Laynie Portland, Spy Resurrected Page 4

“I should do it,” she answered. Then her chin wobbled, and her face contorted. “But . . . I don’t think . . . I don’t think I can.”

  Wolfe’s hand covered hers. “It is my responsibility, not yours. I was the one who sent her.”

  “Pardon me, Director,” Richard whispered. “I would appreciate if you would allow me to bring Bo and Harris into this meeting. I wouldn’t want them to hear it afterward.”

  “Yes, of course . . . only, I want to do it soon. As soon as we can assemble everyone.”

  SERAPHIM SENT OUT A group text message, summoning the team to the gym. They arrived by ones and twos looking around at each other, some wondering aloud at the late-evening meeting.

  Tobin walked to his desk and sat down. He glanced at Jaz when she took her seat and noted Lance and Sherman standing against a wall. Richard, Bo, and Harris were also present, Richard’s expression carefully blank.

  It wasn’t until Wolfe walked in that the gravity of the summons began to dawn on Tobin. His eyes jinked from Wolfe to Seraphim and back. When he was unable to make eye contact with either of them, his shoulders tightened.

  Then Wolfe began to speak.

  “Ladies and gentlemen, I have called you together to convey sad news.”

  A low murmur ran through the gym. Tobin’s heart stuttered. He choked on his own breath.

  Wolfe said, “I received word a few hours ago that yesterday noon, local time, our friend and coworker Bella was involved in a serious car accident.” He paused. “A fatal accident. Bella and the other passengers in the car perished at the scene.”

  All around them, Wolfe’s news was met with denials followed by sobs and curses.

  Tobin gasped. He muttered, “Marta? Lord Jesus . . . no! Please, no!”

  Rusty, weeping unashamedly, jumped to his feet and shouted what others were thinking.

  “No, that’s not right! She can’t . . . Are you sure? Are you sure?”

  Wolfe nodded, slowly. “I received my information, through channels, from a firsthand witness.”

  He waited a moment, allowing the team to process what they had heard before adding, “I understand your pain. I feel it just as deeply. Bella was . . . extraordinary. She was the heart and soul of this task force. I don’t know how she managed it, but she pulled all of you together—complete strangers—and, within days, showed you how to work together. She fashioned you into a powerful, cohesive team. She exacted your best efforts, insisted on everyone’s full participation, and demanded that you respect each other. She made you . . . more than a team. She made you a family, and we will mourn her as a family.”

  Of those gathered in the gym, a few attempted to stifle their shock and grief until they could get away and find some privacy, but many were shaken, openly weeping.

  Jubaila stood. “Director Wolfe? Please. Can’t you tell us anything more? Where is Bella? I mean where is her . . .” She didn’t finish.

  Wolfe nodded. “I understand your need for information, to try to make sense of her demise. I can add only a few details to what I have already told you. Bella was out of the country when this happened, and we are working to bring her home. However . . .”

  Wolfe’s voice failed him momentarily. He swallowed, cleared his throat, and tried again. “What I can tell you is that the car she was in . . . caught fire after the accident.”

  Tobin shuddered. O God, my God! Please, no! I cannot bear this. Oh, Marta!

  Wolfe said softly, “The car burned. None of the passengers escaped the fire. Bella—”

  Seraphim, seeing Wolfe struggling, came and stood next to him. “The Director will arrange for Bella’s remains to be shipped back to the States . . . not to us, but to her family.” She looked around, making eye contact with the task force members. “Because of Bella’s injuries, there will be no viewing. In fact, out of respect for her family’s privacy . . . and to safeguard this task force and its ongoing work, none of us will attend Bella’s burial.”

  Into the stunned silence, Wolfe cleared his throat and nodded. “Thank you, Patrice.” He added, “Seraphim is correct. We cannot attend Bella’s burial. But that does not mean we won’t pay our respects to her. We will hold a memorial service here. At that time, we will properly honor her—as she deserves.”

  Within Tobin’s heart, every hope and dream he’d nurtured fractured and crumbled. He pulled in on himself and wept like a child.

  Within his agony, he kept remembering their last words. “I couldn’t let you leave, Marta, not without telling you how I feel. I love you. Come back to me—in one piece, hear? We need more time, you and I, to figure things out.”

