by Alana Terry
“Oh, man. I’m so sorry.”
“Stop saying you’re sorry!” She had a few expletives ready to fire at him, but the look on his face—the utter dejection—made it impossible. One thing her father had taught her was never to kick a man while he was down. Regardless of her flaws, Erika knew she was better than that.
“You’re right. I’m not good at rogue. I like having the security of knowing that there’s someone absolutely invested in me and the safety of our client. That doubt kills me.”
“You have someone, Keith. You’ve got your god. You have to believe he’s watching out for you, or why would you even believe in him? If you need someone to back you up, look there.”
Erika looked as stunned as Keith did when she realized what she’d said. He pulled into a parking spot and shut off the engine. Seconds ticked past as he mulled her words in his mind, differing emotions flitting across his face with each new train of thought. “You’re right. I keep doing that. I put my faith in people instead of the One with the real power to protect me.”
His words sounded like some kind of mumbo jumbo, but she didn’t care. The confidence was back, and even if it only lasted until they were on the road to wherever their next destination was, it’d work. That was what mattered. “Okay, so now that we’ve recognized the Almighty is here and ready to zap the crooks with his laser vision or whatever he has, now what?”
“We wait for Karen. She’s watching the entrance. She’ll be ready for us.”
“Do we get out?”
He shook his head. “Not yet. Just keep an eye out for Karen. Claire is young, not too tall, blonde, and pretty. No idea how she’ll be dressed—”
“Why aren’t we changing how we look? You know, dye hair, change hairstyle, grow a beard—”
“I don’t think a beard would look good on you, but we don’t do that because—”
“People expect it.”
The first genuine smile she’d seen since he’d escorted her to the airport spread slowly across his face. “You’re getting it.” A glance at the rearview broadened the smile. “They’re here. Grab your bag and let’s go.”
They each reached into the back seat, grabbed their bags, and hurried from the car. A young woman, hardly looking old enough to be out of high school, threw herself at Keith, weeping about being worried and stressed. Erika wanted to slap sense into the girl until she saw Keith whispering something. Whatever it was, the girl’s face seemed to relax and that changed his entire demeanor.
“Erika, this is Claire. We’ve got to get going.” Keith, back to business, made everything feel much calmer.
They strolled to the trains and just off the platform, a man approached. Erika was on high alert, ready to pull out her gun and unload it into anyone who came too close or looked suspicious. Keith, on the other hand, seemed quite calm as he traded both sets of car keys for the one in the man’s hand. It felt almost like a drug deal—two people passing goods as they intersected. Weird.
They hardly chatted as they rode the train to the airport, which made Erika feel even more self-conscious than ever. Karen yawned twice, and Claire hung her head in her hands, making Erika wonder if they’d had a long drive. Keith’s lazy, “Sure will be glad to get home and away from stores,” told her that it was all part of the ruse.
“Stop whining. You got to see your game.”
“And they lost. Seriously? You fly a thousand miles to watch a game, the least they could do is win.”
“Sore loser.”
Keith grinned at his cousin. “Darn tootin’.”
“Man, Keith, you’ve gotta learn to swear a little. Darn tootin’ sounds like a kid who hates that he farts so much.”
“Whatever. Let’s just get checked in. It’s still another hour until the flight leaves.” Keith glanced at his watch as if disgusted with the time.
Erika listened to the banter, her mind swirling at his use of the word “darn.” Hadn’t he considered it no different from its predecessor? Why the change? His eyes met hers over his cousin’s head and she grinned, knowing. An act. He’d put on an act, using words that offended his sensibilities, to protect her. In the right scenario, he could probably fling out a string of expletives to make any bathroom stall artist proud.
Once inside the airport, Keith went to check their flight status, while Claire made a beeline for a coffee kiosk. Karen dragged Erika into the bathrooms, passing her a note just as she entered a stall. Erika stared at it, confused. Stay in here for five minutes, exit out the terminal one—Lindbergh—and take the light rail to terminal two—Humphrey—parking. First Row. Green Ford Focus wagon. 249X9A2.
