Chapter 6

 

Whitney collapsed on her bed as soon as she changed into casual clothes. Not only was she exhausted, but seeing Angie’s proprietary manner with Max had made her heart twist into knots and her stomach do the same. She took in a deep breath. Then another. She had to get control of her emotions. Maybe tonight’s excursion with Max would be the last. Usually, in cases where the Secret Service did analysis for another agency, this would be the point where the investigation got turned over. If so, she wouldn’t have to be around Max. She’d take comp time. She’d interview for another job…

A buzz awakened her. She startled. She was on her bed. The noise was the doorbell. Goddamn it, she’d fallen asleep. The clock said for only twenty minutes, but still. She sat up gingerly, stood and made her way to the front of the condo. She heard a key in the lock. She’d have to remember to get that back from Max.

But instead of him walking inside, Connor entered her house. His face was ruddy from the cold and his dark hair windblown. She rushed to the foyer and threw herself at him. “It’s so good to see you.”

“For me, too.”

They hugged for seconds more.

When they parted, he studied her. “Bad day?”

“Yeah. The worst. What are you doing here?”

“Mostly, I’m worried about you. I thought I’d spend a few days in D.C. I didn’t call because I thought you’d tell me not to come.”

“I would have. Especially tonight. I’ve got an undercover assignment and am leaving in a few minutes.”

“With The Bastard?” Connor had nicknamed Max when she’d told him what happened and had been calling him that for five days. It amused her and, at the same time, made her sadder. Max and her cousins had become like brothers.

“Yep. When he picks me up, promise me you won’t deck him.”

“Can’t do that, cuz.”

“He’s suffering, Con.”

“He should. Fuck him.”

She had to smile. It felt good having him on her side, even if it was at Max’s expense.

He tipped her chin. Studied her. Felt her forehead. “You okay?”

“My world has been turned upside down, Con. Max’s, too. We’re trying to find a way through this.”

“Okay.”

“You said I was one of the reasons you came. Why else?”

“There’s a Doctors without Borders convention in D.C. this week. Someone dropped out of a presentation. Lucius called and asked me to sub. I said yes.” Lucius was his mentor and friend during the time he’d been with the organization.

She touched his arm. “Did you decide to go back overseas?”

“Still not sure.”

“Will you see people you know at the conference?”

“Yeah. That might hurry along this decision-making process. It’s been six months since I left. I’m happy with the temporary ER work with Declan, but I’m itching to do something of my own.”

“We can talk about all that when I get back.” As if on cue, the bell rang. “That’s Max.”

Before Whitney could move, Connor, the most mild-mannered guy she knew, strode to the door and yanked it open. From her vantage point, she could see the sneer on his face.

Max’s eyebrows rose. “Connor. I didn’t expect to see you.”

Connor jammed his hands in his pockets. Said nothing. Gave him the stink eye.

“Let’s get this over with. Throw a punch. I deserve it.”

“You look like shit.”

“I feel like shit.”

Whitney picked up her black down jacket and bag and sidled in front of her cousin. “I’m ready. Let’s go.” She added, “Connor, we’ll be back late, but you know where everything is, right?”

“I do. Be careful, honey. I love you.”

Her throat closed up. “I love you, too.”

When they got to the car, she could see Max was visibly upset. He gripped the wheel again. “I lost him, too, didn’t I?”

“I guess.”

“And Gabe, Nick and Declan.”

“Hmm.” She waited and, when he said nothing, added, “I lost your dad. I’ll miss John.”

Max swallowed hard. “He told me not to do it.”

“Not to do what?”

“Leave you.”

“Your dad wants what’s best for you. You know that. You also know I was like a daughter to him.”

“Shit!” He raised his chin. “Maybe I should have listened.”

She was frustrated with his doubt. He’d made a decision about her life, and now she was dealing with the fallout. It was too much to ask. Time to put her foot down for the last time. “I’ve tried to help you cope with your decision, Max. But I’m about at the end of my rope. Your self-recriminations are making this whole thing worse for me. And confusing us both. So if you need advice or a shoulder to lean on, find someone else.” Find freaking Angela, she wanted to shout, but she didn’t.

Staring straight ahead, he started the car and drove off.

Whitney took out her tablet and pretended to surf the web. But she couldn’t get Max’s father out of her head. She thought of the first time she met him.

I’ve heard so much about you, young lady. Max adores working with you.

She remembered thinking she didn’t know many men who used the word adore. But then again, his father was a writer as well as an established English professor at American University.

