Acts of Violet(87)
CAMERON FRANK: Let’s say this incongruous scenario is what happened. Even though you can’t offer any proof. Why come forward with all of this now?
CHECKMATE: I’m proud of the years I’ve devoted to keeping our country safe, even though some of the things I’ve done for the greater good keep me up at night. Violet Volk also did things for the greater good, more than anyone will ever know. I’ve come forward now because I’m old and unafraid of repercussions. I’m not proud of how we tarnished Ms. Volk’s name and sabotaged her career. Any apology I offer will be hollow and spineless. The best thing I can offer is a bit of truth. And hope.
CAMERON FRANK: Hope?
CHECKMATE: Yes, hope that she got my warning in time.
CAMERON FRANK [STUDIO]: And with that, the line went dead.
So? What do you think?
Did I fall for a hoax?
Or is Checkmate’s account so preposterous it could actually be true?
One of the guiding principles of journalism is the two-source rule.Some reporters insist on three independent corroborating sources for every fact. I freely admit that my journalism has been shoddy with regards to Checkmate. I don’t have three corroborating sources or two … or even one, for that matter. There is zero documentation to back up the things Checkmate said. All the background info on the government programs mentioned has been made publicly available. Any connections to Violet’s mysterious business trips and her involvement with intelligence operations are tenuous as best. There’s nothing to verify it. Any of it.
And yet …
As much as my journalistic roots urge me to be rational, there’s something about this conversation I can’t discard. I can’t explain it any better other than to say it feels true.
Is it just me?
Sasha
March 19, 2018
Quinn returns from LA today. In the morning, she texts to say she won’t need a ride from the airport. She also requests a family meeting for tonight. I offer to bring a pizza, eggplant and olives, from her favorite place. Her reply consists of a single letter: K.
Did she read the letters? She must’ve read the letters.
As I busy myself with the day’s clients (three cuts, one balayage, two blowouts, and a double process), I try to keep the worry at bay, but it gnaws away at me. Quinn has never called a family meeting before.
After work, Gabriel greets me at the house, taking the pizza from me. He kisses my cheek and whispers, “Let her say everything she needs to say.”
Quinn is at the kitchen table, chin resting on her interlocking fingers, her face solemn and vaguely imperious, like she’s in a boardroom waiting for her underlings to file in. I’m half-expecting her to break out the PowerPoint. Tonight, she’s the boss.
I get a courteous greeting but no hug. Once I’ve doled out pizza slices, Gabriel and I eat quietly (okay, I don’t eat so much as pick at the crust), waiting for Quinn to begin.
“Thanks for getting dinner,” she says to me. “Before we get into things, about that meeting with Antoinette—”
“I’d like you to come,” I interject. “Both of you.” Gabriel squeezes my knee under the table.
“I appreciate that.” Her frosty tone warms a few degrees. “And I appreciate you letting me do what I needed to do in LA. It was … full of surprises. Beginning with the letters I found hidden in my suitcase.”
“I’ve been going back and forth on whether that was a mistake,” I say. “I couldn’t find the right way or right time to tell you—”
“That my aunt was an asshole? I mean, it wasn’t a total shock at this point, though the stuff with propositioning Dad…” She shudders.
I twist a piece of crust in my hands, crumbs raining down on my plate. “I was worried you’d resent me for keeping you away from her. Not letting you have more of a relationship with your aunt.”
“In all honesty, Mom, I did resent you. But I get why you cut her off. It couldn’t have been easy for you, either.”
“It wasn’t.” For once, I let her see the pain in my eyes.
Quinn’s face softens with sympathy and understanding. “We can get more into all that stuff later. Let me tell you about my trip to LA. I went out there to see Ace Morgan.”
Apart from my raised eyebrows, I don’t move.
Ace came to the first candlelight vigil for Sasha. When the camera crews were out of sight, I pulled him aside and scolded him like he was a little boy, how dare he betray my sister after being her trusted mentor, that sort of thing. I asked him to leave and never bother our family again.
He respected my wishes, until now.
“Mom, you don’t have to be all stoic and creepy about it.”
“Your mom’s not being stoic or creepy, she’s listening.” Gabriel matches my stiff posture. “That’s why we’re here, to listen and support you.”
“Great, but you guys don’t have to act like robo-parents.” Exasperation as she gives her head a little shake. “Anyway. He reached out to me. Apologized for not getting in touch these last—well, ever. Said there was some tension between him and the family, but he needed to explain some things. In person. And it had to be in California because—well, I’d see for myself when I got there. He even offered to fly me out.” An appraising glance to see how I’m doing, and she goes on. “I knew you’d be against it if I mentioned it, and I didn’t need your suspicions on top of my suspicions. I asked Ace why it had to be in person, and he said he needed to give me something. From Violet. And it was imperative he give it to me two days after my twenty-second birthday. Because 222 was her lucky number. Mom? Are you crying? Aw, Mom, it’s okay. Really.”