The only thing good about being outside at that moment when the raindrops began to fall, was Captain McAuley's paranoia appeared to slowly vanish. Unfortunately, that had the opposite effect on me. What did he need to tell me that he couldn't risk anyone overhearing? I wasn't a hundred percent certain, but I was ninety-nine percent sure it wasn't any fashion advice. The Army and I had agreed to disagree on any fashion-related discussions a long time ago.
"What do you know of his career after he left the Army?" asked Captain McAuley.
"He was in the CIA," I said. Next to me, Maddox appeared unsurprised by the information.
"Solomon was an excellent agent," started McAuley. I walked between two tall men, going past a platoon of marching soldiers, and towards a small green area that was neither recreational park nor purposeful ground.
"Joining the CIA was a brilliant move for him, and I fully expected him to ascend the ranks there as swiftly as he did in the Army. For the first year, it looked like he was doing that. We weren't in touch a lot because I was overseas. Solomon was wherever he was, but we did manage to stay in contact over the years, as you know."
"Did something eventful happen during that time?" I asked.
"I'm not sure, especially of the details, or even if it has any bearing on what's now happened, but yes, something happened, which was why he left the CIA."
"How long ago are we talking?" asked Maddox.
"I don't know exact dates but it would have to be a few years ago. A couple years before he started the agency."
"We've been working on a list of names of people who might hold grudges against him and possibly want to collect. Do you have any names to add?"
"No, I don't," replied Captain McAuley. "Not because it's classified and I can't tell you but because the people I'm thinking of weren't terrorists or warlords."
"Who were they?" I asked.
"Us," he said. "At least, he might have left the agency under some kind of a dark cloud. I'm worried he might have created some home-grown enemies."
"People from the agency?" asked Maddox.
"It's possible, but I couldn't identify them exactly. Solomon never named names."
"Why did he leave the CIA if he was doing so well?" I asked.
"He was doing very well with the general operative work. A man like Solomon can get into anything. He could easily change his ethnicity to fit the requirements of the job. His language skills are excellent. Spanish, Russian, French, Italian... I think he even speaks a bit of Chinese and Arabic."
"I always wondered how he managed to get the good stuff from the Chinese takeout," I mumbled to myself.
Captain McAuley laughed. "His computer skills are also top level. He retains information, faces, names. He's strong and dynamic..."
"Yeah, we get the picture," said Maddox. "Stop reading from his online dating profile and get to the good stuff."
"I don't think he's ever dated online," said McAuley, entirely oblivious to the jest. "Eighteen months or so later, he was moved into black ops. Unsanctioned operations."
"That’s for getting stuff done without leaving a paper trail," explained Maddox.
"I've been to the movie theater," I replied. "I know what a black op is."
"What you don't know is how psychologically breaking they can be. This wasn't a straightforward combat situation where it's kill-or-be-killed. This was very different," said McAuley.
I stopped. "Are you saying Solomon was hired as an assassin?"
"I'm not saying that at all. I'm saying I don't know all the details, but I do know he was asked to do something he found unconscionable and that was why he left."
"What did he have to do?" I asked.
"It's what he was told to do. Solomon told me his superior gave him orders to kill a family. Three little kids! I think they were the kids of some cartel chief they had targeted, and the idea was to set off a war between both factions, one that would wipe out all of them. If you repeat any of this, I'll deny it to my grave," said McAuley. "I don't officially know any of it and I will adamantly deny anything you repeat."
"This is all off the books," said Maddox. "As far as anyone knows, we just came here to advise an old friend about Solomon's condition."
"I can stick with that story," he agreed. We stopped walking and stood in a triangle, facing each other until McAuley motioned for us to continue. "Solomon went so far as to tracking down this family, but he couldn't kill three, little, innocent kids, no matter what their father did. He told me he was blasted with all kinds of propaganda about how the kids would grow up to emulate the father, and the whole family was crime-ridden. He was also shown pictures of what the father had done to other people, and the families that were left behind or used as examples of his wrath and revenge. He said he couldn't support the operation and that ended his career. They tried to keep him on the jobs no one else could touch, but he was adamant and refused to take any part in those missions."
I stared up at the sky and wondered what I was supposed to say at hearing that revelation. Solomon's morals, however, gave me plenty of comfort. "Do you know what happened to the kids?" I asked.
"No idea. It wouldn't even make the front page news here."
