by JB Lynn
Phillip was waiting outside the restaurant when we arrived.
I was surprised to see he wasn’t alone.
“I hadn’t realized the evening would be a threesome,” Griswald muttered as he pulled up to the entrance.
“Me either,” I murmured before climbing out of the car.
Spotting me, Phillip hurried over, dragging her along.
“Maggie,” he said with a wide smile. His gaze traveled down slowly. “You look beautiful.”
Remembering he was a rapist, I tried not to retch. I offered him a tight smile. He made the compliment sound so…oily, that I had the urge to blot my cheeks after he kissed them both.
Alicia looked up at me shyly, clearly nervous.
“Hello, Alicia,” I said with the warmest smile I could muster. She reminded me of Katie so much.
The little girl curtsied. “Hello, Maggie.”
“I’m sorry,” Phillip said, ruffling her hair. “The babysitter didn’t work out.”
“Not a problem,” I told him. And it wasn’t. With his daughter there, things would be silly, not sexy, and I was totally fine with that.
We all know the stereotypes that swirl around New Jersey…pollution, in-your-face attitudes, and the whole what’s-your-exit thing…but here are the truths I know: we’ve got great pizza and bagels, mountains, farmland, cities, and the Jersey Shore (not the dumbass TV show), and the more fountains and statues of obscure saints there are in a restaurant’s parking lot, the better the food is.
And I’d counted at least seven lesser saints ringing the Classico Italiano parking lot. I was looking forward to a good meal and safe conversation since there’d be a kid at the table. As undercover operations went, this one wasn’t too bad.
I must admit, most of my attention was spent on not twisting an ankle in the unfamiliar and uncomfortable high heels as the maître d’ led the way to our table.
Phillip had reserved a corner table. Romantic for two. A bit cramped for three.
As soon as we were settled in our seats, Alicia reached for the breadbasket. She was a kid after my own heart.
Phillip slapped her hand away from the carbs.
I gave him a cold, disapproving frown, but he didn’t see it. He was focused on his daughter.
“We have to say grace first,” he admonished her.
“Oh yeah.” She clasped her hands together and bowed her head.
I copied her actions, trying to make it look like I knew what the hell I was doing.
“Bless us, O Lord, and these…” Phillip began.
I tuned out what he was saying as I realized that this position gave me a straight view of my cleavage and of the little guy who hung out there. God, who’d promised to be silent, for fear his voice would be picked up on Griswald’s mic, was licking his eyeball with his tongue.
I didn’t know whether to be grossed out or laugh, so I bit down on my lower lip.
“Amen,” Phillip intoned.
“Amen,” I parroted, raising my head.
That’s when I saw them. My backup.
Griswald and Susan playing all lovey-dovey, clinking glasses of champagne, just two tables away.
When he’d said I wouldn’t be alone, Griswald had meant it. They were practically on top of me.
Susan caught my eye and gave me an exaggerated wink. I turned away, trying not to panic. What the hell could Griswald have possibly been thinking to bring her along? I know she’d said she needed more, but I’d thought she’d meant giving macramé lessons or something. Not this. Definitely not this.
I pretended to read my menu, while surreptitiously watching Phillip’s interaction with his daughter.
My stomach soured as I watched as he played the part of a doting father. But it looked like even when he smiled at Alicia, it didn’t reach his eyes.
After we’d placed our orders, Phillip pulled a pack of soup crackers out of his jacket pocket. He revealed them to Alicia with a playful flourish. Her eyes widened with delight as she took it from him and began to slowly savor them by licking the salt off each one as she watched a show on the cellphone he’d handed her.
“She doesn’t like bread,” he explained with an indulgent smile.
I swallowed a frown, remembering how the first thing she’d done was reach for the breadbasket.
Still upset about the way he’d slapped her hand, I split a hot roll and slathered it with rich, creamy butter. Seriously, is there anything better in the world than fresh bread out of the oven…or really any bread that’s been heated through? It evokes such primal pleasure in me, and I know I’m not alone because so many people murmur, “Oooh, it’s warm” with way too much excitement.
I’m pretty sure my eyes rolled back in my head as I bit into it. Once I’d enjoyed that nirvana-like first bite, I tilted my head in Alicia’s direction and asked, “Do you share custody?”
Frown lines formed between Phillip’s eyes but he kept his tone light. “Her mother’s not in the picture.”
Intent on her video, the girl gave no indication she was aware she was being spoken about.
“That’s unusual,” I murmured softly, trying to draw out more of the story. “I didn’t mean to pry.”
Phillip shook his head and bit into his own roll, which caused him to pause before answering. “It’s a fair question. A common one. I just have an unusual answer.”
I offered him my best sympathetic ear face. “Do you mind if I ask how you got custody?”
“She gave up her rights,” he replied curtly, with disdain.
“Wow,” I murmured.
“Never wanted to be a mother.” He glanced at his daughter. “So she’s mine.”
A chill slid down my spine at the way he referred to Alicia like she was a possession.
He flashed that big smile that I disliked so much. “But we’re not here to talk about her. I want to learn about you.”
