94

VIRGINIA BEACH, VIRGINIA

Paige spent the evening at Kristen’s house, watching as the boys put on a wrestling display, with Justin announcing the combatants just like his dad had done. This time, though, Justin wore Incredible Hulk cutoff shorts and introduced himself as “Beef Anderson.” Caleb came out in an oversize Captain America outfit, and Justin introduced his brother as “a dairy farmer from New York, soft and cuddly, also known as Uncle Q!” Caleb jumped around and grunted a little, as if it was the greatest introduction anyone could ever have.

The match didn’t last as long, shortened by a hard fall by Caleb, who ran crying to his mom. She scolded big brother and suggested they find another way to amuse themselves.

The boys were in bed when the president began speaking. By the time the speech ended, both women were crying. They sat there for a while, staring at the television as the commentators provided analysis. For the longest time, neither of them spoke.

“I guess she’ll be calling here in a little while,” Kristen said.

“It seems so surreal.” Paige’s head was still spinning from what Wyatt had told her earlier that day. And now she had seen the president apologize on national TV.

“Do you believe her?” Kristen asked.

Paige tried to shift into lawyer mode, but her thoughts were jumbled. “She says she called for a full investigation as soon as she heard about the drone strike that might have killed Wyatt. That means she did it before Wyatt was found alive. Presumably, Attorney General Wachsmann could attest to all that. And if she’s telling the truth about that, she had every intention of coming clean even when she could have just buried all this.”

Kristen pondered it for a few moments. “I’ll leave the analysis to you, Paige, but I never wanted to believe she sent Patrick and Troy on that mission knowing they would die.”

The two women talked about what might happen next. Paige explained that they would petition the Supreme Court to reopen their case. The Court would probably grant the petition, and both Kilpatrick and Marcano were in so deep they would likely settle.

“They’re going to need most of their money for legal fees for criminal lawyers. There probably won’t be a lot left to pay either you or Gazala Holloman,” Paige said.

Kristen shrugged. “It was never about the money, Paige. You know that.”

Though the president’s speech virtually guaranteed them a legal victory, or at least a favorable settlement, for some reason Paige didn’t feel like celebrating. And she could hear the sadness in Kristen’s voice, too. Maybe Paige felt this way because the case had somehow kept Paige connected to Patrick. Maybe it was because she knew she had thrown all of her energy into this cause, and now she would have to stop and take time to really mourn his loss.

A few minutes later, she thanked Kristen for being such a great friend and said she needed to spend some time alone. Today was a lot to process, and she was emotionally drained. In truth, she didn’t want to be around when the president called. Everything was still too raw for that.

The two women hugged, and Kristen struggled to find the words to let Paige know how much this case meant to her.

“I don’t know what I would have done without you,” Kristen said, tears welling in her eyes.

“Let’s get together tomorrow and maybe we’ll feel more like celebrating,” Paige said.

She left Kristen’s house at ten thirty that night. It was cold and blustery, but the sky was clear and the stars were bright. There was a half-moon hanging low on the eastern horizon, and Paige knew instinctively where she needed to go.

She took off her sandals and rolled up her jeans for the walk from the boardwalk to the water. The sand was cool and moist, squeezing between her toes. She reached the edge of the wet sand and looked out over the foaming waves. In the distance she could see dots of light—huge ships making their way along the shoreline.

The stars were luminescent, and the moon reflected off the water. The steady beat of the waves, tumbling over the undertow, muffled the human noise from the boardwalk. This was her ocean, almost a sanctuary, and Paige sat down in the dry sand to take it all in.

She huddled inside her windbreaker. The breeze was stronger here as the prevailing winds skimmed across the vast, open sea. She stayed there for a while, grateful for the day’s events, thanking God and sorting things out, her spirit calmed by the steady rhythm of the waves. And she stared for a long time at the smooth wet sand spread out before her, polished by the waves, where once there had been footprints and sand castles and words scribbled in the surf.