to the front yard and stood staring at the trees around him. He felt completely lost, unsure of anything anymore. Without the information on the hard drive and those files, he was dead in the water as far as finding Fiona. And now Vivien dropped this bombshell on him. What am I supposed to do? He wished he were back in Miami, in Michael's loft, where he could whale on the punching bag for a little while and get out his frustrations. Out of the corner of his eye he saw a stump with an axe stuck into it. It'll do.

"Hey Sam, thanks for choppin' up the wood!"

Sam brought the axe down on a section of trunk and split it part way with one whack. He pulled on the tool and it released from the wood, and he turned to look over his shoulder. "Hey, Harve, I was, uh, just getting some exercise." His breath came out labored. He hadn't realized until then that he'd actually been working quite hard.

"Well, I'm not gonna have to split anything until tomorrow after lunch, thanks to you."

Sam glanced at the small pile he created. "No problem." He set the trunk section in the middle of the stump, swung the axe over his shoulder, and threw it down. It sliced through and two halves fell off the stump. A couple more strikes and he had more firewood ready.

The way Sam attacked the wood reminded Harvey of the times early in his marriage, when instead of arguing with Liza, he would come out to 'think'. The idea that he might not be the only one who did something like that amused him. "I got those coordinates for ya," Harvey declared as he handed him a piece of paper.

Sam rested the axe against his leg, swiped the sleeve of the flannel shirt across his forehead, wiping off the sweat and slivers of wood that flew from his work, and took the paper. "Thanks, Harve. Did they ask you what you wanted them for?"

"Yeah, but I told 'em it was somethin' secret. He kinda looked at me funny, but then, he usually does." Harvey shrugged. "I'm jest some country hick ta him."

"I appreciate this, Harve. So does my friend."

"As long as it helps take care of them guys at the fort, I'd do jest 'bout anythin' to help." He cocked his head to the side. "Why don't we go inside? How's Vivien doin'?"

"She's fine." Sam replied succinctly, tipping off Harvey that things were not good between them. Not that he needed a clue. When he returned and found Liza staying outside with the wash, she told him what she heard.

"Ah. Well, I'm gonna go in and get some coffee 'fore I finish my chores fer the day."

"Okay. I think I'm gonna stay out here for a little while and cool off."

He sat on the stump and rested his forearms on the axe handle as he stared off into the distance. Man, was I a chump, or what? I should have known she was a spy. She was too good to be true. And that crying act. I fell for it, hook, line and sinker! Sammy, you're losing it. When you get back to Miami, it's time to find Miss Right and settle down, stop chasing the bikinis before you get duped again.

"Sam? Supper's 'bout ready," Liza called to him and broke him out of his reverie.

"Coming!" He picked up the axe and left it near the cabin door, and then he entered the house.

Sam had no problem with sleeping on the floor. He had a problem, however, with sleeping in the same room as Vivien. He set his blankets and pillow down as far from her as he could, stretched out, and turned his back to her as he settled in for the night. Harvey and Liza closed their bedroom door, leaving him isolated with her.

"Sam," Vivien spoke softly, but loud enough for him to hear her. "I'm sorry."

"You were just doing your job, I guess." He shifted. "It's okay. Tomorrow we'll do our thing and after that...we'll get you to the hospital in DC, and, well, Mike will be around with Jesse. We can work together to find Fiona. You won't be needed. You can tell your boss that." He paused. "Night."

This time when he heard her crying, he wasn't so sure she was faking it.