Patrick had once told me that it’s easier to keep track of the truth than a lie, so I told him about Theresa’s death in the car accident, Katie’s coma and subsequent recovery, and all about my helpful, but wacky family. I left out the bits about talking to animals, becoming a paid assassin, and that my aunt had married a U.S. Marshal who was sitting two tables away.
After our meals arrived, and as I’d cut up all of Alicia’s mac-and-cheese into tiny bitesize bits because that’s the way Katie liked it, Phillip told me about his genuine love of baseball and his career in international shipping, and what sounded like a canned speech about the loving sacrifices he’d made for his daughter.
Even though the mushroom risotto was delicious, I found myself having to force it down.
Before dessert came, I excused myself to go to the restroom. I chose a path that led me right past my aunt’s seat. I pretended to trip as I passed so that I could lean down and whisper, “Ladies room, now.”
Then I continued on my way after flashing an embarrassed grin in Phillip’s direction.
I waited in the restroom, pacing impatiently. Finally, when I was about to stick my head out to see if she’d received the message, Susan showed up.
“What are you doing here?” I demanded crankily.
“We’re your backup, Margaret,” she replied disdainfully. “I thought that would have been obvious.”
“Has your husband lost his mind?” I ranted. “What was he thinking of, including you in this? It could be dangerous!”
She shook her head disapprovingly. “You do know he’s listening to every word, don’t you?” She tapped her sternum reminding me of my mic.
“Good, because I need to tell him something. There’s something going on here. I can feel it in my gut. Something just does not add up.”
Susan cocked her head to the side. “You know better than anyone that sometimes a parent is not who a child should be with. Both Archie and Mary were not good for any of their children.”
I frowned at the mention of my parents. She wasn’t wrong, but I worried she was only looking at the situation through the len
s of her own experience.
“I’m not saying he’s a great father, but I want to meet the mother,” I told her firmly. “Tell Griswald, I’m not helping until I meet her.”
Aunt Susan blinked rapidly, apparently at a loss for words.
“And tell him,” I added for good measure, even though I knew he was listening in, “we’re going to have a talk about the danger he’s putting you in.”
With that, I spun on my heel and stalked back into the dining room.
As I passed Griswald’s table, I noted he was scowling at his plate, but he didn’t make eye contact.
I slid back into my seat, offering Phillip and Alicia smiles, worried about what the hell I’d gotten myself into.
23
I had just dug into my first mouthful of a cannoli, not the most ladylike dessert to order on a fake date, but come on! Classico Italiano dips theirs in marzipan. I couldn’t pass that up. You have to understand that the world could be ending and if you offered me a smorgasbord of those crispy shells filled with sweet cream filling, that I’d devour them all, apocalypse schmapocalypse.
Despite my misgivings about the job, I was able to force a large mouthful down and was thoroughly enjoying myself when Griswald walked up to our table.
He cleared his throat. “Excuse me.”
I stared up at him, no doubt the proverbial “deer caught in the headlights” look plastered on my face. What was he doing blowing his cover? I slid a sidelong look in the direction of where he’d sat and realized Susan was gone. No doubt he’d sent her to safety before he set off this grenade in my lap.
Phillip smiled politely at him, waiting for Griswald to elaborate.
Selfishly, I crammed in another mouthful of cannoli.
Griswald discreetly flashed his I.D. at Phillip, who promptly tensed up.
“I was wondering if I could join you,” Griswald requested.
Phillip glanced around the dining room and nodded grudgingly. “What’s this about?”
Griswald pulled up a chair. He winked at Alicia who, like me, was a girl who devoured dessert. I hoped that, unlike her, I didn’t have as much of the sweet stuff on my chin as she did.
Self-consciously, I dabbed at my mouth with a napkin.
Griswald turned his attention back to Phillip. “We believe…” he tilted his head in Alicia’s direction, “could be in danger. We’d like to offer you the protection of the U.S. Marshal Service.”
I barely managed not to choke on my cannoli. I did not understand how the U.S. Marshal Service was suddenly involved in our private investigation business.
Phillip shook his head. “That won’t be necessary.”
“We believe that there’s a credible threat to the child’s well-being.”
“What kind threat?”
“The mother wants custody.”
“That whore?” Phillip mocked, suddenly even more smug and oily as the first day I’d met him.
I blinked, shocked.
My internal pendulum about whether he should retain custody of his kid began to swing back the other way. Something was going on that made the hairs on the back of my neck raise.
I had the distinct impression Griswald knew what it was. He shot me a quick look and I knew he was assessing whether or not I was sensing the truth.
“Perhaps if…” Griswald began.
“Alicia is mine,” Phillip said coldly.
Startled by the harshness of his tone, the little girl looked up from her treat, eyes wide.
He made no effort to comfort her, he was too busy staring down Griswald.
The U.S. Marshal didn’t seem to be particularly impressed with his tough guy act.
A chill meandered down my spine as I witnessed Phillip’s true demeanor. He might love his daughter, but he was not a good man. I had no doubt he was keeping his child from her mother.
I wondered how long it would be until he didn’t find Alicia cute and subjected her to his derision.
