To him that waits all
things reveal themselves, provided that he has the courage not to
deny, in the darkness, what he has seen in the
light.
—Coventry Patmore
15
Five o’clock came very early, much too
early. I flung an arm at my alarm clock, smacking the snooze button
to silence Technotronic’s “Pump Up the Jam,” playing on my fave
morning radio channel. I gradually pushed up to a sitting position
and even more slowly climbed to my feet.
Mornings are so
not my thing.
I made a beeline for the bathroom,
cranked on the hot water, and filled the room with steam. The
shower woke me up a little. The blast of the hair dryer woke me up
a little more. The three cups of coffee I drank after that did the
rest.
After checking out the newly
long-haired me in the mirror, I tossed some clothes into a suitcase
and added the essentials: toothbrush, makeup, hair dryer, and phone
charger. I met Mom outside as I was hauling my load to the
car.
“Good morning, honey.” Mom tossed her
newly acquired lustrous raven locks, which fell in a tumble of
waves to the middle of her back, and beamed.
Sporting some running shorts, a
sweatshirt, and tennis shoes, I hefted the bag into the trunk and
slammed it shut. “Hi, Mom.”
“You look tired again. Why aren’t you
getting enough rest?”
“Someone broke into my apartment last
night.”
“Oh, no.” Mom gave me a thorough
up-and-down inspection. “Are you okay?”
“I’m okay. I think. Just shaken up a
little.”
“I told you this complex isn’t safe.
You should move into mine. It’s much better. The unit across the
hall from mine is empty, now that Faith is in jail. She’s doing
hard time, I heard. Grand theft auto. Won’t be getting out anytime
soon. I could pull some strings to reserve it for
you.”
“No, Mom. I’m not ready to move. I like
this place. Katie likes it. It’s close to the freeway. Convenient.
Cheap... .” And miles away from you.
“And teeming with
criminals.”
And her complex wasn’t? Her neighbor
was a car thief.
Don’t get me wrong, I love my mother.
We’re very close. But living across from her would make us
too close.
“I’m going to call maintenance and ask
them to change the lock.” I dropped my laptop case into the
passenger seat. “The weird thing is, nothing’s missing or damaged.”
Just like my car. “I couldn’t find any sign
of a break-in.” Unlike my car. “I don’t know
how or why he or she got in. It’s all very strange.”
“I could guess. The lock on your door
is crap. I could pop it with a credit card.” Mom gave me a
worried-Mom look. “I’m very concerned about you.”
“Don’t be. I’ll be fine.” I slid into
the driver’s seat, shut the door, and opened the window. “Besides,
I’ll be staying somewhere else for a few days. By the time I get
back, the lock’ll be changed. I’ll make sure they put on a better
one.” Maybe I should get a gun.
“Be careful.” Mom poked her head in the
window to give me a kiss on the cheek. “I love you.”
“I love you too, Mom. Gotta go. I’m
supposed to be jogging no later than seven.”
Mom shuffled to her car and together we
drove to my new temporary home, making a quick stop for donuts and
more coffee on the way. Mom didn’t stop at the house when I pulled
into the driveway; she kept on rolling, heading back to the
apartment. JT was already inside, waiting for me. I hauled my
suitcase in, then went back out for my laptop and breakfast. I
plopped onto a stool at the kitchen’s raised counter/ snack
bar.
JT helped himself to one of my donuts.
“We need to show you how to wire yourself. Shirt off.”
That was one surefire way to get a girl
to take off her clothes.
“Shouldn’t you have a female agent do
this for me?” I asked, feeling my cheeks going red.
“I could call one in, but that would
waste time. We don’t have a female agent on the team. I’d like to
get you out jogging sooner, rather than later. It’s your
call.”
I briefly considered asking him to call
in the girl agent, but I decided it wouldn’t be necessary. I was
wearing a sports bra, which was no more revealing than a bathing
suit. I wondered if I could avoid him touching me. Probably not. “I
guess it’s okay.” I pulled off my sweatshirt and the T-shirt
underneath. JT’s eyes went a little buggy for a split second. After
that, he kept his reaction unreadable. That made things a little
less awkward as he taped the equipment to me.
“Little less” was the operative term,
though. My body had decided to respond to his every touch. My
nerves tingled. My skin warmed. My blood flowed to parts that
didn’t get a lot of flowage very often. And my breathing went a
little wonky. When I dropped my gaze, to avoid meeting JT’s, I
noticed JT wasn’t exactly unaffected by our proximity either. His
pants were fitting a little snugger than normal in the crotch
area.
