In the bathroom she stared herself down, her frown lines, gray roots, the little stress chip in her top right front tooth. But their sex had made her young. Temporarily.
How many orgasms had she had with him over the years? Thousands, surely. Do the math. Ten thousand? Couldn’t be that many. That would be more than one a day. Two thousand, three, four? So many bursts of pleasure, so many little deaths. Adding up to nothing at all. Even his were more useful. For him they carried his seed.
Yet these two days reminded her of the power of sex. Especially good sex. It might not mean anything in the long run. But in the moment it was everything. They’d been tender to each other. They’d cuddled and spooned. They’d watched the sky turn pink from their terrace. Not saying a word, just being present. The afterglow was real. The halo.
Sex had bound them. Then children, its fruit.
What bound them now?
Lies. Did he know that she knew? He couldn’t; she’d covered her tracks, hadn’t written anything down. But he could suspect. He would suspect. He’d be a fool not to suspect, and he wasn’t a fool.
* * *
He opened the bathroom door. He looked good. His arms were big. Like he’d been working out.
Getting ready for something.
Lucky for her, she’d been working out too.
She ran her hands over his biceps.
“Babe. I’m going to rent the boat. I’m thinking maybe get one with a decent-sized cabin. So if we spend the night on the water it won’t be a problem.”
“Stay out for the night? Considering what we’re paying for this room.”
“Might be fun. Blast from the past.”
* * *
A few minutes later she was showered, dressed, alone on the terrace. A warm subtropical breeze tickled her wet hair.
A boat ride, then.
Rebecca had never actually been involved in a water case. The local cops or state police handled those, sometimes with the Coast Guard. The FBI involved itself only in exceptional situations. Still, she knew investigating accidents at sea was notoriously difficult. No witnesses except fish. Not much physical evidence. Bodies disappeared. When they didn’t, they were waterlogged, in bad shape. Even fires left more evidence. At least arson investigators could usually tell if they’d been set on purpose.
Still. Twenty-one years ago they had rented a cruiser, spent a night on the water. Slow, passionate sex as the stars swam slowly overhead. No one to hear her, so she could give full voice to her pleasure. It was possible she’d never felt more connected to Brian than she had on that boat. She thought she’d gotten pregnant with Kira that night. Her body had felt different even the next morning. Richer. Fuller. Something new in her. How could she know? And yet she had. She’d told Brian but he’d always seemed skeptical. Pointless to try to explain to a man, pregnancy was something you had to live.
Maybe Brian remembered too. Maybe he wanted to bring them together. Maybe he thought he could survive forever as a Russian spy and as a husband and father, that now that they had Kira back equilibrium had been restored.
Maybe.
Back inside the room. This was the first time he’d left her alone, the first time either had left the room without the other. She went to his suitcase, which wasn’t a suitcase at all. He still traveled with the battered soft-sided blue bag he had used for a decade or more. Brian wasn’t a clotheshorse and he wasn’t a snob. When he found something that worked for him—a pair of sneakers, a haircut, a bag—he stuck with it.
Maybe his loyalty to his possessions substituted for love of other human beings.
The bag was in the closet along with her Tumi suitcase. She felt through it. Mostly empty. A couple of novels—John Sandford, the hard-boiled thrillers he liked these days—and a navigational guide to St. Barts and the eastern Caribbean. No knife, no Taser, no pistol, no handcuffs or gloves. Really, what had she expected? Then, tucked in the corner, she felt a plastic bag, something thick and flat inside.
She pulled it out.
A black bag, taped to conceal a bundle. She pushed at it. No give. But when she twisted the ends they flexed. She wondered if she needed to tear it open to be sure about what was inside, decided not to bother.
What object with these physical characteristics could this bag be hiding? Could it be… a bundle of US currency?