Saints & Suspects

by Jordan McCollum

  “Too bad she had to go Hollywood on us.”

  “‘Us’?” Oprah had left her Chicago studios years ago. “How long have you been in Chicago?”

  “A while.”

  First about totaling his car, and now again with the evasion? “I thought you were on the fast track in DC.”

  Zach shrugged one shoulder. “Something came up.”

  She rubbed her thumb and middle finger together. Her law enforcement “spidey” sense was tingling. What wasn’t he saying?

  He changed the subject. “Think we should move closer? We might be able to see into the store from the street.”

  “To make sure she’s not purchasin’ illicit floral arrangements or other crimes against nature?”

  “Or interior decorating.” He cast her a teasing glare. “Do you want the world’s tackiest fake wedding?”

  Molly joined his light laughter. After a few minutes of silence, another customer strolled into the shop. Molly nodded at the woman, who was at least eighty. “Clearly a den of underground insurgents.”

  Zach grinned. He grabbed his mobile, sent a text message and set it aside again. “You go to church on the North Side now?”

  She was not so naïve to not see the underlying question: if he hadn’t seen her at meetings, was she still part of the Church? “I do.”

  “North Sider.” He sounded offended, but she imagined that was fake. “What do they have you doing?”

  “Sunday school teacher. You?”

  “Family Home Evening group leader with Lucy. The committee thinks it’s hilarious to call us ‘Ma and Pa Saint.’”

  Molly cringed. “Hilarious or disgustin’?”

  “Exactly.”

  Speaking of Lucy. “Have you talked to her lately?” Her solemn hush carried enough of the context to convey the real question: do you know how things are between her and Paul?

  “Still hanging on.” Zach shook his head, more pitying than judgmental. “Wish they’d just face it: they’re never getting married.” His conclusion carried an extra note of bitterness.

  Molly studied him studying the street a moment, but couldn’t decipher a reason for that feeling. “Better to figure that out now, before doin’ somethin’ so . . .” She swallowed the last dregs of her cocoa, cold and silty and bitter with cocoa powder. “I don’t know. Final, I suppose.”

  “Final,” Zach repeated. He turned to her, his expression more serious than it’d been all afternoon. Before he spoke, his mobile rang. He frowned and checked the caller, then answered. “Hi, X. You not get my text message?”

  Molly concentrated on the shop instead of Zach’s call, but his voice seemed not just business-like, but tense.

  “She’s here with me,” Zach said. “Want to do it now?”

  Zach set his mobile on the armrest between them, cuing the speakerphone. “Status meeting,” he murmured.

  “How’s it going, Molly?”

  “Xavier,” she acknowledged him, still focusing on the street.

  Zach made a cutting motion across his throat.

  “Sorry,” she said quickly, “Supervisory Special Agent Mason.”

  Xavier laughed. “Zach giving you a hard time? He means don’t call me Ex-Xavier. You don’t say Ex-Xerox do you?”

  “Suppose not.”

  “Call me Xavier.”

  “Or X,” Zach added.

  “And he calls you ‘Z.’” She tried to cover her grin. “Should I call you ‘Zed’?”

  “No.” Zach fought a smile of his own.

  “Only fair,” she protested. “‘Zed’ is the last letter of the alphabet everywhere but the United States,” she added for Xavier’s benefit.

  Xavier disagreed. “Zed’s a character on Men in Black.”

  “That wouldn’t cross your mind, would it, Zed?”

  Zach leveled a scowl with feigned venom at her. “Never, M.”

  She couldn’t share a nickname with the fictional head of MI6, even if Dame Judi Dench had played a gender-reversed version of the spymaster. “Point taken. Speakin’ of spy movies, you see Enemy of the State is on Netflix?”

  “Good one,” Xavier remarked.

  Molly checked Zach’s reaction, but his expression was blank. “Haven’t seen it. I mean, I know what it’s about —”

  “Oh,” she said. “Like I’m familiar with Star Wars, but I’ve never watched it.”

  Zach gaped at her. “You’ve never seen Star Wars?”

  “I haven’t, but —”

  “Not even the new ones?”

