Say It Again (First Wives)

by Catherine Bybee

He released a short laugh. “I can bring yours by . . .”

  “I have business in the city. I’ll meet you at the Brandenburg Gate at noon.”

  “Noon it is.” He hung up.

  Sasha smiled. Things were about to get interesting.

  “Miss Budanov?”

  Sasha turned with the sound of her name. Wearing black leather pants suitable for riding her bike and her hair pulled back into a bun, she was prepared for her hour-long drive into the city.

  Linette stood outside the administration offices, holding the door open. “Do you have a minute?”

  She couldn’t help but feel a bit of déjà vu with the headmistress asking her to come into her office.

  “Of course.”

  Sasha detoured out of her chosen path and through the admin doors.

  “I have someone I’d like you to meet,” Linette said as she walked beside her toward her private office.

  “Oh?”

  “An old friend.”

  Sasha followed Linette into her office, where she closed the door behind them. Standing by the window overlooking the courtyard was a man in a three-piece suit, short salt-and-pepper hair, and glasses. He turned their way when they walked in and instantly smiled.

  “Sasha Budanov. You’re as lovely as ever.”

  Sasha planted her feet and waited for him to approach. “Have we met?”

  “Not officially,” Linette interjected. “Geoff has witnessed many of Richter’s graduation ceremonies, including yours.”

  Sasha’s gaze moved from the headmistress to the man she addressed as Geoff. “You have me at a disadvantage, then.”

  He walked closer, the scent of his cologne moving with him. Geoff reached out a hand. “Geoff Pohl, Miss Budanov. We finally have an official meeting.”

  Sasha shook his hand, found his grip a little too familiar. Not a double squeeze from someone flirting, not a passing grip of a first meeting . . . but a knowing grip that put her on edge.

  Linette indicated a chair. “What Geoff is trying to say is he wanted a chance to speak with you back when you were a student, Sasha. For reasons you and I have discussed, that wasn’t possible. I thought perhaps you’d like an opportunity now that the reasons he couldn’t offer you employment then are gone.”

  Sasha noticed that Geoff didn’t sit, but leaned against Linette’s desk with his hands gripping the wood.

  “What kind of employment are we talking about?” CIA, FBI . . . British intelligence in all their forms? Many agencies came to mind. Much as she’d like to dismiss them immediately, she thought it might be best to find out what was out there.

  “First things first, m’dear.”

  The hair on her neck went up.

  “I need to determine if you still maintain the skills you obtained while you were here at Richter.”

  “Which skills are you referring to?”

  Geoff paused, lost his smile. “All of them.”

  AJ was being stood up.

  It was half past noon and Sasha wasn’t there.

  The Brandenburg Gate was one of the busiest tourist attractions in Berlin. The square was filled with families and walking tours led by someone holding a colored flag on a stick and talking into a microphone while a line of dazed, zombie-like visitors followed behind. Aside from those in the square learning about the history of the place, there were a dozen police officers and security guards moving around. Considering the American, British, and French embassies were all within a stone’s throw of each other, AJ was surprised there wasn’t a stronger military presence.

  AJ kept scanning the crowd in search of Sex on a Stick in black leather pants and a bad attitude.

  Nothing.

  Left without options, AJ dialed his phone number on her phone and waited. It rang twice.

  Behind him, the riff of “Bad to the Bone,” his ringtone, shot through him. He dropped his hand from his ear and saw a blonde standing three feet away, her back to him.

  Slowly she turned.

  “Whoa.”

  Sasha stared back at him, wearing white capri pants and a bright floral top. The blonde wig overdid it but completely camouflaged her in broad daylight. She took a step closer, reached out her hand holding his cell. “Hello, AJ.”

  They switched phones. “How long have you been standing there?”

  “Half an hour, give or take.”

  He looked her up and down. She looked like a typical American housewife, minus the kid in the stroller. “Impressive.”

  “I wanted to make sure you were alone.”

