For Your Eyes Only

by Sandra Antonelli

  Hypnotized and dismayed, Willa watched the tick-tock motion. Her confession had turned into a poison that had seeped quickly into Dominic’s veins. Their friendship was writhing, dying right in front of her. She shoved back hot tears that began to rise and sniffled as her nose started to run. He’d traveled 15,000 miles to bring her and her dead husband back home. He could hate her all he wanted, but she was going to save him.

  If she failed, they could both wind up in prison.

  4

  John rolled over and grabbed the cheeping cordless phone beside his bed. Any sexually based images left from his dreams sputtered out like air rushing from a balloon someone had released abruptly. His sister was on his case before he even had the chance to yawn properly. “What the hell’s the matter with you?” she screeched.

  “Hi to you too, Kathleen.”

  “Were you really stupid enough to pick up some chick from the side of the road with my daughter in the car with you?”

  “Sofia was perfectly safe.”

  “How could you put my baby in that position? That old lady could have been a mental patient!”

  John sat up and shoved a pillow behind his back, yawning at last. Queenie was no mental patient. She was smart, and she was funny, and she was … entrenched in his mind in a way that surpassed every five-minute encounter with any woman he’d ever met. Queenie had, and there was no other word for it, an impact on him. He’d be thinking about her for at least a week. Maybe more.

  He would have sat there with the pillow tucked behind him and contemplated Queenie a little longer, but his sister was still chewing him out, spoiling the mood. “Stop yelling, Kath. The woman had a flat tire. We drove her to Madrid. She was in the car five minutes.”

  “A flat tire? Five minutes? Aren’t you the one who warns me about crimes of opportunity? Aren’t you the one who’s been lecturing me for years about picking up hitchhikers along Route 14? ‘It’s just down the road from the State Pen, Kath. You never know, Kath. It only takes a minute, Kath.’ How could you put Sofia in danger like that?”

  John stretched his legs. “If you really want to talk about danger, then let’s discuss the way you’re talking on your cell while you drive—don’t deny it, I know you are—and what about how you dress your eight-year-old daugh—”

  “Oh for Chrissake! You of all people should know better than to put a child in that position! She could have stabbed you or—” Kathleen backpedaled. “Okay, okay … bad choice of words, but you know she could have had someone hiding. She could have—”

  “She could have a lot of things, Kath, but she didn’t. As you pointed out, I’m a cop. I assessed the situation and found it was more of a danger to leave the woman on the side of the road when….” John didn’t bother to continue.

  His sister had already hung up.

  She stood her ground and glared back at him. Willa had always stood her ground like a man, legs apart, head lowered, bottom teeth revealed in a ready snarl. Jay-zuz, that pissed him off. “I said, get out. Leave before I pick you up and throw you out.”

  ”You don’t get it, Dominic. I’m asking for your help, so help me. Help me help you. Help me figure this out. I couldn’t save Miles, but if you help me with this, I can save you.”

  “Save me? Save me from what?” Dominic’s mouth compressed into a hard line, his nostrils flared and his lips pulled back over his teeth, almost mirroring her. Straining to control his temper, to keep from shouting and bringing down the roof, he raised both shaking hands, fingers spread as if he held a ball, palms facing each other. He wanted to throttle her.

  She wilted the way a dying spider did. Willa curled in upon herself and drew her arms against her chest, fists tucked under her chin as she sat down and closed her eyes. When she opened them, she sat very, very still, looking at him, her face wretched and very pale under the eco-friendly fluorescent lights. “I haven’t cared about anything for so long. Nothing mattered anymore. Nothing was important enough to matter … until this, and I’m scared. I’m scared shitless. I lost Alicia. She hates me. Well, I won’t have your son hate you, and I won’t let him lose his father.” Tears trickled down her pallid cheeks.

  It took about ten seconds of staring back at her before Dominic’s fury burned down to something else. He dropped his hands.

  Oh sweet Mother of God.

  The FBI? The fucking FBI? How had he not seen it? So she had an FBI badge. Big deal. She could have easily snagged it from any one of the government security types Miles had known. Her tears, this ridiculous paranoia, and the reason he hadn’t seen her in almost two years added up. This was a manifestation of a breakdown, one that had commenced when Miles had died.

