A Brilliant Deception (35 page)

I
must have dozed off after Jack left, because much later that morning I woke up to find a nurse changing my IV. She looked at me as I opened my eyes. “Oh good. You’re awake,” she said kindly. “There’s someone here who wants to see you.”

She disappeared and two minutes later, Felix poked his head around the doorframe. “Up for a visitor?”

“Felix. Oh, thank God,” I breathed out deeply. “Is Templeton out? Is he okay? What happened?”

He walked into the room and broke into a grin. “We did it, Cat. Templeton is out. He’s safe.”

Relief filled me. “Where is he?”

“He’s back in Seattle, in a private hospital—the ultra-discreet kind, if you know what I mean.”

My relief was immediately replaced by despair. Templeton would be a fugitive from now on. Singapore would want him back. He would be a wanted man, on the run.

“And so you know,” Felix said, reading my mind, “Interpol has worked everything out with the Singaporean government. The charges have been washed. He doesn’t have anything more to worry about.”

My eyebrows lifted. Then I understood. By
Interpol
, he meant Ludolf Hendrickx.

I smiled at that, then grew uneasy once more. I wanted to know where everyone else was, whether everyone else was safe. If Felix was here . . . where was Ethan? I felt desperate to talk to him, to see him.

I opened my mouth to ask Felix, but he cut me off. “Listen, Cat, I know you’re processing a lot,” he said, pouring me a glass of water from the pitcher on a table at the end of the bed. “And the timing may be less than ideal at the moment, but my superiors at the League want me to offer you an official position.”

I almost dropped the glass of water he handed me. “What?” I shifted in the hospital bed to face him more fully, wincing with pain at the movement.

“The board knows everything you did, and they are beyond impressed,” he said. “You’re in. We’ll give you more details . . . in time. But your training will start soon. As soon as you heal up.” He gestured to my heavily bandaged shoulder. “If you want to do it, that is.”

“I do,” I said quickly.

Excitement fluttered in my belly. I lifted the glass of water to my mouth with a shaking hand. My future was going to begin. With the League, I’d be able to do what I loved, what I was good at, and make the world a better place at the same time.

Felix was quiet as I turned everything over in my mind, and then he held an envelope out to me.

“Listen, I’m supposed to give this to you,” he said.

I searched Felix’s face for an explanation but there was none. “What’s this?” I asked.

“Just open it.”

I took the envelope and unfolded the letter inside. I immediately recognized the handwriting.

Dearest Catherine,
the letter began. I could practically hear Templeton’s voice. My eyes stung. I looked up at Felix and he shrugged. “He wrote it in the hospital. He said he wasn’t up to a telephone conversation yet, but there were things he wanted to say.”

I continued reading.

I bit my lip. I would no longer be working with Templeton. It was possible this would be the last I would hear from him. I forced myself to read his final words.
I want you to know, Catherine, that you are the best of us. It has been an honor and a pleasure.

My throat constricted in a painful lump. The honor had been all mine. One day I would find a way to tell him that.

I folded the envelope and put it on the tray beside my hospital bed. I turned to Felix. I wanted to ask him about Ethan, where he was, why he hadn’t come . . . but I was afraid of what he’d tell me. I grasped at a different subject.

“Templeton mentioned the sheriff,” I said. “Is he pissed about the truth about Robin Hood? That he was a Yorkshireman?”

“Well, it’s not so simple. The fact is, he was both. He was born in Nottingham, and died in Yorkshire. They both have a claim to him. At any rate, it’s an area of ongoing research and controversy.”

I was happy to let the academics duke this one out. As for my little secret about my own connection to Robin Hood . . . well, I wasn’t quite ready to share it yet. Someday, perhaps.

“So what happens to the Gifts, now? And the Lionheart Ring?”

“The DOA obtained the Fabergé from the gala, and the Lionheart from Atworthy,” he said. “They will soon be installed in a permanent place in the British Museum.”

“On display?” It didn’t sound like a good idea. They would just be stolen again.

“Their replicas, sure.”

“And where will the originals be kept?”

“Well, let’s just say . . . you know that warehouse they show at the end of
Indiana Jones and the Raiders of the Lost Ark
? Well, think of that. And then double it.”

I smiled. It was a fitting end.

Atworthy was finished. He’d be locked up for a long time, after shooting Hendrickx and all the conspiracies and organized crime they’d be able to pin on him. And Interpol was busy rounding up the rest of Caliga.

I, for one, was happy to let it all go. It was time to move on.

Felix was quiet a moment and then he pulled out his phone. “Cat, there’s someone else who wants to talk to you.” He held the phone out to me, then slipped out of the room to give me privacy.

