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Janet dithered over what to wear while Stan watched her with amusement. “I’ve never seen you like this,” he said.
She glanced at him sourly. “I’m having dinner with my son’s surrogate mother,” she said. “Of course I’m nervous!”
Stan laughed at her. Big help he was. He’d changed out of his suit to khakis and a polo shirt and was ready to go. The polo shirt was untucked and covered a pistol tucked in his back waistband. She shook her head. She lived with a man who carried a gun all the time — and he barely thought about it!
She returned to her closet and finally pulled out a sundress she’d bought a few years ago for some occasion she couldn’t remember.
She did want to meet Naomi Fairchild, she conceded, but she was nervous about how Tim would react. They’d created a relationship of sorts, and she was grateful for any relationship at all. She worried about him. He’d had his worldview shaken these last two years, and he liked things simple — this, not that; up, not down.
She knew about losing your certainty and realizing the world was more complex than you dreamed. She’d loved her sense of discovery that grew out of that realization. She still did. There were always new things to learn and explore. She hoped there always would be.
Did Tim have that flexibility? She wasn’t sure he did. He was incredibly smart, there was no doubt about that. But... she worried he would take the easy way out and go back to Jehovah’s Valley. He could. He could finish his degree, go to medical school, and go back out there and be the doctor they needed. That had been the plan when he came to Seattle. And it wasn’t necessarily a wrong thing! But as she told Mac once, it was hard to unknow what you know. Tim had learned a few things in Seattle that might make Jehovah’s Valley an uncomfortable fit.
She didn’t know what Tim thought about the Valley now. She suspected Tim didn’t know either.
“You look great, Janet,” Stan said gently. She smiled at him, grateful for his understanding. “I’ve met her, you know. She’s a warm, welcoming person. I think the two of you will like each other just fine.”
Janet laughed a bit and shook her head. “Come on, let’s get out of here before I wimp out and don’t go — or change my clothes one more time.”
Janet focused on what she knew about situation regarding Maiah Fairchild. Not as much as she should know, she thought, her eyes narrowing. What she knew didn’t justify the interest of two FBI agents. And she had no illusions this was just a social invite. Agents Warren and Nickerson were on the trail of something. Something had grabbed their attention. Getting them to talk about it would be a challenge, however.
“Go ahead, ask,” Stan said as he navigated from Ballard through Fremont and Wallingford. He really was getting the hang of driving in Seattle. She didn’t even have to give him directions.
“What caught the attention of the FBI in this?” Janet asked. “I feel for the girl — God knows, I know what it’s like to feel betrayed by your father and find yourself cast adrift at U-Dub. And I get that Mac probably has the same sympathetic tug. And he’s curious. I get it. There’s a mystery to be solved. But the FBI? You two aren’t just doing this because you owe Mac a favor.”
Stan was silent for a moment, and she was afraid she’d been too direct. Interviewing cops was always a challenge. They hated to give up information. It was either like pulling teeth, or you had to come at it sideways. That had hardly been sideways.
But finally Stan said, “Mac told you about his early morning visitor, right?”
He had. Mac was good about keeping her informed. At least Janet thought he was. She hated to think there were even worse things that he kept from her. What she was told was horrifying. “Some connection to the drug trade, it sounds like,” she ventured.
He nodded. “Rand ran their plates, and they crossed an investigation we’ve been working on in the Bureau.”
“I sent Mac to Rand for information,” she said. “Thank you for that tip. I wasn’t aware Rand had been in that region.”
“More than just ‘in’ Southeast Asia,” Stan said. “He did drug interdiction work for the DoD. Was undercover, the whole bit. I don’t know much more than that, to be honest. He doesn’t talk about his past much.”
Fancy that. Stan didn’t either.
“But that expertise has been invaluable in this other case,” Stan continued. “So he did some checking on these two men who have been lurking about, trying to grab Maiah. They may be involved in the drug trade, but they’re also Burmese government — military, civilian, or maybe militia. Samuel Fairchild has gotten himself into a big mess, if so.”
