“You do know it's not really about us, right?"
I did, but I'd worry until they released the final report.
"They sent the official announcement Friday afternoon. We’ve been cleared of all wrong doings and there’ll be no disciplinary action. They’ve closed all the related cases.”
“Shepherd have anything to do with that?” Gibson knew I didn’t mean John because he didn’t have that kind of clout.
He shrugged. “Sorry, I can’t indulge that information to a civilian.”
“Fuck you. I’m not a civilian yet.” I’d handed in my resignation, but it wasn’t effective until the end of the year.
The director encouraged my delayed departure so I could wrap up my cases and take advantage of the extensive medical benefits.
She’d whispered that last part after telling me the Singers had been cleared of all suspicion and had been posthumously awarded Distinguished Intelligence Crosses—the highest honor the CIA issued—for their courage and sacrifice.
Nina cried through most of the ceremony.
I had the awards and certificates framed as a gift for Nina. She wanted to hang them in her bedroom, but Nana Sue insisted she hang them in the living room for all the world to see.
I still catch Nina tearing up when she looks at the display.
Gibson’s voice brought me back to the porch. “No, but you have one foot out the door.”
We laughed. It wasn’t the first time one of us made a one-leg joke, and it wouldn’t be the last.
“How’s Nina adjusting to having money?”
“She’s using it to pay for your date’s home care nurse.”
“Still won’t spend any of it on herself?”
“Nope, but I spend my money on her, so it works out.” I laughed. “We should get going.”
“I’ll go get our dates,” he said, clapping my shoulder.
“Thanks again for doing this.”
“I’m just schmoozing so I have an in with the Sheppards if I decide to leave the CIA.”
“They’d hire you in a heartbeat.”
“Of course they would. They hired you and I’m a better, two-legged version of you.”
I couldn’t officially start at SSI until January, but that didn’t stop me from unofficially consulting once in a while.
He jumped out of the way before my cane could strike his thigh.
Epilogue
Nina
Austin’s Aunt Roni’s house was bustling with activity when he, Nana Sue, and I arrived for Thanksgiving dinner.
Everyone was there except Bryce, who had to work, but he’d promised to come over when his shift ended.
“Welcome, welcome, don’t be shy,” Roni greeted us with hugs after wiping her hands on her apron. “Here, let me,” she said, taking the casserole dish from my hands.
“Do you need help bringing anything else in?” Dalton asked after hugging my grandmother, who ate up the attention like a starving puppy.