  AJ glanced around at the passing tourists. “Is there a reason behind the cloak-and-dagger?”

  She moved closer, lowered her voice. “You’ve come here to look for your sister’s killer. You think there is some connection to Richter. Went so far as to go there asking questions. You’re stalking the local pub and hitting on, not to mention stealing from, the patrons . . .” Sasha waved her phone in the air before tucking it into her back pocket.

  “I’m calling pot to kettle on that last accusation.” Although all the rest she pointed out was spot-on.

  “I like to go unnoticed. If someone followed me here, they lost me the second I made the city limits and went clothes shopping.”

  “What if someone followed me?”

  “Then I would have seen them watching in the thirty minutes you’ve been standing around looking like a lost child without a parent.” She turned and started walking toward the gate.

  AJ had no choice but to follow.

  “What makes you think anyone is following either of us?”

  She smiled, didn’t answer his question. “I used to help your sister on her agility training,” she told him.

  The mention of his sister brought his attention back to what he should be focused on. “She wasn’t the most athletic woman.” Amelia took after their mother, who didn’t grow more than five feet five inches tall and had a sweet tooth that always kept her rounder than she’d liked. At least that’s what she’d blame when she went on one of her many diets.

  “No. But she held her own most of the time. Everyone at Richter was pushed to do at least that.”

  “Her coworkers said she had recently started taking morning walks before work,” AJ said.

  “Which explains the police report about her being murdered in the park and tossed in the river.”

  AJ stopped walking. “You looked her up.”

  “Only because I knew her.”

  He jumped in front of her, stopped her from moving. “Then you’ll help me.”

  “There is nothing to suggest that Amelia’s death is at all linked to Richter.”

  He shook his head. “I can’t find any trace of Amelia’s roommates. And the one friend she mentioned several times to me, Keri Shrum, was the roommate who died in the car accident.”

  “How did you find that out?”

  “When I went into her condo after the police had done their investigation, I went through a few of her drawers. Found her calendar with Keri’s funeral written on it. I made a couple of phone calls and flew to Europe to dig a little more.”

  “And what did your amateur investigative skills find?”

  He didn’t want to tell her this, but any research on her part would reveal it. “Her car was shot at and the police thought her boyfriend did it.”

  Sasha narrowed her eyes. “The reason they thought her boyfriend did it?”

  “She broke up with him. He was popular with the local police.”

  “Well, there you go.”

  He sidestepped in front of her. “No. No, I’m not going, because this is Europe we’re talking about. The UK. The average person on every corner can’t buy guns there, and while her boyfriend is no choirboy, he didn’t seem to have any history with weapons. The shots to her tires were painfully accurate.”

  Sasha gave him a hard stare. “What has your father said about all this?”

  AJ stared back. “My father said that the kind of students that graduated from Richter an
d ended up dead were not like my sister or her friend. That maybe Keri had something to hide.”

  “What did you take that to mean?”

  “I’m not oblivious, Sasha. I know that graduates from your alma mater end up in jobs all over government agencies, from those who carry weapons to those who go deep undercover. I know that wasn’t my sister. If Keri Shrum was that woman, then picking a boyfriend who liked to test her fighting skills and go in and out of jail for his efforts wasn’t covert by anyone’s definition.”

  “A man who beats on a woman is capable of shooting out her tires.”

  Everything inside of him screamed no. No! AJ shook his head.

  “Two women isn’t a pattern, AJ.”

  “Which is why I need more names. More people Amelia associated with at Richter that I can look up and talk to.”

  Sasha kept silent.

  “Listen, all I want is a few more names. Some of the other students she graduated with.”

  “Didn’t Amelia keep her yearbooks?”

  It was his turn to offer a knowing smile. “You would think so, wouldn’t you? Only guess what I didn’t find when I went to her condo after her funeral.”

  “Your parents’ house, then.”

  He shook his head. “The only childhood possessions they kept of hers were those ceramic gizmos and handmade Mother’s Day cards we all gave to our parents.”

