by G. K. Parks
Eve sat at a table, tapping on her phone and furiously scribbling notes in her notepad. When I made it to the counter, I placed an order for a grilled chicken wrap and an Americana coffee with two pumps of white chocolate. The barista swirled some whipped cream on top and added chocolate sprinkles. I left a nice tip, which Andre would cover, and took my coffee to the nearest empty table to wait for my to-go order.
Eve didn’t pay a bit of attention to me or anyone else. She kept her nose to the grindstone. When her order was ready, the server called out her number three times before spotting her and bringing her bag to the table. “Here you go, Eve,” he said. “I threw in a few extra packets of salad dressing and that honey mustard you like.”
“Thanks, Matt.” She barely glanced in his direction. “Did you remember the extra napkins?”
“Yep.” He turned and went back to the counter. Obviously, he was used to her by now.
She didn’t grab the bag and head for the door. Instead, she continued to write notes in her book. Now I was getting curious. To write with that much vim and vigor, she could have been penning the next great novel. Then again, this was a coffee shop, so it would have to be a screenplay. Instead, it looked like notes for work.
Ten minutes later, they called my number. I picked up my half empty coffee cup, grabbed my chicken wrap, and went outside to wait in my car. Wraps weren’t the ideal food for a stakeout. I couldn’t just shove it in my mouth if I suddenly had to engage in a high speed pursuit or I’d be covered in grilled chicken and melted cheese, but this wasn’t that kind of assignment. Still, I didn’t open the packaging. I waited.
A few minutes later, Eve left the café with her cell phone pressed to her ear. She carried the bag in one hand and her drink in the other. She made it to her car, put the cup on the roof, and unlocked the doors. After putting the bag inside, she tossed her purse in after it and reached up to grab her cup. She never let go of the phone, even as she put the car into gear and pulled into traffic. Didn’t she know it was illegal to talk and drive?
I remained three car lengths behind her, but she didn’t deviate from her path. She went straight to work. By then, her call had concluded. She carried the lunch bag in and put it on top of the big desk near the back corner.
While she and her assistants ate and worked, I sent the photo of Muscle Man to the techs at the office. Facial rec would get me an ID and address. I also gave Andre a call and asked what time Eve left his house this morning and when he expected to see her again. Then I settled back in the seat and ate my lunch.
After work, it was more of the same. I left Eve under Andre’s watchful eye, deciding if she was with him I didn’t need to worry where she was or if she was meeting other men, and went home.
This became the routine for the rest of the week. Eve never deviated from her schedule. Muscle Man turned out to be nobody special, just like Matt from the café. They were just people she interacted with on a regular basis. There was no heat, no clandestine meetings, and no trysts in hotel rooms with vendors or other contacts.
That meant this job would drag on. On the bright side, I came home every night, slept for ten hours, and made time for exercise, sometimes at Eve’s gym, other times downstairs in my own ballet studio or sparring with Bruiser. My leg was getting stronger. I was doing better. I hadn’t had any prolonged panic attacks or hallucinations either. I should have been relieved. Instead, I found myself thinking everything was just a little too perfect. I didn’t like it.
This routine dragged on for days. Yet despite all the sleep I’d been getting, I found it exhausting. Or I was exhausted. I wasn’t sure which. I suspected the pills had something to do with it. The only plus was they kept me from dreaming, which meant no nightmares. But I never felt rested.
Kellan was going to cover surveillance for me while I went to my doctor’s appointment. He thought it had to do with my leg, and I didn’t correct him. The last thing I wanted was to tell the office spy that I had to see the shrink again. Still, he came through when I needed him, which had been soon after he found me asleep in my office, screaming bloody murder. So he probably suspected the truth. He was familiar with don’t ask, don’t tell, and there was no reason not to apply that principle in this instance.
“I’ll be back in time to pick up surveillance from the flower shop.” I double-checked the schedule. “It’s Wednesday. Eve has a meeting with her flower supplier at 2:15.”
“Okay, I’ll follow her from the office there. Once you arrive, I’ll break off and get back to work. In the meantime, I’ll see what I can dig up on her client.” He nodded toward the window.
“Thanks.”
I gave Elegant Events one final look. Eve was in the midst of a meeting. That should take up the next hour of her time. But just in case, Kellan would follow her if she left, especially if she left with her sexy new client.
I didn’t know who he was. His name wasn’t mentioned in her day planner or appointment books, which raised several red flags. Eve was meticulous. Leaving off a client’s name didn’t bode well.
With my mind preoccupied on the current development, I headed for the doctor’s office. Since I was in a rush today and focused on my case, I didn’t spend nearly as long fidgeting in front of the door. I went in before the tremor started. I’d just taken a seat when her office door opened and her previous patient stepped out.
Twenty-six
“Lucca?” I swallowed the lump in my throat. “What are you doing here?”
He cocked an eyebrow at me. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”
“Worse. You.”
“Now that isn’t very nice.” He glanced back at the doctor who seemed far too amused by our interaction. “See what I mean?”
“Were you talking about me?” I didn’t know why Lucca was here, but insane reasons came to mind.
