Chapter 63
Chapter 63
S ummer and I loaded onto the gondola and rode the chairlift up to the Eagle’s Nest under a clear and cold starlit sky. Which was much better than climbing up by foot. Required much less work. Gunner thought so too. We stepped off, I opened Bones’s wine and uncovered the little cheese plate that Angel and Casey had helped me decorate—complete with parsley—and we slid into the hot tub. She eyed the tray and raised an eyebrow. “Well played.”
“I had some help.”
She ate an olive. “No. Really?” The sarcasm was thick. She slipped her shoulder beneath mine. We could see eighty miles in any direction. “But you get an A-plus for effort.”
Three silent days had passed at Freetown. The cameras showed police arriving at Maynard’s house along with an assistant of sorts, but Maynard never surfaced. Nothing changed, save one thing. Maynard was now actively campaigning. Filling the networks with sound bites. And judging by the look on his face, he’d dreamed of this moment for years. He looked ten years younger.
We soaked. Sipped. Laughed. Ate cheeses with names I couldn’t pronounce. Talked about the future. Talked a little about the past. Summer had become my safe place. No pretending. No lies. No facade. Half a bottle in, I had the nerve to say what was on my mind.
“So, I’ve been thinking. ”
She stared up at me.
“I know I promised to take you fishing. But I want to ask your permission to do one thing first.”
She sat waiting, holding her glass in both hands, sweat sliding off her temples.
“I realized something in Alaska.”
She sipped.
“I never got to say goodbye.”
Another sip.
“To Bones, I mean.”
She waited.
“I want to go back. To Majorca. Just me and Gunner. And I want to tell him goodbye. I need to do this because—”
She held up a finger and pressed it to my lips. Then she pointed to our airport. Oddly, our largest jet, a Falcon with transatlantic range, sat lit on the tarmac. Rather than housed in its hangar where it should’ve been. Then she lifted my wrist and checked my watch. A cheap field watch I’d ordered off the internet. Having given Ellie my Rolex and Shep my Omega, I was down a timepiece and couldn’t stomach the thought of several thousand dollars for something when that same something could cost me a hundred. “You leave in fifty-seven minutes.”
“What?”
She pointed again. “Fueled. Camp and I made the arrangements.”
“You know all this?”
She nodded.
“But how? I haven’t told anyone. Not even Camp.”
“I’m a woman. We know things.”
“So, you don’t mind?”
She shook her head.
I tried to speak and she cut me off. “I get it. I understand. Go. You need it. It’ll be healing. You need to close this door so you can open the next one.”
“Which one is that?”
“The one Bones left in front of you. The one where you become who he made you to be in his absence.”
She moved closer. “I know it will be difficult, and I’ve thought about going with you ’cause I don’t like the thought of you hurting alone. But I think this is something you and Gunner need to do. Just the two of you.”
I thought that too, but I was glad I didn’t have to convince her. “Might be a few days.”
“I’ll be here.”
That had gone easier than I imagined. I double-checked. “You sure there’s no ‘but’? No condition?”
“Every time you leave, there’s one condition.”
I knew it but I loved to hear her say it.
She kissed me once. “David Bishop.” Then a second time. “I need you to bring my man, Murphy Shepherd, home because I can’t live without him.”
At that second, my phone dinged. It was Camp. “We got something.”
“Maynard?”
“At his Virginia farm.”
“And?”
“His computers are active.”
“Meaning?”
“I’d have to show you, sir.” He sounded hesitant.
“But what?”
“You’re not going to want to see it.”
I turned to Summer. “Hold the plane. I gotta do something first.”
We cleaned up our mess and rode the gondola down. When we arrived at the comms center, Camp stood between us and the screens where Eddie sat flittering around the keyboard like a hummingbird. He looked at Summer. “Ma’am. You’re not going to want to—”
Summer peered around his shoulder, recognized the image, covered her mouth, closed her eyes, then bent over a trash can and vomited.
He was right. We did not.