ATIE AND WHIT were treated on the plane by a medical team Frank had brought. When they landed in Boston they were both rushed to a trauma hospital. Shaw, Reggie, and Frank sat in the waiting room for hours, Frank drinking cup after cup of bad vending-machine coffee while Shaw just stared at the floor. The doctors came out to tell them that Whit was fine and would fully recover. Then more hours passed.

Shaw stirred when a tall man and woman walked past the waiting room. It was Katie’s parents. He recognized them from a photo she’d once shown him. They looked both exhausted and frantic. They were with their daughter for an hour before they came back out and into the waiting room.

Shaw remembered that Katie had told him her father was an English professor. He was tall and spare, his hair mostly gray. Katie’s mother looked like her daughter, slim and blonde, same eyes, same way of walking.

Katie’s father said, “They told us that you helped our daughter.” He directed this at Shaw. Shaw could barely lift his head to look at the man. He tried to speak, but couldn’t. He looked back down, his guilt paralyzing him.

“Thank you,” said Katie’s mother.

Shaw still couldn’t look at them.

Sensing what he was going through, Frank rose and escorted the Jameses out of the room, talking to them in a low voice. He came back in later and sat next to Shaw. “I put them in another waiting room. They’re calling the rest of the family.”

Reggie glanced over at him. “How is Katie?”

Frank said, “Still touch and go apparently. They still don’t know the extent of the damage.”

More hours passed. Frank had gotten some food from the cafeteria for them, but only he and Reggie ate any of it. Shaw just kept staring at the floor. Then they saw Katie’s parents come out of the intensive care unit again.

From the looks on their faces the news was good. Katie’s mother came over to Shaw. This time he rose and she hugged him. “She’s going to make it,” the woman said. “She’s out of danger.” This came out in a gush of relief. Her husband shook Shaw’s hand. “I don’t know what really happened, but I do want to thank you with all my heart for helping to save her life.”

After a few more minutes they left to call Katie’s siblings and give them the good news.

Shaw just stood there staring at his feet.

“You did help save her, Shaw,” said Frank.

Shaw waved off his comment with a short thrust of his hand.

Reggie said, “Shaw, you need to go in and see her.”

He shook his head. “No.”

“Why not?”

“I don’t have that right,” he said between gritted teeth. He clenched and unclenched his hands, looked like he wanted to put both fists through the wall. “She almost died because of me. And her parents are thanking me for saving her. It’s not right. None of that is right.”

Reggie gripped his face and turned it so he was forced to look at her. “You need to go and see her.”

“Why?” he said fiercely.

“Because she deserves that.”

Their gazes locked for what seemed like forever. Reggie slowly released him and stepped back.

Shaw moved silently past her and left the waiting room. A few minutes later he was standing next to Katie’s bed. Tubes covered her; machines surrounded her. The nurse told Shaw he only had a minute, then she retreated, leaving them alone. He picked up Katie’s hand, holding it gently.

“I’m sorry, Katie. About a lot of things.”

He knew she was full of pain meds and wasn’t conscious, but he had to say these things. If he didn’t, he felt he would combust.

“I shouldn’t have left you in Zurich. I should have come after you sooner in Paris. I…” He faltered, fell silent. “I really, really care about you. And…” The tears started to trickle down his cheeks and he drew a ragged breath, felt sick to his stomach. He bent down and kissed her hand. As soon as he did, he felt her fingers tighten slightly around his hand. He looked at her face. She was still unconscious, but she had squeezed his hand.

He saw the nurse staring at him from the doorway.

“Good-bye, Katie,” he said, finally letting her go.

Chapter 102

“SURE YOU don’t want me to drive?” Frank said. He’d just climbed in the passenger seat of their rental.

“Yeah, I’m sure.” Shaw drove faster than he should have to the airport.

