Chapter 23
Chapter Twenty-Three
“Have you been to Provincetown before?” Dan asked.
So far all he could see were trees, with signs along the way pointing to Wellfleet, Truro, North Truro.
It looked nothing like the images he’d found online.
They’d been on the road since seven that morning, and so far they’d made one stop for coffee and a restroom.
“No. Cory used to come here a lot, though. He loved it.”
Dan laughed. “Yeah, I wonder why. You know I was talking to Dad last night? Well, I told him where we were going, and he said, ‘Isn’t that a haven for artists, lesbians, and gay men?’ I told him I’d expected him to come out with something more along the lines of it being the site of the Mayflower’s landing but that I was genuinely impressed he knew the other stuff.
” Another glance through the windshield.
“Can’t say I’m impressed so far.” But it was a pretty picture.
The differing shades of browns and russets made him yearn for home.
There were no places like New Hampshire and Maine in the fall.
Maybe once they’d solved the case, he’d take Gary to meet the family.
When we solve the case.
This one was getting more convoluted by the second.
“Somewhere at the end of this road, there’s apparently a gay town. Cory raved about Bear Week. Whatever that is,” Gary added.
Dan chuckled. “Bear Week is when Provincetown’s population swells from under four thousand to as many as sixty thousand. We’re talking a lot of gay men.”
“Gay hairy men by the sound of it.” Gary glanced at him. “How come you know all this?”
He grinned. “Dad got me intrigued, so I did some browsing. And you’re right, there is a gay town that right now is doing a really good job of hiding itself.”
“And you’ve never been tempted to see what all the fuss was about?”
Dan shrugged. “Who wants to get crushed in a crowd of sixty thousand gay guys?” Then he grinned once more. “Although, now that I say it….”
Except he knew deep down his lighthearted banter was fake, an attempt to ignore the voice in his head.
We don’t know what’s waiting for us at the end of this trip.
We don’t really know Chambers. So what if he’s in intelligence? That doesn’t mean we can trust him. Okay, it should, but not these days. And telling us not to inform Travers? What the hell was that all about?
His dad had gotten fond of saying that life was way simpler when the good guys wore white hats and the bad guys wore black and you could see them coming.
But Dan couldn’t see what lay in store for them around the next curve in the road, and that unnerved him.
Then Gary turned off the highway, and it wasn’t long before trees gave way to quaint houses and narrow streets.
It was a pretty seaside town, its cedar-shake-covered buildings painted in all shades, from pastels to deepest black.
And then there were the inhabitants. Dan lost count of how many LGBTQ+ couples he saw strolling along the main street, holding hands or walking close together.
There was color everywhere, and Dan couldn’t help but notice the number of stores with art on display.
“I guess Dad was right about the artists.”
There was a quirkiness to the place that appealed to him, and he resolved to visit it again one day when they weren’t up to their eyeballs in a case. Maybe for a long weekend.
Or Pride next summer. Even better.
He smiled to himself. Experiencing Pride through Gary’s eyes could be a whole lot of fun.
“Keep an eye out for Franklin Street,” Gary told him. “That’s where we take a right.”
The brightly colored storefronts grew fewer in number, replaced by more houses as they neared the western end of the town, the sun breaking through the clouds to fall like the beams of a spotlight on the water beyond.
Number 7 Race Road turned out to be a two-story house with white gables and window frames, set against deep blue cedar shakes.
“This is it.” Gary pulled into the empty graveled parking space. They got out, and he locked the car. Before they could knock, the white-painted door opened, and a tall man stood there, dressed in jeans and a deep cream sweater.
“Jay Travelyn?” Gary asked as they approached him.
“No, I’m Mike Welman. I know who you’re supposed to be. So before I let you in, how about you show me some ID?”
Dan noticed how he kept one hand out of sight, as though he was holding something, and he couldn’t suppress the shiver that coursed through him.
We don’t know who to trust.
Gary held up his badge, and Dan handed over one of his cards. Mike stared at it for a moment.
“You’ve been expecting us,” Dan observed.
Mike peered down the street from which they’d emerged, then twisted to look up. “You’re sure you weren’t followed?”
“I don’t think so. We left Boston early this morning, and I haven’t noticed any cars tailing us.”
There was something about the way Mike continued to look into the street that sent another shiver through Dan.
Chambers wasn’t being dramatic, was he?
At last Mike nodded, then returned Dan’s card. “Okay, you’d better come in.”
They went into the house, and Dan’s stomach plummeted when he saw what Mike had been holding.
It was a gun.
Mike followed his gaze. “I work with Nathan Chambers,” he said by way of explanation as he replaced it in its holster, leaving it on a small table beside the door.
He fished a black wallet out of his pocket, and Dan wasn’t surprised to see the familiar seal with a white American eagle, its wings outstretched, set in a blue circle.
Mike led them into the living room, with its white walls and oak beams and rafters. In one place the ceiling was supported by a brick pillar, and off to the right was a kitchen area, complete with a small table and chairs.
Mike gestured to the pale-blue-and-white striped couch. “Please, sit.”
“Jay is here, isn’t he?” Dan noticed how quiet the house was.
“They’re upstairs.” Mike walked over to where a steep, open wooden staircase climbed. “It’s okay, you can come down.”
A moment later footsteps sounded above their heads, and Dan watched as socked feet came into view.
Jay had short auburn hair and wore skinny jeans and a long dark blue sweater.
One glance at the descending figure—and the recollection of the pronouns both Mike and Chambers had used—was enough to suggest Jay might be non-binary or trans.
Jay walked into the center of the room and came to a stop. Dan noted a pair of striking green eyes, and his breathing hitched.
“Okay, I didn’t see this coming.”
He was staring at Dr. Samantha Phillips.
Gary recovered faster. “You know, for a dead woman, you appear remarkably healthy.” He pointed to her shorn hair. “That’s new.”
She touched her head. “You have no idea how much I hated cutting it off.” A phone rang, and she dug it out of her jeans pocket and answered instantly.
“Yes, they’re here.” She rolled her eyes.
“Mike checked. I do listen to what you tell me, Nathan.” She fell silent, nodding.
“Okay, I’ll see you then.” She finished the call.
“Nathan will be here in a while. He told me about you two.”
“I take it he had a hand in your ‘death.’” Gary said. “Was all this subterfuge really necessary, Dr. Phillips?”
“Please, call me Samantha.” She sat in an armchair. “And yes, believe me when I say it’s very necessary. It’s best if I’m believed to be dead.”
“But why?” Dan blurted. “It seems such an extreme action to take.”
She shuddered. “I had to do this. It’s the only way I’ll be safe.” Mike walked over to her and patted her shoulder, and she gave him a grateful glance. “Mike’s been a great bodyguard. Plus being dead buys me some time to keep looking for more proof.”
Dan stilled. “Of what?”
She stared at the rug, her hands clasped, saying nothing,
“Nathan said you could tell them,” Mike urged in a low voice. “Hell, he said they might even know already.”
Samantha shook her head. “They couldn’t. No one knows.”
Dan leaned forward. “Knows what, Samantha?” He kept his voice gentle.
She swallowed. “That Professor Robert Martin has sold out.”
“What do you mean?” Gary asked.
“I mean, the man I’ve known since 2002, the man who’s working with me to prevent disease, to change the world for the better… is helping to make bioweapons.”