  Dominic closed the door. “Willa,” he said gently, “I’m sorry. In a way, this is my fault. I should have done what my gut told me was the right thing. I should have kept my nose in your business and left it there. This … this stuff, it doesn’t matter. I won’t abandon our friendship again. I don’t give a shit if you tell me to fuck off again, I won’t step aside this time. That was a mistake. Don’t be afraid. There’s nothing to be afraid of. I’m here. I’ll do whatever you need me to do, whatever will help you now.”

  “You will?” she asked, sniffling.

  “Yeah. Whatever these demons here are, whatever unresolved issues that are there making you a little… I’m here. You suffered from a trauma, an understandable reaction considering the way you saw Miles die. I’ll support you. Lesley’s got a good friend who’s a psychologist. I’ll even go with you to see him if you want me to.”

  Willa stared at him, mouth open. Another tear rolled down her cheek as color flooded into it. She rose. “You jackass! Stop pretending I’m delusional! Stop lying when I’m trying to help you!”

  Dominic ducked. If he hadn’t, the yellow square of post it notes she’d grabbed off his desk would have bounced off his nose. “Lying? Jay-zus Kee-rist,” he hissed, and clamped his fingers on her shoulder. “Just what is it you think I’m lying about?”

  She knocked his hand away so forcefully it sounded as if she’d slapped him across the face. Willa rubbed her eyes, smearing her mascara. Head shaking, she studied her feet and said, “Wednesday, July twenty-second, 1992. You know me. You know I remember things. I can’t help it, and I remember the date in goddamn living color. That’s back when we were going over simulations of teleportation of a quantum state. At the end of that day, you didn’t return the TQS results to secure storage because you got a phone call from the babysitter that made you frantic. You put classified documents from the simulation into your briefcase. You asked me to come with you because Kyle had a high fever. I drove you and your briefcase home. The documents sat in your briefcase on your kitchen table.”

  She raised her head and leveled her narrowed eyes. “I was at your house, holding your sick son while you washed his vomit off your hands. I stood there holding him, looking at a briefcase containing classified material you took from work. In the eight hours I was there, I left you alone once. Once. In that time, did you make copies of anything? Tell me that you didn’t make copies and give them to Jackie Grafton.”

  Dominic heard a funny noise in his head. The bag of popcorn on his desk had been there since lunchtime, and the scent of it was suddenly overpowering. The overhead lights seemed too bright. For a second, he thought he was having a stroke, but her words made sense. His brain was working perfectly. What was incomprehensible, what blew his mind, was that a woman he’d known half his life was accusing him of espionage.

  Special Agent Thomas Mitchell opened the door before Willa reached it. “You’re late,” he muttered, a paper cup from Starbucks in his hand. “The coffee I got you is cold. I don’t think you’ll want to drink it now.”

  He was right about that. Willa didn’t want to drink cold coffee. She wanted to slap Mitchell upside the skull. She wanted to toss the Starbucks house blend in his face. She wanted to kick him in the…

  She took a long slow breath. There was no call for violence. The ma
n was doing his job, but she hadn’t expected him to act before she arrived. He was one of the top agents in the Counterterrorism Division, and didn’t usually work for the Administrative Service Division, the section that typically handled background checks, but he’d proceeded with interviewing Dominic anyway. He was so efficient she probably wouldn’t need to bring her luggage upstairs. In fact, Mitchell would have this thing solved before she’d even unpacked.

  Willa glared at the handsome agent as she walked into the furnished apartment that was going to be her home for the next God-knew-how-long.

  Mitchell closed the door and followed her. “Farley will join us at four. The office is behind the Chamber of Commerce, in Central Square, more or less across the street from Starbucks. Los Alamos is pretty small. It takes about ten minutes to walk from here to the office, but you probably already knew that.”

