by Randy Dutton
“Good. Because we don’t want new construction. That would raise questions.”
Chapter 24
August 19, 1800 hours
Heyward Ranch
Patrick opened the passenger door. The lady’s narrow wrist flashed several narrow gold bracelets as her hand extended to Patrick. Long athletic legs pivoted out the silver Corvette. The lowered sun glistened off long, shiny black hair as she stood on ankle-strapped, three-inch heels. She straightened her figure-clinging, gunmetal gray, wrap dress.
Stepping forward, her left hand slipped from Patrick’s and wound possessively around his arm, while her right hand slung a large satchel over a shoulder. A ruby red smile under large, tortoise-shelled sunglasses highlighted her olive complexion.
With a smug grin, Patrick’s free hand waved from his approaching older brother to his date. “Pete, I would like to introduce Starr.... Starr, meet Pete.”
“Welcome to the Heyward homestead,” Pete said cheerfully.
The slender woman took off the sunglasses and tucked them in a purse side pocket.
“Why, thank you, Pete.” Starr drew out her slight Texas drawl.
“This is so last minute.... I hope we’re not intruding,” Patrick said.
“No problem. Mom joined dad for his meeting in New Orleans this weekend,” Pete said.
Starr reached out and lightly touched Pete’s hand. “Patrick told me so much about you and your research last night, I just had to meet you before your trip.” Her hand withdrew.
“She can be very persuasive.” Patrick blushed.
Starr’s arm affectionately tightened around Patrick’s. “I have to admit I’m a novice when it comes to environmental issues.... I’d love to learn more.”
“Well, feel free to ask anything. As everyone will acknowledge, I’m almost always in teaching mode.” Pete’s broad smile at the attractive woman flattened when Anna’s brow arched.
“That he is.... And”—Patrick motioned to the stoic woman standing on the porch five meters away—“his wife...Catherine.” He winked at Anna to show he remembered to use her middle name, then took a second glance at her now auburn hair.
Anna smiled back, while still appraising the younger woman with the cat-eye makeup and shimmery gray eye-shadow batting long eyelashes at her husband. As Starr came closer, Anna’s eyes narrowed. Starr’s nails were glossed with fresh polish that didn’t match the tiny marinara colored stain on the dress. To Anna, the overly made-up younger woman’s efforts to impress seemed excessive.
“Welcome...and call me Kate, everyone does.” Anna’s tone was warm, yet emphatic.
The men’s eyes narrowed at Anna’s use of a nickname she previously forbade anyone using.
Anna added, “Let’s sit on the back porch before dinner.”
Starr scanned the casually attired hostess and decided the classically beautiful woman must be a trophy wife, then turned to Pete. “Sure is a hot one, isn’t it? Seems global warming’s making them all hotter.”
Pete’s furrowed brow didn’t change as he turned from his wife to their guest. “Actually, it’s normal for August.”
As Patrick led his date through the double doors, Anna paid particular attention to Starr’s reaction. Anna wasn’t disappointed. Starr’s pleasant smile subtly widened at the jazzy organ muzak playing in the background, and the scent of cinnamon-scented candles. That was a Midwestern ambiance favored by Irma, not Anna, who had more classical tastes.
Earlier that day, Pete had told Anna that putting his grandmother’s attic-retrieved hand-stitched pillows and a crocheted throw on the sofa was excessive. But he retreated upon seeing Anna’s wry smile and hearing her comment, “For tonight, cautionary misdirection is more important than personal tastes. We know precious little about her. So, please...follow my lead.”
Passing through the house on the way to the porch, Starr stopped chatting about the weather and slowed to study the masculine surroundings tempered with old-fashion knickknacks. Anna reminded herself that three weeks earlier, she also had taken a mental inventory of the setting, but then considered, that’s what spies do.
Starr momentarily stopped at the side table arrayed with family photos.