“Relax. I’m just screwing with you, Parker.” He folded the form Dr. Shelton handed him and put it in his breast pocket. “Thanks, Doc.”
“Take care, Eddie,” she said. “If you ever need to talk, just call.”
“Will do.”
She looked at me. “I’ll be with you in a moment.” The door to her office closed.
I glanced around the waiting room for surveillance cameras. Did she like to observe her patients in the wild? Did she plan this? This felt like a setup. Every instinct in my body said I should escape while I still could.
“What are you doing here?” Lucca asked.
“I asked you first.”
He tapped his jacket. “Psych eval.”
“She’s not FBI.”
“She’s not active FBI, but she is FBI. It’s my understanding Dr. Shelton’s taking a hiatus, but since the regular OIO shrink is out, she’s filling in. She has the security clearance and training. The director approved it.”
“Oh.” That would explain why Mark had her card and had been in contact with her recently.
“What are you doing here? You’re not one to discuss feelings, and you’re the farthest thing from an open book. Is this about one of your cases?”
“I’m crazy, remember? This is the kind of place crazy people go before the men with the butterfly nets take them away.”
His brow furrowed. “That never seemed to mean much to you before. If anything, you thrived on the insanity. You wore it like a badge of honor.”
“You’re wrong.”
“Am I? That’s what made you a good agent. You take risks that no one else will. By definition, that’s a little insane. It’s also why you had problems following rules and staying out of trouble.”
“Can’t have that.” I fought to keep my face and tone neutral. “After all, you’re Mr. Rulebook. I hope your new partner’s more of a stickler. You need someone who won’t get you into trouble. It might tarnish the shine on your badge.”
He held up his palms in surrender. “I’m not trying to bust your balls, Parker. I’m grateful. So is Jablonsky. Don’t ever doubt that.”
“That craziness, as y
ou call it, that recklessness, that’s what’s gotten so many good agents killed.” I looked away. “I don’t want to talk about it, Eddie. I’m here because things need to change. You told me that, remember?”
“That was before.”
“Maybe if I’d listened, this wouldn’t be our after.”
“You’re seriously here to get your head examined? I never thought I’d see the day.” He reached out to touch me, but I shrugged away. “Whatever’s going on with you, I’m around. All right? I’m not saying you don’t need to get help. Help’s good. This is good. You should be here. If anything, you might need a few dozen experts and some electroshock therapy to get your head on straight.”
“Whatever you say.”
“Call me if there’s anything I can do, okay? I’m serious.”
“I’m good.”
“Call me anyway. You still owe me dinner.”
“Where do you want to go? I’ll send you a gift card.”
He rolled his eyes. “Take it easy.”
“You too.” I watched him leave. If this was his psych eval, that meant he was ready to return to active duty. No more working behind a desk. He either passed the physical or was on his way to take the physical. Either way, I didn’t like it. It was too soon.
“Alex?” The doctor stood in the opened doorway. “Are you ready?”
“No.” But I strode into her office anyway. Lucca would have sat in the straight-back chair. I touched the seat to see if it was warm, which it was, before sitting on the couch.
The doctor sat where she did the first time we met, and I handed her the sleep tracker she’d given me. “I’m sorry my previous appointment ran late,” she said.
“Are you?”
“You think I set this up?”
“Eddie Lucca was my partner.” I watched her, but her expression didn’t change. “But you already know that. He also said you’re still FBI. That’s not what you said the last time I was here.”
“I’m no longer with the FBI.”
“So why are you performing mandatory psych evals?”
“Director Kendall asked if I’d do it.”
“Uh-huh, so that’s why Lucca was here and why he happened to be here right before I showed up.”
“We weren’t discussing you,” she said.
“Sure, you were. You had to talk to him about the incident. I was part of it. I came up.”
“Yes, but that was the extent of it.”
“Even if it wasn’t, you told me last time you don’t discuss clients or what goes on in these sessions. You can’t tell me what you discussed. That’s against doctor-patient confidentiality, or do you not take that seriously?”
“Alex, I’m a former FBI psychiatrist. This is my job. I take all of it seriously.”
“You keep saying former, but Lucca said this is a hiatus. Which is it, Doc?”
“I’m not sure. I turned in my resignation, but the director convinced me to take a break before making any rash decisions.”
“A lot of that going around.”
She met my eyes. “I did not intentionally arrange for this to happen. You were early. My appointment ran late. It was bad timing. I assure you this wasn’t planned, nor were you the topic of discussion in my last session. Regardless of what Agent Lucca might have implied.”
“I’m sure I wasn’t. I know Lucca. He said that to mess with me because he knew it would mess with me. He likes to freak me out.” A flash of Lucca bleeding came to mind, but I dismissed it. “The problem is I don’t know you or what kind of mind games you like to play. Perhaps this is how you get your kicks. I don’t know what I’m supposed to believe.”
“This was a coincidence.”
“Fine. Let’s just get this over with.”
She took the tracker to the computer and downloaded the details. “How have you been feeling?”
“Tired.”
“Have you been sleeping?”
“More than I have in the last few months combined.”
