Page 94 of Identity Unknown
“But she’s not here,” I say to him.
“She’s not in Virginia. She’s not in the United States. Not anymore.”
“Then for sure she was.”
“Yes. Two nights ago, Zofia Puda a.k.a. Carrie Grethen took off in a private jet from the Shenandoah Valley Airport. As you know, that’s in Weyers Cave. Clearly, she’d been spending time in that area. But she’s gone now, Kay. She’s nowhere near here.”
“We’re sure?” I can’t stop asking it.
“Yes.” Benton is checking his phone. “Most likely when she realized the Brileys were about to be arrested, she split. I suspect it will come out soon enough that she was doing business with them, that they were working with the Russians. More of the same, stealing our technologies while interfering with our elections.”
“I wonder if Carrie was at their house on Monday,” I reply. “Maybe she’d been there before when discussing business withRyder Briley. And maybe she saw Luna not long before she was shot.”
“Carrie would have been nice to her. She considers herself good with children.” Benton says this as if talking about someone normal. “She would have detected that Luna was mistreated, identifying with her because of her own abusive mother. Maybe Carrie hugged her and transferred the fluorescing trace evidence to her pajama top.”
“If the candy-covered peanuts she ate came from the Briley Flight Services terminal, then maybe Carrie is the source. If so, she should have been picked up by the security cameras,” I remind him.
“We already know that the cameras were off the Monday afternoon before Luna Briley was shot,” Benton informs me.
“Carrie probably did that every time she was passing through. She’s a pilot or used to be. Who’s to say she’s not been flying in and out under an alias? Maybe she went to see the Brileys at their house, and brought Luna a bag of candy from the bins in the terminal. Not a nice gift to give someone supposedly diabetic.”
“Carrie must have known she wasn’t,” Benton says, kissing me goodbye.
CHAPTER 34
Isink back into a deep hole of sleep, and when I come to I’m not sure where I am, the storm still raging, rain beating the roof like sticks. I feel for Benton, his side of the bed empty and cold. Then I remember him waking me up with the news about Carrie. Cool air whispers across my skin as the wind whistles and roars.
The deluge lashes and drums, thunder cracking while my eyes adjust to the dark. I listen to the familiar electrical hum of the antique ceiling fan that came from a bank once robbed by Bonnie and Clyde. That’s the story told by the owner of the Louisiana junk store. I check my phone, and Benton texted hours ago that he was safely in Washington, D.C.
All okay,he wrote then, confirming that Carrie Grethen isn’t a factor.
He’s telling me not to worry. She’s in Poland or she was. Where she can’t be right now is here, and I wander into the bathroom, washing my face and brushing my teeth. As I ponder what to wear today, I’m torn by indecision. The Brileys are behind bars and Carrie’s being hunted down in Eastern Europe.
I should feel a sense of relief and resolution, but I don’t. There are too many unanswered questions. I’m stealthy as I follow the hallway in the glow of the patinaed copper sconces Benton and I came across in New England. All is quiet inside the guestroom where Marino and Dorothy are staying.
I don’t hear any signs of Shannon stirring as I head downstairs. I’m making a cup of coffee in the kitchen when my smart ring alerts me that Lucy has sent a message.
Can you feed Merlin?she’s texted.Sorry. Didn’t know I’d get stuck here all night.
Not seeing him so far,I answer.
Hopefully in my place.
Her cat wears a collar embedded with a sensor that opens the small electronic flaps she installed in doors at our house and the guest cottage. If Merlin can’t come and go at whim and on demand he wails like a banshee. He tears things up.
I don’t want Mom going into the cottage,Lucy continues to explain.I’m running a special operation with the software and she needs to stay out.
Will head over there now to feed Merlin,I write back.Where are you?
Lucy answers that she’s with Benton, and I imagine them in a situation room surrounded by data walls. They’re tracking Carrie Grethen. Maybe she’ll be caught, and what a gift that would be, taking her out even better. Turning off the alarm, I put on a slicker, opening the kitchen door to the amplified sound of the heavy rain splashing.
The sky is solid gray, the rising sun a vague whitish smear on the soggy horizon, big cold drops of water pattering the top of my hood. Beyond the kitchen door the courtyard is flooded.The heavy branches of the magnolia rock in the wind, the big white blossoms manhandled by the storm.
The wet brick walkway glowers in the glow of carriage lamps as I carry leftovers from last night, the plastic containers cold from the refrigerator. I walk quickly, surveying deflowered tree peonies and dogwoods, pastel petals scattered everywhere like little bits of trash. Centuries-old evergreens and hardwood trees thrash and bend, leaves and pine needles scattered.
I think about what Shannon said, and she’s right about the universe seeming agitated. It’s as if the weather is alarmed, warning me to be careful.
It’s not over, amore.I hear Sal’s voice in my head.