Trapped in my own thoughts, his voice catches me by surprise. "You don't have to talk if you don't want to, just listen. Okay?"
Again, I nod my head.
"What I had to do wasn't easy, but I did it all for you. To protect you. I just hope you can see it that way."
Twisting to the side, planting my hands in the sand, I finally find my voice. "What are you talking about?"
He rubs his palms over his shorts and I can tell he's nervous. "Fuck, I don't even know where to start."
I level my head to look at him. "The beginning. How about you start at the beginning? Why you made us all think you were dead, when you weren't." I can hear my own voice sounding sad and that scares me.
He takes a deep breath, leans back and shoves his legs out in front of him. He looks around and then finally at me. "That's just it. I don't even know anymore where it all started. But two weeks before the awards ceremony is probably the beginning. Caleb called me and I remember the day like it was yesterday. You were at work and I was writing from home. His call was a surprise; I didn't even know he was back from Afghanistan. We met and he told me an FBI task force approached him when he arrived home and he was asked to assist them in taking down a big drug ring. After a few weeks on the job, he couldn't stand it anymore. He didn't like the way the task force was operating and that's when he called me."
Feeling even more confused, I chime in to ask, "What did that have to do with you?"
Ben pulls his knees in, resting his elbows on them, and leans forward. "It had everything to do with me, with us. He asked me to write an article for The L.A. Times. And of course I said I would-who could say no to a story like that? He told me what he knew and I started researching. And son of a bitch if every time I found one thing, it didn't easily lead to another. Before I knew it I had collected a shitload of incriminating information. What I didn't know was that the investigation and my article was putting both of us in danger."
"I don't understand. Why would writing a story put you in danger? And what does this have to do with you pretending to be killed?"
"I found out things, traced the money, the drugs. I had the operation figured out. Caleb and I thought publishing my article would bring the cartel's drug ring down faster than the FBI could. But we were wrong. The cartel found out and wanted the story stopped, so I said I'd kill it. But Caleb giving the information to them wasn't enough. I was in danger. You were in danger."
My eyes flash to his as the shock of what he's saying hits me. "Ben, you were a journalist. That makes no sense. Journalists investigate stories all the time. Why would your story be any different?"
He rests his hand in the sand and his muscular arm draws my attention until he answers. "Because I had gotten closer to the truth than anyone else before me. I knew the ins and outs of the operation and they didn't like that. How they found out-I'm not sure, but they did. Maybe a tip-off, maybe a data trace. I don't know. But they knew about me, and they knew I had information."
"Okay, Ben, let's pretend I understand. So where does the shooting come in? Why," my voice breaks, "did you have to die?"
"To save you. They threatened me. I had to protect you. It had to look like I died so they'd leave you alone. They had to think I was dead, or eventually you and I, we'd both be killed."
My thoughts were racing as I tried to comprehend what he had explained. Trying to determine whether this wasn't some wild fabricated story. I anticipated further imbalance from our conversation, and listening to him only reaffirms it.
He looks at me and continues. "Once I agreed to the plan, Caleb took care of everything. He arranged for someone to take the fall for shooting me, arranged my new location, my new identity, he arranged it all."
Raking my fingers through the sand, I turn to watch a surfer as he rides a wave. "Wait-so Caleb knew this whole time that you weren't really dead? He helped you?"
"Yeah he did. He also promised me he'd watch out for you."
I have to ask, "Did he also know you were coming back?"
"No he didn't. I saw him for the first time yesterday. He hasn't been involved with my case for a while."
Shaking my head, I'm still trying to understand everything. Ben is a case? Is he still working with the FBI?
He inches closer to me until he's much too close, it feels too familiar, and I need to put some distance between us. But he captures my attention and I don't move. He hesitates for the slightest moment, stopping inches from me. "So now do you see-I left for you. It was the choice I had to make."