Chapter 32: A Man with the Passion of Tennessee Williams
Two weeks later, 9:45 a.m.
FBI Training Academy, Hogan's Alley, Marine Corps Base Quantico, Virginia
"Nice detecting Tex." Flint lent Lady Jaye an exaggerated wink.
Blowing imaginary smoke off the top of the monitor, she winked back. "You weren't so bad yourself partner."
They walked back to J.T., who was signing off on their certificates of completion. "For you," he handed one to Lady Jaye, "and for you," handing the other certificate to Flint. "I can't say that these will look all that great on your wall, nevertheless, they are suitable for framing. I would suggest that you file them away in case there are any refreshers. As much as I like to think my paperwork will last . . ." He shrugged his shoulders.
Lady Jaye held out her hand, "J.T., thanks again for giving us another chance. So, are you going to take Patterson up on his offer?"
J.T. laughed. "Get right to the point don't you. I can't say it wasn't fun being out in the field again. But the misses, not so sure she shares in that enjoyment. You should see the spa bill she racked up after she found out what I was really doing in Pennsylvania." J.T. brought his hands up to his neck, pretending to choke. "But, we'll see. Haven't ruled anything out yet. At least I'm on his speed dial now. And what's this?" J.T. raised an eyebrow and pointed at her hand. He grabbed it and brought her in for a hug. "Thank you, to both of you, for what you did." He glanced over at Flint. "Come on, bring it in big guy." J.T. pulled Flint in for a bear hug, ignoring Flint's protests. "Listen, if you guys have some time, I spoke with Johnny over at the track and he offered to let you have a few go-arounds. I highly recommend it. There's nothing like seeing what a Suburban's got under her hood." Tipping an imaginary hat, J.T. disappeared into the mock Biograph to file his paperwork, leaving Flint and Jaye to ponder his offer.
"Well, what do you say? Johnny is hooking us up. From what I hear, Johnny just doesn't hook up anybody. You have to be somebody." Lady Jaye held out her elbow for Flint to take.
Flint reached for it, pausing, "Actually, I have something for you."
"Hmmm?"
Flint reached into his shirt pocket, pulling out the envelope Tomax had given him. Handing it over, Flint felt his body stiffen. Remembering Tomax's warning, he prayed he was making the right decision. He'd been carrying that thing around for far too long debating the pros and cons. For whatever reason, he found that he couldn't be the gatekeeper any longer. He scratched once at that spot just below his beret.
Curious, Jaye took the proffered envelope from Flint's hand, pulling out the note card inside. She gasped. Written on the card were two names and an address in Venice, Italy. Her hand began to shake and it felt like the world was closing in. She took a hesitant step back, legs wobbly and unsteady. Her head felt light as air and it was becoming increasingly harder to breathe. That was it, she couldn't breathe. She pulled at her collar even though she never did the last few buttons. That's what tank tops were for. She hated the feeling of anything pressing against her neck. It was why she normally eschewed garments like turtlenecks and scarves—way too confining and scratchy. Now it felt like two strong hands were pressing against her windpipe. She struggled against invisible arms reaching out for her, agitated and confused. She felt like she was outside her body watching as it went down.
Flint snapped to attention, easing her down to the ground, kneeling in front of her, the concern evident on his face. She closed her eyes, her breaths erratic, she was hyperventilating. Flint pushed her head down between her knees, trying to shield her with his body. He knew she wouldn't want anyone to see this. He mentally kicked himself. Wonderful sense of timing Faireborn. "Jaye, I'm sorry. I wasn't thinking."
She shook her head, slowly gaining her composure. The earth was settling down and the white spots disappeared from her eyes, replaced by an onslaught of moisture. Could it be? After all this time? She scanned the card; it appeared to be legit. How? was the one question swimming around in her brain. How? How could it be? She looked up, eyes darting around, trying to clear her thoughts, some of which she was ashamed. How was Flint able to pull off what she couldn't? What did he have that she didn't? She dug into her eyes with prying fingers, trying to rip those thoughts out. It wasn't a competition. It shouldn't matter how it was done, only that it was. Yet through the shock, part of her felt mad and hurt. How did she fail?
She buried her head in her arms, rocking back and forth trying to get a grip on her emotions. All she needed was for J.T to come back out and check on things. She could never explain this one away, at least not in her current state of mind. She peeked out between her arms and looked into Flint's eyes. They were eyes filled with worry, and something more. She felt guilty. He wasn't trying to one-up her. It wasn't some game. He only wanted to help. What he must have done in the short amount of time he had—she couldn't even begin to piece it together.
Flint sensed the question before she had the ability to vocalize it. "Alison, it wasn't anything you didn't do. It wasn't the money. You would never have enough money to throw at this. It was you. Someone didn't want you to know. No one connected me to you."
"But how?"
"I put out a few feelers."
"But this isn't like trying to score Sox playoff tickets."
"I called in a favor, that's all."
That silenced her. A favor. She wiped away at her eyes, she knew what it was like to call in a favor. Calling in a favor usually meant you owed more in return. Often you owed a lot more. A shudder rippled down her spine. Flint may have just jeopardized himself in the future for her. She'd be responsible for that. If something happened to him. God, if anything happened to him . . . the thoughts were too weighted for words yet she tried anyway. "Flint, this is . . ." She sucked in her lips, unable to complete the sentence. She couldn't get past the something happening to him part. It was ok when it was just her. If in her quest she stumbled across something, she was fully prepared to take the brunt of the blow. She knew what she was getting into. In her search, she interacted with many unsavory characters and had to make some deals with the devil. A few times, the Hart bank accounts literally bought her way out of a few tight spots. But Flint? She'd never want to risk him. He was the one thing she wanted to keep safe.
