Page 223 of Whisper
September 10
1235 hours
How had it all come to this?
Kris sat in the dark corner of Dan’s office, leaning against the cherrywood paneling. He clutched his phone, his forehead resting on the edge of the plastic case. Dan’s gun lay on the carpet beside him.
Each breath trembled, made his body quake. He couldn’t stop shaking, couldn’t get himself under control. He had to move. He had to get up, call Dan. He had to stop Dawood.
All he wanted to do was sit in the dark, in the silence. If he did nothing, could he fuck anything up anymore? Hadn’t every decision he’d made just madeeverythingworse?
Maybe Ryan was right. He should have been locked up. He was a public safety hazard. He was a mosquito light for Dawood, just like Dawood was for him.
Hopefully the FBI would catch Dawood. Had already caught him.
Hopefully Dawood was three counties away by now, running for his life. Trying to get away from the US, back into the arms of human smugglers. Maybe by this evening, he’d be on a boat back to Yemen.
Would he ever know if Dawood made it out of the US? Or would his husband be an eternal question mark in his mind, forever awhat if?, the bitterest regret of his life.
You should have died.You should have died in the back of that car. You should have turned to ash. You shouldn’t have turned intothis.
No. He didn’t believe that. Could he ever truly wish for the love of his life, his husband, to begone? Wasn’t it better for him to be on the opposite side of the planet, changed, different, but alive?
Ten yearschangeda man.
Vibrating shattered the silence, nearly split his skull in two. His teeth clattered as his jaw clenched. He sat back, staring at his phone.
Dan was calling him.
It was only a matter of time. He swiped his phone on. “Dan?”
“Kris? Are you okay? I just saw the updated intel on Haddad. An anonymous sighting was reported in my neighborhood. Did he follow you? Are you at my house? Are you safe?”
He pressed his lips together, trying to keep his sob in.
“Kris? Talk to me. Are you okay? What’s going on? Is he— Jesus, is hethere? Do I need to send the police?”
“No,” Kris whispered. “Not anymore.”
“Not… anymore?”
His sob exploded out of him, a rush of rage and sorrow, grief that eclipsed his heart. He buried his face in one hand, curling over himself. “Dan, I’m so sorry. I fucked up. Again.”
Silence. “What happened?”
“Not on the phone,” he breathed. “Just… get everyone searching in this area. I called in that tip. He was here.”
“Ryan is on it. He’s liaising with the FBI on this. He said he’s got a whole unit about to descend on the area. If Haddad is anywhere around there, we’re going to flush him out. And we’re going to get him.” Dan sighed. “Kris,talkto me. Why was he there? At my house?”
“Not on the phone,” Kris repeated. “I’ll drive back in. I have to tell you in person. What he told me.”
“Youtalkedto him?”
“Not on the phone, Dan. I’m on my way. I’ll meet you there.”
He raced back to Langley as fast as Dan’s little electric car could go. His mind zipped from Dawood to Dan and back, from Dawood’s trembling confessions, his insistence that he was doing the right thing, to Dan’s text about Yemen. About the fire. And Dawood’s refusal to give up his brothers.
Was it the bonds of brotherhood only? Dawood not wanting to lose another life, no matter whose life it was?
