The Strategist

by John Hardy Bell

  “Okay Doctor Leeds. What does your vast medical experience tell you the problem is?”

  Julia pondered for a moment. “Honestly, I think you’ve been scared to death.”

  “Of what?”

  “Coming back. Seeing me. Seeing your father. It’s been a really stressful time, and I think it finally caught up with you this morning.”

  Camille stopped walking.

  “Don’t get upset, Cam. I’m not saying that as a negative thing.”

  “But it is a negative thing.”

  “Given the circumstances, I’d say it’s perfectly understandable.”

  Camille’s grip tightened around the handle of her suitcase. In her heart of hearts she knew that Julia was right, but admitting so would open up a floodgate that she had fought tooth and nail to contain. “I’ve been scared of a lot of things lately, but seeing you definitely isn’t one of them.”

  “Okay,” Julia said with a nod. “Just know that I understand how you’re feeling. Probably more than you realize.”

  Camille relaxed her grip on the suitcase as they started walking again. “I know you do. That’s the only thing that makes this situation tolerable. It scares me more to think of how things would be if you weren’t here.”

  Julia’s face stiffened.

  “What’s the matter?” Camille asked, noticing her sudden change in demeanor.

  “Nothing,” she answered, her expression unchanged.

  “Are you sure?”

  Julia drew in a shallow breath as she stopped in front of a burgundy Range Rover. “Your chariot awaits.”

  Camille’s concern for Julia was quickly replaced with awe over her car. “I guess someone is doing quite well for themselves.”

  “The eighty-hour work week does have its privileges.” Julia opened the hatch and put both of Camille’s suitcases inside. “Memento?” she asked when she saw the duffle bag.

  Camille sighed as she took the bag off her shoulder and threw it in the car. “Just another piece of luggage.”

  The first few moments of the car ride were spent in silence. The dull gray sky had recently opened up, pounding the windshield with thick sheets of rain. Camille stared absently out the window as they passed green fields of empty earth. So far, nothing about this place felt familiar, and had it not been for Julia sitting in the driver’s seat next to her, Camille would have wondered if she had indeed landed on that alien planet twenty million light-years away.

  “I’m afraid it hasn’t changed much since you were last here,” Julia said as she kept her eyes focused on the wet road.

  “I’ve noticed.”

  “But that’s probably not a bad thing, right? You pretty much know what you get around here. Great skiing, a marginal nightlife, and a ton of people who will be over the moon to see you.”

  “Not to mention zero prospects for a job, an undersized bed in my father’s house, and a soul I seemed to have left somewhere on the east coast.”

  “Dramatic, are we?”

  “I’m not being dramatic. I’m simply seeing the situation for what it is.”

  “Look, I know what happened was horrible. But I’m not going to pretend that I’m unhappy you decided to come home. This is the best place for you right now. You need to be in a familiar environment with people who know and love you. And personally speaking, my life is going to be a hell of lot more bearable because you’re in it.”

  “That’s a big statement.”

  “It’s a true one, Camille. And I’m not the only one who feels that way. I don’t know if you want to hear this, but no one is crying over you right now. You want to know why?”

  Camille’s stomach tightened. “I’m not sure I do.”

  “Because you’re stronger than any of us even realize. No one is crying because if there is anyone on the planet who can go through all this heinous crap and eventually emerge on the other side of it a better person, it’s you. You’re down right now, we all know that. But you’re not staying down.”

  Camille rolled her eyes. “Man, I feel like I just walked into a Tony Robbins seminar.”

  “Screw you, I’m being serious. You dealt with stuff everyday that the average person only sees in movies. And you kept your head completely together through most of it. Everyone has their threshold, and you finally reached yours. That doesn’t make you a failure. It makes you just like everybody else. Frankly, I would be more worried if those things didn’t bother you.”

  “Yeah, but I wasn’t supposed to be like everybody else, Julia. I was supposed to be able to handle more.”

  “No one expected you to be super-human just because you carried a gun and an FBI badge. I know there was all this pressure because of who your dad is. But he of all people should understand what you’re going through. You don’t think in all the years he was out there that he never thought about quitting?”

  “So what if he thought about it, Julia. He never did it.”

  “You did the only thing you could do, Camille. There’s no way he’s going to think any less of you because of it.”

  Camille shook her head and bit down on her lip. “I love you, and I love that you’re trying to make me feel better. But can we please change the subject?”

  Julia looked at her like she had more to say, but decided on a simple nod instead. “Whatever you say.” Then after a long silence: “So what do you want to talk about?”

  Camille looked in wonder at the smooth, leather upholstered interior of Julia’s car. “How about we start with this Range Rover? The last time I was here, you were in a Toyota Camry that was, let’s just say, well-driven. When did you graduate to this?”

  Julia smiled as she stroked the steering wheel. “She’s a beauty, huh? And it only took seven hundred billable hours to pay for her.”

  “I’m sure you loved every second of it.”

  “Love is a very strong word.”