"If Solomon weren't involved, and we don't even know if anything did happen, then there's no chance of fallout from that event for him," I said. I tried but failed to swallow my horror that someone from the CIA would even suggest killing three children, no matter how terrible their family was reputed to be. I could barely comprehend how Solomon must have felt when he was asked to commit such a terrible undertaking. It did, however, begin to explain the reason why he didn't talk about his past very much. Was it filled with horrible things like that? Unconscionable requests that would strip a person of his humanity?
"You're correct in that respect, but don't forget the order came from someone within his organization. Solomon never told me who it was, but he knew who it was and that person also knew he knew. If there's a cover-up and someone's cleaning house, Solomon could be a loose end that might need to be tied up. He could be one of very few people to connect some very nasty dots."
I paled. "That sounds like a hit."
"It's possible," said McAuley. "I don't want to worry you unduly but I can't help thinking there were probably other ops that Solomon didn't tell me about. I only knew about this one because it was the reason Solomon couldn't continue working there. He wanted to save his soul, and he refused to sell it to the devil."
We thanked Captain McAuley, shook hands, and walked back to the car, both of us deep in thought. Before we got in, Maddox turned to me. "This is pretty worrying stuff," he said. "I don't know what we're getting into here."
Maddox didn't show a lot of worry but when he did, it was time to pay attention. "If you're worried, I'm worried a million times more than you," I swiftly calculated.
"I think we need to tell Garrett about this. And we have to increase the guard duty at the hospital."
"You're certain whoever did it will try again?"
"I'm worried that if people like the CIA are responsible for this, we won't realize it if they're trying again. Those people are something else."
"I think I'd like to get back to the hospital now."
Maddox placed a hand on my arm. "If you think something's wrong, you scream," he said, his blue eyes brilliant with concern. "You have your colleagues, and a twenty-four-hour police guard. You're surrounded by doctors and nurses. Do not put yourself in harm's way. Solomon would not want that."
"He'd do the same for me."
"Because he's lethal," said Maddox. "You, Lexi, are perky. Tenacious, smart, courageous, all of those things, but you are not trained for this."
"Okay," I said, crossing my fingers behind my back.
~
Time could not have passed slower than it did on the ride back to Montgomery. We traveled in silence, both of us lost in our thoughts. I thought about what McAuley told us, and what he didn't. I imagined the kind of person Solomon was during their friendship and the untenable position he'd been put in, which must have changed him irrevocably. I thought a lot about what kind of person might have held a grudge and be coming for him. One thought I couldn't shake kept swirling in my mind: how could a highly trained operative, someone familiar with not leaving anything behind that could possibly result in his being tracked, manage to leave his wallet near the burned out motorcycle? When I thought of professional hit men, that idea couldn’t jive with the man who apparently shot him. It was so unprofessional. Unless, what if that was the idea and the intent?
I stopped before wandering down that route. It would have been like walking in circles, with no sight of the exit.
"Some serious thinking going on there, Lexi," said Maddox. We paused at the intersection, since the light was red, and my eyes were firmly fixed on the rearview mirror. No one had followed us.
"I can't seem to ponder any thought long enough to come up with one that feels possible. Captain McAuley thinks we have a home-grown hit man in our midst. Someone who is intent on coming after Solomon. Fletcher and Flaherty, on the other hand, think they’re looking for someone who tends to be a little haphazard about getting the job done. You are worried and think that I could get shot. Yesterday, I thought we were being followed. Solomon's career has, so far, turned out to be one, big, shocking eye-opener..." I trailed off. Reaching for the bottle of water Maddox gave me earlier, I took a long sip.
"How do you feel now that you know more about Solomon's past?" asked Maddox.
I took another sip. "You once told me I didn't know anything about him. Now that I do, I don't know what to think about the information. What if there's more I don’t know? What if I can't handle the truth?"
"What if you can?"
"I'm not even sure what that means."
"It means, what if, after everything you find out and discover, you realize you're okay with it?"
"You mean, would I be okay with Solomon doing something really bad?" I said.
Maddox shook his head. "The evidence doesn't seem to point in that direction. So far, the evidence is saying Solomon is one of the good guys. That's kind of a relief."
"How's that?"
He looked at me and smiled. "I don't have to worry about you so much."
"Were you worried before?"
"Hell, yes. From the day I first met you."
"Sorry."
"Don't be. One of your many charming and endearing qualities is your uncanny ability to scare the living daylights out of me."
I half sighed, half laughed. "What if I find out more stuff?"
"How much worse could it get?" Maddox wondered.
That was the million dollar question. One I couldn't even try to answer. My phone began to ring and a photo of Lily flashed onto the screen. "Hey," I said, "What happened? Is..."
