Cold River - Carla Neggers [124]
Grit answered anyway. “I’m right,” Charlie said. “There’s a firebug out there.”
“Lots of firebugs.”
“It looks as if Kyle Rigby and Melanie Kendall were responsible for the bulk of the hits Lowell Whittaker arranged. Lowell hired them to kill Myrtle Smith’s Russian friend, Andrei Petrov, on behalf of a former KGB agent. Did you know that?”
Grit was aware of Jo Harper frowning at him in that Secret Service–agent way of hers. He chose his words carefully. “Just heard.” In fact, he thought, Jo had been the one to tell him. He said, “I have to go.”
Charlie sighed. “Agent Harper’s there, isn’t she? Okay. Just listen, then. The KGB agent could have done the job himself but he didn’t want to take the chance. Have someone poison Petrov’s toothpaste. Keep things simple.”
“Sometimes simple works. Sometimes it doesn’t.”
“Only no one expected Myrtle. Ms. Smith, I mean,” Charlie said. “She was closing in on the assassins’ network. Lowell had our firebug torch her office to destroy her notes.”
Grit didn’t argue. “Okay, fine.”
“The police can’t pin the fire on Kyle Rigby or Melanie Kendall because they weren’t responsible for it.”
“Right.”
“Jasper Vanderhorn was killed by this firebug.” Charlie paused to take a breath. “I’m serious. It won’t matter that this network’s been shut down. Firebugs don’t like to stop. They prefer to work alone.”
“Where are you now?” Grit asked him.
“Conor and I are setting up for another airsoft game. Dad’s letting us play again. He thinks it’ll keep us out of trouble if we have something to focus on.”
“Will it?”
“This firebug is a murderer, Petty Officer Taylor.”
“So when you get the wrong answer on a test, do you argue with your teacher until she proves you wrong?”
“Only if I know I’m not wrong. Want to come play airsoft with me sometime?”
Grit heard a sudden tentativeness in the kid’s voice and realized the invitation was sincere. “Yeah, sure. Be good in the meantime.”
“Always.”
After Charlie disconnected, Grit set his phone back on the table. Jo was eyeing him as if she were a split second from whipping out handcuffs and arresting him. He said, “I meant lightning bugs. I don’t know why I said firebugs. Lots of lightning bugs out there in the Vermont wilderness.”
“Not in January, Grit.”
“Buy you a beer, Agent Harper?”
She relaxed some. “I’m not conflicted,” she said quietly.
He knew what she meant. “Okay.”
“Elijah and I will figure out what’s next. Together. Lives, careers, families. Half the fun is the complexity of it all.”
“You weren’t even tempted to move back to your low ceilings and dead plants and forget him? Hit the reset button on your life?”
“No.”
“You thought about it, though.”
“I’ll take that beer, Petty Officer.”
Grit noticed he had another message from Admiral Jenkins suggesting he report for duty at the Pentagon in three days. A suggestion from a four-star admiral was another way to say “order.” Grit texted him back: Aye-aye. He hit Send, then texted him again: Sir.
If he were about to start work at the Pentagon, some things had to get straightened out right from the start. He wasn’t the same Navy SEAL he’d been a year ago. It wasn’t a question of better or worse. Just different.
Myrtle joined him and Jo at their table. Myrtle had on leather gloves the color of her eyes and was bitching about the cold. “Seriously, Myrtle,” Grit said, “I’ve got to get you to the Florida Panhandle and introduce you to tupelo honey.”
Sean, Elijah, A.J. and his wife, Lauren, and Beth and Zack Harper all turned up, dragging chairs over so that they all could sit at the same table. A few minutes later, Hannah arrived on her own. Sean rose immediately and pulled a chair