The Edge

Bing looked uncertain. “I suppose not. I guess I’ve never really thought about that.”

“So I was just wondering how he could afford a Naples beach house.”

“Yes, I suppose you are. I could ask my father.”

“The simplest answer would be that his two brothers gave him money to buy it.”

Bing shook his head. “My father and Uncle John are many things, Agent Devine. But generous is not one of them. And, frankly, I don’t think the two of them really like Uncle Ben. He made it clear that he thought what they did for a living was at best a joke and at worst revolting, and that he had taken a far higher road in life. He would even ticket them for illegally parking during funeral services.”

“So, he was kind of an... asshole?”

Bing laughed. “More than kind of.” His expression turned serious. “Why are you asking about all of this? I mean, if you can tell me.”

“Not right now, I can’t. So if they didn’t get along, why did he move down there with them?”

“Another good question to which I don’t have a good answer. Maybe they reconciled.”

“Okay, did your uncle Ben know the Silkwells?”

“Oh, sure. He and Senator Silkwell were good friends. Uncle Ben locked up the police vote for him. He was very involved in police union politics in Maine.”

“Did your uncle know the children well?”

“I believe Dak interviewed for a job with the police here when he got out of the military. It didn’t work out. I don’t think Dak likes to take orders,” he added with a grin.

“And the sisters?” asked Devine.

“I know he wrote a recommendation letter for Jenny when she was applying to college. And then I think he did another one when she wanted to work for the federal government.”

“And Alex?”

Now Bing looked uncomfortable. “Again, any particular reason you’re asking all this?”

“There is a reason. I just can’t share it right now.”

Bing blew air out of his mouth and rubbed at his neat hair, mussing it a bit. “Well, I’m sure they knew each other.”

“That’s it? No personal contact like he had with her siblings?”

Bing looked even more conflicted. But he finally said, “No, none that I can think of.”

Devine stared at him for so long that the other man finally dropped his gaze to his highly polished shoes.

“Let me know when you hear back from your father.”

“Yes, yes, absolutely,” said Bing hastily.

Devine left the man there.

A numb-looking Fred Bing turned and slowly walked back down the hall.

Chapter 59

Devine drove to Jocelyn Point. When Alex answered his knock he said, “You have time to help me with something?”

“Sure, what?”

“I’ll show you. It’s right down the road.”

They drove to Earl Palmer’s house while Alex looked anxiously out the window. They didn’t go to the house, but rather into Bertie’s old studio.

“Is this where it happened?” she said, looking around and nervously tugging on the yellow and gray scarf around her neck.

“Yes.”

“This place represented so many happy memories for me. And now? Bertie would be so sad that Earl...”

She wandered around and took the cover off an easel set in the corner.

“My God, I can’t believe she kept this.”

“What is it?” said Devine, walking over to join her.

“The first painting I did under Bertie’s tutelage.”

Devine took a look at it. The image was clear enough. He shot her a glance.

“It’s you. You started out with a self-portrait?”

She nodded. “Only it was Bertie’s idea.”

“What was the reasoning behind that?” asked Devine curiously.

Alex leaned against the wall, put her hands in her pockets, and stared at the painting.

“It wasn’t that long after... I was attacked. Bertie wanted me to know that I was still there. That I had meaning and value. That the person who did that to me could never take that away. Ever. That Alex Silkwell was alive and would thrive.”

“In addition to being an artist, Bertie sounded like she would have made a great counselor.”

“She helped me more than all the fancy shrinks ever did. But it was more or less what you told me, too, when I was on the roof. So are you a great counselor, as well?”

“Depends on who I’m counseling.”

Alex stepped forward, put her hand out to the painting, and gently traced her jawline, and next the curve of her right eye.

“I had just turned sixteen when I painted this. I’m twice as old as that now.”

“Still a young woman with most of her life ahead of her.”

“I’m a very different person now, Travis.”

“Experience changes all of us, no matter whether we want it to or not. And like I said before, you’re stronger and better than your younger version.”

“And like you said, I guess the fact that I’m still standing is a victory of sorts.”

“In the Army it was the only one that counted.”

“You never told me why you left the military.”

“Some days I don’t even know,” he lied.

She seemed to sense this and looked away. “You expect truthfulness from everyone except yourself?” she said coldly.

Devine sighed and nodded. “You’re right. I’m being a hypocrite. The truth is I left the Army because I had to. Officially, it was my decision, but I really had no other pathway.”

“Why?”