“You think he’s still alive?” Janet asked.
“I would have said no, but these men want Maiah for a reason,” Stan said. He was driving slowly through the Fairchild’s neighborhood, his eyes searching the area. “And it doesn’t seem to be for information. We think they want her as a hostage, someone Samuel Fairchild will exchange himself for.”
Janet chewed on her lip while she watched Stan case the neighborhood. She knew it well enough; she’d been a college student here, after all. The Fairchild House was just a block off Greek Row, an area north of campus, where most of the fraternities and sororities had their houses. Some of the campus Christian groups had centers in the area too, an odd mix.
She’d still been a part of the church when she started college. But after Tim was born, and she’d given him to her parents to raise, she’d drifted into the world of the student newspaper — a very different world. There, her questions were encouraged. The dissonance got to be too much, and she finally broke with the church. She tried to remember what the last straw was — oh, right. She’d been dithering about a major, and the youth pastor had said she should consult with her father for guidance. He was God’s authority in her life until she married. She hadn’t told anyone that she was married — Eli Andrews was overseas in the military. She had stared at the pastor’s clueless, arrogant face, and walked out.
Hardest thing she’d ever done, she admitted. Harder than fleeing Jehovah’s Valley. She wished she could say it had been some dramatic defiance, but it hadn’t been like that. The newsroom cheered her questions. The church called her a sinner. And she couldn’t stop being curious. She didn’t regret the break, not really. She might occasionally regret that the church had made it necessary. She missed the sense of belonging, of community. She’d never found anything like it — although a newsroom came close.
Was her morning coffee with the safety team, her prayer group? The thought amused her.
Lately, the church seemed to be getting harsher, even more radical. And harsh about things that weren’t really Biblical themes — and dear God, she knew those! She could probably still quote large swaths of scripture. These days, she wondered if the churchgoers had even read the Bible — people like her colleague, Steve Whitman, who had sabotaged the Pregnancy Center investigation by asking his prayer group for guidance. And in the process, he had exposed her and another reporter to harassment and eventually, her kidnapping.
And the firebombing of her house. She might forgive him for most of it — it might not have been deliberate — but thousands of her books had gone up in flames in that fire. The bastard.
But she had a new house, and new books. And she had Stan.
She felt like Job, really. God had rewarded her with more than she had before. Although, she’d always thought the story of Job was pretty harsh on his first family.
“And you think they’re watching this house, waiting for a chance to grab her?” Janet asked. “That’s why we’re casing the joint?”
Stand flashed a grin at her. “Yes, we are — and I’m glad you’re with me or some eager campus cop would probably bust me for it.”
She was glad he could laugh about it, because she’d been appalled at the underlying racism that existed in Seattle, and she hadn’t even realized it was there. We’re supposed to be liberals here, she’d said once indignantly. Stan had laughed at her.
“You’ve worked in D.C.,” he had pointed out. “Another liberal bastion. And how was that?”
She’d rolled her eyes. Apparently racism — and misogyny — crossed all political lines. Whoopie, she thought sarcastically, we’ve found something everyone could agree on.
Still, a Black man was president. Chances were good they’d have a woman president next. So there was reason to hope.
Stan found a parking spot north of the Fairchild House, and they walked back toward it. It was a nice summer late afternoon, and she was with a man she loved. She tucked her arm inside of his — his non-shooting arm, she thought, with a roll of her eyes — and enjoyed the pleasure it brought to be with him. Naomi greeted them at the door warmly, and Stan was right. She had the hospitality thing down. Janet envied her that. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d invited people to dinner. She used to host a newsroom party once a year back before people were trying to kill her and burn her house down.
She needed to have a housewarming party.
“Tim knows you’re coming,” Naomi said softly, for her ears only. “He’s upstairs with Maiah. He seems to have appointed himself her personal protector. She doesn’t seem uncomfortable with it, and well, with everything going on, I’ve let him do it.”
Janet nodded her thanks for the heads up.
