All Due Respect (9 page)

He nodded. “That works for me.” He turned to his computer, booted up, and keyed in a request. In short order, a list began printing. “I take it you’d prefer this not to come to Colonel Pullman’s attention.”

The lab commander. “With all due respect, sir, I’d prefer to keep it a private matter, between us.”

Mason pursed his lips. “Is he still at that high-level WIND symposium in Switzerland?”

She didn’t have to scan her memory through the military’s many acronyms to translate WIND. Weapons of mass destruction were all too familiar to her. “Yes, he is.”

“Sounds intensive.”

“I’m sure it is, sir.” Her heart rate ratcheted. Maybe, just maybe, Mason would go along with her request.

The list finished printing. He retrieved the pages from the printer’s tray and then passed them to her. “I’m a little reluctant to divert a man’s focus when it’s on something as important as WMDs, so this’ll be staying between us. At least for now.”

Julia took the list but didn’t look at it, or show her relief that he had agreed to keep the gutless wonder, Pullman, out of the loop. She stood up and shook Mason’s hand and, because he had just placed an inordinate amount of trust in her, she smiled. “Thank you, Colonel.”

“You’re welcome, Doc. It was worth the laugh.” He smiled back. “People have you pegged as serious, but they’re wrong.”

“Are they?” Seemed right as rain in her book. She was damn serious.

“You’ve got a wicked sense of humor.”

“Thanks,” she said, then thought better of it. “I think.”

He laughed again, and she left his office.

Near the transporter, she stepped to the side of the corridor and checked the list, scanning for first-switch access. As expected, all four people Seth had named had opportunity. Now, she held evidence proving it.

Scanning the list again, she checked for sign-outs during the twenty-minute time span the thief had to get the codes out of the building and pull the second switch, giving Seth back his badge.

Linda had signed out for the day at 1020—before the theft. Cracker hadn’t left the inner lab until after four. When a lockdown could occur at any moment, it seemed highly unlikely that he would sit on the codes inside the lab for five hours. If caught with the codes, Cracker would be arrested for treason. The man was a genius not an idiot.

Cracker and Linda were innocent.

But both Dempsey Morse and Marcus had signed out during the twenty minutes in question, had had the oppor

tunity to pull both ends of the badge switch, and had had the opportunity to get the codes out of the building before a possible lockdown.

Both had had opportunity and means, yes. But what about motive?

ANTONIO’S restaurant was enjoying a quiet night. A fire roared in the dining room’s grate, but no motive revealed itself in the flames, or in Julia’s records search that day.

She ordered herself to let go of some tension before her head or arm flared up again, and stared into the fire.

“You okay?” Seth asked.

“Frustrated.” She looked across the table at him, knowing she didn’t need to explain. She had filled Seth in first thing that morning. They both had been in motive search mode ever since.

“You’ve looked peaked all day.” He glanced at her plate. “Let go, and enjoy your dinner.”

She nodded, grateful for the short reprieve. And it would be short. Seth’s personal questions for her were inevitable; she knew it. Yet, she still had no idea how to answer them.

Over the years, he had looked at her in many ways. With amusement, pride, disappointment, doubt, and once, she’d thought, with longing, though that had to have been a trick of the light. Name an emotion, and at some time or another Seth likely had focused it on her—with two exceptions: hatred and pity. If she had to choose one of them, she’d choose hatred. Pity appalled her.

She had moved mountains, suffered month after month of agony alone, to make sure she never saw it. All of that suffering couldn’t have been for nothing. She had to have endured it for something. Pity. She hated even the sound of the word. Even the look of it, when written down on a page. She had refused to feel it for herself, for Karl, for the loss of her beloved work; refused by sheer will and determination. She had kept her secrets. Hid them, at times, even from herself. And she had to go on hiding them. Especially from Seth. His opinion shouldn’t matter that much, but it

did. He respected her. He always had, and she would not lose that. She had so little left to lose.

“You’re still not eating.” Seth’s jacket cuff brushed against the edge of the white linen tablecloth. “Don’t you like the food?”

A passing waiter’s eyebrows shot up. If not stressed to the max, Julia would have smiled. Antonio’s-was Grayton’s finest for Italian dining, a four-star restaurant, which was saying something, considering its location. And the linguine and white clam sauce tasted as delicious as it smelled; the best she had ever eaten. “It’s outstanding.” She sipped at her iced tea.