Frank looked over nervously from time to time, but seemed loath to break the silence. Finally, he said, “We found the rest of Kuchin’s boys, all dead, all except for this Pascal guy. He was nowhere to be found.”

“Good for him.” Shaw’s gaze never veered from the road ahead.

“You sure you don’t want to stay around here? I can get you the time off. You can be there when Katie leaves the hospital.”

“The only thing I’m going to do is get as far away from her as I possibly can.”

“But Shaw—”

Shaw slammed on the brakes, bringing the car to a rubber-burning stop as horns blared all around them and cars whizzed past on either side.

“What the hell are you doing?” exclaimed a stunned Frank.

Shaw’s face was red; his big body shook like he was suffering from meth withdrawal. “She almost died because of me. And it wasn’t the first time. So I am never going near her because this is never going to happen again, Frank. Do you understand me?”

“Yeah, yeah, I got it.” Frank had seen Shaw under virtually every situation imaginable, but he had never seen him like this.

Later that night Shaw and Frank boarded a British Airways 777 at Boston’s Logan Airport that would take them to London by the next morning. During the flight Frank watched a movie, had some drinks and dinner, did some work and napped.

Shaw spent the entire six-hour-and-twenty-minute flight staring out the window. When they landed the men cleared customs at Heathrow and walked toward the exits.

“Shaw, I’ve got a car. You want a lift into town?”

“Just get me another assignment, the sooner the better.” Shaw kept walking, head down, bag swinging at his side.

Frank stared at him for a bit, then found his ride and was driven off.

Shaw got into London an hour later on a bus. He didn’t go to the Savoy. He wasn’t working. He couldn’t afford the place on his own dime. He checked into a far more modestly priced room in a far less desirable part of town. He had just thrown his bag down in a chair when his phone rang.

He didn’t even bother to look at the caller ID. He wasn’t talking to anyone right now. He went out, bought some beer, came back, popped one, drank it down and then another, crumpling the empty cans in one hand and throwing them into the trash.

The phone rang again. He had another beer, went to the window, gazed out on the street, and saw a bunch of people pass by who had never personally known Katie James and might not even know how close she had come to dying.

“She’s a terrific person,” Shaw said to the window. “I don’t deserve her. And she sure as hell doesn’t deserve me.” He held up his beer can, tapped it against the glass, thinking of her hand squeezing his. It had felt wonderful and yet he knew he would never feel it again.

At midnight his phone stopped ringing even as he finished off the last beer, which was now warm. He couldn’t sleep and rose in the middle of the night to throw up all that he had drunk into the toilet. He showered, shaved, dressed in fresh clothes, and headed out to find some breakfast at 4 a.m. This being London, he was successful after only a two-block search. He sat in the back of the mostly empty café and ordered the biggest platter they had. When it came he just stared at the food and instead drank down two cups of black coffee before dropping a pile of British notes on the checkered tablecloth and leaving.

He walked along the Thames and found the spot where he and Katie had stood when a shot had rung out and a man had fallen dead into the river. Then he ventured to another street where if he’d been a second later, Katie would have been murdered by a man wielding a syringe. He passed a shop where they had had dinner together. And finally the hotel where he had thrown her breakfast cart against a wall and she’d responded by calmly pouring him a cup of coffee. This memory drew a smile from him that quickly collapsed into a sob. At that same encounter she’d shown him the bullet wound on her upper arm. And shared with him the story of the Afghan boy who had died, she said, as a result of Katie’s reaching too far, too hard for a story.

She’d flown across the Atlantic on a moment’s notice to be with Shaw when he needed her. She had always been there when he’d needed her. And now she was lying in a hospital with a hole in her chest because of him. Shaw staggered into an alleyway, leaned against a dirty brick building, and wept so hard he finally got the dry heaves.

Later, at Trafalgar Square, he sat red-eyed with the pigeons, staring up at Lord Nelson until his neck hurt because he didn’t know where else to look. London was coming to life now, the pace of feet and vehicles picking up. As the sun rose, the air warmed. After all that had happened, it was hard to believe that it was still summer. Gordes, even Canada, seemed an eternity ago to him.