I held the phone to my ear. “Montgomery? How are you feeling? Are you okay?” My heart skittered at the sound of Ethan’s voice.

“Ethan, it’s . . . good to hear your voice,” I said, then cleared my throat. “I’m getting better. They’re going to let me out of here in another day or so.”

There was a pause. “I heard about everything,” he said quietly. “And I wanted to be there. It’s . . . there’s something I have to deal with here.”

I swallowed. His voice sounded tense, worried for me. But distracted, somehow. “Where are you?” I asked.

“I—I’m still in Singapore.”

Something was wrong.

“Montgomery, I have to tell you something. Not all of us made it out of the prison escape okay.”

My stomach dropped. Ethan was in trouble. He was hurt. Or he’d been caught. I tried to ask, but I couldn’t form the words.

“It’s Brooke,” he said. “She didn’t make it.”

Didn’t make it?
Was she stuck in prison, or . . . did he mean something worse?

My mouth went dry as Ethan described in a few brief, agonizing sentences, what had happened. She’d been shot. Ethan had gotten to her, and they had managed to escape. But it had been too late. Brooke was dead.

I let out an anguished cry. The truth slammed into me.
She had sacrificed herself so Templeton could get away.

Brooke, who had always looked out for number one, had always taken care of herself—in the end, she’d been the true hero. It was more than I could stand. I gripped the phone in my fist and squeezed my eyes tight. And then, anguish mixed with guilt. I realized part of me felt relieved that it wasn’t Ethan who was hurt.

“I have to stay here,” Ethan said, “to take care of getting Brooke’s body back home. It’s tricky, but I’ve managed to get an alternate identity . . .”

“Of course,” I said hoarsely, nodding. He was staying to do the right thing. He wasn’t leaving her behind.

I glanced out the hospital window. The Hudson River sparkled, reflecting the brilliant July sun. I thought—
Brooke will never see that again. She’ll never see anything again.

“It’s my fault,” I said, barely a whisper.

“If you think of it like that, then you are detracting from Brooke’s final act,” Ethan said. “You are taking the burden—and the glory—of her sacrifice away from her. She chose to help, she chose to be part of the team, she
chose
to make that one final decision that ensured our getaway. It was her choice, completely.”

I hoped someday I could fully believe those words. They had a core of truth to them.

There was silence on the line for several seconds. I took a deep breath. There was something I needed to tell him. I knew the timing was all wrong, but I couldn’t hold it in.

“Ethan, I want you to know . . . it’s over with Jack. For good.”

He was quiet. “Why are you telling me that?”

“Because I realized, at last, that my future isn’t with him. It’s . . . with you.” I swallowed. “If that’s what you want, too,” I added.

He said nothing for a moment, during which time my chest began to ache. “Montgomery, I really can’t talk about this right now.” His voice sounded distant. “I have to go and handle things with Brooke. I’ll call you when I get back home. Okay?”

“Sure. Okay, I understand,” I managed to say.

I disconnected the call and placed Felix’s phone on my bedside tray. It was over with Ethan. His silence at my declaration confirmed that. There would be no future for us. My insides felt hollow. Somehow, I was going to have to find a way of accepting I had lost him for good.

T
he next morning, my parents walked into my room just as the nurse was about to disconnect my IV. “All ready?” my mother said brightly, bustling in and sweeping open the curtains. “It’s a gorgeous day out there, maybe we can enjoy it before heading home. Go out for lunch, perhaps?”

They had arrived late last night, and were here to collect me when the hospital discharged me. We would head home together tomorrow as planned, as long as the doctors said I was okay to fly.

I squinted against the sunlight that streamed into the room. The very last thing I felt like doing was going out for lunch with my parents. My mother turned from the window and glanced down at me in the bed. I winced as the nurse briskly removed the IV from my hand and pressed a cotton swab against my stinging skin.

“Or perhaps we should go back to the hotel,” my mother said, her voice softer, her face gazing at me with concern. “You can rest, Catherine. We’ll take care of everything.”

The nurse made a note on a clipboard and then walked out, shoes squeaking faintly on the polished floor.

My dad came to stand beside me. “Feeling a little better, Kit Kat?”

I shrugged. “A little.” Truth was, my shoulder was healing well, and I was regaining my strength. But it wasn’t the physical pain that would be a problem.

I turned to him then, finally ready to talk about what I had learned. “Dad, I know about our family’s connection to Robin of Loxley. I know the . . .
profession
has been in our family for countless generations. Why didn’t you ever tell me?”

