Weapons of Mass Deception

CHAPTER 52

Brendan inspected himself in the mirror and let out a deep breath. Behind him he could see the pile of discarded outfits on his bed, but in the end he’d settled for the old standby: khakis, white button-down oxford, and blue blazer.

Exactly the same thing he’d worn the last time he saw Liz.

He’d been almost three weeks into his four weeks of leave before he finally screwed up the courage to call her. Brendan suspected that Don and Marjorie had both called his parents to urge him to ask Liz out.

When did it get so hard to just talk to her? Once they’d been best friends, inseparable. Sure, they dated, but life at the Academy was too busy to have a full-blown relationship.

He sucked in another deep breath to calm the butterflies in his stomach. It’s just two old friends going to dinner, that’s all. Keep it cool, man. Keep it together.

Except it was more than that. Liz was divorced now, and of all the dozens of possible FBI offices to transfer to in the entire United States, she’d chosen Minneapolis. That couldn’t be a coincidence.

He spied the bottle of Old Spice that Master Chief O’Brien had given him before his last meeting with Liz and smiled. What the hell; he dabbed a splash of the cologne along his jawline.

His mother was waiting for him in the kitchen. “Oh, Brennie, don’t you look handsome. Liz won’t know what hit her.”

Brendan rolled his eyes. “Mom, please. I’m not going to prom, just dinner with an old friend.”

His father joined them in the kitchen. “Well, you can tell your ‘friend’”—he waggled his fingers for air quotes—“that she’s welcome here anytime.”

Brendan knelt next to Champ’s dog bed. “Please make them stop, buddy.”

The old dog thumped his tail weakly and rolled a cataract-glazed eye in Brendan’s direction. At fourteen years old, his old friend was on his last legs.

Knowing that parking near the trendy Uptown area was going to be murder this time of year, Brendan decided to walk from his parents’ house in Linden Hills. It took longer than he remembered, and he arrived at the Urban Eatery a few minutes late, out of breath, and limping. Brendan wiped his brow with a pocket handkerchief as he pulled open the heavy door of the restaurant.

The interior was dim and chill with air conditioning, making the sweat under his arms freeze into clammy patches. He heard Liz before he saw her, her deep chuckle rolling out from the bar area. He stepped into the space.

Liz was leaning against the bar with both hands, facing the bartender and laughing at something he’d said. She wore a simple sheath of pale yellow that complemented her dark hair and olive-toned skin. The sleeveless dress showed off her muscled biceps and shoulders.

The bartender looked up and saw Brendan. He nodded to Liz and moved away.

As she turned around, Brendan had the sudden desire to run. He looked down at his khakis and sweaty white shirt and knew she was out of his league. She was sophisticated, mature, professional, and he was… the same guy she’d known a dozen years ago.

Liz’s brown eyes were warm, still merry from the shared joke with the bartender. When she hugged him, he felt the strong muscles of her back through the thin dress. The warm scent of her perfume enveloped him, a subtle musk with light notes of vanilla. He thought of the cheap cologne he’d splashed on himself and tensed.

“What’s wrong?” she said.

“Nothing, sorry.” He clumsily disengaged from her embrace. “I’ll check on our table.”

“No need,” Liz told him. “Tony will do it.” She waved at the bartender, and he picked up the phone. Tony’s eyes locked onto Brendan’s for second, and Brendan thought he detected a flicker of anger in the man’s gaze.

“You’re on the patio, Liz,” he called.

Liz took Brendan’s hand and led him through the restaurant to a table for two overlooking the lake. A chilled bottle of Prosecco was waiting for them. Brendan pulled out her chair. “You seem to know this place pretty well.”

Liz laughed. “I live just around the corner. I come here all the time.” She accepted a glass of wine from Brendan. “What shall we toast to, Bren?”

She’d called him Bren. He fought back a rise of hope in his chest. “To absent friends?”

Liz narrowed her eyes. “How about to present friends?”

Brendan flushed as he repeated, “To present friends.”