  “No.” She tried to concentrate on their surveillance target, but Grace’s car offered no distractions, still parked by the shop.

  Zach wasn’t done. “You sure you’re American?”

  Molly pursed her lips in a half-mocking protest. “I took a test to become a citizen; what did you do?”

  “Sorry to break this up,” Xavier said over their laughter. Break up? Break up what?

  “What has our friend been up to?” Xavier asked.

  “The florist,” Zach said.

  “Arrangements for our weddin’.” Molly sighed.

  Xavier grunted. “It’s what, two months away?”

  “Just over ten weeks,” Molly corrected him.

  “Keeping track?” Zach sounded . . . triumphant.

  “You would, too, if you had to act excited or stressed about it in front of her — or just put up with her. You know she’s texted me four times about wearin’ a strapless dress? And don’t get me started on the flowers.”

  “Seems like you’re handling it well,” Xavier said.

  Molly watched Zach’s reaction to that statement. He was fixed on the street, but she picked up a small but certain nod. The closest thing he’d given her to praise, unqualified, unconditioned, unstipulated. Her heart seemed to puff up a bit at that pinch of progress.

  “How was Saturday?” Xavier asked.

  Molly gave him the run-down of her last meeting with Grace, skipping over the tears and the heartbreak, and Xavier approved it. “Anything else to report?” Xavier asked.

  “We’re meetin’ with her tomorrow,” Molly said. “Huntin’ for weddin’ venues — oh, and are you free for lunch, Zed?”

  “Sure,” Zach said.

  “Romantic.” Xavier almost sounded amused. “I’d better let you get back to your previously scheduled programming.” Xavier seemed to be saying that was more than watching Grace Canavan.

  Nothing more was going on. Not with the man who’d dumped her six months ago. Not even if she did still have feelings for him.

  Molly’s mobile chimed for a text message. Zach was on surveillance again, so she took the opportunity to read it.

  Nate. Guess who caught an earlier flight! I brought you a present from Hawaii.

  Naturally. She was happy to see him. Wasn’t she?

  Grace gripped her mug and tried to keep her posture casual when the last customer finally shuffled out of the shop. Selecting Molly’s wedding flowers wasn’t her biggest goal today. “I should head — but before I go, I wanted a couple flats of strawberries and some fertilizer. Nitrogen, you know yourself.”

  Kim frowned in thought. “Isn’t that a little early?”

  Grace’s fingers tightened around the mug handle. “I’ve got a greenhouse on the roof.”

  “Oh, gotcha. How much do you need?”

  “You know, I’ll just take a whole bag.” She released her mug to wave a hand casually. “I’m lookin’ to put up preserves.”

  “All right,” Kim said slowly. Suspiciously?

  Grace tried to fight off the sick tide rising in her stomach. Kim couldn’t know —

  “You know to be careful with this stuff, right?”

  “My landlord would have a mickey fit if we damaged his roof shed.” She laughed and Kim joined in. She rang up the purchase, and Grace paid in cash. To her knowledge, the state had no reason to be monitoring their accounts, but caution couldn’t hurt. Though buying it from Kim meant that anyone investigating later would be
able to find out her name, odds were Kim wouldn’t think to mention her old friend if anyone came asking around about a bomb.

  “I’ll have to get it from out back. Why don’t you pull around to pick it up?”

  “Grand,” Grace said. “Cheers.”

  Objective accomplished. Now she only needed a job for Ed at DontRain and the rest of the matériel from Pearse.

  Zach knocked on the door to the apartment above Lucy’s, bouncing on his heels with excess energy. He definitely wasn’t this excited for a blind date.

  Normally, after hours of surveillance where nothing happened, he would’ve been drained. Though Grace had only meandered around downtown a while and gone home, Zach’d been charged up ever since.

  Definitely not because he’d had fun with Molly — though seriously, that was the best time he’d ever had on surveillance.

  But now he had another job: Lucy’s blind date. Lucy’s friend answered the door. She beamed and flipped her blonde hair. “Zach?”

  “Brittany?”

  “That’s me,” she chirped. Seriously, the woman chirped. “Come in! I’m almost ready.”

