Andrew Peterson: First to Kill

“Yeah, I agree. What are you going to tell the president?”

“The truth.”

“What will he do?”

“Lansing’s his appointee, he doesn’t want a scandal any more than I do.”

Nathan stopped at Holly’s door and lowered his voice. “I only have one request.”

“Name it.”

“Will you keep your eye on someone out here? Her career?”

“Sure, who is it?”

“The Special Agent in Charge of the Sacramento field office. Her name is Holly Simpson.”

“I’m writing it down. SAC Holly Simpson. Sacramento. I certainly will, to the extent I can. That’s a promise.”

“Thanks, Dad. I’d like to stay in touch more. Let’s make the effort from now on.”

“I’d like that.”

“Me too. Take care, Dad.

“Take care, Nathan.”

Nathan knocked softly on Holly Simpson’s door.

“Come in.”

Holding a dozen long-stemmed red roses, he hobbled into her hospital room. “Hello Holly.”

Her face brightened. “Hi Nathan.”

She was sitting up in the bed. Her hospital gown had been replaced with pajama-type garments with snaps holding them in place. The stainless-steel latticework supporting her legs was still there, but the colorful balloons and flowers were gone. He bent down and kissed her. “How are you feeling?”

“Stir-crazy. I’m ready to get out of here.”

“Where are your balloons?”

“I spread them around, we’ve got lots of wounded in here. How are you feeling?”

“Never better.”

“Thank you for the flowers.”

He set them down on a table and pulled up a chair. “We had a hell of a week, didn’t we.”

She took his hand. “Thank you for giving the reward money to the families. That was very generous of you and Harvey.”

“We’re glad to do it. You okay, really?”

“I’ll never be able to pass through an airport metal detector again without setting it off. I’ve got more screws and plates than the Bionic Woman.”

“Beats a wheelchair.”

“Amen to that.”

“How’s Henning?”

“He’s going to be okay, but he’ll have to spend another week in a hospital bed. He’s got all kinds of tubes and drains sticking out of him. He told me he looks like a Borg from a Star Trek episode, whatever that means.”

“Are you and Director Lansing okay?” he asked.

“He knows I know about the Ortega-Bridgestone connection. I’m playing it cool, like it’s no big deal.”

“Good move. I’m sure he appreciates it. You’ve got a solid future in the FBI, Holly. You made some tough decisions, bent the rules. Very few people in your position have what it takes to make those kinds of choices.”

She squeezed his hand and nodded. “The FBI’s giving you and Harvey private awards for what you did.”

They were both silent a moment.

“Are you heading back to San Diego?” she asked.

He nodded, didn’t trust himself to say anything.

“I wish we’d met a long time ago.”

“Me too.”

“I can’t help but wonder how different our lives would have been. You might be a father with six kids.”

“Heaven help us.”

“Don’t sell yourself short, you’d be good at it.”

“I appreciate you saying that.”

“We shared something special. I know I’ve said this before, but I’ve never met anyone like you and something tells me I never will again.”

“I feel the same about you, Holly. Listen, I’m not very good at this. I’m not even sure I know how to say it.… I’m not ready for this, for us right now. I’m not at a point in my life where I can make a solid commitment to you, and you deserve that. I’m not saying we can’t still see each other. If we want to, it’s just-”

“Nathan, it’s okay. Let’s just take things a day at a time and see what happens.”

He bent down and kissed her on the lips. “I’ll see you soon. I promise. But until then I’m really going to miss you.”

She wiped her cheek. “Me too.”

“I tell you what. I’ll make a special trip up here, if you promise to go see The Music Man with me.”

“Nathan McBride, it’s a deal.”