Reality clouded with her memories of the past as she glanced up and saw him standing over her. She almost forgot they’d spent the last eleven years apart.
“What?” The reason they were there sank back in and Grace sat up. “What is it?”
“We have to go now.” His tone was serene, but it failed to screen the urgency of his words.
He wasted no time, scooped her into his arms and moved her swiftly outside to the car.
Through sleep-deprived eyes, she witnessed a distorted view of Marcus scrambling behind them. Then, as the picture began to clear, he moved like a perfectly choreographed dance around Grace and Eric and opened the front passenger car door.
Eric deposited her inside the front seat with a thud and she hoped it wasn’t on purpose. Fueled by resentment, she tracked his swift, sprinting movement around the car and eyed him as he slid in behind the wheel.
The sound of the backdoor closing intermingled with the roar of a revving engine, and the smell of gasoline filled the air.
“Leave the headlights off.” Marcus’s hand rested between Grace and Eric on the seat’s back. “Until we’re well out and onto the highway.”
“Why?” Grace asked, as Eric shifted the car into drive and hit the gas.
“If anybody’s watching, they’d better have night vision if they want to see us leave.”
Grace looked over her shoulder and saw two distinct and different guns on the seat beside Marcus. One, an automatic handgun. The other a sawed-off shotgun.
They almost made her forget what he’d said, about someone following them. Almost. But the two were kind of tied together—actually, handcuffed was more like it. After everything that’d happened, beginning with receiving those weird records on her father, why wouldn’t she think or expect that someone would be tailing her?
A lot of scenarios were running through her mind, too many in fact. At this point, she wasn’t ready or willing to consider most of them, especially the ones where her father was involved in the cover-up.
Maybe Marcus, and even Eric, was willing to consider it, but Grace wasn’t buying it for a second.
By the time they reached the highway, Grace was fully awake, and more viable questions were filling her head.
“I have a question,” she said, to no one in particular. “Where are we going? And why are we in such a hurry?”
“That’s two questions,” Eric said in a jesting way.
Grace cut her eyes at him. Her reaction seemed to amuse Eric.
“We’re going to see a...” Marcus’s words trailed off, like he was trying to decide his connection with whoever, whatever, or wherever they were headed. “...A friend of mine.”
CHAPTER 11
ERIC tilted his head up and looked in the rearview mirror. “Anybody I know?” he asked, his tone dripping with curiosity.
Grace shifted sideways, as much as her seatbelt allowed, and looked at Marcus.
“Cherilyn.” Just as the name rolled off his tongue, a sad sort of faraway guise passed across Marcus’s eyes.
“Ah-ha!” Eric taunted him. “The infamous Cherilyn.”
Eric didn’t know a whole lot about Cherilyn. Just bits and pieces of maybe a half a dozen conversations he’d had with Marcus.
If it hadn’t been for Tracy Kelley, Eric might have never heard Cherilyn’s name, much less anything about her.
Tracy Kelley. Now there was blast from the past. Even before Cherry Point and Gracie. Tracy had been Marcus’s lesson on ‘
never lead a girl on when you’re not serious
.’ Hell, even Eric had learned a lesson with that one.
She had thought marriage—to Marcus—was in the cards. And all because they’d slept together a few times. Well, actually, it was more like a few months. But Marcus hadn’t realized so much time had passed until it was too late.
“
What can I say
?” he’d told Eric. She was good, and he’d enjoyed their trysts.
To Tracy, they were an item. To Marcus, she was a great piece of ass.
That’s when Marcus revealed to Eric that he was already married—to a woman he’d met several years before when they were both stationed in Florida. She too was an officer in the Marine Corps.
Eric was shocked, to say the least. He’d never, in a million years, ever thought that Marcus could have a wife tucked away somewhere. But, undoubtedly this news had been the straw that finally broke the camel’s back for Tracy.
Marcus had later told Eric that he’d hoped by telling Tracy about Cherilyn, she’d decide, since he was married, that he wasn’t all that great after all.
When Tracy figured out Marcus wasn’t hearing wedding bells, she was devastated and fell into a deeply distraught state of mind. Eric had always thought that what she really wanted to do was grab Marcus’ attention. Shake him up a bit. Make him see the error of his ways. Eric didn’t believe she’d truly intended to kill herself when she took that bottle of pills. Nevertheless, that was the end result.