AFTER A WEEK OF LITTLE sleep and more emotional turmoil than he’d dealt with in ages, combined with a twelve-hour drive in a car full of jabbering women, Keith had collapsed into bed, spent. Nine hours later, he crawled from the covers, awake, but nearly as exhausted as he’d been when they’d arrived. As he opened the door, Karen’s voice hit him in the chest with a blow that felt physical. “Claire, if you’d seen it, you’d see why he’s so rattled.”
“I watched him all the way here. He’s just—weird.”
“Have you ever had to threaten someone when your job is to prevent that kind of thing? Have you ever had to hurt someone to try to protect someone else?”
“But, that doesn’t make sense. He’s had to shoot people before. He said he had to beat up a guy who tried to attack Erika.”
“That’s another thing all together. Self-defense or direct defense is easily reconciled with your conscience, Claire. Torturing someone, no matter how important, goes against everything in Keith’s make-up. It kills him.”
“Torture? Keith?”
“In his mind, slugging someone repeatedly, pretending to look forward to it or enjoy it—that’s torture. He’s still reeling from it. I can see it in him, and I can’t help. He needs the kind of comforting that you get from family or a girlfriend. I’m neither.”
Claire’s next question nearly choked him. “Have you ever told him how you feel about him?”
Laughter, mercifully natural and free, echoed around the empty kitchen. “I’m not in love with Keith. I care about him, sure. He’s a great guy, but he’s brother material for me.”
“I don’t know why women are so blind to him!”
“They’re not, Claire. He just isn’t around enough to give anyone any encouragement. This is a tough job. The biggest drawback is the loneliness. Very few agents have families, and those who do usually don’t stay married for long.”
“They choose the job over their families?”
Keith cringed at the answer he expected Karen to give but relaxed as she said, “Yep. Most do, but Keith wouldn’t.”
“So, you’re telling me I need to take it easy on him.”
“I’m telling you that your cousin just spent days trying to protect someone, found that person being choked, had to shoot the attacker, and then had to beat the guy to find out information that probably saved Erika’s life. He’s kind of had a rough week, okay? If you’d been through all that, what would you need?”
“Okay, fine! I’ll give him one of my famous neck massages and maybe he’ll open up.”
“He probably won’t, Claire, but knowing someone cares will do more good than talking about it. Keith isn’t a talker. Some people decompress by talking. Keith isn’t one.”
A sound behind him sent Keith spinning, his hand on his gun. Erika stood in her doorway, just a few feet behind him, tears streaming down her face. Stuffing down an inward groan, Keith shuffled toward her, backing her into her room and quietly shut the door. “You okay?”
“You hit someone?”
Everything in him wanted to pound something until it shattered into tiny pieces. He did not need Erika afraid of him—not now. “He tried to choke my client to death. It didn’t take much to figure out that he was really after me.”
“So, you hit him to get him off the guy? What’s the difference between that and the guy who jumped you in Oregon?”
&n
bsp; When it came to protecting clients, Keith had no compunction about lying. He couldn’t tell his mom that he liked her hairstyle if he didn’t, but he could tell an endangered woman anything if it’d keep her calm and stress-free. One look in Erika’s eyes, and Keith knew the best choice this time was the truth. “No, what Karen was talking about happened a few days later. The guy, Mike, wouldn’t talk. We tried everything, but time was ticking, and we knew if we waited much longer, and there were any other targets, those targets wouldn’t be there by the time we got the information we needed.”
“Targets such as me?”
“Such as you. Yeah, Erika, I hit him. He was tied in a chair, I made sure I sounded menacing and like I almost anticipated the chance to pound him, and I literally slammed my fist into his face—twice. Had he not spilled everything then, I’d have hit him a dozen more times—until he was unconscious even. I was not going to stop until he told me what I wanted.” His voice shook just a bit on the last word despite himself.
Fresh tears poured over her cheeks as Erika stared up at him blindly. “That’s how you found out that you needed to come for me?”