  Willa lowered the box in her arms to the floor. She set her jaw, shrugged off the laptop and handbag hanging from her shoulder, leaving both items on the taupe sofa. Exasperation overheated her body, and she yanked off her jacket and rolled her shoulders. Fuming, she looked around the place to drag her temper under control, but it billowed inside her and made her feel as bloated as the sage green overstuffed chair in the corner. She wanted to sink into that chair, curl up and watch some mindless TV, like cartoons. She never got to watch cartoons anymore. Was there still a station that ran the old Warner Brothers and MGM classics?

  When did everything in life get so serious? Did it all start with Miles?

  When she sat on the arm of the sofa, Mitchell hovered, standing there looking at her with serious eyes that weren’t quite as blue as Dominic’s. Those particular serious sky-blues had glared at her, cruel, angry, hurt. Dour expressions were coming at her from all directions this afternoon. All that was missing was Alicia’s accusing, flat hatred.

  She’d always seen herself as a simple analyst rather than an investigator. She’d pointed that out to Oscar, and he’d turned around and pointed out she was also a trained field agent who could, and had, fit in on any team, even if her field experience leading a team was limited to two small investigations. She was grateful to be working in tandem with Mitchell, who could guide this investigation in his sleep, but she wished she didn’t have to be the one with expertise no one else had. The relationships she had in place, the scientific and technical background, and an understanding of Lab security were things that Agent Mitchell lacked. Except for the fact her best friend was being investigated, this job was like all the others she’d had.

  Willa rubbed a hand across her forehead and looked at Agent Mitchell. He still hovered, waiting for her to say something, and he was staring at her.

  At her breasts.

  Right. He was flawlessly, movie-star good-looking and she was not the twenty-something Scarlett Johansson-type that men like him always attracted. Plus her boobs were not in the Angelia Jolie range. It was more likely his eyes were riveted to the red salsa stain that stood out like a welt on her shirt.

  She refrained from groaning. “Do you have the rest of the files or are they at the office?”

  His gaze shifted. “They’re in the small bedroom down the hall. I thought you’d want to use that as a study. There’s a desk in there. There’s also a nice little balcony.”

  “Good boy. Is the network set up?”

  “Yes. We’re secure.”

  “Good boy. Did you talk to the local police yet?”

  “Yes.”

  “Good boy.”

  Mitchell’s jaw shifted from side to side. He’d worked with Agent Heston twice before. He’d liked her. In the past she’d been quick, skilled, and even a little funny, but the FBI’s ASAC—Assistant Supervisory Agent in Charge—Gavin Oscar mentioned she’d changed since her husband had died. However, Mitchell didn’t do bitch and never saw a need for female special agents to either. “Listen, I know you’re the brainy lead on this joint task force, Doctor Heston. Handle other people the way you want, but don’t talk to me like that. I’m not your damn dog.”

  He watched Agent Heston rub her palms over her face again. “You’re right,” she said, dropping her hands, “I apologize. I’ve had a crappy couple of days, and no sleep, but that’s no excuse for taking it out on you. You’re just doing your job. I’m not a field agent, Tom. We both know why they chose me for this. If it goes ass up, both sides have someone who’s easy to blame. So, I’m going to rely on you to show me how it’s done, and irritable bitch is not how it’s done. I’m sorry.”

  “Apology accepted.” Mitchell nodded. “I know it’s a lot of pressure, but you’re going to do fine. LAPD Chief Tulloch and Captain de Silva are onside. DOE’s cooperating. No one wants to drop the ball on this. They’re pleased to assist. I’ve notified Oscar and the Supervisory Special Agent.”

  “Jane Pope or Harry Sedgewick?”

  “Pope’s the SSA.”

  “Thank you. And thanks for the coffee too.”

  “No problem.” He held out the cold cup. “This place has everything. Nice furniture, new appliances. Microwave’s under the oven. Why don’t you nuke that cup?”

  She took the coffee. “I’ll drink it the way it is.”

  He made a face. “Whatever floats your boat. There are plates and cooking stuff in the cupboards. I put hangers in the closet and made ice. I hate when a place doesn’t have ice.”

  “That’s thoughtful. Thank you. Thank you for setting this up so fast.”

  He shrugged. “The drive up, with that sheer drop on one side and the flat cliff wall on the other, sort of wigs me out, but no problem.”