"He's fine," she cut in. "I thought I'd just call and let you know that."
"You're still at the hospital?"
"I am. Anastasia and Damien just left to go get lunch. Your mom and dad are here. Serena is here too. Your dad wants to talk to you."
"Put him on."
"Hi, sweetheart," said Dad, his voice sounding gruff. "Any news on your end?"
"None," I said after a quick glance to Maddox, who shook his head. "False lead."
"Damn," said Dad. "If you're coming back to the hospital, we're heading to the cafeteria to get some food. Serena volunteered to stay with Solomon."
"Really?"
"Sure. We're all his family now. We're all pitching in to help and taking shifts.
"What do you mean?"
"We knew you'd want someone taking care of him twenty-four/seven so we're looking after him in hourly shifts. In a few minutes, it's Serena and Antonio's turn to stay with him, although it seems to have been Antonio's turn for a long time."
"And Serena?"
"It's okay," said Dad. "He's still unconscious, hence, the reason we voted Serena onto this shift. There is no way she can irritate him!"
My lip trembled. "Maybe she could try harder so he'll wake up," I suggested.
"I don't think she needs any instructions," said Dad. I heard someone say something before Serena came on the line.
"What do I need instructions for?" she asked.
"Nothing. Thanks for being there."
"No problem at all. Who is relieving Antonio? He's been here all night and he needs undisturbed rest. I told him he has to go home and sleep but he insists on staying. Did you tell him to stay?"
"Yes. No. Maybe I did."
"That's fine," said Serena, still just as brusque as always. "If you told him to stay, he can stay. We can both stay for as long as you need."
I blinked back surprise. "Thank you."
"There's a bag with essentials for you on the cot Antonio slept on. I brought you some magazines, some snacks and some beverages, in case you planned to stay all night again. There's also a cashmere blanket, a sleeping mask, and a very large box of tissues. I can have Alessandro's send up some food or else I can pick something up," she said, sounding like she was reading from a check list, which she probably was. Serena was one of life's natural organizers, something she excelled at.
"That's very..."
"No need to say thank you. It's just the essentials," Serena cut me off. "Do you need anything else?"
"I don't think so."
"Then I will get back to the room. I have a list of things to tell Solomon and I have to get started."
"He'll be so pleased," I said dryly.
"I'll pass you back to Dad now," said Serena.
"This is your father," said Dad.
"Yes, I know, Dad."
"Have you spoken to your mother?"
"Not today," I said. "Why? What's wrong?"
"She's worried about you. We both are. Where are you anyway? Do you have anyone with you? Is Maddox still there?"
"Yes, he's with me. We're on our way back."
"Okay then. I'll pass you over to Lily."
"Hi," said Lily. "Serena is talking to Solomon. She looks very serious."
"Is he waking up?"
"No."
"Then she might be there a while. I'll get back as soon as I can."
"I'll be here."
"I don't know what to say to anyone," I told Maddox when I hung up. We went over a bump in the road and my arm shot up, knocking my water bottle up with it. A spray of water shot out the neck and went down my top. "Just great," I groaned. "I don't have anything fresh to wear at the hospital and now I'm all wet."
"We can pick something up."
"That would be great!" I said. Then I gulped when I realized what that meant. We would have to park outside the house and I'd have to step over the threshold again and push open the door. I would have to walk all over the place where Solomon was shot and try doubly hard to pry my eyes away from the blood stains, which were as fresh as the day he was attacked. "It's still a crime scene," I said. "Garrett had to accompany me here last time."
"It's been cleared," said Maddox. "If you have your keys, we can pick something up. The junction's coming up."
I couldn't sit in a wet shirt and I didn't want to waste any time going to a store and buying a new one. Plus, I would need a few more things if I planned to temporarily stay at the hospital. Solomon would need things after he woke up too. He would not be pleased about the skimpy, backless hospital gown and I hadn’t packed efficiently when Garrett previously took me to our home. Taking a deep breath, I prepared to get on with it. After all, it was my home. I had to live there. I had to go back there again at some point.
"I have my keys," I said. "Turn right."
Maddox floored it through the lights and we reached the house ten minutes later. "Want me to come in with you?" he asked.
"Yes."
"Good, because I was going to come in to clear the house anyway."
"I don't think the shooter will come back anytime soon. Solomon isn't here."
"I agree," he said, "but..."
"But you're not worried about him," I finished his sentence and he nodded. "Am I... Is Solomon going to have to look over his shoulder for the rest of his life?" I asked.
"Who says he wasn't already doing that?"
