Butterfly Ops

by Jen Doyle

  Ian surveyed the mess. “Should’ve changed into civvies before we came.” Then, to Lyndsey’s complete surprise, he started to unbutton his uniform jacket. Matt and Sprague did the same, draping their tops over the kitchen chairs.

  Lyndsey watched them go to work scraping food and washing dishes. “Are the t-shirts regulation, too?” she asked as Ian began pulling things out of the cabinet. By the way, if they were? Good move. The bright white showed off Ian’s tan, Matt and Sprague’s darker skin, and every muscle known to man. Uncle Sam knew what he was doing.

  Ian smiled as he looked over at her. He held up a couple of cans of tomato sauce. “Never fails. We tend to have a lot of spaghetti dinners.”

  Spaghetti Lyndsey could do. She hunted around for an apron, a knife and some garlic, and started chopping.

  By the time Annika came in, freshly showered and changed, the counters were clean, the water was boiling and tomato sauce was simmering. “Oh.” She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. “That smells so good. I haven’t…” She didn’t finish her sentence, but instead went to a cupboard for dishes.

  Lyndsey was amazed at how much the simple act of setting a table and pouring wine put the woman at ease. And, once dinner was on the table, at how subtly Ian and Matt guided the conversation to innocuous topics on which everyone could comment. Though their style was completely different from Zach and Tommy’s, it was just as effective.

  “Thank you,” Annika said, finishing off her second plate of pasta and pushing it aside. “I didn’t realize how hungry I was.” She got up to get another bottle of wine. After refilling everyone’s glass, she turned to Ian. “I guess you want to talk about what happened.”

  He nodded.

  “If we go in the living room, will you clean that up, too?” She smiled and led them into the other room, clearing some newspapers off the couches and chairs and dropping them on the floor. As everyone sat, she bent down to pick a photo album off the floor. “Daniel gave me that. The first few pictures are from the night we got engaged. It was supposed to be the prequel to the wedding album.” She put it on the coffee table in front of Ian.

  Ian glanced at a few pages before putting it back down and turning to Annika. “Why did you go to Quetico?”

  Annika sat on the edge of one of the couches. “To spread his wife’s ashes.” She looked down, a couple of tears breaking through. “I know. Bringing your fiancée to spread your wife’s ashes. Really dumb. Or incredibly insensitive. Either way, it sounds weird.”

  “No, it doesn’t,” Ian said quietly. After a respectful pause, he added, “Is that why he went off alone?”

  Nodding, Annika answered, “He said he’d be back in a couple of hours.”

  “How long was it before you reported him missing?” Matt asked.

  She wiped her eyes. “The next day. I would have stayed in the camp longer, but we’d already been there a week and there wasn’t much food left. Dan could have caught fish or figured something else out.” She shrugged. “I’m pretty useless in that respect.”

  Ian’s turn for a question: “Do you remember where the camp was?”

  The woman nodded. “The tent is still there with some supplies in it. In case Dan…” She caught her breath and looked Ian square in the eye. “He’s dead, isn’t he?”

  The flash of pain hit Ian’s eyes again. “I think that’s something you need to prepare for.”

  The trickling tears became a downpour, and Annika covered her face with her hands. It took her a few minutes before she could speak again. “The police said there were others…”

  Ian had moved next to her as she was crying, his arm going around her shoulders as she leaned in against him. Though he let go of her as soon as she regained her composure, the intimacy remained. “We’re trying to find some kind of pattern,” he said. “See if we can figure out why this is happening.” He looked down at his hands. “I’m sorry. I know this is the last thing you want to do.”

  Annika took a deep breath and then sat back in her chair. “Ask whatever you want. I’ll try and answer.”

  They went over the day her fiancé disappeared from the moment they woke up—“the most beautiful sunrise I’ve ever seen”—to the minute she reported him missing. Going over the details time and again didn’t seem to yield anything new. Nothing sounded unusual. And she said she’d been so out of it during the interview at the police station that she didn’t even remember the conversation had been taped, much less the machine being turned off and then on again.