  “Where are you staying?” She had a sip of her cold java.

  “In a townhouse in the Quemazon area. The two locals, from the Santa Fe office are up here already. Kinsale’s roughing it at the Royal Crest trailer park, close to the crime scene, and Dokowski is at the Canyon Village apartments. You know these guys, right?”

  Willa nodded. Robin Kinsale and Lou Dokowski were agents from the Special Surveillance Group in the Special Operations Division. She hadn’t seen either man since Miles’ wake. They’d worked with the Department of Energy and Department of Defense investigating cyber threats and misuse of DOE computer systems a few times. Willa had suggested them for the task force because Miles had once said they were the top men in the division. If they were the best at what they did, she guessed she had a minimum of ten days to find human criminal evidence before they found something electronic. “They’ll be meeting us at the office?”

  “Yes. You want the kid to get your gear and bring it inside?

  “The kid? It’s Adams, right?”

  On cue, a toilet flushed down the hall. A moment later, a skinny blond guy in a three-button, midnight blue suit walked into the living room.

  Willa’s mouth quirked. Dominic hadn’t been exaggerating about the pimples. She barely caught herself, nearly calling him ‘Agent Acne’. “Agent Adams?”

  “Yes, ma’am,” he said, smoothing his jacket, his gaze dropping from her face to breasts, “Jared Adams.”

  While she’d requested Mitchell for this task force, she’d accepted his partner on the strength of SAC Oscar’s appraisal. A teenager was not what she’d expected. Willa extended her hand and refrained from rolling her eyes. “Willa Heston,” she said.

  As Adams shook her hand, a leisurely smile spread across his face, and his eyes walked all over her like he was on a beach checking out bikinis.

  Mitchell grunted quietly and crossed his arms. He had no idea how Agent Heston didn’t laugh right in the kid’s face. So she was attractive. He’d noticed. He’d noticed a long time ago, and he was certainly aware of exactly how striking she was now. In fact, he was having a hard time not noticing, but for God’s sake, she was old enough to be the kid’s mother.

  “I’m really looking forward to working with you, Agent Heston,” Adams gave a continental nod of his dandruffy head. For a second, Mitchell thought the kid was going to kiss the back of her hand.

 
; Somber Agent Heston pulled her fingers free. After she set her coffee on a side table, she dug into her purse and removed a thick envelope. She tossed the envelope to Mitchell. “Have a look through this before we meet Dr Farley. I’m going to put some stuff away.” Turning, she reached for the carton on the floor.

  Adams stretched forward. “That looks heavy. Let me give you a hand.”

  “I’ve got it.” She hoisted the box.

  Adams watched her walk down the hallway towards the study, his gaze like two hands on her ass. Mitchell grumbled when he realized he was looking at her the same way. “Oh, knock it off, will you, Jerry?”

  “What?”

  “She’s a senior agent and old enough to be your mother.”

  “Not my mother, but definitely in the MILF category. Coke bottle smexy.”

  “I thought we talked about you and the ‘Fitty Cent fo’ shizz I got Game’ crap. This is your second probationary year. You should know better.”

  “Ease up, Tom.”

  “Then quit trying to charm your way to a date. Keep your focus on the job you’re here to do, not on Agent Heston’s ass.”

  “Okay. Yes. You’re right. You’re right. It’s sexist and disrespectful and it won’t happen again.”

  “Good boy.” Mitchell nodded.

  “Woof-woof.”

  “So you heard us?”

  “Yeah. I didn’t have the bathroom door closed, and she was pretty loud. I have to say you didn’t deserve the bite. She was out of line and disrespectful to you. So come on, for just a second. Just between us, don’t you think she’s got a great butt?”

  “Whether I think her ass is hot or simply volcanically sexy is immaterial. It’s unprofessional to have such a discussion.”

  “She’s got a ba-dink-a-dink, but she’s meaty in all the right places.

  “What the hell is a ba-dink-a-dink?”

  “The opposite of a ba-donk-a-donk, a Jennifer Lopez booty. Agent Heston’s got a small, firm creation I bet comes from yoga. And those legs. You think she works out? Her calves are ripped.”