The restaurant was nearly empty, the staff discreet. White columns ran ceiling to floor, their bases covered in thick ivy. Positioned between the tables, they gave diners the illusion of privacy but not of seclusion. Julia liked the feel—and being seated facing the entrance.

Seth definitely hadn’t forgotten.

She set her glass back to the pristine tablecloth. “Go ahead, Seth.”

He paused, his fork in midair. “What?”

Julia resisted a smile, though only heaven knew why she felt the urge, knowing what was coming. “You’ve had that I-have-a-thousand-questions look on your face all day.” She dabbed at her chin with her napkin. “Go ahead and ask them.”

“Okay.” He took a drink of water from his glass. When he set it down, a chip of ice slid down the outside of it, spotting the cloth. “Why did you do it?”

She dredged up a wry grin. “Could you be a little more specific?”

“Why did you leave without telling me you were going?”

“It wasn’t personal, Seth. Don’t think for a second it was. I told you, I had no choice.”

“We were coworkers, but I thought we were also friends.” He snagged a sesame roll from the bread basket and ripped it in two. “Damn it, Julia. What we had was

more than friendship. We were … I don’t know. Connected. We were connected. You could have called, dropped me a postcard—something to let me know you were alive.”

While she had drawn strength from his laughter, he had worried that she’d been dead. Unnerved by how close he had come to being right, she reached for her water glass. “I’m sorry. I didn’t realize it would bother you so much.” True, she hadn’t, yet honesty forced her to add, “But even if I had known, I wouldn’t have been able to contact you.” Feeling an overwhelming need to touch him, she placed her hand over his, atop the table. “I am sorry, Seth.”

His fingertips trembled. “Why couldn’t you contact me?”

Because I was unconscious in the hospital. Because for six months and twenty-seven days I had to go to physical therapy to regain the use of my left arm. Because I learned firsthand the true meaning of man’s inhumanity to man, and I didn’t want to see or talk to anyone—least of all, a man.

Her hand shook. Hard. She pulled it back and hid them both under the table, out of sight. Fighting a tremor in her voice, she managed to get out the truth. “It was impossible for me to contact anyone.”

He stilled, his eyes alert and searching. “Why?”

She squeezed her fists until her nails bit into her palms. Vintage male. Why did he have to push? Why couldn’t he just accept what she had given him?

Resentment gushed up from that secret place where she kept strong emotions buried. She knew the costs of letting them loose. Dissatisfaction, depression, despair. Migraines and muscle spasms. Pain. A price too high to pay. “Isn’t knowing I couldn’t contact you enough?”

Considering it, Seth took two bites of his lasagna and then changed the topic, asking a question of his own. “How does Karl feel about your coming here?”

Definitely suspicious about Karl. “Fine.” Another lie. God help her, she was burying herself in half-truths and lies. “Why do you ask?”

A waiter refilled their glasses. In the silence, the fire hissed and crackled and spat out sparks, as if it too knew she’d been dishonest and protested.

“Because you’ve changed your name.”

How much did Seth know? How much did he suspect? Julia’s throat went dry. Maybe the OSI or Intel hadn’t told him the whole sordid story. Or maybe they had and Seth wanted her to admit it. That, she refused to do. She had been humiliated enough in this ordeal. “Yes, I changed my name.” She lifted her gaze to his, hoping he wouldn’t dare to push her on this.

Seth pushed. “Why?”

“It’s less cumbersome.”

He took a slow sip of wine, watching her over the rim of his glass. She was as outwardly reactive as an ace poker player. The woman had learned well. But she was hiding something; that was evident. And it was something significant or she wouldn’t feel so threatened by his questions. He recognized threatened when he saw it, and she was hanging on to the cliff’s edge by her fingernails, fearing the truth coming out, and fearing him.

He hated that. Hated anyone fearing him, but especially Julia.

This was a new experience between them. One he hoped to get rid of and never see again. “So why not Dr. Julia Hyde? Why Warner?”