And dinner went fine. It was lasagna with a fresh salad and garlic bread. Apparently lasagna was Naomi’s go-to food for impromptu large crowds. She made and froze them ahead of time, she’d explained. It made Janet nostalgic. Her mother always had meals prepped in the freezer for just such a reason. You never knew when there might be company for dinner.
Not true for her, of course. She felt a bit sad at that. But then, if she had to feed a horde with no warning, she’d just order pizza.
Dessert was peach cobbler. Also from the freezer, Naomi said when asked. With just the four of them this summer — five now with Maiah — she didn’t have to cook as large of meals as she did during the school year. Eight boarders plus her and Kate? Naomi cooked for 10 people usually?
Janet shook her head. She was doing good if dinner wasn’t more than a tuna fish sandwich. Living with someone was changing that, she acknowledged. It was changing a lot of things.
Dinner conversation was pleasant. No one brought up Maiah’s situation. No one asked uncomfortable questions. The closest it came to uncomfortable was when Tim said a blessing.
Afterwards, the other two young women excused themselves. There was a movie night at the church. They’d be home late. Tim hesitated and looked torn. In the end, he chose to stay with Maiah.
Janet didn’t fool herself. It didn’t cross his mind to stay because his mother was here for the first time. Of course, it didn’t. He was a 20-year-old guy, she thought amused. Manners? What are they?
“Maiah? Tell me more about your father,” Rand said, as they sat around the table after dinner. “Did he talk about who he was working for?”
She looked confused. “The church?”
“Did they pay him?”
“Oh.” She considered that. “I don’t know,” she admitted. “My mother is a nurse, and she works for the UN refugee program. My father runs the church. I don’t think the church could pay him very much — the members are very poor.”
“Is he still getting a check then from the mission board?” Janet wondered.
“No,” Naomi answered. Everyone looked at her in surprise, and she reddened a bit. “I called and asked,” she admitted. “I said we might have someone impersonating him and wondered if he’d managed to get on the mission board’s payroll. She checked for me, and no, his last check was shortly after he was pronounced dead and went to the bank account we shared.”
“Follow the money,” Janet murmured. A journalism axiom.
Tim got a thoughtful expression on his face. “Maiah, did you have visitors?” he asked. “Strangers who came in the night? Probably didn’t stay very long — usually single men?”
Maiah hesitated. “I am not to speak of such things,” she said.
“I think we’re past that point, don’t you?” Naomi said gently. “Were there people who came through? There were when I was there, now that I think about it. But they stayed at the church — Samuel never brought them home.”
Maiah nodded. “There is a room at the church for guests who need a place to stay,” she agreed. “But Papa sometimes brought them home for a meal.”
Janet was staring at Tim. He met her eyes. “Army of God,” Janet said. He nodded.
“That’s what made me think of it,” he agreed. “Church Militant.”
“Stop with the code talk,” Rand said wryly. “Didn’t someone say the Church Militant was the people who rescued Christians from China after the communist takeover?”
Janet sighed. “It’s gotten new usage these days as a term for an aggressive church willing to fight for Jesus’s kingdom on earth,” she said. “But yes, that was a term for those times. Did Samuel see himself as that?”
“I think he was a way-house for some organization,” Tim said. “Like the Valley was for Army of God.” It was the first time Tim had talked about that, to Janet’s knowledge. A quick glance at Naomi’s face made her think he hadn’t talked to her about it either.
“U.S. government?” Stan asked Rand. “They’d have an easy time faking a death certificate.”
Rand was chewing on his lip, making mental calculations. “They would, but I don’t think so,” he said. “I didn’t go into Thailand much, but I think I would have known if we had a safe house across the Burmese border. My guess is the Aussies, or even the UN. Perhaps a non-profit relief agency. But he’s been doing it for 20-plus years? Gotta be the Aussies.”
Maiah was looking anxiously at each person as they spoke, and Janet wondered how much she was following. “You think my father was doing something illegal?” she asked. “He was a good man!”
Rand smiled at her. Janet thought it was a bit sad. “He probably was,” he agreed. “But he was doing something very dangerous.”