They eased into the conversation with small talk, mostly about work. Brendan hinted that he couldn’t really say much about his recent assignment, and Liz gave him a knowing smile. “I thought refitting sailboats was a little below your paygrade, Commander,” she said and changed the subject.

The level in the wine bottle dropped quickly as they started to get reacquainted. It was obvious Liz liked her work. She talked at length about her assignment as a special agent on the Minneapolis JTTF, and gave him some background on recent local news stories. A caprese salad arrived that Brendan didn’t remember ordering, and they both dug in while laughing at a Riley story.

The empty Prosecco bottle was replaced by a pinot grigio that Brendan also didn’t recall ordering. The chilled wine tasted sharp and clean. “Why did you choose Minneapolis?”

The smile on Liz’s lips froze for a split second. She shrugged. “It was the first transfer I could get out of LA.”

Brendan stayed silent, and Liz shifted in her seat. “That’s not true,” she said finally. “I planned my transfer for months before James and I broke up. I–I just needed to get away. He’s a good man, but I didn’t love him. Besides, I’m happy here.”

Brendan’s mouth went dry and he wished he hadn’t drunk so much wine.

“Everything okay here, Liz?” The voice was a warm baritone.

Brendan half-turned in his seat to see Tony, the bartender, in the gathering dusk. He’d changed out of his work clothes into a pair of trendy jeans and an open-necked silk shirt. His blue eyes gave Brendan a wintry look. He moved past Brendan to stand next to Liz and rest a hand on the back of her chair.

Liz shrank away from his hand. “We’re fine, Tony. I’ll see you tomorrow.” Tony gave Brendan a curt nod, then strode off.

Brendan sat rigid in his chair, his mind working. He flushed when Liz’s eyes finally met his. “Friend of yours?”

Liz shifted in her seat. She picked up her wineglass, then put it down again without drinking. “I’ve seen him a few times… nothing serious.”

“So you’re dating him?” He had a sudden image of Tony and Liz all sweaty and tangled up in the sheets of a massive four-poster bed like some cheesy telenovela.

Liz huffed. “I’m not a nun, Brendan! I’m a thirty-something, divorced workaholic who walked away from a man who loved her for… for…” She ran a folded napkin under her eyelids.

“For what?”

“You’re serious?” The light from the candle danced in her eyes. “That Thanksgiving at Marjorie’s when I threw myself at you? When I divorced my saint of a husband and moved to Minneapolis? Why would I do those things, Brendan? Are you that fucking dense?” Her voice rose and Brendan could hear the chatter on the patio die down as the other diners eavesdropped. The wine roiled around in his stomach like a sour mess.

Liz stood up. The heavy wrought iron chair stuttered against the stone patio, making a loud clatter. Her pale yellow dress seemed to attract all the light from the space around her. She placed her hands on the table and leaned toward him. The flickering candle softened the curves of her face, but her eyes glowed with fire.

“You’ve had some bad relationships — I know, and I don’t care. You’re going to deploy to someplace on the other side of the world — I know, and I don’t care.” Liz’s parted lips trembled and she breathed heavily. Her expression looked somewhere between wanting to cry and wanting to kick his ass, but her voice was steady.

“What I do know is this: once upon a time, I said having a relationship and a career was too hard. I pushed you away. I was wrong. Here’s the deal, Brendan McHugh: I love you. Always have. Always will.”

Brendan tried to swallow and found he’d lost the ability. Liz’s beautiful brown eyes flashed at him from across the table.

Say something, you idiot! Nothing happened. The connection between his brain and his body seemed to have shut down.

She straightened up, carefully folding her napkin, her eyes pinning him into his chair.

“I get that you’re scared, Brendan, I really do. But I have turned my life upside down to be with you. I need you to meet me halfway.”

Liz placed the folded napkin on her plate, slipped her handbag under her arm, and walked away. A table of three women off to his left clapped.

Brendan felt a burning flush creep up his neck as he stood, swaying slightly. He fumbled for his wallet and dropped a handful of bills on the table.

He looked at the doorway into the restaurant where Liz had disappeared.

Then he reeled toward the low railing and stepped onto the sidewalk.