Page 68 of The Fixer and the Fugitive

Another shot pinged off the siding.

“That is getting really annoying,” Celeste groused.

“How did you wind up working for The Colonel?”

She shook her head. “I’m not there yet, not even close. The Colonel is the best part of the story, the part where things startto turn around. Everything that came before is why I am the way I am.”

“The way you are, you say that as if it is a bad thing. I love the way you are, the person you are.”

She didn’t reply and she wouldn’t look at him. Instead she drew her knees impossibly closer, curling into herself the way she did whenever she didn’t want to face something. He was afraid she was done talking, but she started again.

“When I was in fourth grade, my foster family had an older biological son. He took a shine to me, paid me special attention. I loved it. It was like having a real brother. Except then he began sneaking into my room at night. The worst part is that I liked that, too. Because no one had ever told me that wasn’t something that should happen. I had no idea what was going on, only that someone seemed to love me. Someone finally noticed me.

“I was moved from that home soon after. I never knew why. If they found out what he was doing, they didn’t hear it from me. I became, not surprisingly, extremely promiscuous. Now that my eyes had been opened to a new way to get attention, I began to seek it from other boys. The day after my tenth birthday, I lost my virginity. And I kept going, blazing through an endless string of boys, trying to pretend those few minutes they spent with me meant they saw me, they loved me.”

She paused, opened her mouth, closed it again, took a breath, and continued. “By the time I reached high school, I had earned a nickname: The Original Mattress Factory. Because that’s what I was, a mattress. But I didn’t get that yet. I chalked the nickname, the stares, the whispers, the rumors, all of it up to jealousy. Guys liked me; girls wanted to be me.

“I joined the army and thought I should probably start fresh, turn over a new leaf. But that’s not so easy. Everything felt like high school all over again. The only way I knew how to fit, to stand out and be special, was to be that girl again, to be TheMattress. And then The Colonel came along. He recruited me, with the caveat that I stop doing what I was doing. And I did.”

“Just like that?” Sam asked.

“Would you believe me if I told you no one had ever told me to stop before? No one cared enough to even notice what was going on, what I was doing to myself. He was the first and only person in my life to actually look at me, to acknowledge my pain, and offer me a way out. Of course I took it, but…”

“But…” he prompted when she once again paused.

“But I didn’t know how to function in the new reality I tried to create. The Colonel let me pick a handle, I chose Celeste, an homage to my heavenly birth name. When I started plotting who I wanted Celeste to be, I knew I didn’t want men to be part of the equation, so I cut them out completely. Since I started working for The Colonel, I haven’t had a date. I haven’t had a relationship. I said no to every man who asked me out. Eventually they stopped asking. I’ve been celibate and completely alone. My world was my job. And then I retired, moved to Montana, and this terrorist stumbled into my orchard.” She rested her chin on her knees, staring straight ahead, afraid to try and make eye contact. There was a particular sort of terror, now that she’d unburdened herself and let go of everything she’d been hiding. He was the first and only person she’d ever told. But there was also relief, a certain freedom that came from dragging all one’s demons into the light of the day.No more hiding,she thought, letting out a complete breath for the first time in a long time.

Sam was quiet, staring thoughtfully at her while she continued to avoid his gaze. “Celeste,” he began at last, and then paused. “Do you prefer Celeste?”

She nodded. Nevaeh was someone else, someone who lived in shame and fear and sadness. Someone who no longer existed.Maybe someday she would learn how to reconcile the two, but for now she preferred to keep them separate.

“Celeste,” he tried again, but she sat up, sniffing.

“Do you smell that?”

Surreptitiously, he put his nose to his armpit and inhaled. “No.”

“Smoke.” She stood and walked to the window, gasping when she looked out. “No.”

“What?” Sam asked, hopping up to stand beside her. What he saw made him almost physically sick. They had a propane torch and were using it to light the orchard on fire, tree by tree.

Celeste squinted, pressing her face farther against the glass. “Sam, that’s not Komeni.”

“How can you tell?” Sam asked. He had to speak past a lump. Her trees, her precious trees, filled with so much promise and potential.

“Because he’s wearing a cowboy hat. That’s the idiot from outside the bank.” She checked her gun again and tucked it away. “This ends now.”

“What? You can’t go out there,” he said, overcome by immediate panic. There were two of them and they were armed. They were huge, she was little. “I’ll go with you,” he said, checking his own gun.

“No, you stay here and cover me if I need it.” She paused and gave him a cocky smile, the first one he’d ever seen from her. “Spoiler alert: I won’t need it.”

And then she was gone. She opened the front door and marched out, stalking toward the two men like a woman on a mission. Sam watched, gun at his side.Should I shoot them?He was an okay shot, but not perfect. The chance of hitting Celeste was too great. Besides, the men weren’t doing anything yet, hadn’t even noticed her advance until she stepped behind the big one, the leader, and tapped him on the shoulder.

He set aside his propane torch and faced her, a look of cold amusement on his stupid face.

“Well, well, well, you’re not the one we want, darlin’. Send out your boyfriend. We’d like to have a word.”

Celeste was angry and that was no good. Anger clouded her rational mind, causing her to be unable to make the sort of snap decisions she needed to make. She took a breath, pushing it away, reminding herself she was a soldier, not a woman in love, not the owner of an orchard that was now on fire.

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