Traffic was atrocious crossing the city, and Kathryn thought she might go insane as she got behind one slow moving idiot after another. Finally on the fairly deserted Westside Drive, she floored it and found herself the victim of a speeding ticket. She got an earful from the motorcycle cop by way of a lecture about gas rationing, rubber tire shortages, carpooling—the works.
He ripped the ticket from his book and handed it over to her, interrupting her impatient tapping on the steering wheel.
“Here you go, Miss Hammond. Thirty-five,” he said as a warning, reiterating the speed limit. “There’s a war on, you know.”
As he walked away, she muttered, “No shit.”
Suddenly, his face was back in her window. “What did you say to me?”
“I said, thank you, Officer Jones, for being such a conscientious public servant and a true patriot.” She held the ticket over her heart and blinked unabashedly.
“Hmph,” he snorted and gave her a skeptical look before walking away.
She watched him get on his motorcycle and speed off in the opposite direction. She shook her head as she started the engine, released the handbrake, and then jammed the car into gear.
It was dark by the time she got to Jenny’s house, and already she could see something was wrong. Jenny must have taken her beloved father’s ’37 Cord for its monthly drive into town. It was parked haphazardly in the drive, and a closer examination showed she had clipped the brick mailbox column on the way in, bending the chrome bumper into the flared maroon fender.
Kathryn’s heart was pounding as she ran up the steps to the front door. It was unlocked. She slowly opened it and stepped into the darkness.
“Jenny?” she called out with a calmness she didn’t feel.
No answer.
She fumbled on the wall for the hall light switch and turned it on. The bedroom door was ajar, so she crept silently toward it, in case Jenny was sleeping. She carefully pushed it open, only to find the bed empty. She headed toward the bathroom, where she slowly pushed the door open.
“Jenny?”
Empty.
She walked back into the hallway and called again, this time loudly, as worry turned to panic.
“Jenny?”
Kathryn smelled the distinct odor of scotch coming from the living room. She hit the light switch on the wall and was met with a room in disarray. Paintings were ripped from the wall and strewn about. The large portrait of Jenny’s grandfather over the fireplace was torn and crooked. Kathryn got closer and found the painting had been the target of a bottle of scotch, which lay shattered on the mantle and hearth, its contents painting the wall and what was left of the portrait.
“Jenny?” she called again, as she entered the study and turned on the light. Her panic was complete when she saw the hidden gun case open, rounds on the floor, and Jenny’s prize automatic missing from its velvet lined box. Kathryn took in the rest of the room and found the contents of her father’s desktop strewn about and the music stand from the exquisite Bösendorfer piano torn from its hinges and used as a bat to shatter the photo frames on its once pristine black case.
“My God,” Kathryn said, as fear took panic’s hand and she ran from the room, her heart in her throat. She passed the dining room, where more disarray caught her eye.
Papers littered the long mahogany dining table, finally spilling onto the floor when they ran out of room. Blue papers. Classified OSS papers. Kathryn approached in disbelief. This couldn’t happen. It was impossible. These never left the center. They were never seen by anyone other than the highest-ranking officials. The scene was so absurd that she looked over her shoulder. Where were the men in the big black cars? Surely, they would know these were missing and they’d be coming after the thief. Words like spy and treason would be tossed around, and the guilty party would pay dearly—usually with their life.
Kathryn’s shock turned to horror as she saw her signature on page after page. Reports. Her reports about her assignment to Jenny.
“Oh, no. No, no, no.”
Her legs went weak and she collapsed into a chair, her hands shaking as she sifted through the rest of the paperwork.
The papers contained the Ryan file she and Smitty had been shown. Not only did Jenny now know about her assignment and the dubious backgrounds of her father and grandparents, but the additional pages showed that, according to her blood test, Daniel Ryan was not her father.
“What?” Kathryn said, as she quickly rifled through the papers.
She let the papers fall from her hands, as a horrific thought went through her mind. Any one of the revelations in the classified papers would be devastating, but all three simultaneously? Jenny had gone on a suicidal alcoholic bender when her father was killed, and now she had alcohol and a gun in her hand. If the demolished state of the house was any indication of Jenny’s current state of mind, she might already be too late. Kathryn stood, knocking the chair backward, and ran frantically through the lower rooms again. She prayed Jenny was just sleeping it off somewhere.
“Jenny!” she screamed as loudly as she could.
Silence.
She took the grand staircase two steps at a time, darting to the left at the top, and then stopping in her tracks as she glimpsed the shimmering lake in the large bay window.
“The dock.”
She backed up and peered into the moonlit yard. Squinting to focus on the distant lakeshore, her look of concentration quickly turned to horror as she made out a human form sprawled out on the end of the dock. Kathryn’s heart thundered in her chest, as the unthinkable quickly became a very real possibility. She plastered her hands to the window, as if she could reach through and turn back time.
“Jenny,” she whispered in desperation. “Please, no.”