  “Quincy Tobin, I can’t promise you anything except, God willing, I will come back. And if it is his will? We’ll have plenty of time to, you know. Figure things out.”

  “No more time,” he babbled softly. “No more time for us! Oh, Lord! Why? Why wasn’t it your will for us?”

  Tobin sat up and scrubbed his face with his shirtsleeves. He saw Jaz prostrate on her keyboard, her whole body shaking and quivering.

  He stood and rolled his chair over to hers, sat, and placed one hand on Jaz’s shoulder. He was crying again, heedless of his own weeping—only that his tears, as they tumbled down, felt like the shards and slivers of his broken heart.

  Jaz shuddered under Tobin’s hand.

  “No,” she keened softly. “I can’t believe it! I don’t believe it!”

  Tobin couldn’t answer her, but inside he was screaming, I don’t believe it, either.

  The meeting began to break up. Some team members stood in small knots, hugging and comforting one another. Others fled the gym, seeking the privacy they needed to mourn.

  Tobin remained with Jaz.

  Eventually, she lifted her head a few inches off her keyboard. The black eyeliner and mascara that were such a part of her “trademark” look now streaked her cheeks and chin.

  “Tobin.”

  “Yeah, Jaz?”

  “I can’t stay here. I . . . I can’t. I can’t bear it.”

  “Can’t stay here? Do you mean here, in the bullpen? Or . . . here, with the task force?”

  “There is no task force without Bella.”

  You’re not wrong there, Jaz, Tobin thought.

  “But where would you go? The Ukrainian mob. You know they are looking for you.”

  “I don’t need Wolfe’s protection from them. I never did. I have the means to disappear and never be found. I just kind of got roped into this and thought it might be fun for a while, but now . . .”

  “You can’t go yet, Jaz. Not until we’ve honored Bella like the director said. It wouldn’t be right for you to leave before then.”

  She sniffed and scrubbed a hand across her face. “Yah. I suppose you’re right.”

  “MARSHAL TOBIN.”

  Tobin raised his chin. Wolfe stood over him.

  “Sir?”

  “I need to notify Bella’s family. In person. I would like you to come with me.”

  Marta, Tobin screamed within himself. Not Bella, but Marta. My Marta!

  “What are you grinning at?”

  “Grinning at the best news I’ve heard in days, sweet Marta.”

  “Dork. You know that’s not my name, right?”

  “You may have mentioned it once or twice.”

  No, her name wasn’t Marta. Nor was it Bella. It was Laynie—and now he was supposed to tell Kari that her only sister was dead?

  Memories of the night Wolfe and his team had intercepted Laynie and reunited the two sisters rushed into Tobin’s mind. He had seen them running to each other. Embracing. Sobbing with love and wonder.

  It had been one of the most profoundly joyous scenes he had ever witnessed. The two sisters had talked from Lincoln all the way to Kari and Søren’s home in RiverBend, often touching hands during the drive. Tobin had thought their love a holy thing. An unbreakable bond forged in and through fire.

  He flinched as he reminded himself that, in a few hours, he and Wolfe would dispense grief an
d loss to Laynie’s sister. They would become the instruments to destroy that joy.

  Tears stung his eyes. You’ll always be Marta to me. My Marta.

  Tobin had done death notices before. He knew how to compartmentalize so he could perform this sacred duty with honor and dignity. He choked down the tears. Forced the pain to the back of his mind and locked it there.

  I will grieve later, he told himself.

  His heart added, You will grieve forever.

  “Yes, sir. I’ll go.”

  “I’m having my plane prepped and fueled. We’ll leave here in thirty minutes, spend the night at a hotel near LaGuardia, and fly out early tomorrow morning.”

  Chapter 4

  THEY LANDED IN LINCOLN, Nebraska, around ten in the morning. Two agents, a man and woman, met them. The woman handled the introductions.

  “Agent Julie Knox, sir. This is agent Joel Brooks.”

  Wolfe and Tobin shook their hands. Wolfe asked, “Do you have Max Thoresen’s current location?”