He rose, looked around, debating where next to go, then stopped. Across the square Reggie was staring back at him. He started to walk in the opposite direction, but something made him reverse his path and cross the space toward her.

“How’d you know?”

“Lucky guess,” she said. “And I called Frank. He told me you were back in London.”

“How’s Whit?”

“Leg’s stiff but he’ll be fine. I’m glad Katie will be okay too.”

Shaw absently nodded.

Reggie wore the white jeans she’d had in Gordes, black flats, and a blue cotton blouse. Her hair hung limp to her shoulders. She looked older, thought Shaw. Hell, they all looked older. He felt like he was a hundred.

“Tried to call you, but you didn’t answer.”

“I think my service was turned off,” he said.

He started walking and she fell in beside him.

He said, “Thanks for taking out Kuchin. It was a hell of a shot.”

“I should’ve been faster. If I had, Katie—”

He moved slightly away from her. “Don’t, Reggie, just don’t.”

She fell silent as they walked farther into the Strand.

“Did they ever find Dominic’s body?” he asked.

“No. And the worst part is his parents will never really know what happened to him.”

“I’m sorry about that.”

She looked down, seeming to search for the right words. “Frank is talking to us about working with you.”

Shaw stopped and looked down coldly at her. “With me?”

“No, I meant with him. With his organization,” she said hurriedly.

Shaw started walking again. “I don’t see how that could be possible.”

She started speaking rapidly. “We would have to change some of the ways we operate. I mean we can’t, well, finish the jobs like we used to. But he said the information network and research support we have could prove useful if we were to combine certain—”

Shaw held up a hand indicating for her to stop. “I don’t really care, okay?”

She looked crushed by this but said, “Sure. Okay. I can understand that.”

They came to a park and Shaw sat down on a bench. Reggie hesitated, seeming unsure whether he wanted her to join him or not. She finally just sat down, but kept a healthy space between them, which was difficult since Shaw was so big.

“I don’t think I ever thanked you for saving my life.”

“Shaw, you don’t have to thank me. I wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for you.”

“I needed to say it.”

“Fine, you said it. That’s enough.” She crossed her legs, drew an exaggerated breath. “It’s none of my business, but—”

He cut her off. “Then drop it.”

A minute of silence passed.

“We weren’t more than friends,” Shaw said, breaking the quiet. “Not yet anyway. But we were friends. And she meant… she means a lot to me. More than I realized.”

“Okay.” A tear slid down Reggie’s cheek.

“And whether we ever would be more than friends is something that…” He shook his head, stared over at a little boy with his mother, and then dropped his gaze to the grass.

“But, Shaw, she’s going to be okay. You can go and—”

“That won’t be happening,” he said firmly.

Another few moments of silence passed.

“What are you going to do now?” she asked.

“Few days off wandering around here until Frank puts me back to work.”

“You could come out to Harrowsfield. In fact, I believe Frank is traveling there tomorrow to go over some things. And we could—” She stopped talking when he abruptly stood.

“No, Reggie, I really don’t think we could.”

He turned to leave.

“Please, Shaw.”

He looked over his shoulder at her. “I’m sorry.”

“But if we can just take it slow.” Tears were starting to cluster in her eyes and this seemed to anger her. She brushed them away.

He turned to face her as she stood to do the same. “I buried the one woman who meant more to me than anyone else. And I nearly lost another woman who I care about deeply.” He paused and drew a short breath. “I’m not going to make it three. Take care of yourself, Reggie.”

She stared after him until even his tall figure disappeared into the growing crowds as London came to life.

Reggie finally walked off in the opposite direction. She could not bring herself to look back.

If she had glanced back, however, she would have seen Shaw stop and stare back at her for a long moment. Then he slowly turned around and kept walking.