She was nearly hysterical as she pushed away from the window and flew down the stairs. “Please, please, please, honey, don’t do this.”
She tried not to focus on the empty gun case in the study as she rushed through the house, but she couldn’t stop her imagination from seeing what she feared she would find when she reached the dock. She flung open the back door and leaped from the small stoop without taking the stairs.
It was a perfect night. The air was still, the moon was full, and the stars twinkled joyfully in a cloudless night sky, unmindful of the drama unfolding beneath them. The atmosphere was surreal. The full moon, like a sun in an alternate universe, bathed the trees in its pale light as they cast long shadows on the neatly manicured lawn stretching to the water. Kathryn ran as fast as she could, as fear and exertion caused her lungs to ache. She cursed as she ran through a spider web and cursed again as she slipped and nearly fell on the dew-laden grass. She was running blind, her senses in denial to avoid the quickly approaching truth. Her labored breathing and the thud of her feet on the soft earth cut the still night as she took full strides to her destination.
As she got closer, she could see that it was Jenny lying there, her blonde hair glowing white as it absorbed the moon’s rays. In fact, the whole world was bathed in black and white, like a film, and Kathryn wished that it were, so that she could leave the theater, and this nightmare, behind.
“Please,” she begged the motionless form and any god that would listen. “Please don’t do this, Jenny. Please.”
She slowed as she approached the dock, almost afraid to arrive. The longer she stayed back, the longer Jenny would still be alive, if only in her mind. She stopped at the edge of the wooden planks, her chest tight and her heartbeat thudding in her head. She swallowed her gasping breaths and rubbed her hands on her thighs in nervous trepidation as she gingerly made her way onto the dock.
Jenny lay before her, her legs bent at the knees and dangling off the end of the dock. One hand was on her chest, the other lay on the dock, her silver Browning Hi Power glistening in the moonlight as it lay loosely in her open hand. Her eyes were open, but there were no signs of life. Kathryn stopped and tried to make out whether her chest was rising and falling, but in the subdued light, she couldn’t tell for sure. Then she saw a large dark spot on the dock’s surface, by the side of her head, and her heart sank. She began to cry, unable to stop herself, and she put her hand to her mouth to silence an involuntary sob. Her whole body felt numb. Her soul was detached, waiting to find out if it would live or die. She thought she’d be sick. She closed her eyes and swallowed hard, begging the shadow beside Jenny’s head to just be a shadow.
She made her way around the still form until she was standing at Jenny’s side. With her breathing short, and her heart breaking, Kathryn slowly kneeled beside her, as if in prayer. She couldn’t see for the tears in her eyes, but she reached out to touch Jenny’s face, something she’d done so many times before—to give comfort, to send her love—but this time her hand shook in fear. It seemed so impossible that this simple gesture may be the last they would share and that the savior of her heart and soul may already have left her alone.
In a blurred split second, she found her wrist captured by one hand and the gun pointed directly at her face.
“Shit!” Kathryn exclaimed as she fell back, landing on her backside and nearly off the side of the dock. She blinked away tears. “Jenny! Thank God.” She tried to move closer, but Jenny wouldn’t allow it.
“Why are you here?” Jenny calmly demanded, still pointing the gun at her.
Almost on instinct, and still half crazed with grief and worry, Kathryn’s relief quickly turned to anger.
“Get that thing out of my face!”
She could have disarmed her with one swift move, but Jenny had a choice to make, and she had to make it on her own. Jenny lowered the gun and Kathryn resumed breathing, wiping tears from her cheeks.
Jenny relaxed onto her back again and stared up into the stars.
“Why are you here?” she asked again, this time as a defeated question, not a demand.
“You didn’t show up at the penthouse. I was worried. I called HQ, they said you went home sick. I wanted to make sure you were all right.”
“Are you sure you’re not here to finish your assignment?”
“I wanted to make sure you were all right.”
Jenny continued to stare into the sky.
“Let’s go inside, Jenny.”
“What? And waste this beautiful night? Look at those stars …”
Kathryn looked up briefly as Jenny continued.
“They don’t care about us.”
Kathryn watched Jenny carefully. She was flicking the safety on her gun back and forth in what seemed to be a game of will she or won’t she use it. Kathryn’s concern wasn’t for herself, but for Jenny, as her mental status was still uncertain.
“Can I have that?” she asked cautiously, pointing to the gun.
“Don’t you have one?” Jenny asked, still staring at the sky.
“Not one as pretty as that.”
Jenny sat up, with her face etched in anger. “Don’t patronize me, Kat.”
“Give me the gun, Jenny.”
“That wouldn’t be very smart of me, would it? Surrendering my gun to the enemy?”
“I’m not your enemy.”
“Ha! A comedian too. Will your talents never cease?”
“I want to help you.”
Jenny let out a humorless chuckle. “Help me? With friends like you, who needs enemies, right?”
“Look, I’m sorry for all this—believe me, but I can’t change what’s happened. What I can do is try to help you. You’re in trouble. They’ll be coming soon. Please let me help you.”
