Page 207 of Secrets Beneath the Waves

There is one bittersweet afternote to my time off. I had just finished debriefing Mariam when I found out that my neighbor, Mr. Basile, passed away. His son and grandson came in for the service, and gave me a book with one of his wife’s red scarves tied around it.

“He wanted you to have this,”his son told me.“Said you’d understand why.”

It was a worn copy of a book, her neat handwriting in the margins underlining passages on love and learning how to find beauty in the quiet moments. The reminder was timely, especially after my week. I’ve never been good at sitting still and finding peace in the quiet.

My phone goes off. It’s a text from Graham. He wants to know if I’m home and if he can stop by for a moment. I hesitate, not really wanting to see anyone, but I go ahead and tell him yes. If I’m honest, I’m surprised at how much I’ve come to lean on him, to welcome his advice, and realize what an asset he is to our team. That isn’t something I take lightly. While I never expected him to be any less, it does help to have someone I know I can count on to have my back. He’s highly skilled, and I’ve come to realize I can trust him with my life.

But he’s also a reminder of William.

William had always had my back. It seemed he was able to read my mind and anticipate what I needed. It’s impossible not to miss William and what I thought we would have together.

Graham must have been close by when he texted, because my intercom goes off almost immediately, and I buzz him in.

A minute later he’s knocking at my door.

I cross the room, wondering if I should offer him something to eat or drink. I just hope he doesn’t stay. When I finallyopen the door, he’s carrying a large manila folder, standing awkwardly until I invite him in.

“Is everything okay?” I ask, pointing him to my couch while I sit down on a padded armchair.

He takes a seat, still looking uncomfortable. “I wanted to see how you’re doing. I know you must be tired.”

“I am, and on top of everything we went through, my favorite neighbor died.” I hold up Mr. Basile’s wife’s book, then set it back on the coffee table. “His son brought me this book as a gift to remember him. It belonged to his wife.”

“I’m sorry. Hawke said you were taking some time off. Told me to do the same thing.”

I nod. “I’d say we both need it.”

“Any plans?” he asks.

“For now, to get some sleep. Then. . .I’m really not sure yet. Time off is rare, and I know I should do something with it, but honestly, I’m just tired.”

He taps his fingers on the envelope he’s still holding. “I won’t stay long.”

“I didn’t mean that, I just meant…” I glance toward the kitchen wondering why I suddenly feel so awkward. “Do you want something to drink?”

“No. I’m fine. Thank you.”

I clear my throat. “I want you to know I was impressed with how you handled things. Thank you for having my back.”

“Of course, though honestly, I’m just glad it’s over.”

Until the next assignment anyway.

“Any updates on Oumar?” Graham asks.

“Yes, he’ll be leaving the country—with Mariam. Possibly even Europe. I won’t be in on that decision, but it’ll be somewhere safe.”

“That’s good news.”

I nod, wondering why he’s stalling. Wondering why he’s really here.

“Tell me about your neighbor,” Graham says.

“Mr. Basile. . .” I shift in my chair, surprised by the change in conversation. “He was a really good neighbor. I often ran into him on my way home from work, and we would talk about everything from politics to local artists to our spiritual convictions. I’m really going to miss him.”

“You’re a good person, Samantha.”

I should take it as a compliment, but instead I frown. There’s something behind his words I can’t quite put my finger on. A subtext I can’t read in his expression.