  Sasha paused.

  “Was her place broken into?”

  “No.”

  “Then maybe she just threw them away.”

  “Why would she do that?” AJ looked over Sasha’s shoulder and noticed a man eating an ice cream cone and staring at Sasha. The middle-aged guy turned his attention away and took a few steps in the opposite direction.

  “Maybe she . . .”

  AJ felt eyes, turned to his left.

  No one.

  “What is it?” Sasha asked.

  “The guy with the ice cream, over your left shoulder.”

  She grinned, cocked her head to the side. “We did this last night.”

  “Yeah, only I’m not asking you to lay a lip lock on me. Tempting as that might be.” Truth was, he’d thought about that kiss more times than he wanted to admit. “If how you’re dressed is any indication, you’re the expert on all things undercover. You tell me if you feel the weight of someone’s stare.”

  Sasha paused, then looked over her shoulder. “That him?” she asked, thumbing toward the guy with the ice cream.

  “Yeah.”

  She grabbed AJ’s hand and walked directly toward the guy he thought for sure was watching them.

  “What are you doing?”

  She didn’t answer. “Excuse me?” Her voice rose a full octave, her smile was sickeningly sweet. Any accent he’d detected from her voice was gone . . . or changed.

  The man with the cone turned toward them. “Yes?”

  “Are you American? You look American.”

  “I’m, ah . . . yeah.” The guy looked directly at AJ.

  Sasha kept going. “Good. Would you mind taking our picture? I can’t get the gate behind us with a selfie.”

  Again the guy offered AJ unblinking eyes. “Ah, sure.” He reached for the phone Sasha was handing him.

  Next thing AJ realized, he was standing beside Sasha, her arm slipped around his waist, and he was smiling like all of the other tourists surrounding them while the man he thought was spying on them took their picture.

  The stranger holding Sasha’s phone, while trying to balance his ice cream cone, looked completely out of place.

  “Take a second one, just in case.” Sasha giggled.

  The sound of her voice didn’t suit her. The hand on his waist, however, suited him just fine. The feel of her there, the warmth, the softness he knew she would hate if he pointed it out, felt a little too right.

  “Thank you so much.”

  The stranger handed her phone back with a nod. “Have fun.”

  She waved. “We will . . . thanks.”

  And he was gone.

  AJ watched the man slip away as Sasha removed herself from AJ’s side.

  He missed her warmth, instantly.

  “Any self-preserving spy wouldn’t have made contact,” Sasha told him.

  The two of them walked toward the center of the square. “Okay,” AJ started. “Maybe I’m a little paranoid.”

  “You’re a lot paranoid.”

  AJ paused in the middle of the plaza and stared at the massive horses that sat atop the gate. The image of his sister at Christmas the previous year surfaced. It was the last time he’d seen her alive. “I know Amelia’s death wasn’t random, Sasha. I feel it with every breath I take.”

  She sighed. “I know you do.”

  He looked at her. “You don’t believe me.”

  “I believe you believe.”

  He lowered his head, studied the salt-and-pepper colored stones beneath his feet. “You’re not going to help.” Damn it . . . he was back to ground zero.

  Another heavy sigh from the woman at his side. “I will help you.”

  AJ snapped his head up. “What?”

  She placed a hand in the air as in warning. “Not because I think you have anything other than grief inside you. The not knowing, or never accepting the facts, can eat you alive.”

  Not ground zero. He wanted to kiss her. Not that she would be receptive to that kind of thing. “Why are you doing this?” There wasn’t anything in it for her.

  Sasha turned away from him and focused her attention on the Brandenburg Gate. “Because I’m not bored.”

  “Am I supposed to know what that means?” he asked.

  “No.”

  She shook her head as if dismissing a thought and started to walk.

  AJ followed.

  “I have a couple of names you can look into while I try and figure out if there was any connection between your sister and Miss Shrum.”

