Page 129 of The Devil We Know

“So, you’re saying what exactly?”

“I’m saying, good fucking luck ever finding them.”

Tony catches my attention, and I wave him over. I point to my phone and mouth, “Mark.”

Tony’s eyes widen, and he makes a face likely because the last thing he wants is scientific information, stats, and facts. Nonetheless, he sighs and asks, “And what does Mark have to say?”

I move the phone from my ear, hitting the speakerphone. “Mark, Tony’s here asking what you have to say.”

Again, I’m met with silence. Tony looks at the phone, then looks at me questioningly. I shrug, motioning to the phone, and after a beat, Tony takes it from me. “Just fucking spit out.”

“Hi, Tony.”

“Mark.”

I hide my smile behind my hand, not wanting to rile Tony by laughing at his awkwardness. Mark clears his throat and sighs. “Look. I know you all want me to fill your heads with all sorts of rose-colored goodness, but I also know you called specifically because you trust I won’t do that.”

Tony looks at me, his expression grim, but still, he shakes his head. “No way. No fucking way.”

Tony’s hand tightens on my phone, and I snatch it back before he can smash it or throw it, as he’s known to do. I shove him back when he tries to snatch it from me, turning my back on him as I say, “Thanks for the info, Mark. I appreciate your candidness, as always.”

“Anytime. And let me know how it turns out.”

“I will. Once we know.”

We don’t bother with an official goodbye. The call ends as quickly as it began. Then I stand there, staring helplessly out at the water.

“We have to find them,” Tony whispers, his voice hoarse.

“I know.”

Tony goes silent, his stillness so finite I glance over to see if he’s still standing next to me.

He is.

He’s staring out at the water, his jaw clenched just like his fists. Then he whirls on me, his hands fisted in my shirt as he leans close and grits out, “Maybe they got out.”

I frown, wishing this to be true more than I could ever explain. But I don’t. I grab his hands, still fisted in my shirt, holding them tightly as I stare back at him. “If only.”

His jaw tightens further, and for a moment, I think he may take a swing at me. I don’t even care, but a second later, he eases his grip, then releases me, pushing my back slightly as he steps back.

Then, without another word, he walks away.

And I watch him go.

54

Grief and Hope Collide

Matt

The overall tone ofthe room can easily be described as somber.

At a time when we would otherwise be celebrating a great victory, we’re instead bogged down by what can only be described as a crushing loss.

Whenever we prepare for a mission, we always go over our list of pros and cons, doing simple math to establish whether the victory is worth the cost.

In this case, I believe Darius and Antoinette would still consider the victory well worth the loss, even if that loss was at the expense of their own lives.

---