"This is so depressing." I stepped out of the car and walked towards the house, searching every house window, and every parked car, scanning for assailants. Not a single person was around. Was that suspicious? I could only wonder as I tugged my keys from my jacket pocket and took the few steps up to the door with Maddox on my heels. I heard the familiar draw of his weapon, a slight rustle of fabric. I unlocked the door, closed my eyes for a moment and stepped inside.
The house felt totally unlived in. Quiet, still, and cold. It seemed like all the joy had been knocked clean out of it. A decision came to me then, a horrible, unpalatable one. If Solomon didn't make it, I would never live in this house again. It wasn't because of the legal perspective or him owning it solely. No. I couldn't think of living in the space we once shared, not without him in it. It would leave such an enormous hole in my heart, it would be unbearable.
Maddox touched my arm. "Are you okay?"
"Yep," I squeaked. I pressed my stinging eyes with my palms and blinked away the tears. I reached for the keypad and turned off the alarm. "I need to get my things from upstairs."
"Let me do a walk-through first," said Maddox. "Stay behind me."
I did as he instructed, walking softly while he checked every room downstairs, before heading upstairs, and clearing every room as carefully as he would any suspect scene. Not once did he remark on anything in the house and I wondered if he saw the furniture, or the art, or any of the evidence of my living with Solomon here. Perhaps everything was like background noise to his task.
"Clear," he said, stepping from my bedroom onto the landing. "I figured you’d want to get your stuff from the closet so I'll wait here."
"Thanks." I stepped around him, hurrying off to my closet. I knew exactly what I wanted to get and it took me only a few minutes to grab the things I needed and deposit them in a heap near the door. I moved to Solomon's side of the closet, nearly freezing as I assessed the racks of clothing, which were all similar in style and muted in their hues.
I saw numerous shelves of t-shirts and a drawer of socks, jersey pajama pants that he wore around the house, preferring to go bare-chested. A stack of jeans, and not one rip between them. Shoes and boots that he couldn't step into. A tuxedo in a zipped-up cover. The navy V-neck sweater in soft cotton that I really liked. Hangers holding dress shirts. I reached for a white shirt, feeling sure I must have worn it once around the house. The sleeves were too long, and the tails hung below my thighs. Solomon once told me it was his favorite shirt.
The hamper was in the corner, a black t-shirt hanging over the side. I had a vague recollection of Solomon pulling it off, balling it up, and throwing it over my head, laughing when he made the shot. I hadn’t noticed it before. Now, I reached for it and held it up to my nose, breathing in his scent several times, in and out.
I didn't know what Solomon needed.
I couldn't do anything to help him.
I grabbed his hangers, dashing them to the floor, growing furious at their neat perfection. When the rod was bare, I punched the wall. The tuxedo hung at the end of the rod, virtually mocking me. I stretched upwards. Just as I managed to reach it, I lost my footing and slipped, falling bodily against the wall. I spread my arms and pushed myself off it but as I did so, the unmistakable sound of a click! reached my ears. I froze, wondering what the hell I'd just broken and would it be possible to replace the dry wall and redecorate everything before Solomon woke up?
If Solomon ever woke up.
I couldn't see any cracks in the wall but I spotted a long, vertical opening where there shouldn't have been one. A few inches behind it was another wall, with the kind of pegboard people use to hang garage tools on. Only there was no need for Solomon to store tools inside there, not in his closet! There was a garage at the rear of the house for that. I curled my hand around the edge and pulled on it. The false wall slid easily and some little lights clicked on, illuminating the secret compartment.
It was a tool wall of sorts, except the tools were handguns, rifles, and semi-automatics. Below, slim shelves held various boxes of ammunition. And was that a rack of hand grenades?
Our closet held an arsenal of weapons!
I staggered back, whirling around. What else was in here? I pulled the shelves, and drawers, checking for concealed buttons and secret areas on all sides.
Tears sprang into my eyes, and I darted from the closet, looking around. What else was in here? What else could Solomon have hidden?
What secrets had Solomon kept from me even though we were planning our wedding?
"Lexi?" Maddox appeared in the doorway.
I pushed past him, running to the bedroom that Solomon recently converted to an office. I pushed and punched the walls and tore through the closet, moving onto the guest bedrooms, the linen closet, and the family bathroom.
"Lexi?" Maddox followed me.
I pushed past Maddox again, determined to discover everything possible that was hidden, but he caught me and pulled me toward him, wrapping his arms around me as I wailed and struggled. "Lexi," he whispered, holding me until all I could do was cry before I collapsed against him.