Page 4 of Eight Years (The Trident Trilogy 1)

Well, that’s just the understatement of the year.

“Hey. How’s everybody tonight? A few cocktails before dinner?” The waiter has perfect timing.

Drew gives me the “we’re not done with this conversation” look, and grabs the wine list. I know we probably are done, though. In addition to not having much curiosity, Drew is also easily distracted.

The waiter walks away to get our Pinot Noir. Before Drew can start asking any more uncomfortable questions, I say, “So tell me about the Jackson Unlimited case. Any progress?”

Drew is a corporate attorney, and amazingly he can—and does—talk about it for hours. I never talk about my work. I can’t. I work for the CIA. Drew thinks I work for the State Department. It’s a good cover for why I travel so much. Drew is a good guy, but I know there’s no real future with him. It’s almost impossible to have a healthy relationship with someone you have to lie to every day. He’s a great companion, a great plus-one, but I know when all of this is over, I’m going to end up breaking his heart. I don’t feel good about it, but frankly, there’s a lot I do in my day that I don’t feel very good about. It’s all a means to an end. I won’t be at peace until I find out the truth. That’s my only focus now, and no one, not even Drew, is going to get in the way.

Drew has just ended his lengthy summation about his current case. “So, Bill-Will said you were a beach babe in high school, huh? I don’t think I’ve ever seen you touch a beach.”

“Well, considering we live in D.C., unless you consider the Potomac an ocean, you’re probably never going to see me on one.”

“We should take a vacation. Maybe go back and visit the Outer Banks. I’d like to see where you grew up,” he says hopefully.

That is never going to happen. Never. There’s more chance of me spilling all my secrets to you.

“Yeah, maybe. You know I travel so much for work, I kind of like to stay around here when I can.”

“I know. I know,” Drew says, sighing. “When are you out next?”

“In a few days or so. Not sure of the timing exactly.”

In truth, I haven’t even presented my next proposed target package to my boss. It’s a solid one, though, and he’s never been very good at saying no to me. Getting his permission is really more of a formality at this point.

“Are you going overseas?” Drew asks, knowing to keep his questions vague if he wants them answered at all.

“Yeah, and I’m not sure for how long. It could be a while.”

“Your travel schedule is so unpredictable. I don’t know how you deal with it.”

Drew starts telling me about a new client he just signed today. I smile and nod at the appropriate moments, but my mind is back on the text from Chase. I’m not sure how to answer it or even if I should. He knows where I am now and, more importantly, where I’m headed: back to Virginia Beach, the last place I saw him. I’ve avoided it successfully for so many years, but I know now that the road to the truth has to go right through there. The thought of going back fills me with a sense of dread that I haven’t experienced in a long time. The memories I had almost shut out completely are already starting to resurface, and I know they’re going to blow up in my face the minute I cross the city line.

What is it they say? Sometimes things have to get worse before they can get better. Well, things are about to get a whole lot worse, and if this all ends like I think it will, things are definitely not going to get better.

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