Then she knew. Whatever reservations and doubts she had before, she loved him, plain and simple. It wasn't a matter of them getting somewhere or figuring out where they stood. She knew; she was already there. She loved him. "Flint. You shouldn't . . . you . . . I . . ." She shook her head, eyes glued to the name on the page.
He sat down in front of her, placing his hands on her knees, gripping tight, "Alison, I checked it out; it's him. Whatever you need, I can get you over there. It can be done. No one will ever know you had anything to do with it."
"But you?"
"I don't care."
And there it was, what she had struggled in vain until now to achieve, Moretti's end. Here he was still flesh and bone. She could make him disappear, forever. He would pay. She would have revenge. After all he did, she could make it right. She glanced up at Flint and then down at the paper. It was almost funny how little she truly felt about actually ending Moretti. How many nights had she lain awake starring up at the ceiling, planning every last detail of the mission that would bring Moretti down? She wanted vengeance so much she could describe the taste. It was a cold, stringy, undercooked filet, too salty, but it made your mouth water just the same. She had it now. It was all here in front of her. To think, it would be over.
Yet it would never be over, not really. The thought of vengeance was hollow, offering no satisfaction. The name on the paper was just a name. The address on the paper was just that, an address. It wasn't going to bring her mom and dad back, it wasn't going to give Jimmy a future, and it wasn't going to change her life. Her life was what it was, already defined, already being lived. She could do it—of that there was no doubt—bullet in gun, gun in his face, bang, done. She could picture his miserable face begging, pleading with her for mercy. His eyes, terrified of her as Jimmy surely must have been of him. But she didn't want that. All she would get out of it would be the terror in his eyes. In a way, he would end up on the better side of the deal, dead. She would still have to live. Killing him would never spare her that. And she didn't want to be spared. She wanted to live, just not like that. All she wanted was to live in peace. Moretti's death wouldn't give her that. He would atone for his deeds. But let someone else decide when. She was through.
She glanced up at Flint and knew what she had. It was a chance for something more than the emptiness that had plagued her since that night when her grandmother fainted in the salon, telephone receiver clutched in her hand. She would never forgive Moretti, but she would let it go. What to tell Flint? After all he had done it was wasted. "Flint . . ." No, that wasn't right. "Dash." Better. He perked up at the sound of his name on her lips. Jaye handed the envelope back to Flint. "I can't do it. I'm sorry."
Flint tucked the envelope back into his chest pocket. "It's ok. I understand." He smiled, softly, in that lopsided way she found endearing.
"After all you did, I'm so . . ."
"Don't say it." He placed his hand over her mouth. "Don't say it. Alison, I did it for you and only you, not for some result. I would do it for you every time, no matter what you decided." Flint knew Jaye. He knew it was possible, had hoped it was possible, that she wouldn't go through with it. Whether it was now or staring down Moretti with a pistol in her hand, he hoped she could find her peace. He wouldn't judge her if she did do it. All he had to do was put himself in her place. He would have shot up half of Italy by now. She had the patience of a saint in comparison. All he wanted was for her to find her peace. The way she looked in Kansas City, those empty resigned eyes, it haunted him. It was that look that spurred him on. He'd gladly trade in a hundred more favors to take that pain away.
She nodded and allowed him to help her up off the ground. She was still in shock but felt more alive than she had in a long time. The air was a little clearer, hope a little more prominent. But like all things, it would take some time. She didn't regret her decision just now, except for one thing. "Um, Dash?"
"Yeah?"
"Can I have the envelope back?"
He reached back into his pocket. "Are you sure?"
She nodded her head a few times. Her family was buried in a small plot on the Vineyard. She hadn't visited for a while. Now she had some things to tell them. She took the envelope. "I have a place where this should go." She pocketed it and then reached out for Flint's hand. Yes, she had many things to tell them. Some things had ended and other things were just beginning. She thought they would like that.
Flint and Jaye started up toward the track when Flint paused once more. "One last thing." Jaye's eyebrows furrowed, she wasn't sure if she could handle any more of his surprises. "Red is thinking about taking Snakes to Grenada to get his mind off of Stalker. She wanted some backup and thought that other people on the trip might make it feel more normal. Hawk's approved. Would you maybe, umm, I mean, if you wanted to, well, if you had the time to take . . ."
Jaye laughed. "Are you asking me out on a date?"
Flint kicked at the dirt, scratching that one spot. "Well . . ." He looked up at her through downcast eyes, tilting his head ever so slightly. "Would you?"
"To think what the Rhodes trust saw in you and your way with words." She stood up on her tiptoes, placing a quick kiss on his cheek. "Of course." She paused. "Thank you."
With a quick glance to make sure the coast was clear, Flint swept Jaye up in his arms, lips pressed to hers, swinging her around in a circle before planting her back on the ground. He offered her his arm and they settled into a companionable stroll. With Jaye on his arm and the path straight ahead, Flint thought he could get used to this. Stealing a glance as she talked animatedly about the driving course, he was content. Give it time. He could definitely get used to this.