How tacky was it that I was staring
there?
I jerked my gaze up to his face. His
very handsome face. His very handsome scarlet face. His gaze met
mine. His lips parted ever so slightly. I stopped
breathing.
He leaned closer.
My heart rate kicked up to double
speed.
“Sloan?” he whispered.
“Yes, JT?” I whispered
back.
“I think you’d better put your shirt
back on. Or you’re not going jogging this morning.” His teeth sank
into his lower lip. I wanted to taste that lip. A whole lot more
than I wanted to run six miles.
“O-okay.” I grabbed my T-shirt, stuffed
my head through the neck hole, and poked my arms through the
sleeves. By the time I’d smoothed the shirt over the wires and
transmitter, his face wasn’t a deep scarlet anymore. His neck and
ears, however, hadn’t returned yet to their normal shade. I
resisted the urge to check the other part of his anatomy that had
reacted.
“Turn around,” he said.
I stood and did a slow one-eighty. He
stopped me when my back was facing him. “I need to switch on the
transmitter. I ... didn’t do that yet because ... well
...”
Was he afraid one of us would say
something he didn’t want the crew outside to hear? Maybe. “Okay.”
The back of my shirt slid up, halting just above the little box
strapped to my lower back.
“Done. Go ahead, say something.” He
switched on his radio, speaking into the little microphone attached
to his shirt collar. “Ready to test.”
“Testing, one, two, three,” I said,
feeling awkward.
He nodded. “We’re good.” Using pressure
on my shoulders, he turned me around to face him. “Don’t be afraid.
We’re watching you. Every minute. I won’t let you out of my
sight.”
I tried to pretend I wasn’t terrified.
“I’m ready.”
He headed out the side
door.
I was alone. In a strange house. And
someone was out there, stalking me. Someone who might have access
to the military base. Who could it be? Did he or she know where I
was now? Little jolts of unease pulsed through my body. Ignoring
them, I opened the back door and stepped out onto the deck. The
backyard was pretty, with a large tree for shade standing smack-dab
in the middle. There was a stretch of freshly mown grass, and
flowering shrubs lined both sides, partially disguising the
six-foot-tall wooden fences separating the yard from its
neighbors’. The chain-link fence in the back created a
semitransparent barrier between the playground on the outside and
the lot on the inside.
At this early hour, there were no
children playing in the playground, no little voices shouting, only
silence. I strolled around the side of the house, unlatched the
wooden gate, and jogged down the driveway, taking a left at the
sidewalk. JT’s plan was for me to follow the route he had mapped
out. But six miles were a lot of miles for a girl who hadn’t run in
months. My last semester had been hell. I hadn’t even tried to make
time to exercise. I was pretty sure I’d end up in the hospital if I
tried to make even three at this point. Instead, I opted for plan
B—a more realistic plan—and took a tour around the neighborhood,
concentrating on the area around the school.
The first five minutes were hell. After
that, it got a little easier. The heart rate settled into a
comfortable rhythm and I jog-walked at a steady pace for an hour,
my eyes darting around, searching for something suspicious. A part
of me wanted to see something, another didn’t. I was unarmed and
completely defenseless. If the killer assaulted me now, I’d be at
the mercy of the men who were tailing me at a distance. Could I
really count on them to get to me before the killer had injected me
with some horrific disease?
That was a big no, I told myself. An injection took
seconds.
After an hour, I rounded the corner,
returning to my temporary home. “I’m done for today,” I huffed into
the microphone as I limped up to the front door. I shoved the key
into the lock, twisted it, and let myself into the house. I pulled
off the tape, removed the transmitter and microphone, set the whole
shebang on the counter and headed for the shower.
While I was in there, rinsing the
shampoo out of my hair, I heard a sound. Scratching. Loud. Like
some kind of wild animal, or a deranged killer, was trying to dig
through the door. Not even bothering with rinsing the rest of the
shampoo out, I scrabbled out of the shower. There was no way in
hell I was going to be caught in there, like Marion Crane in
Psycho.
Frantic, I searched the room for a
weapon. Hair dryer? Curling iron? I tried to yank the towel bar off
the wall, but it was bolted on too well. As a last resort, I
grabbed a can of hair spray—I knew firsthand that the stuff hurt
like hell if sprayed in the eyes—and flattened myself against the
wall next to the door. The scratching had stopped, so I scooped up
a towel and wrapped it around myself. I tried the
door.