She rolled her gaze. “It was a personal choice, Seth. Not a decision affecting the Second Coming.” She stiffened in her seat. “Look, working in the zone with a name like Dr. Hyde isn’t going to encourage anyone to take me seriously. I’m heading an innovative and very-important-to-your career project that’s vital to the country, and it’s careening toward crisis mode. I need serious authority and credibility.”

Fat chance. He knew her. And she never had given a tinker’s damn what anyone else thought. Respect for her work. Certainty that a project would help preserve peace and prevent war. That’s what mattered to Julia. Yet maybe

she had thought she would gain more respect as Dr. Warner than Dr. Hyde. Not impossible—especially with her working in the zone. But he wasn’t sucker enough to believe that was the whole truth. “Remnants of Jekyll and Hyde?”

She blinked hard, then let out a stumbling, “Yes.”

A lie. But he’d let her have it. Whatever was going on with her and her husband would surface soon enough. Yet there was something he couldn’t let slide until she chose to enlighten him. A matter on which he couldn’t accept half truths or scapegoat answers.

He sighed, dropped his napkin to his plate, and then pulled an envelope out of his jacket’s inner pocket. “You haven’t wanted to explain much. I’m not trying to be an intrusive pig, just letting you know I’m not obtuse. While I respect your privacy, I’m going to have to insist you explain this.” He passed the envelope.

Julia stared at the gray envelope as if it had been contaminated with anthrax and touching it would be lethal. “What is it?”

“It’s a bill for your cell phone.” Seth hated her sounding afraid, but he had to force this issue. “It was forwarded to the office from your home in Grace.”

Julia squeezed her eyes shut. “I didn’t have the apartment address yet.” She took the envelope. “I’ll file a change of address with the company first thing in the morning.”

“That isn’t the problem.” Seth watched her closely. She sounded calm, but looked on the verge of hysterics.

“What is the problem?”

She knew exactly. She was stalling him, grasping for time to concoct a plausible answer. Knowing it put a sharp bite in his tone. “The problem is, this bill is in my name.”

JULIA couldn’t hold Seth’s gaze.

She tried, but she just couldn’t do it. Now, she understood why the bill had been delivered to him at the office and why he had opened it.

God, when filing her forwarding address with the post office, why hadn’t she thought of that? Why?

“Well, Julia?” Seth riveted her with an uncompromising gaze.

She stared at a column beyond his left shoulder. “I need the phone for emergencies.”

“I don’t care why you have the phone. I want to know why it’s in my name.”

Tears she refused to cry blurred her vision. Damn it, why had he had to find out? In this whole, lousy, drawn-out mess, couldn’t she get even one break? Just one lousy break?

She finally managed to look at him. “Because I didn’t want anyone to be able to trace the number to me.”

Seth’s eyes narrowed and his square jaw clenched. That response he clearly hadn’t expected, but uncompromising still seemed etched in his face. He would demand answers.

“Who are you hiding from?” A frown creased his brow. “How long have you been using my name? And how else are you using it?”

Because the last two questions were less complex than

the first, Julia answered them. “Only for the cell phone. And I’ve been using it for about three years.”

“Since you left?”

“Actually, no. Several months later.” After she had gotten out of the hospital.

“Talk to me, Julia.” Seth lifted his glass. The fire’s flames reflected in it. “I want to understand.”

She risked making eye contact. “I needed the protection. I’ve never been late paying the bills. Never. And no one— except for Jeff—has the number. No one else ever has had it.”

She sounded desperate, near panic, and she felt worse. Even in the cool restaurant, her whole body felt clammy and the spicy smells of the food had grown overpowering. She was barely holding down the bites she’d managed to swallow.

Seth stared at her, long and hard. “You should have asked first, Julia.”

His dark expression hadn’t lightened, but something gentle flickered in his eyes. An understanding of sorts, or maybe acceptance. Not forgiveness yet, but not the black thunder kind of hell-raising she had been expecting and dreading since she had put the phone in his name. “I couldn’t ask.” She let him see the truth in her eyes, pleaded for understanding. “You would have insisted on knowing why, and I…” Her voice trailed off. Some things just couldn’t be explained.

“You what?” he asked. “You didn’t want to tell me? Couldn’t tell me?” He shoved his plate aside, clearly upset. “What you’re saying is, we’ve depended on each other in the lab for years but, outside it, you can’t trust me with the truth.”