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With each step in the process, she tried not to think about anything but the task at hand. Still, Chris came to mind as she remembered the feel of his hands as she rubbed moisturizer into her skin. His lips on her neck as she stood in the window of his hotel room.
It shouldn’t hurt so much so quickly. It was just supposed to be a fun fling, and he’d certainly delivered on the fun.
Still, the idea that he of all people—the one person who’d witnessed both her decision at the start and her killing Bassam—could doubt her, was an unimaginable blow.
She pulled on a thick, soft robe and left her bathroom. Instead of getting ready for bed, she went to the kitchen and poured herself a glass of wine, grabbed her laptop, then ferried the items to the low table on her balcony. The night was cold and cloudless, but the night sky was muted by light pollution from the city.
She sat on the padded bench and turned on the propane fire bowl and wrapped herself in a thick wool blanket.
She really should get an electric blanket for nights like this. She grabbed her laptop and opened a browser, but before she could begin online shopping, she forced herself to check her inbox, braced for the worst. The university in Amman continued to have questions, but she couldn’t give them all the answers they wanted. Couldn’t tell them about her work for FMV, nor could she share that Fahd had given her coordinates to endangered sites—after all, not even the university knew about his covert work there.
They didn’t know she’d identified Rafiq. All they knew was that she’d given up a protected site’s location and looted it. She’d never work for the university again. She’d likely never be permitted to excavate in Jordan again.
Given that there was a terrorist cell gunning for her, she’d never be able to return to that part of the world.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Using a cane to prevent her from putting her full weight on her injured foot, Diana stepped outside onto the busy city sidewalk. Her first outing in the new walking boot. Baby steps at last.
She remembered this part of recovery, although it had taken longer to get to this point the second time around. She was just grateful the repair had been possible. In the first days after her rescue, there was talk again of her foot being amputated. But they’d opted to do the surgery first and see if the wounds would repair a second time. She’d likely need more surgeries in the future and might need some bones fused. She would never have full range of motion again, but she hadn’t regained it after the car accident anyway.
She might still lose her foot, but for now, she was glad they’d tried this option first as she’d healed better than expected so far. She’d still need the crutches if she was going to walk a great distance, but boot and cane would see her through light activity.
Stairs would be easier, at least.
Traffic on Wisconsin Avenue was always heavy, and this gray Friday morning was no exception. She looked for a place to sit out of the wind so she could check her messages. She could have done the task inside the medical center, but she couldn’t stand hospital waiting rooms and had no desire to add a respiratory illness to her list of ailments.
A low concrete wall enclosed a patch of dirt forming a garden of bare trees and low shrubs. She settled on the cold concrete and pulled out her phone. One thing she’d learned during her first round in this rodeo was walking and checking her phone was impossible. It was dangerous for people with two good ankles, but a distraction for her could be deadly.
Her text messages were minimal. Morgan checked in, thanking her for coming to the party, and she wanted to make sure she’d gotten safely home. There was probably a question about Chris in that, but they hadn’t been friends long enough for this to be comfortable territory.
In the months that they’d known each other before Diana went to Jordan, she’d been too deep in grief and never considered dating. Hell, she still hadn’t really considered dating. She’d gone to the bar with thoughts of indulging in a one-night stand.
Then, the man who picked her up was Chris, and for a brief moment, dating might have looked like a possibility.
He’d been perfect. Her body wanted attention after so much heartache, pain, and fear. And Chris had delivered exactly what she’d craved. She should have left before he had a chance to ruin it.
She’d spent most of her night brooding over his words and asking herself if her response to his question had been reasonable. Still, how did he not get what was at stake for her? He knew what she’d risked, which made his doubt all the more crushing.
It was no idle thing for her to have named Makram Rafiq as the man in charge of the operation. She’d risked everything—her reputation, her career, and most importantly, her life—because Rafiq was a dangerous kingpin in the artifact trafficking and terrorist world.
A chunk was taken from her soul every time someone said Rafiq only existed in her head like a boogeyman. She’d have expected Chris—who’d witnessed part of what she’d gone through—to understand.
She hadn’t made Rafiq up. She’d seen him. Spoken with him. Destroyed a site for him.
Thinking of Chris stirred up too many emotions, causing a tear to escape. Dammit, what happened to her cold certainty and calm control?
But she knew. It had been shattered the moment she was told she hadn’t seen Jamal in the hospital. The moment they began chipping away at her memories. She’d lost her ability to compartmentalize and feared she’d never get it back.
She sent Morgan a quick thumbs-up emoji to the question of whether she’d gotten home okay, then switched to the email app.
She never accessed the email account she’d typed into the camera’s memory in Aqaba on her phone. The moment she realized the Intelligence Community was invested in keeping the lie that Rafiq was dead, she knew that if they got access to her email account and the photos landed in her inbox, they might make them disappear.
She’d checked a half dozen times in the last week, and so far, she’d received no photos from the past. It had been twenty-four hours since her last check. She made a mental reminder to check again when she got home this afternoon.
She now read a message from Salim’s mom, inviting her to visit his family’s home in Upstate New York. Her heart squeezed.
Diana’s abduction had been kept under wraps by the State Department, so as far as Salim’s family knew, her work in Jordan had been extended by several weeks following the death of Dr. Fahd Yousef.
