39. Chapter Thirty-Nine
Chapter Thirty-Nine
Food was great for reviving one’s endurance. Finn hadn’t been lying when he promised to explore every part of her body. Kathleen was pleasantly exhausted and completely sated by the time afternoon rolled around.
But there was work to be done.
Despite Finn’s protest, she dressed—sort of dressed. Kathleen compromised by reclaiming the sweatshirt, feeling oddly self-conscious about going through Milford’s things without clothes on. She wasn’t sure Finn understood why, but he followed her lead and elected to go for sweatpants. They sat low on his hips, showing off his delicious abs. It was such a distraction she almost told him to put on a top before she realized she might welcome a distraction soon enough.
Kathleen left it be.
Her eyes found the new scar that marred his skin, visible just above the waist of his sweatpants. If Kathleen didn’t know better, it would have looked several weeks old, yet she knew it was precisely where she had shot him to escape when Wilson ordered him to kill her.
“You’re frowning too hard at me to concentrate,” Finn said.
Her eyes lifted, and Kathleen saw the easy warmth in his gaze. “Sorry, I… I shot you.”
“It barely even hurt. Besides, I shot you first.”
“Barely.”
“Then we’re even.”
“It doesn’t work like that!”
“If it works for you and for me, then it works,” Finn declared with unassailable logic.
“That’s… all right. Fine. But let’s agree not to shoot each other anymore?”
Finn adopted an air of serious contemplation until Kathleen poked him. “All right. I agree to those terms.” He kissed her to seal the deal.
Kathleen was paging through the physical notebooks and documents she had taken while Finn worked on her laptop. The drives, he’d said, were encrypted, but he was working to break through them with an intent focus that put a tiny crease in his brow.
It made her want to lean and kiss him, but she knew if she did, they’d never get this done.
Kathleen’s phone dinged. I’ve had worse hangovers, came the text from Gibson, and she chuckled, relieved. She’d asked him whether he was still alive. Do you know what’s good for sparking up relationships? Letting someone else take care of you, Gibson added.
And, shit, he was right. It was how Finn and she had bonded. She wondered what that said about them?
Meet tomorrow? Kathleen texted Gibson back. Going through the evidence now. Hope to have something good.
Done. Murphy thinks we’re working leads on our case, if she pings you.
It was important to get their stories straight.
When she looked up from her phone, she noticed Finn was paying attention to her. Not in an obvious way—he wasn’t looking at her—but the crease of focus was gone, and he was focused on something beyond her, watching her in his periphery. Kathleen wasn’t even sure he was aware of doing it.
“Gibson,” she said. “He’s okay. Joking, even.”
The way Finn’s shoulders eased was subtle. She hadn’t even realized he was tense until he exhaled. “Good.” His gaze flickered back to the screen. “I think I have something. He was careful about anything related to Command. I’m not sure we’ll find anything. But look.”
Kathleen moved closer, letting her shoulder lean into his as she studied the screen.
There were a dozen photos—a location she recognized. Wilson was in his sharp blue suit, and Milford was in his high visibility vest the day she confronted Wilson in the coffee house. Judging by the angle, the photographer had been elevated on the far side of the lot. No wonder she hadn’t spotted them. Milford must have staged the meeting in that location.
“There’s audio, too,” Finn said. He played it, eyes on her.
“Milford, what the fuck? I was assured you would be literally glued to the phone, ready to respond to my call.” Wilson, with his mood already dialed up to eight on the entitled scale.
“I’m sorry, sir. Other matters took precedence.”
It must have been Milford’s voice—Finn’s expression blanked in a way that made her gut twist, and Kathleen shifted, sliding her arm through his, reaching down to lace her fingers with his.
Finn watched their hands, the tension in his face easing as he squeezed her fingers in mute gratitude.
The Handler was dead, but the hold he still had on Finn made her skin crawl and her anger surge. If she hadn’t already killed him…
But she had. Kathleen felt an unsteady quiver. She didn’t need the reassurance, but when Finn’s fingers squeezed hers again, her lungs eased, and she felt better.
“Like fuck. I am your number one priority!” Wilson continued.
“Yes, sir.” Milford’s response was conciliatory, but even to her ear, it felt false. Kathleen wondered how Wilson couldn’t sense it.
“Her name is Kathleen Harper. She’s a detective with the MPD. I need her taken care of. Clean. No ties. Same as with Hayden.”
“Shit,” Kathleen said, her heart thudding wildly. “Play that again?”
Finn paused the recording, backed it up, and played it a second time.
“Holy shit. This is it. This is what we needed.” Adrenalin rushed through her. She finally had him.
On the tape, Milford was assuring Wilson he would take care of the matter, with a hint of impatience, as Wilson gave him another lecture about respect.