  Right before they left, Ian wrote his cell phone number on his business card and handed it to Annika. “We’ll be in town for a couple more days, but you can always reach me here. Just in case anything comes to you. And, you know, if you need to talk…”

  Her hand trembling, Annika took the card. “Thank you. For everything—dinner, maid service. Making me smile.” Her voice broke. “I think it will be awhile until I laugh again.”

  Ian reached out for her shoulder. “You’ll get through this. I promise you. It’s gonna suck for a while, but you will get through.” She nodded, her hands going to her eyes and knees giving way as her tears turned to sobs. Ian caught her as she fell and held on.

  Lyndsey had seen enough loss to know this was exactly what Annika needed: a shred of hope. Some reassurance she’d be able to survive this. As Lyndsey got back into the car, she overheard Annika stop crying and say, “I’m sorry. Twice in one day. I don’t usually…”

  Ian smiled. “Don’t worry. This uniform has taken a lot of tears.” He turned to go down the porch steps; stopped and turned back when she spoke again.

  “You remind me of him.” She wiped her eyes. “I feel like I just hugged him good-bye.” She bent down to pick up some of the empty bottles off the porch floor. “Good night.” She went in the house and closed the door behind her.

  Yep. This sucked as much as Lyndsey had expected it to.

  When Ian joined the rest of them in the car, Lyndsey asked, “You okay?”

  “Yeah.” But this time he took the hand she offered. He looked out the window as Matt pulled away.

  8

  Just like during the ride to Annika Willett’s house, Ian was quiet on the way back. Matt and Sprague didn’t seem in the least bit concerned; instead, they started talking baseball as if everything were all hunky dorey. Matt did adjust the rear view mirror just enough for him to be able to see Ian in an occasional glance into the backseat, but otherwise it was just like any other day.

  Lyndsey, on the other hand, was at a complete loss. She wasn’t good at this girlfriend…ish thing. Was she supposed to be solicitous? Give him his space? Go out and pound on a punching bag or two? No freaking clue. “So what happens next?”

  This time Matt’s glance via the rear view mirror went to her. “We head back to the hotel, prep for tomorrow’s meeting with the police.”

  That made sense. Except, “Don’t we have to find a hotel?” As far as she was aware, their having to stay overnight was as much a surprise to Ian, Matt, and Sprague as it was to her.

  But Matt just replied, “Already taken care of.” Maybe that’s what he’d been texting about from the meeting.

  Awesome, although what that meant, Lyndsey wasn’t entirely sure. Was she sharing with Ian? Did she have her own room? Would the punching bag be supplied? Deciding to just go with the flow, Lyndsey pulled out her phone, her intention being to play a game or two. As she did so, however, she saw that she’d gotten a text. “Tommy said there are more files, mostly from the police department. Monica’s sending them over to the hotel tonight.”

  Matt looked back in the mirror at Lyndsey. “So he was able to mend the necessary fences?”

  “Apparently,” Lyndsey answered. “He’s good that way.”

  With a laugh, Matt returned his gaze to the road. “I’ll bet.”

  Ten minutes later they pulled up to the hotel, the same one she’d stayed at with Ian the week before. Deciding to hold off on finding about her hotel room status until Spr
ague was all set, she took a detour to the hotel’s convenience store as Ian, Matt, and Sprague went to the front desk. By the time she returned to the lobby with several magazines, a diet Coke and a bag of chips, Matt and Sprague had disappeared. Ian, who had been leaning against the wall and checking his phone, smiled as she approached. Which was good.

  The sadness in his eyes, however, wasn’t. She leaned against the wall as well. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

  “Yeah.” His hands went into his pockets. “I’m fine.”

  And Lyndsey was Queen Elizabeth. “So… Do you want to get a drink or something?”

  He didn’t answer right away, although a whole host of emotions seemed to flash through his eyes before he finally said, “I was thinking I might go for a walk.” He straightened up. “Want to come with?”