Jenny looked hard into her eyes, but there was no recognition of their relationship.
“Please let me,” Kathryn repeated.
Jenny considered it, and, after a few silent moments, handed over her gun.
Kathryn took it and extended her hand. “Come on, let’s go inside.”
Jenny got up on her own and brushed past without a sideways glance.
Kathryn’s emotions were raw, and she could barely contain them, but as they walked to the house in silence, she couldn’t imagine the turmoil Jenny was in. She seemed to be in a state of shock.
As they entered the house, Jenny paused at the dining room. Kathryn righted the chair she’d knocked over and led Jenny to it. She sat carefully, with her hands in her lap, as if her whole body would shatter if she jarred it too suddenly.
Kathryn gathered the papers on the floor first and then picked up a cut crystal glass and the cap to the scotch bottle that had rolled under the table. She noticed the glass was clean, and she eyed Jenny, who stared blankly at the mess before her.
She wasn’t drunk, which was good—or maybe it wasn’t. They both could use a drink. Kathryn continued to keep an eye on her as she gathered the classified papers and, stack by stack, put them back into the folder.
“Have you looked at all of these?” She held up the latest bunch in her hand.
Jenny finally looked up and nodded faintly, lifting her arms to the table, where she slowly reached out for the nearest piece of blue paper.
Kathryn quickly moved it out of reach and picked it up, sensing that dwelling on what was found there was not a good idea. Jenny didn’t protest. In fact, she showed no emotion at all as she got up and left the room.
Kathryn hurriedly gathered the remaining papers and followed her, not about to leave her alone. Jenny wandered aimlessly down the hall, surveying the house as if she’d never seen it before.
“Come on, honey,” Kathryn said, as she put her hand on her shoulder. “Let’s sit down.”
Jenny shrugged off the hand. “Don’t touch me.”
“Jenny—”
“Jenny, what?” She turned, rage now building in her eyes. “Jenny, it’s going to be okay? Isn’t that what you said? Everything’s going to be okay now?”
Kathryn opened her mouth to speak but found no words to say.
“I’ve got nothing, Kathryn! Better yet? I never had anything to begin with. It was all a lie. You, my family—” She looked around. “This fucking house. None of it was real.”
“That’s not true, Jenny. Whatever your family did in the past, they loved—”
“They’re not my family!”
“Blood doesn’t make a family. Believe me, I know.”
“Oh, spare me. You can lay off the sob story, sister. You’re off duty.”
Jenny stalked into the living room and plopped herself down on the couch, where she ran her hands across the russet leather surface, as if she’d never seen it before, and crossed her legs.
“Is your mother even dead, Kathryn?”
Kathryn’s eyes snapped to Jenny in disbelief, the words like a dagger to her heart. Jenny couldn’t have cared less.
“Is your name even Kathryn?”
“Now, wait just a minute—”
“Wait, don’t tell me,” Jenny began sarcastically with a raised hand. “I know this speech. Believe me, darling, I love you,” she exaggerated dramatically. “You were just a job at first, but I grew to love you, and now we shall conquer this together. Sound about right?” She laughed. “You know, you are good. God. I’ve got to hand it to you. Whatever they’re paying you, it’s not enough.”
“You know I love you, Jenny. You know it!”
“I don’t know anything. And I’ll never trust you again.”
Car doors slammed outside.
“Ah—” Jenny got up to answer the front door. “My ride to the gallows is here.”
“That’s not funny.”
“Put yourself in my shoes, Hammond. Sure it is.”
Jenny entered the foyer and opened the door. She walked away, letting the men make their own way inside.
Two hulking men in dark suits soon filled her doorway.
“Jenny Ryan?”
“Right here,” she said, as she plucked her jacket and purse from the hall tree.
“Come with us, please.”
Jenny held up her wrists for the cuffs.
“I don’t think that will be necessary, ma’am.”
She turned to Kathryn with mock glee. “Oh, look, now they trust me.”
The other man pointed to the folders in Kathryn’s hand. “Are those the files?”
She nodded and held out her empty hand, ever mindful of the nature of their business.
“Orders and ID?”
She had Jenny’s gun behind her back, tucked into the waistband of her slacks, and she was prepared to use it if the men didn’t pan out. She perused the offered documents and, satisfied the men and their papers checked out, handed over the folders.
“You need to report for debrief,” the tall man said sternly.
She nodded.
“See?” Jenny held out her hand to the men. “She’s so good. Here I am, just willing to follow you goons like a puppy.”
“Let’s go, Miss Ryan.”
The men led her away.
“Jenny—” Kathryn rushed to the doorway and waited for her to turn around. “For what it’s worth … I am sorry.”
Jenny looked at the two men guiding her to their car and they nodded in understanding, giving the two women the chance for a few private words. Jenny walked back up the steps to the landing until they were face to face.
“It’s not worth anything to me, Kathryn. Leave your key on the table when you leave. I don’t ever want to see you again.”