Seeing Anna give him a wink, Patrick kept mum when noticing framed photos of Pete and Anna on vacations that never happened. Anna had been expertly Photoshopped them earlier that day to create a false history. And in each image, she had made subtle changes that altered her appearance – hair style, skin tone, blemishes, and facial shape.
After complimentary comments about how handsome the Heyward family was, Starr walked on.
Minutes later, the two couples were sitting around a polished oak table drinking iced tea with Starr engaged in casual banter about the Dallas area social scene.
Anna decided to change the topic. “Patrick tells me you two met at his baseball game yesterday,”
With her index finger, Starr gently prodded Patrick’s arm. “This one’s on you.”
Patrick wore a sheepish grin as his hand rested on her forearm. His breathing became more rapid. “Well... this gorgeous girl jogs up and starts leg-stretching against the stands—”
“They were two up in the fifth inning when I arrived,” Starr interrupted. “Tell them what happened.”
“She’s got the most incredible legs.” Patrick cast his eyes downward in mock embarrassment. “I lost focus and walked the next three.”
Starr’s shoulder nudged against his. “And?”
He blushed. “The coach pulled me.”
“Ouch!” Pete blurted out with great amusement. “That must have bruised your ego.”
Starr fluttered her eyes at Patrick. “And?”
“I bypassed the dugout and went straight to Starr and started chatting her up.”
She smiled at Pete. “Oh, there’s more....”
Pete leaned forward. “Spill it little brother!”
“With my back turned to the field, I never saw the grand slam...and I didn’t care.”
“Why?” Pete brow rose.
“Because I was eagerly waiting for her to answer whether she’d have dinner with me.”
Pete erupted in laughter. “And did she?”
“Yeah. Last night we had a great time at a little Italian place....” Patrick continued describing their restaurant experience.
Ignoring his excited voice and exuberant gesturing, Anna’s eyes drifted from his guilty-pleasure grin back to the small red dinner stain, then to the large purse on the stone floor. Her amusement was constrained by increasing wariness. “Starr, did you know anyone on either team?”
Starr’s eyes narrowed at the new conversational direction. Her head shook with the short answer, “No.”
“I’m curious.... What caused you to stop at the field?”
Painted fingertips waved theatrically as Starr talked. “I was jogging past and saw this pitcher who was so cute on the mound I just had to watch his moves.” She reached down and squeezed Patrick’s knee and leaned into him.
“You hadn’t seen him before?”
“No. Why?”
Startled by Anna’s questioning, Patrick and Pete silently watched the interplay.
Anna continued, “Well, they play on that field same time every week, and if you jog the same route, I’m just surprised—”
Starr playfully crinkled her nose. “Oh, I just hate routines. I seldom travel the same path.” She turned toward Pete. “Enough about me. I’m fascinated by your work. You must be so excited about the Carbon Law passing last month!”
Pete’s brow furrowed. “Why’s that?”
She leaned forward. “Well, won’t government raise your university funding?”
He nodded. “It does increase it, but I’m not happy about the law.”
“But won’t it prevent people from denying global warming?”
“Laws shouldn’t inhibit free expression of science.”
“I mean...but it’s settled science!”
“Starr, it’s not set
tled at all.” His voice rose to emphasize the negative.
She egged him on. “Come on Pete, the UN says there’s a 95% certainty that humans are responsible for global warming. Certainly that’s proof.”
“While ignoring data that didn’t fit with their agenda—”
“And 97% of climate scientists agree mankind’s responsible.”
“Science isn’t a vote...and, that agreement as you call it, is based upon misleading questions—”
“You’re denying the climate’s warmed faster than anyone predicted two decades ago?” Starr’s eyes narrowed even as her smile widened.
“It hasn’t increased much at all in the past two decades.” Pete responded, his brow rose at Patrick who subtly shrugged his shoulder at his date’s sudden stridency.
“But what about those humongous fires out west? The news claim global warming’s increased wildfires,” Starr said.
“Actually, the number of US wildfires is in long-term decline—”
“But more acres have burned.”
