All That Mattered, Ch. 09

They hadn’t talked about it. They hadn’t talked in the car at all, actually, other than when Lee noticed she’d turned off the freeway.

“This isn’t the way to Georgetown,” he’d started.

“I said I’d take you back to the case,” she’d answered. “Not the Agency.”

That had earned her a sharp look. She’d replied with a shrug and a nod toward the back seat. “I grabbed some of the case files on the way out.”

It had been an impulse, that last-minute grab. Douglas Trent’s eyebrows had gone nearly to his hairline, but she’d been imagining Lee exhausted after a physical therapy session. He wouldn’t have been in any better shape to go back to the Agency then than he was now.

And she hadn’t missed the abject relief in his expression when he’d realized they weren’t going back.

“We’ll work in the living room?” he’d asked.

“That’s the idea.”

His voice had been small. “Thank you.”

Now, several hours later, she was on the floor in front of the coffee table while he was camped out on the couch, his leg propped up as they made their way through the files. Their half-drunk glasses of wine sat on a side table, already forgotten.

“Every single time,” Lee was saying. “Whoever’s running this AEGIS_OPS account is following the same menu path. And, from what you’ve told me, it makes more sense in Arabic than it does in English.”

She nodded. “So he’s looking for something specific.”

“More than that,” Lee added, “he’s already figured out where —”

The grinding of a key in the front door cut him off. Amanda got to her feet even as Lee sat up, his arm reaching toward where his gun usually was.

But when the door opened, it was Jamie who stepped through, followed closely by Joe and Carrie. Lee’s hand fell back onto the couch even as Amanda felt her shoulders relax.

“Oh,” said Jamie. “I didn’t think you’d be home yet.”

“We’re working from here this afternoon,” Amanda told him. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Lee gathering up the files. “How was school?”

“Coulda been better.”

She looked from Joe to Carrie, her expression a quiet question.

“Nothing terrible,” Carrie said.

“Not the way you think of it, anyway,” groused Jamie. “I got cut from baseball tryouts.”

Lee paused, the files half-stacked in his hands. “That’s rough.”

Jamie glanced at him. “Yeah.”

“Doesn’t mean you don’t belong out there, though,” he continued. “Just maybe not with the school’s team.”

“Yeah.” Jamie flopped down on the end of the couch. “I wasn’t the worst one out there, though. And not all of them got cut.”

“It’s not always about the best,” said Carrie as she put a hand on Jamie’s shoulder. “It could have been anything. I told you, I’ll talk to the coach —”

“No!” Jamie flared, his face reddening, but then he took a breath and reined it in. “No, Carrie. Don’t. If they don’t want me, then I don’t want to be there. I only —” He sighed and scrubbed his hands over his face. “I don’t really want to talk about it, ’kay? Just — where’s the remote? I want to see if Knight Rider or The A-Team’re on.”

“Here,” said Amanda, handing it to him. “Lee and I can go into the kitchen. It’s about time to start dinner anyway.”

Jamie shook his head, climbing back to his feet. “No, never mind. Lee, keep your foot up. I’ll just go upstairs. Got homework anyway.”

“It’s all —” began Lee, but Jamie was already trudging up the steps.

Amanda glanced back over at Joe and Carrie. “How is he really taking it?”

“About as well as you saw,” said Joe. “Disappointed. Disillusioned. He’s not wrong about some of the other kids being worse than him and not getting cut.”

“Which is why I offered to talk to Coach Stallings,” said Carrie.

Lee shook his head as he set the completed stack of files on the side table, frowning briefly as the top folder slipped and he had to steady the pile with both hands. “That’s kind of you, Carrie, but it’s about the worst thing you could do. If he’s not doing anything destructive, let him deal with it his own way.”

Jamie’s stepmother let out a soft hiss of frustration. “Not you too.”

“What do you mean?” Lee asked.

“It means I already said that to her,” Joe put in. “Carrie — maybe it’s a guy thing.”

“Probably,” said Lee. “He doesn’t really want comfort right now. And he doesn’t need a fix, even though he might think he wants one.”

Maybe, thought Amanda. Her internal reaction wasn’t far away from the expression she saw on Carrie’s face. Lee was exactly right — but Jamie was her child. How had Lee understood what to say and do before she had?

