‘What was in this envelope?’
‘Letters, notes, different things. Some of them were from you, including the letter with the photograph and charge card. Most were from her.’ Her face colored. ‘There were a few notes from Grans.’
‘Letters from Carrie?’ I did not understand. ‘Why would she write you? Both of you were here at Quantico and you didn’t know each other before last fall.’
‘We sort of did,’ she said, her face turning a brighter red.
‘How?’ I asked, baffled.
‘We met through a computer bulletin board, through Prodigy over the summer. I saved all the printouts of the notes we sent.’
‘Did you deliberately try to arrange it so you could be at ERF together?’ I said as my disbelief grew.
‘She was already in the process of getting hired by the Bureau,’ Lucy answered. ‘She encouraged me to try to get an internship here.’
My silence was heavy.
‘Look,’ she demanded. ‘How could I have known?’
‘I guess you couldn’t have,’ I said. ‘But she set you up, Lucy. She wanted you here. This was planned long before she met you through Prodigy. She probably had already met Gault in that northern Virginia spy shop, then they decided she should meet you.’
She angrily stared off.
‘God,’1 said with a loud sigh. ‘You were lured right into it.’ I stared off, almost sick. ‘It’s not just because of how good you are at what you do. It’s also because of me.’
‘Don’t try to turn this into your fault. I hate it when you do that.’
‘You are my niece. Gault has probably known that for a while.’
‘I am also well known in the computer world.’ She looked defiantly at me. ‘Other people in the computer world have heard of me. Everything doesn’t have to be because of you.’
‘Does Benton know how you met Carrie?’
‘I told him a long time ago.’
‘Why didn’t you tell me?’
‘I didn’t want to. I feel bad enough. It’s personal.’ She wouldn’t look at me. ‘It was between Mr. Wesley and me. And more to the point, I didn’t do anything wrong.’
‘Are you telling me that this large manilla envelope was missing after the break-in?’
‘Yes.’
‘Why would someone want it?’
‘She would,’ she said bitterly. ‘It had things in it that she’d written to me.’
‘Has she tried to contact you since then?’
‘No,’ she said as if she hated Carrie Grethen.
‘Come on,’1 said in the firm tone of a mother. ‘Let’s go find Marino.’
He was in the Boardroom, where I tried a Zima and he ordered another beer. Lucy was off to find Janet, and this gave Marino and me a few minutes to talk.
‘I don’t know how you stand that stuff,’ he said, disdainfully eyeing my drink.
‘I don’t know how I’ll stand it either since I’ve never had one before.’ I took a sip. It was actually quite good, and I said so.
‘Maybe you should try something before you judge it,’ I added.
‘I don’t drink queer beer. And I don’t have to try a lot of things to know they ain’t for me.’
‘I guess one of the major differences between us, Marino, is I am not constantly worried about whether people think I’m gay.’
‘Some people think you are,’ he said.
I was amused. ‘Well, rest assured nobody thinks you are,’ I said. ‘The only thing most people assume about you is that you are a bigot.’
Marino yawned without covering his mouth. He was smoking and drinking Budweiser from the bottle. He had dark circles under his eyes, and though he had yet to divulge intimate details about his relationship with Molly, I recognized the symptoms of someone in lust. There were times when he looked as if he had been up and athletic for weeks on end.
‘Are you all right?’ I inquired.
He set down his bottle and looked around. The Boardroom was busy with new agents and cops drinking beer and eating popcorn while a television blared.
‘I’m beat,’ he said, and he seemed very distracted.
‘I appreciate your coming to get me.’
‘Just poke me if I start falling asleep at the wheel,’ he said. ‘Or you can drive. Those things you’re drinking probably don’t have any booze in them anyway.’