Paradox (FBI Thriller 22)

Ty saw Sala was about to leap on Culver. She laid her hand on his arm, felt his muscles tensed, felt the rage in him. She was more than grateful to see Agents Fulton and Droban walk through the office door.

Sala was shaking when they left Culver’s office to the sound of Culver cursing. Ty stopped him by the elevator. “Sala, I’m so sorry, so very sorry, but it’s over now.” She hugged him hard, whispered against his face, “You held it together. You didn’t beat him to death.”

He said against her hair, his voice catching, “He’s going down, Ty. The man who killed Octavia is going down.”

She said nothing, only held him close as he wept.

EPILOGUE

* * *

TY CHRISTIE'S COTTAGE

WILLICOTT, MARYLAND

SATURDAY NIGHT

Sala took a drink of Ty’s Turkish espresso, settled himself against the sofa cushions, and patted Lucky, his fifteen-pound black-a

s-midnight cat with beautiful green eyes and one tattered ear, who was licking her tail even as she arched her back into his hand. She seemed perfectly content to be in a new place, sitting like a queen in the middle of a sofa with a new human ready to worship her.

Ty said, “Time to change those butterfly strips on your head again, Sala, make sure you’re healing okay.”

“You changed them Wednesday.” Sala touched his fingertips to where Dr. Staunton had placed three stitches. Had it only been since last Saturday? He flashed on being bound in the closet and said immediately to distract himself, “Ty, thanks for the worry, but I’m fine. If you have a Band-Aid, I’ll put some disinfectant on the stitches and cover them.”

She looked at him thoughtfully. “It is sort of cozy having you with me, Sala, but I’m in charge here. Get your fingers away, I’ll do it.”

When she’d smoothed down the Band-Aid, she stared at the faded bruises and welts still visible on his wrists, felt a punch of anger. “Do your wrists still hurt?”

He shrugged. “No, good to go.”

Ty laid her palm on his cheek. “Do you know what I think is the most amazing thing about this whole incredible week?”

He was still stroking Lucky’s back, but all his attention was on her. He cocked his head in question.

She looked him in the eye. “That you survived, Sala. You survived and you’re going to be fine. That makes me very happy.”

He smiled, and perhaps he stroked Lucky’s back a bit faster. Lucky gave him a look, stretched out to lick his hand, then broke out in a symphony of purring. The vagaries of fate. “I’ve always known intellectually that none of us can have a clue when our world is going to be turned upside down. When my wife died, I didn’t think I could handle it, but time passed, and the pain and grief slowly receded. And now this. Octavia murdered, my nearly dying. Ty, the truth is, I’m still a mess. There’s been so much. The nightmares won’t go away all that soon.”

“Then isn’t it great I’m a light sleeper?” She yawned. “Not quite time for sleep yet, though.” No, she thought, it was time to simply enjoy breathing in the soft clean air. The heavy rain of the previous night had dropped the temperature, and presented an incredible clear sky, a sickle moon, and a dazzling array of stars. The crickets gave their nightly performance.

EPILOGUE 2

* * *

SAVICH HOUSE

GEORGETOWN

SUNDAY NIGHT

Three Dizzy Dan’s pizza boxes were open on the coffee table in the Savich living room, smells of piping-hot cheese and Sherlock’s favorite, pepperoni, wafting through the air.

Sean was finally in his bed, hopefully asleep, after thirty minutes as the star of the show without a word about the week the adults had managed to survive.

Savich took a final bite of his vegetarian delight pizza and settled back. He’d taken Ty and Sala through all their questions about what had happened in Fort Pessel. He said now, “No one has a clue about where Jennifer Smiley hid the bank robbery money. With the fresh publicity about it, the bank will be dealing with treasure hunters swarming over the property again and digging holes everywhere, not to mention what they’ll do to the interior of the house. Publicly the bank is declining to get involved, but I’ll wager bank employees are out there digging with the rest of the treasure hunters.” He paused, took a drink of his Dos Equis.

He looked over at Sala, dressed in chinos, a black T-shirt, and sneakers, and thankfully, saw that he finally looked calm and settled. He wasn’t surprised Sala had more or less moved to Willicott with his cat and was living in Ty’s cottage. And who knew where that would lead?