She shook her head, reminding herself that Joe had seen it faster, too. It probably was more about that difference than any failure of hers. But the thought lingered longer than she liked.

---

He was utterly clueless, talked too much, and was absolutely not the kind of person she liked to hang around with. But despite herself, Nancy realized she was actually finding Scotty interesting — and she wasn’t sure whether she liked that or not.

Even though they had only gone to Martin’s, he’d spiffed up a little for the occasion, adding a tie to his usual button-down and using some sort of odorless gel to slick his hair down. He’d also apparently come up with a list of possible conversational topics. She smothered a smile as he tried to be surreptitious about checking it again. Someone should have told him that hiding paper under sleeves was an old, old trick. She’d known about it long before she’d started with the Agency.

“So,” he was asking now. “Do you think Mr. Stetson’s going to be able to walk again?”

“I don’t see why not,” she replied. “Amanda mentioned it was just the front part of his foot, and that they have prosthetics for that. It’s just a matter of getting everything set up the way he needs it.”

He nodded. “I guess so. But it won’t be the same, will it? I mean, yeah, he’ll have something to walk on, but how’s he going to do that if he can’t feel anything? And will we be able to tell?” He hesitated, and then added, “You know, one of my uncles lost all his toes at Chosin. Army. Frostbite. For a while he tried a walker and all that, but the older he got, the harder it was. Four or five years ago, he just gave up and started using a wheelchair.”

“Mr. Stetson’s left foot is fine,” answered Nancy, “so he might be able to compensate. I don’t know all the details.” She also had felt uncomfortable about asking, and even this particular topic left her a little uneasy. “I’m sure we’ll find out when the time comes.”

He colored slightly. “Yeah, I guess we will. And that was a little intrusive, wasn’t it? So what about you? I mean —” He stopped himself. “I don’t need to know what’s going on down in the bull pen and after the other day I don’t even want to know. But…” he twisted his arm again. “Is everything all right with you? On the job, off it, somewhere else?”

“Yeah,” she answered as her gaze fell back to her salad. “Enough.”

Scotty narrowed his eyes a little. “That didn’t sound very confident.”

“It’s fine,” she answered. “What are you guys working on right now? Another documentary?”

“No, we just finished up that one about opossums and how they aren’t actually, you know, regular mammals. Did you know that? I mean, they look like it, but they’re marsupials, and they only regulate their body temperature a little bit, and—” he trailed off. “And not too many people besides middle school students are going to care. Are you sure everything’s all right?”

She put a little more effort into it. “Yeah. I’m just tired. It was a long day today.”

“I’ll bet. Did you hear from Miss Desmond?”

Nancy felt her awareness sharpen. “No, but I didn’t expect to.”

“That’s strange, ’cause I could’ve sworn I saw her in the parking lot near your car. Like maybe she was putting something under your windshield wipers. She’s lucky it didn’t rain this afternoon the way it was supposed to. That would’ve really meant a mess. Why didn’t you just park in the garage like you usually do?”

“I, ah…” she trailed off, thinking furiously. “I was running late and there was a line for the tickets.” That sounded plausible, didn’t it? Even if her real reason had been so that Francine could leave her that note. She’d retrieved it late this afternoon and moved her car into the garage then — and there really hadn’t been time for her to go over the contents yet. Nancy had intentionally asked to make this date as early as possible so that she would have extra time afterward. She’d figured she would need it.

“Well,” remarked Scotty. “Maybe it was just as well. Since, you know, she’s still asking around about stuff at the CIA and all. I’m not sure why Mr. Melrose is making her take all this time away if all she’s going to do is work anyway.”

She nearly dropped her fork. “Is that what she’s doing?”

“Well, yeah. You mean you didn’t know?”

“No,” answered Nancy automatically, but as she did so she was considering him with new eyes.

“Oh. I guess it’s just something she’s doing on her own, then.”

“Yeah, maybe,” she answered, deliberately keeping her tone mild. “Listen, ah, now that you’re done with the documentary, what’s the next project going to be, anyway?”

Scotty, taking that as an opening, began telling her all about being stuck over at the National Archives, looking for newsreel footage about Valentine’s Day flowers in Europe. It all seemed faintly ridiculous, but now that she was actively listening, she realized the level of detail in his prattle. Scotty noticed things. He noticed a lot of things. He just tended not to be noticed himself.

And that, she thought, could be very interesting indeed.