Unlocked?
Unlocked. What killer would claw at an
unlocked door?
No killer would. I inched it open and
something gray leapt into the air. I screamed. It made some
unearthly noise as it flew past me, landing on the counter behind
me. I wheeled around, trigger finger on the hair spray
nozzle.
Cat.
Big. Gray. Unhappy cat.
It made a low mrrrrr sound. I lunged out the door, slamming it shut
behind me. There was a dull thump, a bone-chilling sound that
couldn’t be described by any words, and then silence. Turning, I
ran smack-dab into a man’s very broad chest. Stumbling, I jerked
backward and lifted my hand, ready to spray whoever it
was.
No spray. Where the hell was the hair
spray?
The man’s hands clapped around my upper
arms, steadying me.
Finally I looked up.
JT.
“Oh, my God, you scared m-me,” I
stuttered, my hands gathering the towel, which had gone somewhat
askew.
“I heard you scream.”
“You’re good. That was
fast.”
“I told you, I’m not going to let
anyone hurt you.”
“I’m beginning to believe
you.”
He glanced at the closed door and the
can of hair spray lying on the floor. “We’re going to bug the house
today, so you won’t have to be wired
twenty-four–seven.”
“Good idea.”
A very unnatural rrrrr sound echoed in the bathroom.
“Vicious cat,” I explained. “It tried
to attack me. I think it has rabies, or maybe feline leukemia, or
distemper. Whatever it is, it can’t be good.”
“We’ll get someone in to remove it
right away.” His eyes traveled south. He visibly swallowed. I
tightened my grip on the towel, which felt like it was sliding out
of place again. “Why don’t you go get dressed and we’ll head up to
the shooting range. I should take care of a few things at the
office first.”
“I think that’s a great idea.” Neither
of us moved for a moment.
I reminded myself that there was an
army of agents outside. And doing anything with JT was a bad idea.
Very bad. Even if it would feel good. Very good. For one thing, JT
was wearing a radio. I had to assume it was on, since he’d rushed
in to check on what might have been a life-or-death situation.
Everyone would hear.
But did JT ever look good today. Better
than usual, and that was saying something.
I gently eased back. “I’ll be just a
few. Give me fifteen.”
JT nodded and stiffly walked down the
steps. “I’ll meet you at the office,” he called up from the
landing. Two hard-ons in such a short time had to take a toll on a
guy.
A little chuckle slipped out as I
rushed to dress. Fifteen minutes later, I was sporting a pair of
black pants, a knit shirt, comfy shoes, and a ponytail. I hopped
into my car and drove out of the subdivision. Mom picked up my tail
sometime before I reached the freeway. She waited in the lot while
I ran my broken cell phone into the store for repair. Then, beyond
hungry—that jog had really stirred up my appetite—I made a stop at
the bagel shop just outside of the Quantico Marine Corps Base. Mom
parked her car next to mine.
We strolled into the bagel shop
together. I ordered my usual; Mom ordered hers. I added an extra
bagel, in case JT hadn’t eaten breakfast. She looked at me with
worried-mother eyes as we waited for our orders to be
filled.
“Mom, it’s going to be
okay.”
“I know. I just can’t help myself. I’m
a mother. Mothers worry.”
A stretch of silence followed as we
both stared at the sign overhead.
“There isn’t a client, is there?” I
asked. “You’re following me because you’re concerned.”
“Oh, no. There’s a client, all right. I
already got my first paycheck. Sloan, you know I couldn’t afford to
do this much driving if there wasn’t someone footing the bill. I’m
burning through a tank of gas every three days.”
I could believe that. My own gas gauge
seemed to be sliding toward empty much too quickly these days as
well, and I wasn’t doing half the driving JT was. “Will you please
tell me who this mystery client is?”
“ No.”
I felt myself gritting my teeth.
Sometimes Mom was stubborn. I don’t handle stubborn people very
well, probably because I could be a smidge stubborn too. “I swear,
I won’t tell anyone.”
“I know.”
“I could turn you in to the FBI for
following me.”
“You wouldn’t do that,
Sloan.”
She was right. Irritated beyond what
was reasonable, I snatched my cup and bag from the girl as she
handed it to me, muttered “Thanks,” and stomped toward the door. I
didn’t wait for Mom.