“Yeah.”
Erika’s arms went around him. Keith stood, unmoving for several seconds, uncertain what to do. Clients rarely hugged them—even grateful ones. It just wasn’t “done.” When she didn’t let go, he patted her back awkwardly, murmuring reassuring and random comments, but Erika refused to let go.
At last, she sniffled and said, “Thanks.”
“What for?”
A giggle, a sound that seemed absolutely out of character, escaped before she shrugged. “Doing your job? I think I understand a few things now. You really had me freaked out.”
“I did?”
“Yeah, but now I get it more. It wasn’t just about you not having Mark to fall back on like you thought. You had to do something that revolts you. You were probably fighting the whole two wrongs making a right thing. Me, I’m just grateful you did it. I’d probably be dead by now.”
She wiped her tears away with the back of her hand and stepped away awkwardly. “Sorry. You’d better get out there and let your family hug on you a bit. I’m not family and we both know you’re not into dark spiked-haired girls with chips on their shoulders.”
“Karen doesn’t know what she’s talking about. I’m fine.”
“So, you’ll be grumpy again?” Erika crossed her arms as if skeptical.
“I’m never grumpy.”
“Hogwash. You were a walking bear at the cabins and in Oregon.”
“Okay, if you say so. I don’t know what you’re talking about, though.”
Erika reached for the doorknob and twisted it. “I’m going to point it out every single time you snarl, growl, frown, or in any other way show how irritated you are.”
Keith followed with a shrug. “You do that.”
Chapter 25
“JUST WHY ARE WE IN a house a few doors down and behind mine?”
Karen gave Keith a warning glance as his eyes rolled heavenward and turned to Claire, asking, “Why do you think we’re here?”
“She lives near here?” Claire’s eyes sought Erika’s for confirmation.
“You can see my yard from the kitchen window if you stand on the sink.”
Claire glanced at her cousin and then Karen before nodding. “They don’t expect us to come so close to where people might be looking for her. It’s like the old ‘hide it in plain sight.’”
“Isn’t this a little too close for comfort?”
“Yes.” Keith and Karen spoke in unison.
Erika sighed. “Hiding in plain sight. I forget.”
“It’s not quite that simple,” Keith explained. “That can be as dumb as doing the opposite of what’s expected. If you always make the unexpected decision, then the decision you make will be expected.”
“Then why are we here?” Claire looked as confused as Erika felt.
“Our options are limited—more so than Mark thinks. This is one of those places that he’ll think of and yet probably be sure we wouldn’t risk. It’s too close to home, but we really have very little choice.” Karen spoke confidently, but Erika sensed there was more—and there was. “Erika, you need to call your parents.”
“Okay. Why?”
“They need to leave.”
Dread filled Erika’s heart. She’d never imagined anyone coming after her family, but Karen seemed to be implying that it was possible. “Why are they after me? I didn’t do, see, think, feel, take, or touch anything!”
“Focus, Erika. You have to come up with a convincing reason to get them to go away. I think you should have them mention the mountains on Facebook or something—say they’re on an internet and technology fast—and then go to the lake until we come get them.”
“What do I say? ‘Hi, Mom. Someone is after me for no good reason, but since they can’t find me they might come after you, so I need you to go camping for the next week or so. Don’t take any cell phones or use your credit cards.’”
“That’ll work.” Keith pushed a pre-paid cell phone across the table.
“Are you nuts? Tell me why you would do this if your kid called.”
“Because my kid wouldn’t be a prankster teen, but a responsible adult who apparently had something go wrong.”
“And when they ask about the police?”
Keith glanced at Karen, and upon receipt of silent approval, he turned back to Erika and clenched his fists. “Okay. Then we do it this way. You tell your parents you’ve been kidnapped. This is true, right? You tell them that if they do not follow orders, you will be killed.”
“My father will not pay a ransom. He doesn’t believe in rewarding criminal activity.”
“We won’t ask for a ransom, but trust me. Lofty ideals are great in theory, but when someone says they have your daughter and she sounds terrified you will do whatever is necessary to ensure her safety.” Keith nudged the phone again.