Rand considered the information. “Still doesn’t explain why they want him so badly,” he said with a shake of his head. “So they’ve got a missionary coming in and taking away destitute people — people they themselves want to leave. This seems over the top to retaliate for that.”
“Information,” Stan said thoughtfully. “He knows something — something they want to know, or something they don’t want him to tell anyone else.”
“Or he’s sheltering someone else?” Rand speculated. “But eight months would be a long time to hide — and to hide someone with you? He’s not a professional.”
“Been doing it for 20 years,” Stan pointed out. “But information is the most likely.”
“He may know an entire network of safe houses,” Janet said slowly as she considered the situation. “Over that many years? He could probably know a lot of them.”
“He knows the men,” Timothy said suddenly. “All the men who have sheltered with him. He could identify them, right? That’s what the FBI agents wanted the Valley to do — identify the Army of God men who came through the Valley.” He avoided looking at Stan when he said it. Stan had been the FBI agent who had brought in the others to question the Valley residents.
Stan nodded slowly. He looked at Rand. “Whoever he is working for, he could probably give up the whole organization,” he agreed. “He might not even realize he knows that much, but he does. If the Burmese military has photos? That would point to a military operation — or paramilitary government operation.”
Janet didn’t think there was much difference in Myanmar — in spite of a newly-elected civilian government. She considered that. Maybe even more so? Could someone be in need of some cleanup? They might never know.
“So why doesn’t he just come home?” Maiah burst out. “Forget whatever he went to do. It’s been too long. Just come home.”
“Probably tried, and couldn’t get across the border,” Rand speculated. “They’ve got him flagged.” He looked at the girl sympathetically. “Just as they had him flagged in the computer system here in America that you triggered.”
“Which makes me wonder if it isn’t our government,” Stan said thoughtfully.
“Flagging someone isn’t that hard,” Rand said. “I mean we could ask Shorty for his expertise, but it was just a form I filled out. Putting them on a no-fly list required two forms, I think. And no one thinks our computer system is un-hackable.”
There was rueful laughter at that.
Maiah looked at each of them. “Have I put him in danger by coming here?” she asked.
Rand shook his head no. “He put you and your mother in danger,” he said firmly. “You have done nothing wrong. He was already on the run. We must keep you safe, however, or they can use you to bring him out — and then he will be worse off.”
Then he would be dead or wish he was, Janet thought grimly.
Maiah nodded, but Janet wasn’t sure she was convinced. The girl took a deep breath and straightened her shoulders. She asked to be excused to go upstairs. She needed to work on an assignment, she said. She had a book to read, and then give an oral book report on a chapter in it on Monday. And she was finding the book difficult — it was called The New Kids. A book about a class of high-school freshmen in Brooklyn from all over the world.
Janet hadn’t read it, but she’d heard about it — a good example of how narrative journalism should work.
“I do not know,” Maiah said doubtfully. “Do high-school kids really do these things?”
Janet raised her eyebrows at Tim, who shrugged. “I am having her read passages out loud to me,” he said. “I can’t say what high school is like in Brooklyn, but my high school wasn’t like that.”
Janet laughed at that. Tim had gone to the same small school she’d gone to — 35 kids in the graduating class. All white — all farm kids. Well, that wasn’t true. A lot of fathers were loggers. “I might have to read it,” Janet said with a laugh. “I might learn things too.”
“Oh, we’re learning things,” Tim muttered. Janet was too afraid to ask him what he meant. Naomi had a thoughtful expression on her face. Well, she’d essentially been a dorm mother to college students for 15 years, if she had her chronology right. Janet thought she’d leave that discussion to her as the more knowledgeable one.
The two students went back upstairs to their book, and the four ‘adults’ moved to the living room. Almost like two couples having an evening out, Janet thought, then paused. She looked at Rand speculatively. Not your business, she told herself. But yes... there was something going on.
