Page 107 of The Shadow Friends

“What details?”

“To start off with, why are you still alive? Why did she let you live?”

Maggie was silent, pondering the same question that she had been asking herself. She still ached from the blows to her face, and Hannah had threatened that there’d be more pain to come. Maggie had truly believed that she would die in the cabin, that her fate had already been decided, and nothing she could do would change that. She’d seen the same weary look of acceptance in Hannah’s eyes. Hannah knew she had come to the end of her own journey. After years of faithfully serving her country, after a lifetime of bloodshed, she wanted only to go home.

Perhaps she’d finally had enough of death, enough of doing the bidding of her masters.

“Maggie?” asked Jo.

“I think she had a better use for me alive,” said Maggie. “I served as a distraction. A way to pull everyone’s attention from her real target: Ingrid.”

“I suppose that makes sense. That’s one question answered.”

“Are there others?” asked Declan.

“Yes. Minnihan wants to know what happened here, in this house.”

“Isn’t it obvious?”

“Not entirely. We have a corpse with two bullet wounds from two different weapons. How did that happen?”

Maggie looked at Declan, who simply shook his head. “We weren’t here, Jo,” said Maggie. “We can’t answer that question.”

“Does it really matter how the woman was killed?” said Declan.

“It will matter to the FBI. Or to Minnihan, anyway.”

“Sometimes the end justifies the means.”

“Jesus,” Jo sighed. “I’m actually starting to agree with you people.”

Declan squeezed Maggie’s hand. “I need to get Maggie home to bed,” he said, and stood up. “Sit with her, Jo. I’ll go up and get her things.”

“My toilet case,” said Maggie. “And underwear.”

“Be right back.” He didn’t need to ask where to find her intimate garments; he already knew.

Jo’s mouth tilted up in a smile as she watched him leave the room. “You know, I always used to think that man was Mr. Cool. I’ve never seen him panic, never seen him even break a sweat. Until tonight, when he learned you’d gone missing. That was a different Declan Rose I saw.”

Maggie looked up toward the creak of Declan’s footsteps moving in her bedroom. “Everyone has an Achilles’ heel.”

“Yeah. His would be you.”

And for better or worse, Declan is now mine, thought Maggie. This was a new vulnerability she had not expected to acquire so late in life. Long ago, she had learned that the best way to avoid grief was to shun attachments, to harden one’s shell. But even the hardest shell can be cracked, and somehow, Declan had managed to break through hers.

Dawn was still an hour away when she and Declan walked out of her house. It was a cold, clear night, and the Milky Way arched overhead in a brilliant bower of stars. She paused beside Declan’s old Volvo and looked up at the shimmering veil. Thought about how differently this night could have turned out, and what a miracle it was that she was standing here, still alive. Suddenly that dizzying view of the heavens made her sway like a drunken woman, and she tipped sideways.

As always, Declan was there to catch her.

Chapter 43

Ingrid

Tuesday

According to the hospital rules, no more than two visitors at a time were allowed in a patient’s room, but the Martini Club had never been good about following rules. All four of them had gathered around Lloyd’s bed, including Maggie, whose face was so bruised and swollen that she looked like she should have been in a hospital bed as well. But as Ingrid had learned long ago, it took more than a black eye and a torn lip to knock Maggie Bird off her feet. Maggie was tougher than that. So are we all, thought Ingrid.

Even Lloyd, who looked surprisingly chipper this morning, propped up in bed, his empty breakfast tray in front of him.