Her expression remained neutral as she read the data on the screen. “Have you had any more panic attacks?”
“No, but coming here nearly triggered one.”
She didn’t like my tone. “You don’t trust me.”
“Why should I? Trust is earned.”
“That may be, but it’s an integral part of therapy. If you don’t trust me, you won’t be open to my help.” She finished making a note of the readout and returned to the chair. “You came here last week because you recognized you had a problem. You wanted me to help you with it.”
“Are the pills the reason I’m so tired?” I asked.
“Possibly. I want to wean you off of them.”
“It’s only been a week. I’m not sure weaning is necessary.”
“Humor me.” She met my eyes. “I know what I’m doing.”
“Uh-huh.” That was the problem.
“Okay. Good.” She smiled. “Try cutting back to one every other day. The nightmares might return, but now that you’re getting more rest, you should be able to handle the added stress.” She crossed her legs and settled deeper into the chair. “Do these nightmares have a reoccurring theme?”
“Death.”
“Yours?”
“No, mine doesn’t keep me awake at night.”
“Really? That thought would keep most people awake at night.”
Wrong answer, the voice in my head said. I shouldn’t have said that. “That’s not what my nightmares are about,” I clarified.
“Go on.”
“I dream about the incident. The attack on Jablonsky and Lucca. And Cooper’s murder.”
“Were you at the crime scene?”
“Which one?”
“Any of them.”
“I was at all of them.” I blinked. I didn’t trust her, but I wanted to get this over with. The sooner I did, the sooner I could leave. Then I’d never have to set foot in here again. “That’s what I think about. That’s what I’ve been hallucinating. Bits and pieces from those scenes. Like the bloody sheets or victims getting stabbed or their throats slashed.”
“Can you tell what’s real and what isn’t?”
“I could until the night before I came here.” Unless that hadn’t been a hallucination. Don’t go down that rabbit hole, my inner voice warned.
“Have you had any more of these disturbing occurrences this week?”
“No flashes or hallucinations until I saw Lucca.”
“What did seeing him bring to mind?”
“Questions.”
“What kinds of questions?” She leaned forward, as if I was on the verge of a breakthrough.
“Like how you might want to see what his appearance would do to my demeanor and what kinds of things it might trigger.” I climbed out of the chair before she could tell me that was paranoia. “I think we’re done for today.”
“Time’s not up yet.”
“That wasn’t a denial.”
“Alex, please. I already told you that was unintentional, but now that it’s happened, I’m curious as to the effect his presence has on you.”
“Relief. Fear. Guilt. Agony. Pick one.” I strode to the door. “I’ll see myself out.”
“You forgot the—”
But I slammed the door before she could finish her statement.
I don’t know why I thought this was a good idea. Even Lucca thought the idea was ludicrous. Lack of sleep must have impaired my judgment. At least the doc had been right about one thing. As long as I got enough sleep, I’d be fine.
Fuming, I drove to Elegant Events. Eve remained inside with the man from earlier. He was seated at a table while she showed him her portfolio. Kellan got out of his car and sat in mine.
“You’re back early,” he said.
“Yep.”
“Is everything okay?”
“Fabulous.”
He pointed toward a parked car. “That’s his car. While I was waiting, I ran the plates. His name’s Colton Raine. He’s a former F
ormula One race car driver. He now does stunt driving.”
“That’s a career?”
“Yep.”
“Cool.” I studied the Lotus. “Do you think Eve’s hoping to go for a ride?”
“If she’s not, I am.” Kellan snickered. “Oh, you meant the car.” He hoped that would get a smile out of me, but it didn’t. “How fast do you think it goes?”
“It probably tops out near 200.”
“You’re into cars?”
“Only the sexy ones.” Martin had one in the garage, but I didn’t volunteer that piece of information. “Let’s hope she doesn’t go for a ride. We’d never be able to catch them if he’s driving.”
“That’s why I have his home address. I’ll text you a copy.”
“Thanks. Anything else I should know?”
“That’s all I managed to get. You weren’t gone that long.”
“I appreciate it.” My phone dinged, and I checked the details of the forwarded text. “He’s not married.”
“Nope.” Kellan opened the door. “A man who drives a car like that is trouble.”
“Our boss drives a car like that.”
“Yep.” Kellan gave me a sly grin over his shoulder and returned to his car. He was right. Only two types of men drove cars like that. The ones who were compensating, and the ones who wanted to make a statement that they could have whatever they wanted. Martin and Cross fell into the second category, and so did Colton Raine.
Twenty-seven
Colton left at 1:45. He was punctual, just like Eve. I watched the white sports car drive away.
Eve remained inside. She put away the portfolios, spoke to her assistants, and made a few more calls while working on the computer. At 2:03, she got into her car. I followed her to the florist.
The shop stood in the middle of a row of upscale boutiques. Every meter on either side of the street was full, so I kept going. The narrow lanes wouldn’t allow me to double-park, and trying that would undoubtedly draw her attention. So I parked in the nearest garage and hoofed it back to the flower shop. Unfortunately, the shop’s windows were blocked by arrangements, so I went inside.