  Zach followed her into her well-decorated apartment — where his sister was waiting amid the black couch’s throw pillows. Brittany disappeared into the bedrooms, and Zach arched an eyebrow at Lucy. “Why are you here?”

  “Helping Brittany.”

  Help prepping for a date? “Obviously a girl thing.”

  Lucy sniffed in his direction. “Guess we should be grateful you showered. Yesterday.”

  “Today, thank you.” After another minute, Zach turned back to his sister. “How are things with Paul? Any better?”

  She frowned, sulking. “Still working with Molly?”

  “Today, tomorrow, for the foreseeable future.”

  Lucy furrowed her brow, and before she spoke, he knew why. His answer should’ve come in a tone of grim determination, like a life sentence. It hadn’t.

  “You’re okay with that?” she asked.

  Saving him from answering, Brittany returned from the back — with a little girl in tow.

  A little girl? Nobody mentioned a kid. Brittany leaned down to talk to the girl. “Alyssa, you listen to Lucy, okay?”

  Alyssa nodded, jostling her blonde curls, and bounded over to Lucy. “I kept my Pollys the same as last time,” the little girl said, her eyes wide with the seriousness of Polly Pockets.

  Zach raced through the mental math. If Brittany was about his age, and the little girl looked the same size as his Polly Pocket–obsessed niece, this wasn’t her sister.

  He shot Lucy a pointed glare. She never said Brittany had a child — something kinda pertinent to a potential date.

  “Alyssa,” Lucy said, “meet my brother Zach.”

  The little girl spun back on him, squinting in an expression shrewd beyond her years. “Be nice to my mom.”

  “Planning on it. Be good for my sister.”

  “Okay!” Alyssa grabbed Lucy’s hand and tugged her to her feet.

  “Ready?” Brittany retrieved a coat from the closet.

  “Yep.” He helped her into her jacket and opened the door. Brittany stepped out, and behind her back, Zach shot another sharp look at his sister. They’d definitely be discussing what he should know before agreeing to a blind date. He wouldn’t have said no — Lucy didn’t give him much of a choice anyway — but he should’ve at least known.

  Lucy faked innocence with a mystified shrug before allowing Alyssa to tow her down the hall. Zach finally followed Brittany. “Alyssa’s cute.”

  “Thanks.” Brittany smiled. “Most guys freak out, but Lucy said you love kids.”

  “Yep.” He did, he reminded himself. Not that big a deal. Just not information he wanted to be ambushed with.

  “I’ll drive,” Brittany said. “Lucy said we should go bowling.”

  “Did she?” Bowling? Seriously? This setup must be an attempt to get under his skin.

  “Actually, she said you’d rather go to shooting. Has she always been that funny?”

  Zach forced himself to laugh, though Lucy was right. Maybe his sister wasn’t trying to sabotage this date. And neither should he.

  They reached Brittany’s car, and Zach got her door. “Bob — my ex — loved bowling,” Brittany continued once they were in the car. “He was league champion.”

  What was he supposed to say?

  She started the car and whipped out of her parking spot. “But, Bob was always at the alley, so yeah.”

  “Right.” Zach searched for something to change the subject. “Must be —”

  “It was like he wanted to be there more than home with us. I don’t know; I mean, Bob’s a good dad and all, but you gotta put in the time, you know?”

  “That’s tough.” What else was he supposed to say?

  “Then Bob bought a boat.” Brittany launched into traffic and another story about her ex.

  Maybe he didn’t need Lucy’s meddling to ruin a date.

  After the constant crashing of the bowling alley and Brittany’s retellings of Bob’s jokes, Zach had never been so ready for a date to end. He actually missed the afternoon’s surveillance assignment. With Molly. His ex.

  Definitely healthy.

  His headache had sharpened enough to whittle away at his patience by the time they reached Brittany’s apartment. She turned to face him and again he made himself smile. “Hope you had a good time.”

  “Mm hm.”

  Zach raised his arms for the obligatory hug, but Brittany stuck out one hand.

  A doorstep handshake? Wait, what had he done wrong? He shook her hand. “Say hi to Lucy. Good night.”

  “’Night.” Brittany didn’t even pause in the doorway, though she stopped short of slamming it in his face.