“Sound scared.”
“Sound scared out of your wits.”
“I failed drama in high school,” she warned.
“You also never showed up for class.” Karen didn’t look impressed. “Seriously? It’s an easy A, and you don’t even show up?”
“Give me the phone. Sheesh.”
As she’d predicted, James Polowski refused to follow the orders of the so-called kidnappers, but Erika’s, “Daddy, please!” sent his wife into hysterics. After arguing, threatening, and eventually Erika’s panicked shrieks, the man agreed to take their little pop-up trailer and stay at Lake Danube until Erika was delivered.
“He’s calling the cops now,” Karen said dryly as Erika pushed the phone across the table. Keith took it into the kitchen and smashed it with a hammer, pulling the card from the pieces.
“Cops! Wha—”
Keith hastened to reassure her. “That’s okay. They’ll patrol the Fairbury area, waiting for the drop off. You’ll have to drive there yourself when this is over, but that’s okay. Anyway, the point is, they’re gone, and now they’ll have police protection. It’s perfect.”
“Your picture will be all over the news. You can’t leave again.” Karen’s words weren’t very encouraging.”
“So, what do we do?” Claire seemed bored already now that the call had been made. “How do we know when it’s safe to go?”
“I’m going to drive to Chicago and call Mark from there. We need information. I’ll be back as soon as I can.” Karen acted as if she said similar things every day. She strolled into her room, retrieved her duffel bag, and backed the car from the garage.
Claire tried to convince Karen to let her go too, but the woman refused. Frustrated, she stormed into the house, down the hall, and slammed the door to the room she’d claimed as her own. With a shrug and a wave, Karen drove down the street and rounded the corner.
Seconds later, a call came through on Keith’s generic phone. “Someone is at Erika’s house.”
“GLAD YOU CALLED. IS everyone okay?”
“Dandy.” Karen didn’t like the small talk. It seemed almost insulting to the man who had personally trained her.
“Good. Jill and Anthony have Helen in Florida.”
“Florida! Why?”
Mark’s voice sounded weary. “She didn’t feel safe going back to Fiji, Australia was out in her mind, and that left here. At least Florida doesn’t make sense.”
“Since when does the client decide where they will and won’t go?”
“Since she freaked, and since I cannot find who is leaking information in my organization.”
“Well,” Karen asked, hoping she didn’t sound too accusatory, “have there been any more bungles? Is there any evidence that someone has information they shouldn’t?”
“Not lately. I’d give anything for Keith’s insight. Have you seen him?”
“You know I’m not going to answer that. Mind if I take a look at whatever information you have?”
“I’ll upload the files I have. Do you know the password?”
“Text it to me when we get off.” Karen hated leaving her phone on that long, but he’d probably already figured out where she was. Why freak about it now?
She turned down a side street and backtracked. She needed a library. “Okay, Mark. I’ve got to go. If you get any news, send an email to my phone. I’ll pick it up in a few days.”
“No. Check it once a day. I’m serious. Don’t risk your life. If someone figures out where you are, you could be in as much danger as any of us. We’re all sitting ducks until we find this guy—or girl. Twenty-four hours between calls is too long, but don’t wait any more than that.”
“Gotcha. Send it to this number, too.”
The traffic nearly drove her insane as she crawled along the streets toward the nearest big box office store. She wasn’t accustomed to being so unprepared. Buying a USB drive would cut into their ready cash, but it was necessary. Keith had a knack for catching what others missed, and with a potential mole in the Agency, Mark probably wouldn’t let very many of the staff near anything remotely sensitive.
With thumb-drive in hand, she strolled into the Blackstone Library, charmed by the neoclassical architecture. Karen immediately realized her mistake. In a predominantly black neighborhood, she looked like a beacon advertising how out of place she was. For a moment, she considered finding a less conspicuous choice, but decided that she’d likely make more of a memorable impression if she left than if she just finished her business and left naturally.