  Walking felt easier and the sky was a tad bit brighter. “I can do that.”

  “You need to do that from here. In Berlin.”

  He hesitated. “Why?”

  “How long have you been hanging around the outskirts of Richter asking questions?”

  “Do you always answer a question with one of your own?”

  She didn’t answer. “How long, two weeks?”

  “About.”

  “Long enough for people to recognize you and warn anyone who might be able to offer some information. It’s time you backed off and took your search away from Richter.”

  AJ stopped walking altogether. A serious cloud of doubt started to hover over him. “You’re trying to stop me.”

  Sasha pivoted; the wind blew fake blonde hair in her eyes. “I’m approaching this as if there is a shadow of truth in your theory. Let’s pretend that your sister is somehow connected to this other woman, if only by the person that removed them from this world—”

  “There’s a connection.” AJ felt it.

  Sasha continued. “If that person has ties to Richter, or has lumped them together because of Richter, then it’s safe to say they will have their ear to the grounds around the school.”

  “My sister’s death was in DC, Keri’s was in Wales. I doubt the killer is in Germany.”

  Sasha looked around them, lowered her voice and her head. “What makes you think this person works alone?” She paused. “You’re not.”

  She had a point.

  “You stay in Berlin.”

  “But—”

  “I make the rules, or I don’t help. This is not negotiable.”

  Sasha’s eyes met his and held.

  His chest tightened. “Fine.”

  A satisfied smile crossed her lips. “I’m going to give you a phone number, someone I trust in the States. If you come across anything in your research, I want you to call Reed, not me. You and I will not have direct contact for the next three days. If Reed feels the need, he will get ahold of me on your behalf.”

  “A middleman.” He hated middlem
en.

  She turned and started walking again. “I hope you’re taking notes.”

  “I have a decent memory.”

  “Good. Now why don’t you go find a hotel? Play tourist.” She started to cross the street.

  He stopped, called after her. “What about that number?”

  “It’s in your phone.”

  Of course it was.

  The woman was cunning. “Hey, Sasha?” he yelled.

  She stopped, peeked over her shoulder.

  AJ grinned. “The blonde doesn’t work for you.”

  He was pretty sure his comment made her smile. Not that she stuck around for him to see it. Within a minute, Sasha was swallowed into the crowd.

  As much as AJ cautioned himself not to trust her, he knew that he did.

  Chapter Seven

  “Twice in one week, are you okay?”

  Sasha had ditched the wig and the housewife clothes, and sat in a café drinking coffee before heading back to Richter. With her phone to her ear, she watched Berlin’s rush hour traffic from a curbside table.

  “Are you a dad yet?”

  Reed released a sigh. “Obviously you’re fine.”

  “I need you to do something for me.”

  “W-what? You need me to do something for you?”

  “Was I unclear?” She knew he was being facetious.

  “Name it. Although we already have baby names picked out.”

  That made her smile. Imagine if someone cared enough about her to name their child after her? Yeah, not in this lifetime.

  “AJ Hofmann might contact you in the next few days and ask a question or need help.”

  “I’m here.”

  No questions asked. One of the many things she liked about Reed.

  “Anything else?”

  A tickle on her neck had her on edge. “Geoff Pohl. I need to know who this man works for and if there are any red flags.”

  “You got it.”

  Again, no questions.

  “I’m in Germany. Spending time with the people who . . .” raised me. “The Internet isn’t secure there or I wouldn’t ask.”

  “I’m glad I can do something for you for once.”

  “Take care of your wife,” she told him before hanging up.

  “You ready for this?” Brigitte asked on the sidelines of the obstacle course. Her hair was pulled back in a tight ponytail, as was Sasha’s. They were both dressed for the race that they would do as a team. The skies decided to open up enough to make everything soggy and that much more difficult. The two of them would need to work together in order to tackle some of the steeper terrain. Only the last two obstacles would be taken on solo, making the last eight hundred meters a true race.