After that, Marcus nailed them once and moved on. Love ‘em and leave ‘em fast. That became his motto.
“Might she be an old girlfriend?” Grace’s inquiring tone dragged Eric’s thoughts back to the present.
I guess that’s one way to put it
. Eric managed to contain the comment to just a thought.
“Well, if she is,” Grace said with a measure of reservation, “I hope you left on good terms.”
Unable to contain his amusement, the way he had his thoughts, Eric threw back his head and laughed out loud.
“Very funny,” Marcus’s muddled voice traveled up to the front seat.
“How long’s it been since you saw her last?” Eric asked.
“Hell...” Marcus’s voice trailed off as he took the time to think it over, “Must be, damn near twenty years now.”
“Twenty years!” Grace exclaimed, looking over her shoulder. “What makes you think she’s even going to remember who you are?”
“Gracie...” Marcus grabbed his chest playfully. “You cut me to the core.”
A
few hours into the drive, Grace had talked Eric into stopping for a bite to eat. He pulled off the highway into a parking lot of a nearly-deserted diner that looked like a throw-back from the fifties. Gravel crunched beneath the vehicle’s tires as it rolled to a stop at the front door.
He cut the engine and car doors opened as he, Grace and Marcus exited into the chill of a cool spring morning. Advertisements lined the windows in bright blues, pinks and green neon, hawking a wide variety of beer.
Eric followed her up the front steps and reached around Grace, opening the door for her. Inside, he directed her toward the nearest empty booth. To him, it was more comfortable than sitting at a table with chairs, and it also provided more privacy while eating. A definite advantage. Eric valued privacy above all else.
Grace slipped in beside Eric, leaving the opposite bench for Marcus who remained standing.
“Order me some coffee, would you?” Marcus said to no one in particular, then spun around and strolled away.
Grace watched him go, and once Marcus was out of earshot range her gaze drifted to Eric. “What’s up with this Cherilyn anyway?”
Eric remained quiet, feeling no urgent need to answer her question. He wasn’t comfortable discussing Marcus’s personal life with anyone, not even Grace. Doing so was like betraying a confidence, and Eric didn’t approve of betrayal in any shape, form, or fashion.
Grace, as if sensing Eric’s hesitance, returned her attention to Marcus who’d made it across the empty, open expanse of the restaurant’s dining area. Finally, he disappeared under a sign that read, “Rest Rooms”.
“How does she fit into all this anyway?” Slowly, Grace’s gaze traveled back to Eric. “Do you think she can really help?”
“Well, Marcus does. Or we wouldn’t be headed in her direction.” Eric crowded the wall, wanting more space between him and Grace than sitting beside her afforded.
“Why?” She gave him a pointed look. “She one of Marcus’s many conquests?”
Eric laughed. “Many conquests?” He snatched a couple of laminated menus off the rack at the edge of the table and handed one to Grace.
“Oh, you have such a selective memory.” Her words snapped under her exceedingly chillier tone. She looked at the menu, but he had a hunch she wasn’t reading it. “You going to try and tell me that Marcus wasn’t on a mission to accommodate every single woman, and some married ones too, when you and I were together?”
Easy to see where this was going—in a direction Eric wanted to avoid. And for as much as he didn’t want to be the one to reveal certain aspects of Marcus’s past, Eric was going to have to give her a little something to get her to lay off. Otherwise, the whole damned thing could get out of hand. Quickly.
“Cherilyn is white.” Eric’s voice remained remarkably calm considering he was partaking in something he’d call gossip. “And apparently they were hassled quite a bit because of it.” He shrugged, not to dismiss their plight, but to expel his own sense of betrayal. “I believe that she thought she was hurting Marcus by being with him. So, one day, she up and left.”
Eric wished he had a cup of coffee or something to focus on, besides the uncomfortable feeling the subject caused. The last thing he wanted was to give Grace the impression that he was still hurting over their breakup, much less the way it happened.
“Oh, wow.” For a second, he thought she might laugh, but then her tone grew somber. Maybe, for once, she’d thought about someone else and realized just how devastating that must have been for Marcus. “That sucks,” she added poignantly.