  Though, yes, he’d asked, it seemed kind of like an afterthought. And although she would have liked to spend the time with him, she did think that maybe it would be better for her to let him be for the moment. With a rueful smile, she pointed to her heels. “Not quite the best walking shoes. But you go ahead.”

  Not even so much as glancing down, he just stared at her with both relief and disappointment and for a moment she wanted nothing more than to throw her arms around him and cling; remind him that she was here now, and she could take all of his pain away. And yet she wasn’t entirely sure that’s what he needed at the moment. “I’m thinking that was a really hard conversation and maybe you need a little bit of time to work it through.” She stepped in closer, her hand going to his jaw as she drew him down to her. “And I’ll be waiting for you when you come back.”

  Again he was quiet as he looked down at her, his eyes unreadable. But then his hands went to her head and he pulled her into a kiss that left no question as to what they’d be doing when he returned—something she was all for. Letting go, he handed over an envelope with a key card. “Wendy got us the same room we were in last time. I won’t be too long.”

  Okay then. Roomies again. That was good.

  Lyndsey nodded and managed to give him a smile as he walked away. She was completely capable of handling this. Sure, most men she’d been with were, well, kind of shallow when it came down to it. They’d get pretty bummed when the stock market took a dip or if their team lost too many games in a row, but dealing with death and torn up lives wasn’t exactly part of the day to day. She had enough drama in her own life; other people’s had never interested her.

  With Ian, though, it was different. She wanted desperately to say something to make his smile—the one that didn’t have any sadness in it—come back. To do something to take his mind off whatever he was thinking about right now, whether it was Annika Willett or Abby. Willingly digging down to get back to that place wasn’t something Lyndsey could imagine was fun. When you had to dig so far down on a regular basis, how did you get back up?

  She headed up to their room as soon as he was out of sight, grateful someone had arranged for their bags to be there. This having-an-assistant thing was something she could get used to, no lie. As she dug through her backpack for something comfortable to change into, she thought about calling Zachary—it was the responsible thing to do. She had no interest in being yelled at right now, however, so instead, she texted Tommy. Are you busy right now?

  I don’t need to be, came the nearly immediate reply.

  Thank God. Because she was already done with paging through the magazines by the time he showed up ten minutes later.

  He cocked his head. “What’s up?”

  “Nothing.” She was just…out of sorts. The second she’d gotten to the room she wanted to head back out and find Ian to tell him she wasn’t quite ready to let him out of her sight. Which was a little too stalkerish for comfort.

  The truth was, however, she wasn’t used to not being able to help someone—to not just swooping in and playing the hero. And she really wasn’t used to not being the first person Ian thought about, because that’s how it had been the first time around and, well, she kind of missed the idea of being the only woman in his head. This was not a thought she was proud of given the day they’d just had.

  The good thing about Tommy? She didn’t have to be articulate; she didn’t even have to know what was running through her own head. He was usually able to put it together better than she could.

  “You’re not used to a guy turning you down,” he said, nodding knowingly.

  Lyndsey shot to her feet. What? “No.” She went over to tiny fridge to grab her Diet Coke. But she might have been a little bit more emphatic than necessary.

  “Okay,” said Tommy, stretching his legs out in front of him as he watched her. He put his arm along the back of the couch. “So maybe it’s more that you have no idea what to do about a guy who loved you so much he wanted to die when you left him—pretty much tried to on a daily basis for awhile—but now, when you’re fully ready and willing, he seems to have no problem walking away.”

  Damn it. She hated when Tommy did that. “I didn’t leave him.”

  Tommy’s snort indicated that, a) he knew way too much about what had happened back then—he’d clearly done his homework over the past couple of weeks, and, b) that although what she’d said about Ian being the one who left her was technically true, Tommy knew as much as she did it was a complete crock.

  “I just want to help him,” she finally said.

  “Do you?” Tommy asked. “Or do you want to prove to yourself that he loves you as much as he loves his wife?”

  Who was she talking to right now—Matt? She spun around. “That’s not fair.”