  “Yes, sir,” Knox replied. “I have a man keeping tabs on him. He was last reported to be in class, but that class just ended. We expect him to return to his dorm shortly.” She gestured toward a Suburban. “My agent has spoken to Max’s resident assistant and has secured the dorm’s library as a private space for the notification. The RA will bring the young man to you there.”

  “Very good.”

  They parked near Burr Hall. Tobin and Wolfe followed Knox into the dorm and down a hall to the library. Max arrived moments later.

  Wolfe spoke. “Hello, Max.”

  The tousled-haired young man recognized Wolfe and Tobin and grinned. “Hey! What are you guys . . .”

  Wolfe and Tobin’s stoic, unchanging expressions halted Max’s greeting.

  He glanced from Tobin to Wolfe and back to Tobin. “What’s going on?”

  “I’m afraid we have bad news, Max. It concerns your aunt.”

  HALF AN HOUR LATER, Tobin explained to Max that they needed to leave for his parents’ farm to break the news to them.

  “We can take you along with us, Max. We have a car and a driver waiting for us.”

  “Yeah. I should be there for them.”

  He climbed into the seat behind Wolfe and Tobin and kept to his own thoughts during the drive.

  It was early afternoon when they exited the freeway near RiverBend and began the last leg of their journey toward the Thoresen’s farm. Tobin twisted in his seat to look behind him.

  “How are you doing, Max?”

  “Okay, I guess. I’m just . . . worried about Mom and Shannon. And Grandma Polly and Granddad Gene. This is gonna hurt them something awful.”

  Tobin nodded. “Your mom and your aunt had a special bond.”

  “So did Shannon and she’s . . . she’s sensitive, y’know?”

  “Yes. Your aunt told me.” He thought a moment. “When do your brother and sister get out of school each day?”

  “Usually three, I think. The bus drops them at the bridge around three thirty.”

  “So, they won’t be at home when we arrive?”

  Max shook his head. “No. Maybe that’s a good thing.”

  Tobin silently agreed. When he turned forward, he saw that they were riding the bluff near the Thoresen farm. The road descended toward a creek. Before they reached the creek and its bridge, they turned off the road and followed the gravel drive to Kari and Søren’s house.

  Tobin saw the curtains move when they pulled up at the front of the house. Max jumped out as soon as the driver put the Suburban into park. At the same time, Kari Thoresen opened the front door. Max ran to her.

  “Max? What is it?”

  She seemed surprised when Tobin and Wolfe exited the vehicle. When she saw their grave expressions, she crumpled in Max’s arms. “No! No, no, no!”

  Wolfe and Tobin quickened their steps and helped Max guide Kari into the house. They sat her down on the sofa in the room that doubled as Kari’s office and the living room. Wolfe pulled the chair from her desk to the sofa, sat in it, and leaned forward, eye-level with Kari.

  “Ms. Thoresen? I’m sorry to be the bearer of bad news.”

  “No! I don’t want to hear it!”

  “I’m sorry, but your sister, Laynie, was in a vehicle accident two days ago. She did not survive.”

  “No. That’s not true. You . . . you’re lying.” Kari dared Wolfe to contradict her. “Please. Tell me it’s not true!”

  “Ms. Thoresen . . . Kari, I’m sorry, but Laynie is gone. She died in the accident.”

  Kari whimpered and covered her face. “Oh, Lord Jesus! Lord Jesus! Please help me!” She sobbed into her hands and rocked back and forth.

  Tobin looked to Max. “Where’s your father, Max? Your mom needs him.”

  “He’s probably across the creek. I’ll . . . I’ll go find him.”

  Max grabbed a set of keys from a hook near the door to the garage. Moments later, they heard the sound of a car backing away from the house, leaving Wolfe and Tobin alone with Kari.

  Kari twisted her fingers together and stared at her hands. “Tell me what happened.”

  Tobin looked to Wolfe, who nodded. They had already discussed what details they would release to Laynie’s family and who would relate them.

  Tobin reached out and took one of Kari’s hands. “Your sister was out of the country on assignment.”

  “What country? What was she doing there?”

  “I’m sorry. I’m not at liberty to discuss the details of her assignment, including where she was.”