Tell me about it
. Finally, maybe she’d catch a glimpse of the end of their own relationship—from Eric’s point of view.
“At least she told him she was leaving.” He tried to send her an icy glare, wrapped in the hope that it might impose half as much pain on her as she’d inflicted upon him. “And why.”
Eric wasn’t sure which was worse. Anger or hurt. At this point, it was hard to tell the difference.
The waitress appeared, just in time to help stop the hurt from cutting a little deeper. “Morning.” She gave them a smile big enough to welcome both Eric and Grace. “What can I get you folks?”
Eric rattled off a request for two coffees. One for himself and one for Marcus. He thought about ordering hot tea for Grace, but didn’t want to assume she still favored the coffee alternative.
“Can I get a hot tea?” Her request didn’t surprise him, even though he’d steered away from making assumptions. “And, can we get a few more minutes before we place our orders?” she asked, looking at the waitress. “We want to wait until our friend returns from the restroom.”
“Sure thing.” The waitress’s wink fell upon Eric.
Grace jabbed him in the side and her laughter sputtered out behind a snort.
Great. She was amused by another woman’s attempt to flirt with him. Not exactly a huge ego boost.
He welcomed the sight of Marcus returning to the booth. Good. Maybe now the conversation would head in another direction. If Eric was lucky. He wasn’t counting on it though. So far, his retirement was a bust.
Marcus slid across the empty bench opposite Eric and Grace. The waitress returned with a pot of black coffee and filled two cups. One for him, and one for Eric.
Coffee. Good. Boy, he sure needed it. The stronger, the better. Course, he doubted any amount of coffee would do the trick when it came to cutting the edge on his anxiety.
The waitress placed a teapot on the table near Grace and waited to see if they were ready to order. “I’ll have a Sammy’s Slam,” Grace said and pushed the menu toward Eric.
“Make that two.” Eric held up two fingers on one hand.
If Sammy’s Slam was good enough for them, it’d work for Marcus. “Three,” he said, and slid his menu across the table toward Eric.
Eric scooped up the laminated leaflet, stacked them with a few taps against the table and returned them to their spot on the rack.
Grace grabbed a couple of sugar packets and ripped them open. “So, Marcus,” she said, dumping the contents into her steaming tea, “you think your friend can help us?”
“Yes,” he said half-heartedly. He wasn’t altogether sure of that, but he had to believe it. “I think she can.”
“You think she’ll know something about this mysteriously classified department of the government that you’re so convinced exists?” Eric spoke up, his tone harboring skepticism.
“I think there’s a possibility that she may at least be able to point us in the right direction.” Marcus tried to play it cool by concentrating on his coffee, stirring it to cool it off.
“Why would she?” Grace asked, as if it was a ridiculous notion. After a second or two, a light bulb seemed to go off inside her head and she made the following connection. “Unless you think she’s part of this organization?”
“I’ve heard rumors,” he confessed, “more than once.” Marcus probably shouldn’t have said that but he couldn’t expect them to follow his unsubstantiated whims across the country without foundation or reason.
Even he hadn’t decided whether or not he believed the rumors. But he’d heard them, one after the other. Gossip about what Cherilyn had gotten herself mixed up in after she left him. The reports had read like a fantastic plot in some military thriller, and he’d initially dismissed them as bogus. But now, for the first time, he had a concrete reason to seriously consider their validity.
These latest developments also gave him solid ground to contact her, and in the process he could find out how she was doing. He longed to see her. Just to know that she was okay. But more importantly, it provided him the means to save face if it turned out she’d moved on and remarried, while he hadn’t.
The waitress appeared with three plates of steaming hot Sammy Slams, saving Marcus from his own self-destruction. When he and Cherilyn married, he’d thought the world had changed, evolved. Learning differently had been a tough lesson.
Grabbing his fork, he gave Grace a little wink and poked at his food. An effective ploy to steer his thoughts away from the things he could not control, the things he could not change.
It didn’t pay to wallow in remorse over the failure of his marriage to a white woman. Still, the experience had taught him that the world the government had allowed everyday citizens, like himself, to see was not the world in which those everyday citizens actually lived.
While there was a fine line between reality and faux-reality, and now that he, Grace, and Eric had stumbled upon it...what kind of consequences would they suffer?