“Only due to government’s firefighting policy changes that no longer aim to extinguish fires immediately after they begin.”
“Aren’t we in a drought? Global warming makes the fire risk so much more severe.”
“I’m not sure what you’re reading, but there’s no long-term increase in drought in the US—”
“But globally?”
“Globally, soil moisture’s increasing and droughts are less frequent and less severe.”
As the young woman and Pete debated, Anna quietly studied Starr’s subtle movements and Patrick’s obvious crush. His lack of caution worried her.
Starr’s now intense eyes locked with Pete’s. “Patrick probably told you I’m an insurance claims investigator.”
“He did.”
“Our Reinsurance Association of America president testified to the Senate that global warming causes more insurance losses.”
“And in the same meeting, he was rebutted with the facts,” Pete responded.
“Being?”
“Those higher extreme weather event losses are due to wealth creation—”
Starr’s index finger wobbled. “You think higher insurance payouts are only because of inflation?!”
Anna thought the gesture resembled a gun.
“No...higher overall value of lost goods.” Pete’s mouth gapped slightly as he uncomfortably waited for the next challenge.
Patrick put his hand over Starr’s, gently folding her loaded finger. “Starr, let’s change the subject—”
She turned her head and smiled. “Not yet, Sweetie. I’m having fun.” She turned back to Pete. “Like a Prius costing more to replace than a Ford Falcon?”
“Yes, and let’s not forget people building in riskier locations, such as flood zones, beaches, and the mountains. Domestic payout costs haven’t increased since 1990 as a proportion of GDP.”
Starr turned her head to Patrick and grinned mischievously. Her hand settled back onto his knee. “You said your brother was smart, but not how quick-witted he is.”
Patrick’s hand reacquired hers. “If dad’s not around, my older brother’s the ‘go to’ guy in our family. I know never to argue science with him. As an engineer, I build things, Pete’s more theoretical. He can get pretty intense.” He slowly nodded at Pete’s furrowed brow.
Starr’s wide eyes again scanned the spacious surroundings – the heavy oak beams, the large sandstone blocked walls, the rose garden and swimming pool. “Pete. You seem to be repeating all the global warming skeptic points. Is that because you’re from a wealthy oil family?”
Pete chuckled. “Our father owing an oil services company just means I have a broad perspective and it helped me get a good education. I base my decisions upon the best available science—”
“Your father must find it tough protecting his company from environmental whackos who want to destroy it. I even heard some computer hackers went after fossil fuels companies.” Starr leaned toward Pete. “You ever feel you have to push back?”
“Push back...what do you mean?”
Starr threw back her head and laughed. “Oh, come on Pete...everyone has a protective instinct—”
Anna squeezed Pete’s leg and abruptly interrupted. “Starr, Patrick tells us, you used to be a UT cheerleader?”
“Oh yes! It was a great experience, really motivated me to stay in shape too.”
“And now a police woman? Sounds thrilling...tell us about it.”
Starr’s cheeks rose and again her eyes crinkled as she re-evaluated the woman sitting across the table. Her body shifted to directly respond. “Oh it was very exciting. I frequently went undercover to root out the bad guys.”
“So you’re an expert in camouflage?”
Starr took a breath to consider a response. “All women are skilled in presenting themselves differently depending upon the circumstances, wouldn’t you agree...Kate?”
“One might say we’re a complicated gender.... Why did you leave the force and become an insurance investigator?”
“I wanted more freedom than the overly testosterone environment provided...and the pay was better.” Starr reached under her chair and picked up her black leather swagger satchel. “Excuse me, Patrick, would you show me the lady’s room? I want to freshen up a bit before dinner.”
“Sure.” He stood and took her hand.
Anna caught his eye. Her forefinger touched her lips and then pointed at herself.
He made a slight nod.
“That was very odd,” Pete said after the younger couple had passed into the house. “Was she picking a fight?”
“Yep.”
