Page 21 of Code Name: Tank
Dragon’s dismissal still burned in my chest as I watched her follow Alice out of the command center. “New lead,” she’d said, then shut me out completely. After being angry about me excluding her, she’d turned around and done the same thing. The hypocrisy stung almost as much as her cold tone when she’d said we’d work better separately.
Whatever this new lead was, Dragon clearly didn’t trust me enough to share it. That phone call I’d overheard last night probably had something to do with it—another complication I couldn’t begin to understand.
“You look like hell,” Atticus said, settling into the chair across from my desk. “Rough night?”
I gestured at my screen. “Just trying to focus on the work.”
“Want me to help with anything?”
“Yeah, sure.”
Atticus leaned back in his chair, studying me. “You know, Tank, there’s this revolutionary concept called ‘talking to people about your feelings.’ I hear it’s all the rage these days.”
“Fuck off,” I muttered.
“I’m just saying, maybe you could try actually having a conversation with Dragon instead of brooding like a character in a Gothic novel. You know, something crazy like, ‘Hey Dragon. What’s wrong?’ or ‘Can we talk about what happened?’”
“I already tried that. It’s complicated.”
“Everything’s complicated when you’re overthinking it. Sometimes the direct approach works wonders.” He grinned. “Though knowing you, you’ll probably write her a formal memo requesting a scheduled discussion about interpersonal dynamics.”
Rather than saying the words again, I just flipped him off.
Atticus and I worked in silence for the next hour. I spent the time taking another look at the financial data I’d been compiling, determined to lose myself in tracking the money. Following these trails was like solving a puzzle—each piece had to fit with the others to reveal the complete picture.
But even focused on the data, my mind kept drifting back to Dragon. I hated that I couldn’t just look across the room and see her. That alone would ground me.
When my cell vibrated with a text, my first thought was that it might be her asking me to come to the main residence so we could go over something. Instead, it was from my mother.
Are you bringing anyone home with you for Thanksgiving this year?
I cringed. Bringing someone? Unless we miraculously concluded this investigation by then, I wouldn’t be able to go home at all.
Maybe I could suggest they come here instead—rent one of the other camps on the lake for the weekend. The thought of introducing Dragon to my family’s chaos in the peaceful setting of the Adirondacks was oddly appealing. I remembered her telling me she didn’t have family traditions, and the idea of including her in ours felt right.
At thirteen hundred hours, Atticus looked up from his screen and stretched. “Tank, we’ve been staring at numbers for hours. My brain is fried.”
I rubbed my eyes, realizing he was right. “Yeah, mine too.”
“Want to take a break? We could drive over to the Canada Lake Store, grab some sandwiches.”
The idea of getting out of the command center appealed to me. “Good call. Let’s go.”
Twenty minutes later, we were sitting on the store’s front porch, demolishing incredible sandwiches. I’d gotten the Canada Laker, which was roast beef, cream cheese, and banana peppers on pumpernickel. Atticus got the Wester, which consisted of Italian cold cuts, provolone cheese, and oil and vinegar on a freshly baked baguette. The October air was crisp, and the view across the lake toward the island was exactly what I needed to clear my head.
“So,” Atticus said around a bite of his sandwich. “You figure out what you’re going to tell your family about Thanksgiving yet?”
I paused mid chew. “Actually, I was just thinking about that. No way I can leave, with this investigation going on.”
“That’s rough. Your mom’s going to be disappointed.”
Atticus had come to my parents’ place more than once when his folks were out of town for the holiday. He knew firsthand how much grief my mother would give me.
“I was thinking I could suggest they come here instead. Rent one of the camps on the lake for the long weekend.”
Bill, the store’s owner, looked up from where he was restocking drinks in the cooler on the porch. “Did I hear you say you need a rental for Thanksgiving?”
“Possibly,” I said. “For my family. Parents, sister, her kids.”