  He shrugged and gave her that damn grin. “I don’t seem to remember saying life was fair.” But he seemed to take pity on her as she came over and sat next to him. He put his arm around her and pulled her in to rest her head against his shoulder—all big brother, like, but not in the shady-government-agency-is-keeping-tabs-on-you creepy way. This way was all good. “Look… Just give him time. It hasn’t even been two whole weeks. He’s spinning right now. Guys like him don’t deal well with not being in control.”

  Lyndsey straightened up and glared. What the hell was that supposed to mean? “‘Guys like him?’”

  Not in the least bit fazed, Tommy answered, “Career Army. All rules and regulations and shit. Then a woman like you comes along and, well…” Tommy’s voice got a little gravelly—which happened when he was working extra hard at keeping his demon side at bay. Not that he had any deep-seated love for her or anything; he just happened to be more of a lover demon than a fighting one. “It’s hard to stay in control.”

  She smiled. That was much better. “You know, you’re not half-bad as a Tessa substitute.”

  Tommy frowned. “Awesome. An expert at girl-talk. Exactly the kind of thing every guy likes to hear.” And then proving that he was so not a Tessa substitute, he reached into his pocket and took out a deck of cards. “Strip poker?”

  “You wish,” Lyndsey muttered.

  They were well into their second round of gin rummy when Lyndsey finally heard someone outside the door. She jumped up. Opening it eagerly, her face fell when she saw it was Sprague. “Oh,” she said. “Hi.”

  Not at all offended, he laughed. “Hi. Matt said we should meet up here.”

  “Oh,” she said again. “Um, okay.”

  Sprague looked around the hotel room, noticing her dress flung over the back of a chair and the contents of her backpack strewn about, followed by Tommy sitting there looking very much at home. “I thought this was Ian’s room.”

  She couldn’t tell if that extra something in his voice was amusement at the state of the room or protectiveness on Ian’s behalf due to the man sitting on her couch. “Um…” She stepped aside so he could come in.

  With a glance at Tommy, Sprague turned to Lyndsey as he walked past her into the room. “You’re her, aren’t you?”

  With one last look into the empty hallway, she closed the door and turned to face him. “‘Her’?”

  As i
f it were obvious, he said, “The one before Abby. From Sausalito.”

  Lyndsey sank back against the door. “Um, yes. I guess so.” That couldn’t be good. Didn’t people have things to do their homework on that had nothing to do with her and Ian? Unless… With a sinking feeling, she asked, “You’ve been with Ian’s team for how long?”

  As if he knew exactly where she was going with this, he gave a bit too knowing of a smile. “I joined up with the team in Macedonia. Right around when Abby did.”

  Oh, God. That meant he was there for the dark times. Lyndsey wanted to thunk her head against the wall, but that would have made things even worse. And she was so glad she hadn’t done so when Sprague added, “We heard you were pretty talented.”

  Lyndsey could feel her cheeks turning red. “Talented?” She looked to Tommy for help and got none.

  “We heard how you and Mr. St. John held a pretty hard line back in the day.” Sprague sat down across from Tommy. “If we have to have someone from Monica’s side, I guess I’m glad it’s all of you.”

  “Oh,” she said yet again. Well, that was much better. “Thanks, I think. I don’t really consider us to be from Monica’s side, by the way.”

  There were a few moments of silence, making Lyndsey feel like she should be playing the role of host better. Or probing for details—after all, it seemed as though Sprague had been around for a while, maybe even when Abby was alive. There was probably a lot he knew about Ian that she didn’t. She wasn’t really in the mood to chat, though. Luckily, Tommy took up the handling of the small talk.

  Full of nervous energy, she started tidying up the room—better late than never, she supposed. She’d pretty much gathered up all her stuff by the time there was a knock on the door.

  Sprague’s, “That’s probably Matt,” was completely unnecessary since it was unlikely Ian would need to be let in. Still, she answered it, hoping he was wrong.

  He wasn’t.

  “Hi, Matt,” she said, looking over his shoulder.