But at that point, Maiah Fairchild came back down the stairs in a rush, looking anxious. “Tim says someone fired something at the roof, and he went out the window to brush it off,” she said. “I protested — that roof is dangerous. But he wouldn’t listen to me.”
No one was surprised at the last bit, Janet noted.
“Stay here,” Stan ordered everyone, and he and Rand went out into the courtyard to see what Tim was up to.
There wasn’t even a pause before Janet and Naomi followed them — Maiah too, Janet realized. Stan just rolled his eyes. It was hard to get a good look at what was going on, Janet discovered. The old Victorian house had a steep, pitched roof of several different layers, and covered with shingles. How old was this roof? Those were wood shingles. After a hot, dry summer, like this one, they’d catch fire easily.
“Just the one?” Rand called up to Tim who was carefully balanced on the roof, half hidden from the street by one of the garrets.
“No, there have been several,” he answered. “They’re coming from the frats. Are they shooting off fireworks? Why?”
“Better call campus police,” Rand murmured to Stan. “Are we here officially or not?”
“Not,” Stan decided. He looked at Naomi. “Would you call the university police? We need them to search Greek Row for our shooters.”
Naomi nodded, and went inside. Maiah went with her — and back up to her tower bedroom apparently. Janet saw her face in the window. She looked worried.
There was a whistling sound, and another IED hit the roof. Janet ducked reflexively. Tim pushed at the thing with his broom, and it fell to the courtyard. Stan looked around for a hose and turned it on. He doused the thing.
“It’s a bottle-rocket firecracker,” Rand said incredulously. “One of those big ones. Illegal as hell, and damn, they’ll take the whole roof off if one explodes.”
“Get Tim down off there,” Stan said.
“And do you have a better idea of how to protect the roof?” Rand asked skeptically. “It’s dangerous, no lie, but he’s a lot more agile than you or me. I wouldn’t even want to try getting through that window!”
“We need to get water on the roof,” Janet said, studying the situation. “How do we get that hose up to him?” She was scared to death for Tim, no lie, but she had to agree with Rand — Tim was their best option here. Another rocket whistled overhead. She ducked again.
“Hey, Mom,” Tim called. Janet jumped at the term. He rarely used it. “You roped a calf when you were growing up, didn’t you? Throw that sprinkler head up to me.”
Janet grimaced. “That was 20 years ago,” she shouted back to him.
“Um, more like 25 years,” Tim said. “See if you’ve still got that arm.”
Thanks, kid, she thought laughing to herself. But he was right — it was more like 25 years ago. She looked at the two men. “Either of you want to try?”
Rand was having a hard time talking he was laughing so hard. “No, I want to see you cowboy up,” he got out finally. Stan grinned at that.
“Can you get down to the part that’s only two stories up?” Janet asked, studying the roof. Tim hesitated.
Maiah stuck her head out the window. She had a sheet twisted into a rope. “Hold onto this,” she said.
“You can’t hold my weight,” he protested.
“It will give you balance,” she told him.
He hesitated, then grabbed a hold of the sheet, and gingerly made his way toward the lower roof. He sat down, dangled his feet over the overhang, and dropped down. The sheet was barely long enough. Janet held her breath. A fall off two stories wouldn’t kill him, but it would hurt. Ask her how she knew, she thought humorously. She’d fallen out of the barn’s rafters more than once, on some fool stunt or another.
She really had been a tomboy — a word they no longer used, apparently. Made her feel old when words went out of favor like that.
She gathered up the hose, and mentally let it circle around her head. She wasn’t going to really circle it like she had while chasing cows. Or maybe she needed to do that? She shrugged and flung it upward. The sprinkler landed just feet from Tim.
Tim took a deep breath. He would have to let go of the sheet to reach it, she saw. “Want me to try again?” she asked. “I might get closer.”
“Might clobber him in the head with the sprinkler too,” Rand teased.
He might not be wrong, Janet admitted to herself. She was pretty amazed she’d gotten it up there.
“No, I can get it,” Tim said. He carefully crawled to the sprinkler. “Give me all the hose you can.”
