“So let me get this
straight,” David questioned grimly. “If we don’t catch him, the bureau’s out twenty
grand, and two murders go unsolved?”
“That’s the size of
it.” Jonathan replied, sipping from his mug as the half-repugnant scent of
burnt coffee trolled through the room.
“Not catching him isn’t
an option.” Mclaurin announced, issuing ultimatums to everyone in the briefing
room, with that bushy-eyed glare pouncing on each of them one by one. “We’re
going to nail this guy before he gets out of the country. Run all his aliases
and put out an APB.”
Jonathan leaned over
and whispered aside to David, “Do you have any idea why Allen Darrow might
start a rumor that he’s been able to bribe an FBI agent into giving him passage
into Argentina?” David raised his eyebrows and shook his head.
“Not a clue.”
Jonathan’s eyes
narrowed, but he said nothing else on the subject.
“Okay, go.” Mclaurin said,
waving them all out. He turned back to his laptop with the air of a conflicted
addict.
“Wait for me
downstairs,” Jonathan murmured to David as he hurried into his office to review
the file. Everyone seemed unsettled. Everyone but Eboni White. David watched
her, wondering. She had said nothing during the briefing and her face was a
continual mask.
He tugged at his tie,
smiling thoughtfully. “So what’s your angle on all this?” She looked back at
him in surprise.
“Angle? I don’t play
angles, Mr. Cassidy.” Tucking the Allen Darrow file under her arm, Eboni pulled
a strand of hair behind her ear and smiled. “I’m not a gamer. My goal is to get
through life and make a positive impact on the world. So I guess you could say
my angle is that I’d rather stop all this before it happens, than catch a
murderer after he’s already done his work.”
He laughed. Smiling
knowingly, she shrugged. “Laugh all you want. It’s the truth. I may be naïve but
I still think it’s possible for one person to make a difference, and my life’s
work is to be that person.” Her eyes glittered with the blue sparkle of
contentment. David raised his brow, wondering.
“That’s it?” He asked
more seriously.
“That’s it.”
“And you’re happy?” His
voice hinted heavily of skepticism. She replied with sincerity.
“In spite of what the
American dream tells us, happiness isn’t what life’s all about, Mr. Cassidy.
Anyone who thinks differently will be disappointed.”
He laughed again, derisively. “Okay, so what is the meaning of
life, Miss White? Won’t you tell me?”
“If this was a scene in a movie I’d probably say that that was for
you to decipher. But this isn’t Hollywood and I’m not Bette Davis.” She lowered
her voice and murmured, “So if you’ll promise to keep it a secret, I’ll tell
you.”
“Please do.”
After a moment of studying him with feigned suspicion, she leaned
forward and whispered in his ear, “The meaning of life is to find a purpose.”
Her eyelashes tickled his face, and she drew back, growing serious again. “We’re
all given a choice, David. Will you leave this world in a worse state than when
you first came or a better one? I’ve made my choice. I know my purpose. What’s
yours?”
She shrugged on her jacket and pulled her purse over her shoulder,
walking out towards the door. Impulsively, he called after her.
“Eboni,”
She turned. “Yes?” David struggled with himself. His own mask
rarely wore thin. He hardly dared drop it for even a moment.
“How did you know which side to choose?” He asked finally, staring unblinkingly out at
the New York skyline.
“I don’t know. I just knew.” She replied, with a half-smile of red
which lit her face with mystery. He glanced back at her, his dark brows
narrowing, as he pondered. “So long David. Good luck.” She slipped out of the
office and he had the panicked feeling that life would never forgive him if he
let her go.
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