  “Please. You’re the biggest workaholic I know.”

  “Maybe my priorities have been out of whack.”

  “Wonderful. So does this mean you’re ready to quit your job too? Maybe we can start a knitting circle with all the other washed-up hags.”

  The smile faded from Julia’s face and she tightened her grip on the wheel. “I just made junior partner, Cam. I think it’s a little late for that.”

  “Easy. I was just joking. It’s called lightening the mood.”

  Julia eased her grip on the wheel. “Sorry. I guess I get a little bent when it comes to work these days.”

  “Clearly.” Then Camille took another look around the car. “At least the perks seem pretty good.”

  “It’s not about that.”

  “Since when?”

  Julia laughed like she was on the verge of becoming annoyed. “Since I began to see what can happen when people value the perks too much.”

  “By people you mean all those snobby Yale-educated lawyer types you work with?”

  “Watch it, I’m one of those Yale-educated lawyer types.”

  “True, but notice you left out the word snobby. Besides, there is nothing wrong with having nice things. Try spending eight years driving around in a government-owned Grand Marquis that needs an oil change every five hundred miles.”

  “I’m not saying there’s anything wrong with having nice things. I work hard for my money and I enjoy spending it. But I also know how to keep life in perspective. I’m not one of these assholes who lives and breathes for money. Look around my firm and you’ll realize within five minutes that I’m in the clear minority. It’s almost criminal how shallow they are.”

  “If it’s that bad why don’t you do something else? Wasn’t the plan to go to law school to be a prosecutor? There’s always a market for that.”

  “That was the plan if I stayed ay CU. Unfortunately I got accepted into Yale, which made my track very narrow.”

  “Just because you have a big student loan bill to pay back doesn’t mean you have to be miserable doing it. You have a lot of options.”

&nb
sp; “I don’t have nearly as many as you think.”

  “Okay, now you’re getting all cryptic on me. I’m not a fan of cryptic.”

  Julia’s posture became rigid and tension hardened her soft features. “What can I say, Cam? I hate my job.”

  Camille was quiet as she studied Julia’s face. Eyes that were bright and curious minutes earlier had now become strained with worry.

  “Are you sure that’s all it is?”

  Julia shifted in her seat. “It’s not like I’d be the first person in the world to despise what they do for a living. What else would it have to be?”

  “Did you suddenly forget who you’re talking to?”

  “The woman who knows me better than I know myself? How could I possibly forget?”

  “Be sarcastic if you want to, but you know it’s true. Remember, I once made a living out of reading people. Most of the time they didn’t have to say two words to me before I knew exactly what they were thinking. And that was after knowing most of them for no more than five minutes. Imagine what I can do with you.”

  “Okay, so what are your finely-tuned instincts telling you right now?”

  “That you’re holding out on me. I don’t know if it has to do with your job, the assholes you work with, or something more personal. I just know there’s something else going on and for whatever reason you’re not talking.”

  Julia looked at Camille with damp eyes. “The FBI’s loss truly is my gain.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “It means that they’ll be hard-pressed to find someone as talented at reading people as you.”

  “In other words my instincts are right.”

  Julia sighed. “We’ll talk about it.”

  “When?”

  “Soon. For now, let me just enjoy having you home.”

  Camille sat back in her seat, willing to let the subject go for the time being. “Okay. But don’t think you’re going to get away without it coming up again.”

  “I know you entirely too well to think otherwise.”

  They spent the next few moments in silence. Julia directed her focus back to the water-soaked road while Camille stared out her window. Now instead of empty green space, she saw empty industrial space. But at least she sensed the makings of civilization.

  In less than a mile they would be off the highway and into the northeast section of the city that Camille had called home her entire life. Surreal didn’t come close to capturing what it felt like to be this close after being away for so long.

  Before she reached her father’s house, she would pass one landmark of her former life after another: her elementary school, the Catholic church she was baptized in, the park she and her mother used to run through on the days when the chemo treatments weren’t so bad.

  But she wondered if those landmarks would still have any of the meaning that they once did. She wondered if too much time had passed and too many connections had faded. She wondered if she really could go home again. And if she could, would it ever truly feel like home?

  “Is it finally starting to sink in?” Julia asked as they passed the precinct house that Camille’s father worked in for most of his career.

  “A little bit.”

  When they made the turn onto her father’s street and Camille saw that every inch of curb space was occupied by a car, she was hit with a thought that made her stomach queasy again. This time she knew it wasn’t altitude sickness.

  “Julia, I need to ask you something, and you have to be completely honest.”

  “Completely honest huh? I guess I can give it a try.”

  “Does my dad have something planned here?”

  Julia bit down on her lip in an attempt to stifle the smile that had already formed on her face. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “Like hell you don’t. It’s written all over that spray-tanned face of yours.”

  “Okay, but you have to promise not to tell him that I spoiled it.”

  Camille shook her head. “I knew it. How bad is it going to be?”