“That might be a problem,” Stan muttered. He was searching the courtyard for a second hose, when Naomi came out and saw the problem. She disappeared into the basement of the house and came back with another hose. Together, she and Stan managed to detach the current hose and get the second length attached and in place.
And all the while, more rockets flew past overhead. Janet flinched with each one. So did Tim she saw. Well, who could blame him? She didn’t think the shooter was targeting him, just the roof, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t get hit. And that would be worse than a fall off the roof.
Much worse.
Don’t picture the worst-case scenarios, she told herself. Focus on the situation as it is. Things could always be worse. She turned to Naomi. “What did the cops say?”
“They said they’d take a look,” she answered. “But my house is in the city jurisdiction, not theirs. So they can police the frats. But if we need more backup, they’ll have to call the city police.”
Rand and Stan looked at each other at that comment. Janet realized why — they were in the north precinct. She grimaced too. “Mac is supposed to do a ride-along tonight up there,” she said.
Another rocket hissed past the house. This one appeared to be aimed at a second story window. It bounced off and landed outside the gate. “Where are the campus cops?” Stan asked grimly. “And we’re going to need a firetruck. Is there another outside faucet?”
Naomi shook her head. “That’s the last of the hoses too.”
Timothy was aiming the sprinkler at the rocket outside the gate. “I think I got that one,” he said. “But we’re going to run out of luck here soon.”
“I’ll call the fire department,” Naomi said as she went back inside.
It was only going to take one success on their part, Janet thought with worry. “You think this is from Maiah’s stalkers, right?” she asked. “It’s not the misfires of some frat?”
“Too many rockets for that, or for a prank,” Stan answered. “No, it’s got to be the Burmese agents.” He looked at Rand. “You’d blend in better than I would. I’m too old to be a jock.”
“Funny,” Rand muttered. “All right, I’ll do some recon. You get to deal with the police — if they show up.” Rand went to get his jacket and gun.
Janet and Stan waited until Rand slipped out the back gate. No shouts, no gunshots. “OK,” I’m going out front, talk to some cops. I hope, they’re out there, anyway,” Stan said. “You get water hose duty.”
Janet laughed and kissed him. “Be careful, okay?” she said.
She heard the door slam shut. And then she heard the shot. “Stan!” she screamed and ran for the front door.
Someone grabbed her, she struggled. “Shh, shh,” Stan’s voice soothed in her ear. “I’m OK, love. I’m OK. He missed.”
Janet shuddered, trying to get some semblance of control back. “I thought,” she whispered, and her voice broke. “I thought....”
“I know, love,” he said. “I know. I’m fine. He missed.”
Janet swallowed hard and tried to straighten up and regain control. That was when she realized he was trembling too. The shot must have come close, too close. She wrapped her arms back around him and held him tight.
“They just upped the ante,” Stan said. Janet looked over her shoulder. Naomi was standing there, her fist to her mouth. “They’re boxing us in. They’re trying to set the house on fire and smoke us out the back gate. And there, out of sight, they can grab us, one at a time. Or just grab Maiah.”
“I should go,” Maiah said from the stairs. “I should run away. Back to the camp down by the river. They won’t find me there.”
“Too late,” Stan said simply. “They’re committed now. They just shot at an FBI agent. I wouldn’t have let you run, anyway — that’s not how we do things. You deserve to be safe, and it is my job to see to it that you are.”
Janet twisted in his arms so she could face the young girl. “We’re in this together, Maiah,” she said. “And Stan is right. I couldn’t live with myself if something happened to you. So you must not run. Will you promise?”
Maiah hesitated, then she nodded.
“Besides, if you run, who will there be to help Timothy get of the roof?” Janet added, striving for a light touch. “None of us are going out that window.”
Maiah smiled. It hadn’t been Janet’s best reassurance, but the girl pretended for her sake. Well sometimes that’s how it worked. Janet would pretend for Maiah’s sake. Maiah would pretend for her. And inch by inch they’d get through this.
Somehow.
Janet turned back to Stan and hugged him again.