He glanced up at my mother, standing on the opposite side of the bed, then looked at me for a long time before answering, shock and indecision mingling on his face. “I couldn’t, Cat. I was afraid I would lose you further, that you would see it as validation. And you would never stop doing what you were doing.”

“I know about your own father. What he did.”

My mother was watching us carefully. There was no surprise on her face; she’d clearly known his history. But I could see she was worried about his reaction to all this. He nodded. “It tore our family apart. It’s why I had so much difficulty with your, um, career choice.”

I understood. And I didn’t blame him. None of us mentioned my sister Penny. But she was, and always would be, in all our thoughts.

I took a deep breath. The air in the hospital smelled of bleach and freshly starched sheets, with a faint odor of breakfast being served down the hall. “Well, I have news. Good news,” I added, seeing my mother’s expression. “I’ve been recruited . . . and I’ve chosen to go to the right side of the law. I can’t tell you exactly what it means—you don’t have the security clearance for that,” I said with a wry grin. “But you can be assured I’m telling you the truth when I say I’m not a criminal anymore.”

My father stared at me and his eyes grew glassy. He said nothing, but I knew what this news meant to him. He had always been a man of few words. My mother, on the other hand, had plenty of words. She peppered me with questions about job security, work conditions, maternity pay . . .

I deflected it all. I was finally getting good at that.

One thing she said was a little trickier to deflect, though. “I’m happy for you, Cat. It sounds like an exciting move. And I’m glad you won’t be in quite so much danger.” I wasn’t sure about that, but I didn’t say anything. “But I must confess, I’m still waiting for you to find someone you can share your life with.” A wistful expression crossed her face. “I want grandbabies, damn it,” she added with a teasing tone. But there was heartfelt sincerity under her teasing.

Though it had taken me awhile to realize it, this was my wish, too. Before I could stop myself, I thought back to my conversation yesterday with Ethan, and my wounded emotions throbbed again, raw and fresh.

At last, my father found the words he wanted to say. “Penny would be happy, Cat. And she’d be proud of you. Like I am.”

I managed a smile. Although my love life was in tatters, at least this was something I could find comfort in. A feeling of peace curled around my heart at his words.

I glanced at my mother. She looked more content than I’d seen her in a long time. She’d obviously recovered well from her own stint in the hospital. And although I couldn’t erase the fact that she’d been shot, my decision to leave the criminal world went a long way to soothing my guilt over her injury.

 

That evening, after I’d been discharged from the hospital, I decided a walk around the city was in order. My parents had protested my request to go alone, but I’d assured them I’d be okay. I couldn’t sit still at the hotel any longer, watching television and killing time before the doctor cleared me for our flight tomorrow. Too many thoughts swirled around in my head. I needed to keep moving.

The day had been gorgeous and sunshiny, the heat of the city wrapping around me like a favorite sweater, but it was growing later now. The sun slipped lower and the full heat settled a bit. My thoughts kept drifting to Brooke. It was going to take some time to come to terms with what had happened to her. It was going to take time to come to terms with everything, actually.

I grabbed a coffee at Dean & DeLuca and hopped in a cab down to the Brooklyn Bridge. When I’d lived in New York, this was one of my favorite places to watch the sun set over the city.

I was in the cab when my phone rang. “Hello, darling,” my mom said when I answered. “I was just checking us in to our flight tomorrow. Would you like a window or aisle seat?”

I sighed. It was a thinly veiled excuse. I could hear the worry and the unspoken questions in her voice. “Window,” I said. “And, Mom? I’m fine.”

She gave a short laugh. “Of course you are. So . . . where are you, anyway?”

“On my way to the Brooklyn Bridge. I’m going to watch the sunset with my coffee. I’ll be back in a little while.”

“Oh. Well, that sounds nice. Catherine, will you please call if you need anything?”

“Sure,” I said. “But don’t worry, Mom. I’m okay.”

As I said the words, I realized I meant it.

Several minutes later, the cabbie dropped me at the Brooklyn Bridge. As the sun began to dip low toward the horizon, filling the sky with a golden glow, I made my way along the pedestrian walkway to a spot near the center. While traffic roared beneath me and suspension ropes soared overhead, I leaned on the railing and took a deep breath.

A few tourists strolled behind me, snapping photographs, sighing over the sight of the sun setting through the stone archways of the bridge. I lost track of the passage of time. I lifted my coffee cup to my lips and took a sip—
ugh
. Stone-cold. Oh well.

I fiddled with the paper cup, and looked out over the water. It was fitting, really, for me to be alone. I had chosen an unconventional path, and a journey like that was always destined to be taken alone.

Someone cleared his throat beside me.

“Need a warm-up on that coffee? I can help with that.”