Out of nowhere, Aunt Susan stumbled past the table, splashing a full glass of red wine on the little girl. Alicia let out a surprised yelp.
Phillip jumped to his feet, shouting an accusation at Susan as she tried to mutter an apology.
I met Griswald’s gaze for a brief moment and gave him a slight nod before I got to my feet. “I’ll get her cleaned up,” I told Phillip.
Still fuming, he muttered, “Fine. Fine.”
Grabbing my purse in one hand and the kid’s sticky fingers in the other, I led her away from the table.
“Daddy’s mad again,” the little girl remarked.
“He’s not mad at you, sweetie,” I assured her, wondering how often her father got angry with her.
I wasn’t surprised that Aunt Susan was already waiting in the restroom when we walked in.
Wordlessly, I wet a paper towel and blotted the wine off Alicia’s cheeks. Then, I led the little girl over to the sink and helped her wash her hands.
Aunt Susan stood in the corner, watching it all.
We heard shouting, screams, and crashing noises coming from the dining room.
“They’re making the arrest now,” Susan explained.
I jerked my gaze over to hers.
“He’s wanted internationally as a felon…theft, rape, murder,” she explained. “He’ll be extradited.”
I frowned. I had the distinct impression that Griswald had played me. I wanted answers. But I knew now wasn’t the time for questions. Instead, I finished cleaning up the child.
“I’m tired, Maggie,” Alicia whined softly, holding up her arms.
I picked her up without thinking and looked to Susan for guidance. “Now what?”
“We wait,” my aunt said calmly.
“Did you know this was the plan all along?” I asked, shifting the girl’s weight on my hip.
“It’s so complicated, Margaret.” She shook her head and leaned back against the wall as though she were suddenly exhausted.
I scowled. “He used me.”
“He had to.” She defended her husband in a matter-of-fact way that signaled she would take his side in all of this.
I turned away from her as tears filled my eyes. I knew that she loved him, but it still hurt to know she’d take his side over mine, even when I was the one who’d been wronged. I blinked away the evidence of how much her betrayal stung.
There was a knock on the ladies’ room door. Sniffling, I turned back around as Susan opened it.
“We need to take her now,” Griswald announced as he stepped inside.
I glared at him, making sure he knew I was angry. “Take her where?”
“To be with her mother.”
“But—” I protested. “Doesn’t she get to say—”
“No,” Griswald interrupted firmly. “He was offered the option of doing that, of coming along and helping with the handoff, and he refused.”
I hugged Alicia a little tighter, wondering how the mother she’d never known would explain who she was and that she wouldn’t see her Daddy again. In that moment, I hated Griswald for making me a part of this.
“The paperwork’s all been taken care of,” he said. “We should go.”
I shook my head. “She’s going to be so confused. I’m going with you.”
Griswald and Susan shared a look I couldn’t read, then he nodded. “Of course. Come on.”
He held the door open while we walked out. I gave him the dirtiest look I could muster as we went past. He’d damaged our relationship, irrevocably broken my trust in him.
We passed through the dining area, past diners who looked shell-shocked from whatever drama had taken place during the arrest, and waitstaff that were busy cleaning up overturned tables and chairs.
Griswald’s car was waiting in the valet parking area. He opened the rear door and shielded the child’s head as I lowered her into the waiting car seat.
“Gee,” I said as I buckled her up. “You thought of everything. Except looping me in.”
“Where we going, Maggi
e?” Alicia asked.
I offered her what I was hoping passed for a reassuring smile. “You’re going to get to meet someone new.”
“Who?”
“You’ll see soon.” I climbed into the seat beside her.
“I’m scared,” she admitted.
“You know what I do when I’m scared?” I said as Griswald and Susan got into the front of the car.
“What?”
“I talk to my friends.” I opened my handbag and scooped up Benny. I held up the mouse for her to see. “This is Benny.”
“Hello, hello, hello,” he squeaked, wiggling his ears and whiskers.
The little girl giggled with delight.
“She brought a mouse to a restaurant,” Susan muttered.
“Save your judgment for someone who cares,” I snapped back.
I let Alicia pet Benny while Griswald drove and I tried to figure out where to move to. There was no way I’d live under the same roof as the people who’d just betrayed me.
24
Of course, it soon occurred to me that moving out wasn’t the best solution. I might be mad about Griswald and Susan’s betrayal, but I had to consider more than my feelings. I had to think about what was best for Katie. Moving out was certainly not in her best interest.
I alternated between stewing and trying to keep Alicia’s spirits up. Benny helped a lot with the latter. The tired little girl fell asleep with a smile on her face. Every time Aunt Susan turned to look at us, a self-satisfied smile on her lips, I stewed even more.
I wasn’t paying any attention to where we were going and was surprised when we arrived at home. “What are we doing here?” I asked as we parked in front of the barn.
“We thought this would be easier than an office building,” Griswald replied.
I frowned. Everything about this job had been unprofessional. Susan should have never been involved, I should have been told what was really going on, and a child should have been handed off in the presence of professionals instead of a donkey with a sweet tooth.
Griswald and Susan climbed out of the car.