  As Kari set her jaw and gathered herself to argue with him, Tobin couldn’t help but observe how much she resembled Laynie doing precisely the same thing. His forehead puckered, and tears sprang to his eyes.

  Kari noticed. “You . . . you were the sky marshal on that other plane the hijackers tried to take down on 9/11, right?”

  Tobin brushed his fingers across his face. “Yes. That was where I met . . . Laynie.”

  “Was there . . . was there something between you and her?”

  Tobin tried to smile. “It was early days for us, but yes. We had hoped for more time to . . . wait on the Lord. To explore the possibilities.”

  It was Kari’s turn to offer comfort. “I’m sorry, Marshal Tobin. I didn’t realize.”

  He nodded. “Like I said, our relationship was young. When she . . . when she gave her life to Jesus, I think she began to hope for a different future than the one she’d been . . . locked into for so long.”

  “Laynie’s salvation was the answer to prayer. Generations of prayer.”

  “Generations?”

  “Yes. Generations of our family and their friends. From April 1911 forward.”

  “She never said.”

  “She hardly understood it herself. It’s the proverbial ‘long story.’”

  “I’d like to hear about it, if you’re willing to tell me. Sometime . . . later.”

  His words brought them back to the present and their shared grief. “You asked what happened, Ms. Thoresen?”

  “Yes. And would you please call me Kari?”

  “I would be honored to do so, ma’am. What . . . what we know so far is that a truck or a large vehicle hit the car she was riding in. She was with three other individuals.” He paused a beat. “The car was damaged significantly. Everyone in the car, including Laynie, perished.”

  Kari’s lips trembled. “Where is she? I want to see her.”

  This was the hardest part for Tobin, hardest because the thought of Laynie dying in such horrifying fashion wrung his own heart. “No, ma’am. You don’t want to see her. The accident must have damaged the fuel tank because the car . . . the car burned.”

  “Laynie? She was in the car when it . . . burned?”

  “Yes, ma’am. She and her fellow passengers.”

  Wolfe stepped in. “We are bringing Laynie home, Ms. Thoresen. However, because of her . . . injuries, the casket will be sealed . . . and should remain sealed.”

&nb
sp; Kari stared straight ahead as she struggled to process the news and sank into a deep trough of silence that neither Tobin nor Wolfe ventured to disturb. Several minutes later, they heard vehicles in the driveway and the slam of car doors. Søren burst through the front door, Max behind him.

  Tobin and Wolfe drew back from the sofa to give them space, grateful that Kari’s husband was there to comfort her.

  Søren dropped to his knees in front of his wife. “Kari? Max told me. Are you all right?”

  “No. My heart is broken, Søren. Shattered. They keep saying Laynie is dead, a car crash, but it can’t be true! Oh, what am I going to tell Shannon and Robbie? How will we ever tell Polly and Gene?”

  Søren pulled Kari into his arms. “We will tell them together, my love. The Lord will help us. He will help us all.” He looked to Wolfe and Tobin. “Thank you for coming to tell us in person.”

  “You . . . and Laynie deserve our best,” Wolfe said gently. He cleared his throat. “When you’re ready, we’d like to discuss the arrangements.”

  “Isn’t it too soon?” Søren asked. “We haven’t even told our other children or Laynie’s parents.”

  “We understand. However, it’s important that we remain here until we’ve had some conversation around the arrangements.”

  Tobin watched Søren’s eyes flick from Wolfe to himself. Tobin moved his head incrementally up and down, answering Søren’s unspoken question.

  Yes. We have more to say.

  Søren’s impatience grew. “Can you at least give us a little space and time? We will want to talk about the arrangements privately. As a family.”

  “Of course. We’ll step outside. Call us when you are ready.”

  Wolfe jerked his chin and headed for the door. Tobin fell in behind him.

  Tobin blew out a long breath and stretched his neck and tight shoulders. Then he inhaled, filling his lungs with fresh, bracing air. “I’m going to take a walk, Director. Clear my head.”

  He didn’t wait for Wolfe to answer. Tobin set his feet moving away from the house and found himself wandering down the slope toward the creek that ran along the property line. When he reached the creek’s bank, he fixed his gaze on the deep green waters and watched them flow by, dancing over the rocks in the creek bed on their way to the river some distance away.