The final note of the tape was Milford cursing softly.
Not only was this evidence that Wilson had orchestrated Hayden’s murder via Special Operations Covert Command—but had attempted hers, also.
“We need to get this to my boss. No, higher than her. To that suit who works for Homeland, Schmidt,” Kathleen said.
Finn had a crease in his brow again, but she waited for him to verbalize his thoughts. “We need to meet with them somewhere we can control. Where I can make sure we’re not overheard. I have a place that should suit.”
He was paranoid, but that paranoia was not without reason. Kathleen reached for her phone. “I’ll let Gibson know. Tomorrow morning?”
“That works,” Finn said. The look he gave her was full of heat. “I have an idea how we could pass the rest of the day.”
Kathleen laughed, but she felt the shiver of anticipation run through her, too. “We need to get through the rest of this stuff first, make sure there’s nothing else we can use.”
Finn made a disappointed sound. His “later” was a promise that warmed her.
She kissed his bare shoulder and unwound her fingers from his so she could text Gibson. Think we have what we need. Make sure that Fed is available. I’ll text you a location later.
The thumbs-up she got back was almost immediate.
The white cat appeared in the window with a fluff of his tail that made her jump. Finn looked unconcerned—he must have heard the cat’s approach.
“Hello, Cat,” he greeted the feline.
“You can’t call him that,” Kathleen said.
“Why not?”
“It’s… it’s too generic. And confusing.”
“He likes it.”
“He doesn’t have a way to say otherwise.”
“I can see a dozen non-verbal cues when he hears his name,” Finn said.
“Now you’re just cheating.”
The look Finn shot her was full of amusement; Kathleen couldn’t tell if he was teasing her or being genuine. That she couldn’t was delightful. It was nice not to completely see through a person.
“I suppose if he’s adopted you, you get to name him. You might as well, since we won’t get to name children.”
Finn froze, his fingers stilling in the white cat’s fur. “You said that before.”
Kathleen felt deep dread at the reminder of Milford’s words and kept her eyes on her hands. She didn’t want to see the pity in Finn’s eyes, and she didn’t want him to see any of the suspicions in hers.
“I have scarring. I can’t carry a child to term.”
He was quiet, the movement of his hand through the cat’s fur resuming distractedly. “Perhaps that’s for the best,” Finn said slowly. “I’m not someone who should have children. I’m not sure it would even be safe to pass on what they did to me.”
The softening in Finn’s voice was impossible to ignore. It wasn’t what Kathleen expected, and it brought her gaze up to his. He was watching her with steady awareness, and when Kathleen looked at him, he leaned to kiss her brow. She let the breath she had been holding out, relief rushing through her.
Finn smiled and turned his gaze back to the laptop, paging through more files: images of Michael Milford. He stopped on one where Milford’s face was visibly clear.
Coldness stole the warmth of moments before. Maybe the Homeland agent was right. Maybe someone had stepped in to help with her career. Maybe it was Command all along.
“Finn?”
He must have sensed some tone in her voice because he moved the laptop away, turning his full attention to her.
Kathleen’s mouth was dry. Some of it was the way he looked at her: his eyes had an expressiveness so completely different from his gaze the first time she saw him that it made her heart burst. She didn’t want to do anything to take that warmth out of his eyes, but he deserved the truth.
“Milford… he said some things… before you arrived.”
Finn’s mouth tightened, but he gazed at her expectantly.
The truth dancing just out of your reach, Kathleen remembered Milford’s mocking words. He was right, though. It felt truthful—unreal—but the whole truth. “He said I was part of the program. That I was a part of Command.”
Finn’s expression darkened, his mouth thinning into a line for a second. It eased into a sigh as he reached to wrap his arms around her, pulling her into his chest.
She willingly let him. His breath ruffled her hair.
“I’m remembering things,” Finn said. “Not everything, but the important things. You,” he said softly. “Going to see Lisa’s son. Other, less pleasant things. But…”
He fell still. Kathleen wanted to see his face, but she remained leaning against him as he worked through it.
“I remember you from before. We were lying in bed. Teasing. Laughing. Happy. And then they took you from me. You fought so hard, and they pinned me down. I was screaming your name, and they took you from me.”
His arms tightened around her as if he feared it happening again.
Kathleen pressed her fingers into his skin. “That won’t happen again. I won’t let it.” She had no way to assure him of this, but she did it anyway.
“And I won’t let go of you.”
They sat there, wrapped in each other’s arms, seeking and giving comfort for a trauma neither of them entirely remembered.
Kathleen didn’t tell him what else Milford had said or what he had claimed to have done to prevent her from having children. It would only hurt Finn, and Milford had already paid with his life. The only truth she could accept was that she might never really know what was true. Together, they could make new memories.
Some secrets were best left buried.