  “I don’t know. Twenty-five, maybe thirty people. He didn’t want to make too big a deal of it, but there’s a lot of excitement surrounding your return and he thought it would make you feel good to see that.”

  Camille grunted as she looked at the house. “You were in on it too?”

  “He needed me to pick you up so he could finish the prep work. But he didn’t bother to fill me in on the details.”

  “Because he knew you couldn’t keep your mouth shut.”

  “Yep, and he was obviously one hundred percent correct. So when you go in there you need to act surprised. He’s finally at the point of trusting me with you. I don’t want to screw that up now.”

  “What are you talking about? My father loves you.”

  “He always thought I was a bad influence on you.”

  “You are a bad influence on me.”

  “Just remember to act surprised, smart-ass.”

  Camille felt her pulse quicken as they pulled into the driveway. She thought she saw a head peek at her from behind the living room curtains then quickly disappear. Suddenly the chaos of D.C. didn’t seem so bad after all.

  “Act surprised,” Camille said to herself as she unbuckled her seatbelt and pushed the car door open with an unsteady hand. “That shouldn’t be a problem.”

  She figured she had been acting for the past eight years anyway. Why not thrill them all with one last command performance?

  CHAPTER 6

  Camille had expected to be bombarded with a ‘For she’s a jolly good fellow’ chant the moment she opened the door, but she and Julia were instead met with the silence of an empty house.

  “I thought this was supposed to be a party,” Camille whispered as she looked into the empty foyer.

  “I thought so too,” Julia replied, seemingly as confused as Camille was. “I’m sure he told me ten o’clock when we talked yesterday.”

  “You mean you didn’t confirm with him this morning?”

  Julia rolled her eyes. “I got caught up in stuff.”

  Camille couldn’t help but laugh. “Jules, you’re the smartest person I know, but sometimes…”

  “All I know is he told me ten o’clock. I got you here at exactly ten o’clock. I did my part. Who knows, maybe no one bothered to show up.”

  That option would have been just fine with Camille. “People should have better things to do on a Thursday morning anyway.”

  “No they shouldn’t. Not on this particular Thursday anyway. What the hell happened?”

  “It really is okay if no one’s here. The last thing I wanted was some hero’s welcome anyway. I just want to settle in, grab a late breakfast somewhere, and decompress.”

  “Maybe I should just check the kitchen,” Julia suggested, apparently not hearing one word Camille had said. “They have to be around somewhere.”

  “Could you please just help me get my bags upstairs?”

  “Don’t you at least want to look around a little bit?”

  The confusion of the moment hadn’t allowed Camille to focus on the fact that she was standing in the foyer of the house she was born in; a house she hadn’t seen for the better part of eight years. She knew the couch in the living room was the same one her mother had bought twenty-five years ago. She knew most of the pictures hanging on the wall were of her. She knew her father’s office was just five feet to the right. And she knew the kitchen that was once home to the best chocolate chip muffins in the world was right around the corner. But none of it seemed real. The total disconnect that she felt from everything related to her life in D.C. had apparently followed her here. And right now she wasn’t sure if there was anything she could do to make it better.

  “No need to look around,” Camille answered flatly as she picked up the suitcase and started up the wooden staircase – a staircase inscribed with the words of a precocious nine-year-old. ‘Cam was here’.

  Hard to believe that was once true, she though
t as she climbed the first step.

  The door to her bedroom was closed. She half expected to walk in to the sight of fifty people crammed inside her closet, ready with shouts of surprise and songs of good cheer. But just like in the living room, she only saw emptiness. And just like in the living room, she was not disappointed.

  She put her suitcase on top of the double bed she bought when she was in high school. The comforter was purple with white tulips. She had never seen it before.

  “You can put that suitcase in the corner,” she said to Julia. “I’ll get to it later.”

  Julia complied, dropping it on the floor with a heavy sigh. “My concierge duties are officially done. I’m going downstairs to grab some water. Do you want anything?”

  “No thank you,” Camille answered without looking up from her suitcase.

  “Okay then. I’ll be back.”

  Julia walked out the room and down the staircase. Camille took a deep breath, then cast her eyes around the bedroom. Except for the hideous comforter, the space was just as she left it when she went away to college in the mid-1990s, right down to the Soundgarden poster hanging beside her bed. As far as she knew, she was the only person in her neighborhood who had a Soundgarden poster on her wall. Then again, she was the only person in her neighborhood to do a lot of things.

  If Camille had her way, she would never have even seen this room. Her plan was to book a hotel suite and retreat to it the moment she got off the plane. But her father insisted that she come home instead. Camille vehemently protested. But as the criminals who encountered him over the twenty five years that he served as a Denver police officer could all attest to, it never did any good to protest anything Paul Grisham said.

  Now here she was, squatting in a room that hadn’t been hers for nearly two decades. And the worst part was that for all of her father’s insistence that she be here, he couldn’t be bothered to greet her when she actually showed up.

  “Oh, this is gonna be a swell time,” Camille muttered as she unzipped her suitcase.