  What just happened? Lucy would have some serious ’splaining to do. He texted her as much and jogged down the stairs to break into — er, wait in her apartment. With her deadbolt nearly dead itself, picking the lock was hardly a challenge.

  Before he reached her door, Lucy texted back. Later. Brittany woke Alyssa up and I’m settling her. Could take a while.

  Fine. Zach rerouted for his car. Somehow the part of the day that was supposed to be fun was the opposite. And somehow, he wished he was still back in the car, staring at a boring street.

  Yep. Healthy.

  At home that night, Molly finished her notes and tucked her notebook into her handbag. An hour brainstorming new leads on a Belgian case hadn’t yielded much. In fact, she’d doodled a web about Zach, as if he were a suspect. By the time she’d drawn out the subjects he’d avoided with her, her strongest hunch was that Zach was keeping something from her.

  He’d been vague about simple facts: what had happened to his car, when he’d transferred to Chicago, and why. Why the evasion?

  If she wanted facts, Zach wasn’t her only source. She picked up her mobile, but before she started a text message, it rang — “I Only Have Eyes for You,” the ringtone Nate had chosen for himself. “Hello, Nate.”

  “Hey, babe. You get my text earlier?”

  His text? Oh, right — he was back early, but she’d been with Zach at the time. “Sorry, I was workin’.”

  “That’s okay. You busy now? A movie just came to Netflix that I bet you’ll like.”

  She’d meant to watch Enemy of the State, but Molly had a feeling that wasn’t what Nate had planned. “Sure now. Finished your talk for Sunday, haven’t you?”

  “Yep, so let’s celebrate that. Have you eaten? I could pick something up.”

  “That’d be grand, thank you.” Molly hoped that didn’t mean they’d go picnic somewhere romantic or something. She definitely wasn’t up for his usual grand gestures.

  They finished the call, and her mobile returned to the texting screen. She typed out her message to Lucy and sent it before she could think better of it. When did Zach move here?

  Nate arrived at her apartment in record time. Had he planned something big or simple? Molly gave
him a once-over: his favorite George Mason University sweatshirt and a Wendy’s bag. Perfect: she needed a quiet night in.

  “Got here faster than I thought. I always forget traffic’s not quite as bad as DC.” He gave her a quick kiss on the cheek before unwrapping their food on the coffee table: a baked potato for her and a hamburger for him. “Oh, man — I forgot your present from Hawaii.”

  “That’s all right.”

  “Can I talk to you?”

  “Sure now.” She paid her potato more attention than it warranted, even if she wanted to watch the butter.

  “You have a lot to accomplish before you get married, right?”

  “I do.”

  “Like what?”

  Did they have to discuss this? Molly hunted for a salt packet in the takeout bag. “Well.” The FBI had been a goal, but obviously that wasn’t a “to do” anymore. Neither was the Gardaí or earning her masters or traveling. Other than that . . . “I don’t really have a specific list, Nate. I’m only —” She couldn’t finish the sentence aloud: not ready to get married.

  “Just thought I’d ask.” He picked up the remote control. “I saw this movie was on and just knew it’d be perfect for you.”

  Unless it was Enemy of the State, she just knew it wasn’t. Molly busied herself in the kitchen, hunting down condiments while the movie loaded. When the movie that Nate was so excited to watch with her started, she didn’t have to turn around to identify it. Tom Cruise’s Irish accent was that unforgettable — and that wasn’t a compliment.

  Molly strolled back to the sofa and the confirmation she didn’t need. “Far and Away,” she said.

  “Do you like it?”

  Molly could only commit to a shrug. “I suppose it’s my equivalent of a spaghetti Western — it’s got a lot of clichés and flat-out mistakes, you know yourself. A little insultin’, really.”

  Nate’s smile slipped a centimeter. “Really?”

  “What if every movie you saw had all the American characters sayin’, ‘Duuude, that wave was righteous’?” Her surfer accent wasn’t great, but it was enough to amuse Nate.

  “If you want to watch something else —”

  “I was plannin’ to watch Enemy of the State.”

  “Oh.” His good humor slipped away again. “Doesn’t that have a lot of language and violence?”