CHAPTER THIRTY
1975
DEXTER KNEW WHERE she was. He knew what she was thinking. Maybe she was right. Maybe she wasn’t. Either way, he had a plan they needed to put in motion. There was only one way to do it.
He climbed the steps to their loft-style second story. Knocked on the wooden surface separating them—the door that would’ve belonged to their son. Didn’t wait for a response before entering.
She sat on the floor, her legs crossed underneath her. She was surrounded by notebooks, each one open. She had a black pen in her hand, her focus on the sheets of paper in her lap. Her hair trailed over one shoulder.
He stepped into the room. Avoided the piles. They were important. They were her way of decompressing. Remembering—even though her brain was hardwired to catalog every moment and recall it in sharp detail. “Vi.”
She didn’t look up, her hand moving in a furious pattern.
He stopped behind her. Squatted and wrapped his arms around her. Took some time to memorize the way she fit in his arms. “Vi, the answer isn’t in these things.”
She froze.
He braced for her anger. In the last few months the only thing in their lives had been how to fix the problem. A merry-go-round without a stop.
“What if we disappear?” The pen dropped from her hand and the papers from her lap as she turned in his arms.
He tucked a strand of hair behind her ear—it was a dark brown she’d gotten out of a box in an effort to conceal her identity. There’d been other changes too. Things he couldn’t stop her from doing. Couldn’t convince her that faith might be enough. That he might be enough.
The tattoo on her wrist. The stud through her nose. The heavy makeup she wore in public.
He didn’t have the abilities she did, but he wasn’t destitute. They were not alone in this.
“What if we pack whatever we can carry and find a new place to call home?”
She’d made so many moves in her adolescence he had no doubt she could do so in her adulthood with very little effort. His life was far more stationary. Or it used to be. Before this point in time. “What about the mission?”
“What have we done in the last few months but hide? There’s no mission. There’s nothing.”
The truth was a sharp knife he couldn’t deflect. “It won’t work. You know my family. They’d put together the largest search party and wouldn’t stop until every avenue and resource has been exhausted. For both of us. They’re already close to doing that. The only thing that’s kept them from it is our infrequent visits home.”
Her eyes hit his, dark circles beneath the vibrant green. Their close friends had already expressed concern over her appearance—thinning body, the circles and withdrawn countenance. He’d done everything he could to assure them there was no need to worry. That his wife would come through this trial in their lives the way she did everything else.
This was different. He knew that. And his family would only accept the distance he and Vi had been holding for so long. They were already questioning it. Trying to crowd in.
“We could—”
“Leaving them with any information leaves them in danger. Isn’t that what you’ve been saying? We do anything out of the norm, it sends up the flag.”
She shook her head. Broke away from him.
“We lay low. Take it easy. That’s always been the plan.”
“Until when? Our son is gone. There’s no point in any plans.”
“This isn’t forever.”
She advanced. “Do you trust me?”
“From the first moment we met. When you told me everything would change. And only one thing stayed the same.”
“Dex…” Anguish flashed across her face. Then she was in his arms, her lips on his. Her arms circled his neck, her legs mimicking the motion around his waist and bringing her body flush against his. Need shot straight through him.
“Nothing will ever be the same.”
He knew that. He’d always known it.
___
They’d destroyed a few of her notebooks. Come together in a way that words could never express. Maybe for the last time ever. Dexter dressed in the dim lighting of the room. Watched her do the same.
He’d glue the pages back together. Stitch them if he had to.
“I have a plan, Vi.”
She froze, the shirt she’d been pulling over her head stuck midway. He moved toward her and completed the task. Smoothed the wrinkles from its surface. For the excuse to touch her. Memorize her. He placed a kiss on her bare shoulder. “You’re not going to like it, but it will work.”
It had been growing for weeks.
She turned, her green eyes hitting his. “Do you like it?”
“No.” He hated everything about it. That didn’t make it any less right. “But I need to know—” He put a hand over his chest. “I need to know in my heart, if not my mind, that you’re okay. When it’s all said and done, I’ll need some hope or I won’t survive.”
She fiddled with the edge of her sleeve. “Survive what?”
“The explosion. At the rehab center.”
She shook her head. Backed away from him, her foot trampling over one of those books. “That’s a terrible idea. We don’t know—”
He followed, put his fingers over her lips. “I do. I dream about it all the time. I know what you’ve been doing up here. You’re searching for a way to change it. To change everything. The problem is that you can’t.”
Her moral compass wouldn’t allow it. Even in pain. Agony. Death.
She closed her eyes. “I can’t help it. I hear his laughter. I see his smile. Little fingers and toes I’ve kissed. Hurts I’ve bandaged. Hugs I’ve given. I can’t make them go away.”
He tilted her chin upward. He had all those memories. “Remember that day we loaded up the car?”
Her eyes sprang open, pools forming in the corners.
“You knew then. You knew we’d all never be together the way we’d dreamed. Simone warned us. I didn’t want to believe it. I wanted to stand firm and forge a new path. I was wrong.”
She blinked in rapid succession. “What are you saying, Dex?”
“Let’s go back. Let’s change it. Even if we never get to hold him. Even if I never get to hold you ever again.” He placed a kiss on her lips. Gentle. Short. Tried to memorize everything she made him feel. Then he handed her an envelope. “You’ll find this guy. Detective Brent Harwood. He’ll be in the middle of a divorce he won’t tell you about. You’ll catch him kissing his wife during that Pilots game. You know the one?”
“Yes.”
“Instead of finding that empty seat next to me, you’ll leave. You’ll take that undercover assignment, Vi. It will keep you safe. And maybe someday we’ll cross paths and I’ll know. Or you’ll know. Maybe…”
A hand flicked under one eye as she took the cream-colored envelope with the other. “Or maybe there will be nothing.”
It was a risk they had to take.
A tear splashed over one eyelid. He used his thumb to wipe it away. “We save lives, Vi. Remember that. It always matters. This is war.”