“I wonder why?”
Anna shrugged, preferring not to reveal her suspicions.
A widely grinning Patrick came out alone a minute later. “So, what do ya think?”
“She’s stunning.” Pete looked at his wife and his smile muted. “It’s okay I say that, isn’t it?”
Anna chuckled. “Yes, Dear. She’s quite attractive and very fit. What is it about cheerleaders and the Heyward men?”
Turning to Patrick, she suggested, “We’ve got about thirty minutes before dinner’s ready, tell you what, why don’t you give her a tour of the property? Show her your craftsmanship on the restored cabin.”
“Great idea Annnn...Kate.”
As soon as Starr returned and slung her satchel over the chair back, Patrick took her hand and pulled her away. “Come with me. I want to show you the place.”
Patrick’s date slightly resisted his momentum. She glanced at her purse, shrugged, and entwined her arm in his. “Okay.”
As soon as they passed a corner, Anna said. “Pete, check the roast, will you? I’ll be upstairs a bit.”
“Sure thing.”
After Pete entered the kitchen, Anna picked up Starr’s weighted purse and carried it upstairs into their bedroom. Sliding a suitcase out from under their bed, she opened it to make several items available. These were purchases made in Dallas from a pawn shop noted in survivalist circles. It specialized in electronics and surveillance gear.
Donning a pair of nitrile gloves, she carefully scrutinized the contents of the purse. Knowing Starr likely had planned a first-date overnighter with Patrick, the nail polish, the eye and lip makeup, and spare underwear were expected. The Glock .380 pistol also wasn’t farfetched considering her career choices – they were in Texas after all.
An inside pocket held a plastic box.
Anna sighed when she opened it. Three electronic bugs, and a relay transponder. Her lips pursed. I guess I shouldn’t be surprised considering all the seductions I’ve used during surveillance missions. She shook off the memories and quickly went to work.
Noting the exact model and settings of the listening devices, she returned them to their box. The information would give her the frequencies. With a precision screwdriver she opened the transponder and broke a thin internal wire leading to the antenna. Then she nudged the wire end into position
to ensure it looked connected.
Unless you open this and inspect the electronics you shouldn’t suspect a failure. Now, no matter where you install the bugs, the transponder won’t relay the signal to whomever’s paying you.
Leafing through the wallet, she analyzed and photographed every identity card.
Hmmmm. Several fake names and images. Not bad. I’d like to find your supplier.
Anna’s eyes flashed at one particular identification. Wow! The one with Crystal Caterer’s got you at 210 pounds! No wonder Pete didn’t recognize you.
The wallet went back.
Let see what’s on your iPhone.
She checked today’s images taken with the camera. Several showed a shirtless Patrick in his apartment.
In one, Starr was painting her fingernails while cross-legged on his bed and only wearing one of Patrick’s jerseys.
Oh Patrick, you are so smitten with that tigress. And yes, she’s got great legs.
Anna chuckled at the next photo of him painting Starr’s toenails. Her idea or yours?
The last was of Anna’s wedding photo, and more specifically, her face. For a moment, she was lost in her overwhelming happiness of that night.
Malevolent thoughts quickly dampened her mood.
If this makes it to the wrong people....
Her jaw set firm as she instinctively considered various actions, some more violent than others, then closed her eyes and took a deep breath.
No. There are other ways.
Anna deleted the photo then changed Starr’s iPhone’s time back a few minutes to when the original photo was taken. Stepping into the hallway, she smeared some Vaseline on the glass and angled the camera so an overhead light would reflect right over her face in the framed picture. Not to have a photo in its place would prove to Starr that her spying had been uncovered. To mask crucial face recognition points would only show Starr was a bad photographer.
Afterward, she reset the phone to the correct time.
Next, Anna connected a cell phone cloning device, and downloaded all of Starr’s data, then made a wax impression of each key on the ring. The phone and ring went back into the satchel.
She glanced at her watch and sighed.