As I shoved the key into my car’s
ignition, I told myself that I’d had a rough morning, and that was
why I was overreacting. Mom was getting in her car when I sped out
of the lot. She caught up to me just as I was turning onto the
base, where she couldn’t follow. I shoved my arm out the open
window and gave her a wave as I drove out of her line of
sight.
Maybe I’d make her work for her money a
little.
Maybe not.
After all, she was doing something
harmless, something that didn’t involve illegal drugs or frying her
apartment building’s electrical system. She could be doing
something far more dangerous than following me around
town.
I found JT sitting at his desk, staring
intensely at his computer screen. I dropped the white bag on his
desk.
“What’s new? Any word on a new
victim?”
“ No.”
That was a surprise. A good one. “No,
as in there’s no new victim this morning?” My heart
lightened.
“Not yet.”
I felt my lungs inflate fully, and I
realized I’d been stressing all morning, anticipating the moment
when we’d hear about another death.
“Are you hungry?” I asked, shaking the
white bag.
“A little.”
“Good.” I set the cup next to the bag.
“Sorry, didn’t get you a coffee. I’ve never seen you drink it, so I
wasn’t sure if it was your thing.”
“Not a fan. Good call. You’re getting
better at profiling, I see.”
“I hadn’t thought of this as profiling,
but I get it.” I handed him an everything bagel, wrapped in waxed
paper. “My personal favorite. I hope you like it.” I stuffed my
hand back in the bag and pulled out a handful of cream cheese
packets, dropping them on the desk. While JT loaded his bagel up
with the smooth cheese spread, I slurped coffee.
He took a bite and smiled. “Damn,
that’s good. Thanks.”
“I figured it’s the least I could do
after you came to my rescue this morning.”
His chuckle did some interesting things
to my insides. Unwelcome at the moment, but not necessarily
unpleasant things. His wide beaming smile and dimples did even
more. I tried very hard to hide how much I liked his dimples as I
drank some more coffee.
He pointed at my lip. “You have
something, there.”
I grabbed a napkin and dabbed my face.
“Thanks.” We stared at each other for a moment, our gazes sort of
tangled up.
Someone cleared his throat. It wasn’t
JT. I jerked back, glancing over my shoulder.
Gabe. He was looking at me funny.
“What’s going on?” he asked.
“We’re grabbing a quick bite before
heading out. JT is taking me to the gun range to show me how to
shoot. How’s your case going?” I asked, shifting a little to put
some distance between myself and JT.
“I need to take care of one last
thing.” JT stood, excusing himself as he pushed past Gabe. “Be back
in a few.”
Gabe leaned against JT’s cubicle wall.
“Not good. Outside of the one witness, we’ve had nobody else come
forward. Get this, turns out we’ve met the missing
kid.”
“You and me? Really? Who is
it?”
“Your friend with the strange taste in
clothes and the weird bike.”
“Tutu Girl?”
Gabe nodded. “That’s the
one.”
My heart lurched. It was a painful
sensation. And as I imagined that cute little face. “Wow. I jogged
right past her house this morning. I didn’t notice a thing. Such a
cute little kid ...”
Gabe shook his head. “Kids. I didn’t expect this.”
“Me either.”
Gabe glanced up, in the general
direction of Chief Peyton’s office. We watched JT come strolling
out, headed toward us. “Gotta motor. We’re going to the kid’s house
to interview her parents.”
“Good luck.”
“Thanks. You too.”
JT passed Gabe on his way to my
cubicle. “Ready?”
“As ready as I’m going to be, I guess.”
I crumpled up the empty bag and tossed it and the cup, also empty,
into his trash can.
“I hope I don’t regret this,” JT said,
giving me a warning look.
“I promise, you won’t regret it.” I
beamed.
“We’ll see about that.” He explained
the rules of the gun range on the way there. He signed in, picked a
spot, and set a weapon on the counter in front of me.
And just like that, I went from
completely confident to absolutely petrified. Did I really have to
pick that thing up and shoot it?
Was this a good idea?
Two hours later, after many
very bad shots, it was decided. It hadn’t
been a good idea. Having me carry a gun was a serious threat to
public safety. The chance that I’d hit an innocent bystander was
much greater than my hitting the assailant I was aiming for. JT
handed me a stun gun and showed me how to use that.
I was now armed and dangerous. God help
the fool who messed with me.
God help me.