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He looked up, and his eyes met mine. “There’s been an arrest.”
“Who?”
“Fisk.”
Dizziness overtook me, and I grabbed a hold of the split-rail fence. “The director?”
Buck nodded. “Come on, let’s get you inside before you pass out on me.”
I sat down on the sofa and took a sip of the glass of water Buck brought me.
“There isn’t a lot of information available yet, but I’m sure that will change in the next few days.”
“You can go home now.”
He shrugged. “I kinda like it here.”
I smiled. We had settled into an easy rhythm of day-to-day life. Buck gave me space to mourn Cope, especially on the days when I couldn’t seem to think about anything else and wallowed in my sorrow. He’d been gone longer than I’d known him, but that didn’t change how much I felt his absence from my life. Writing his story, brought him back to me, at least a little.
I hoped that, once it was all over, I could get in touch with Irish and that he’d tell me what the world, and I, would never know otherwise.
My cell vibrated on the kitchen counter, and Buck walked it over to me. “It’s Stella.”
“Has Buck told you?” she asked.
“A few minutes ago.”
“Shit is going to hit the fucking fan. This is big, Ali. I’ll send you everything I can.”
“I appreciate it.” It was Stella who’d suggested I write Cope’s story. “If nothing else, it’ll be therapeutic,” she’d said.
I’d just ended the call with her when Chloe called. “It’s all over the news. The Director of the CIA was arrested this morning.”
“I heard.”
“Do you think this has anything to do with Cope?”
“I do.”
“I hope this means closure, Al.”
“Me too.” I wished that meant the ever-present ache in my chest would begin to diminish. I knew better, though. While it didn’t hurt as bad, the same pain was present whenever I thought about my parents too.
“Do you want some time alone?” Buck asked when I set the phone down.
“No. Better to keep busy.” I followed him out to the yard and went back to pruning my roses. “Shit!” I muttered a few minutes later when the pruning shears slipped and I cut my finger.
“What happened?” Buck asked, rushing over to me. “Let me see,” he said, grasping my right wrist. He pulled the bandanna from around his neck, wrapped it around my finger, and put pressure on it. “Let’s get you inside and get it cleaned up. You might need stitches.”
“It’s just a cut, Buck.”
He lowered one of his fatherly gazes on me, and I let him lead me inside. We walked through the back door, and the hair on the back of my neck stood on end. I could feel someone else’s presence in my house.
As we rounded the corner, I looked up into the most beautiful green eyes I’d ever seen. “Cope?” I whispered right before I fainted.
24
COPE
