Ghost Writer(92)

The Scranton left shortly after NCIS were done. Sinclair stayed as a consultant, a guest of the Nottawasaga. Sovereignty and jurisdiction issues were, at least for the moment, established amicably.

Barb and Draco were granted permission to join our divers and temporarily moved over to the émil Gagnan. Chief Gravell also came along. After all, he was originally a member of Franchot’s crew.



Mid-August, Gravell and I were summoned to appear before a military court for Tim Neville's pretrial hearing. It was a joint US-Canadian tribunal, held at CFB Esquimalt. The Canadian venue was chosen because the crime occurred in Canadian territory and the primary witness (me) had been advised by Canadian intelligence (Gravell) not to step onto American soil.

The hearing wasn't as interesting as they make it look on TV. There were no courtroom dramatics. Thank heavens, there were also no ghosts. I managed to leave them behind on the ship.

The case against Tim Neville was straight forward. He tried to kill me and was caught in the act. Gravell was a witness to the attack, but I think he would have come anyway. He coached me on what to expect so I wouldn't get flustered and start babbling about ghosts and visions. Despite Gravell’s assurances, I went in feeling anxious, but mostly the process was tedious…and long…very long.

Although my involvement with AFFA was brought up, there were no trick questions. Neville's counsel was obviously leaning towards an insanity plea. Mostly she wanted me to confirm that instability ran in the family, which really was a question for Dora, not me.

Unless I was recalled, I was done. Gravell was done. In celebration, we were spending the afternoon on the patio of a local pub, eating nachos and drinking Coronas with wedges of lime.

“You know, my life used to be so mundane before this summer.”

“I don't believe it,” Gravell said, giving me a half-smile.

“Well, maybe not totally mundane. I have worked for some interesting people and the life of the self-employed always has its own level of risk, financial if nothing else. But this is the first time anyone tried to kill me. And I have never almost died so often in such a short period of time.”

“You handled it very well.” He raised his bottle of beer in a toast.

“I tried,” I said, answering the toast by raising my bottle. “When I fell apart, it wasn't until after the action. When I was rescued from the galley, I literally threw myself at Captain Campbell.”

“I don't think he minded.”

“Then I threw myself at you.”

He didn't say anything, but his half smile said he didn't mind either.

“And you had to pry my fingers off your shirt after Neville's attack,” I reminded him.

I'll admit, I was fishing for an acknowledgement that he was as interested in me as I him. I caught a different kind of compliment instead.

“You have nothing to feel ashamed of. You were, and are, one of the bravest people I know.”

I blushed. To cover my embarrassment, I chugged the rest of my beer. He signalled the server for another round.

“I tried to live up to your example of cool detachment,” I said, as lightly as possible.

“Professional veneer, Madame Kirby, that's all. Inside, I was scared I was too late to save you. I think you saw that.”

I nodded.

Okay, I told myself, stop fishing. Be direct.

“Y'know, you're not on duty right now. You could call me Jen, and maybe give me permission to use your given name?”

“I'm always on duty. Besides, I don't want to call you Jen, and I won't call you Jenny.”

I am sure my colour deepened because I felt like my face was on fire. Captain Campbell called me Jenny. Even though we were only friends, it started off as a term of endearment.

“You know my given name,” I pointed out, forcing myself to look him in the eye.

“You know mine.”

The beer arrived. Gravell paid for them, waving aside my offer to contribute. He then turned the conversation to my son. Seamus was begging me to come home early because his father and stepmother were driving him around the bend. Dora wanted me to stay to the end of September to keep an eye on things since she had to leave. She had classes to teach.

I was in the middle of a tug of war. No matter who won I'd end up in the mud.

“So, have you decided yet? I noticed you've brought everything with you.”

“Only because I don't have that much.” I sighed. “I need to shop. I am so tired of wearing the same things day in, day out.”

A silent chuckle shook him.

“It's different for you. You either wear a uniform or what passes for a uniform on the èmil Gagnan.”

“I take it you haven't made a decision yet.”

“No. You'll stay until the émil Gagnan has to leave, right?”

“That's my primary job, yes.”

His eyes widened, and I think he finally understood what I needed to know.

“Since keeping you safe is also my job, it would be easier for me if you stayed.”

I grinned. “I wouldn't want to make your job too hard.”

I loved my son, and I missed him too, but I had a feeling that when I went home, I wouldn't see Gravell again. The thought was sad and a bit scary. I addressed the scary part.

“What will happen when I do go home?”