Dawn Patrol

120

Yeah, he can.

A gun is its own invitation.

Teddy unhooks the chain lock and opens the door.

Boone goes in and kicks it shut behind him.

Teddy's house is as beautiful as he'd expected. Huge living room with a vaulted ceiling. Expensive custom paint with faux brush techniques. Expensive modern paintings and sculpture, a grand piano.

The center of the room is taken up with a floor-to-ceiling column that's a saltwater aquarium. A startlingly bright panoply of tropical fish circle serenely around the column. Tall green undersea plants stretch up toward the surface and wave like thin fingers in the mild, motor-driven current. At the back of the room, a slider gives a view of a huge spotlighted deck and, beyond that, the open ocean.

“Nice,” Boone says.

“Thanks.”

“Hi, Tammy.”

She glares at him. “What do you want?”

“Just the truth.”

“Trust me, you don't want it.”

“There's a little girl involved,” Boone says. “Now you're going to tell me the truth or, I swear, I'll splatter both of you all over this pretty room.”

Teddy walks back toward the bar. “Would you like a drink?” he asks. “You're going to need one.”

“Just the story, thanks.”

“Suit yourself,” Teddy says, “but I'm sitting down. It's been an exhausting couple of days, as you know.”

He sits down in the large leather easy chair and looks at the fish in his tank. “Tell him, Tammy. It's almost over now anyway.”

Tammy tells her story.