Christmas comes but once a year. Thank the Lord for that.
CHRISTOPHER HART
When the three of them were sitting, Chris next to Beth on the couch, Ryan perched on an uncomfortable-looking chair across from them, Chris spoke.
“Tell me why you’re here. This isn’t proper protocol.”
“Billy Ivester is dead.”
It took everything Chris had to take the news in a calm manner. “When did you hear?”
“About two hours before I started the drive.” He paused. “His throat was cut.”
Guilt hit Chris hard. He’d done everything he could to earn Billy’s trust . . . all so he would spill secrets. He tried to speak, but too much emotion clogged his throat. Billy’s death was his fault.
Suddenly, Ryan’s face looked more haggard. “I don’t have to tell you that this changes everything.”
Though he hated to drag Beth further into his world and problems, it was obvious that he had no choice. Though it pained him to speak, he forced himself to admit what he’d done. “Billy was . . . a kind of inadvertent informant,” he told her, practically choking on the word was. “He was barely twenty-one.”
“I’m so sorry,” she said.
“Me, too.” He meant it, too.
His boss shook his head in a derisive way. “Don’t waste your sympathy on him. He was a dealer for years, and a snitch, too. Neither of those occupations guarantees long life, Chris. This was no naïve kid.”
“Yeah, I know.” The words were true, but it didn’t really matter to him. All Chris could think about was when he’d met the fresh-faced kid for the very first time. It had been at the back of a crowded bar in downtown St. Louis. When Chris had first seen him, he’d wondered how the kid had even gotten past the bouncers.
Billy was short for his age, had freckles. Skinny. At first glance, he’d looked like the most innocent twenty-year-old on the planet.
But then Billy had started talking. Within seconds of hearing his profanity-laced speech, all twisted up in a husky voice—due to years of chain-smoking unfiltered cigarettes—anyone would know that it had been a very long time since Billy had been a child.
“But even though he was a tough kid, he sure was too young to die.”
“We found out he told Hager what you guys had been talking about . . . all the stuff he shared with you. That’s why they went after you.”
Chris shook his head. That kid . . . just desperate for someone to pay him mind, not realizing his mouth could get him, well, killed.
“Yep. Your cover is completely blown. But the good news is that Billy’s death was messy enough to track down Hager. Taylor collared him.”
“That’s great,” he said, though disappointment for his own failures was almost choking him. “Taylor’s a good agent.”
Ryan leaned forward, his elbows resting on his knees. “Taylor is. She did a good job with Hager. We’ve been after him for years.”
A new, worrisome thought entered Chris’s mind. Was he about to be replaced? Was that why his boss had trekked all the way out to Crittenden County so close to Christmas? “Did you come for my resignation?”
“Of course not.” Looking vaguely uncomfortable, he said, “We’ve known each other a long time, Chris. I know that kid meant something to you.” He shrugged. “I wanted to tell you in person before you got picked up and taken to your next assignment.”
“Thanks for that.” Not wanting to talk about Billy any longer, he switched topics. “So, you’re moving me.”
“Yep. On the twenty-sixth.”
“I’ll be ready. I’ll be healed up fine by then.”
“All of this happens, just like that?” Beth asked, her voice sounding slightly indignant.
“I’m afraid so,” Ryan said, having the grace to look slightly embarrassed. “Moves don’t always happen this quickly, but structures are in place in case the need arises. We try to keep our men safe.” He paused, eyeing Chris with a bit of chagrin. “It’s a dangerous job, though.”
Standing up, he reached into his suit jacket and pulled out a phone. “Use this if you need to, my contact numbers are already programmed in. I also brought you some more clothes. They’re in a sack by the front door.”
“Thanks.”
“No problem. We’ll be taking your truck today. Do you have any personal items in it that you need to retrieve?”
“No.”
“All right, then. Taylor or someone from support will bring you your new vehicle and papers on the twenty-sixth.”
“Understood.” They’d been through these types of conversations many times. There wasn’t room for emotion on either of their parts. Chris had a job to do, and Ryan’s job was to make sure he did it.
Unwanted warnings or doubts had no place in their work.
But Beth was staring at the two of them like they were creatures from another planet.
Ryan put his hand out. “Beth, it was nice to meet you. Now, though, I need to get on my way.” With a wry smile, he added, “Christmas is coming, you know.”
Chris walked him to the door. “Thank you for coming to tell me in person,” he said simply. He ached to add a hundred other things. To apologize for the mess he’d made of the case. To ask Ryan about what the higher-ups really thought. To get a hint about where he was going to be assigned next.
But this wasn’t the time or place. Besides, if Ryan had wanted him to know something, he would have already said it.
“Merry Christmas,” he said instead.
Ryan held out his hand and shook Chris’s gravely. “Merry Christmas.” Glancing at Beth, who was standing by the couch, still looking lost, he added, “To both of you.”
The moment Chris opened the door, the black Suburban pulled up, followed by his beat-up truck.
Within minutes, both were out of sight.
After picking up the sack of clothes, Chris closed the door and locked it behind him. “So, this means you’re safe. No one is going to be attempting to break in. At least not because of me. Now all we have to do is get through Christmas. Then I’ll be out of your way soon after.”
Beth’s eyes widened but she said nothing.
It was all too much. Billy’s death. Ryan’s appearance. The knowledge that he was about to be someone else, probably somewhere very far away.
It was overwhelming.
“I’m going to go upstairs, Beth.”
She walked toward him. “Are you sure you don’t want to talk about things?”
“No, I’m not ready to talk about any of that.” Billy most of all. That kid had been a felon and a drug addict, but in spite of all that, Chris had hoped that one day the kid would want to change, and that Chris’s presence in his life would provide him with an avenue out.
Now, because he’d gotten so beaten up, he hadn’t been there to look out for Billy. And because of that, Billy would never get the chance to lead a different life.
“At least let me get you something to eat.”
“Not right now, Beth. I need to be alone. And now that I know that I don’t need to keep watch, I need to get some sleep.”
“All right.”
He forced himself to start walking before he got too tired and started telling Beth about all the doubts he was wrestling with. Ever since he’d left the Yellow Bird Inn months ago, he’d been struck by how much of his real life he missed.
He missed his parents. He missed his brothers and regretted not getting to know their wives. Most of all, he’d missed having a decent reputation. He was tired of constantly having to pretend to be someone he would never want to know.
Most of all, he had spent too many hours thinking about Beth. Wishing there was a way that they could have a real relationship.
Since those wishes were far from coming true, it was definitely best to push them aside. No good would ever come from sharing them with Beth.
“I’ll see you later, Beth,” he murmured before going to his room, turning off the light, and lying down.
Only then did he close his eyes and let the tears flow. For Billy, for his failures, for his life.
And because, although he no longer felt like his sacrifices were worth the gains . . . he still didn’t feel strong enough to give it all up.