Later, Max confessed something…

I told my dad about the change in our relationship.

Shit, Max, we said nobody else could know.

You didn’t tell your cousins because they’d beat the crap out of me if they knew.

Still, you broke the rules.

Maybe you should punish me, babe.

Then, the first time she saw John after their hookup…

Whitney, my dear, I hope you don’t feel self-conscious about the fact that I know about you two.

Um…I do, I guess.

Max’s mother and I had a very unorthodox relationship. If you want to hear about it, I’ll tell you. Then we’ll both know something intimate about each other.

She’d said no then, and now she’d never get the chance to ask about it. Unless…

“Max, your father told me once that he and your mother had an unorthodox relationship. What did he mean by that?”

“You said you didn’t want to know.”

“I do now.”

An almost smile. “Mom was a graduate student in his English literature class. She was in her late twenties, fell hard for him and, well, went after him. He was in another relationship, but she pursued him. Until she got him—by seducing him and getting pregnant.”

“Wow.”

“But she wouldn’t marry him.”

“Why?”

“She had an independent streak. Didn’t want the legal ties.” He shook his head. “They didn’t get married until after I was born, but Dad didn’t seem to care.”

She laughed out loud. “So Connor’s term for you was right.”

“Connor’s term?”

“He calls you The Bastard now.”

Max looked at her as if she’d stuck a knife in his chest. She regretted her words immediately. “I shouldn’t have said that. I’m sorry.”

“No need. He’s right on target. I’m a bastard in more ways than one.”

o0o

Max wore hiking boots that had cost him a fortune, jeans and a bulky cable-knit sweater, over which he’d thrown a quilted navy vest. Gloves kept his hands warm. She was dressed in kind. Jeans, gray suede boots to her knees, a lightweight down jacket, short to the waist, zipped up tightly. Her hair flowed down her back today and a stretchy headband covered her ears. She looked cute as hell.

“Remember,” he said taking her hand as they walked down the street. “We’re a couple visiting a village where some of our ancestors lived.”

“We should have been brother and sister.” But she didn’t let go of him.

The snow that had fallen last night out here was joined by light and fluffy flakes still fluttering down from the heavens. Small, very old brick houses lined the streets, interspersed with businesses. “How far is their place?”

“About ten minutes from here. I thought we should pretend we came upon it accidentally.”

They’d discovered that Abdul Jamika’s family owned and ran a diner that specialized in Middle Eastern food. No one who wasn’t looking would have connected the establishment with the James family, with Abe James, who was a custodian for Social Security. Apparently, he had two identities.

Max scanned the area as they walked and, at one point, slipped on the ice. She grabbed his arm, which steadied him.

He cursed and said, “All I need is to fall flat on my face.”

“You’re having a rough time of it.”

“I am. But you’re right about what you said in the car. We’ve talked this to death.”

They came upon the diner, white clapboard with black trim and a crisp sign that read The Sahara Café. He opened the door for her. Booths took up the front, tables against the far wall. A counter with stools. The atmosphere was quiet, and only the low murmuring of voices could be heard. A little banging in the kitchen. But the smell was heavenly: baked dough, simmering meats, strong coffee. Several nationalities of people were interspersed at different spots, some eating, some sipping coffee. Two men, one younger than the other, stood behind the counter.

The older one came around the end. “May I seat you?” he asked in perfect English.

“Yes, thanks.” Whitney gave him a brilliant smile that made him do a double take.

There were those men again, falling over all over themselves around her.

The vinyl on the bench seats was firm but comfortable as she and Max took opposite sides in the booth. They scanned the area as circumspectly as they could.

Swinging doors to the kitchen opened and swept closed. An older woman wearing a plain brown skirt and blouse and a black hijab came into view. She headed to them. “Welcome to The Sahara. We’re serving dinner now. Would you like something to drink?”

Not-so-perfect English. An Arab accent.

He asked for coffee, she sparkling water.

Whitney’s gaze dropped to her name tag. “Arabella. What a pretty name.”

The woman had sad eyes. “My mother’s.”

“Did you name a child after her, too?”

“Yes, but she goes by Abby.”

“A shame.” This from Max.

“Mother, come here.” The older man again, who spoke to her not like a son but a father.

Arabella scurried away. The two of them spoke off to the side.

“She shouldn’t have talked that much to us, I guess.” Whitney frowned. “I forget about the restrictions in their culture sometimes.”

“Not how I’d like to live.”

They read the menus. A variety of kabob skewers. Vegetarian grape leaves, fatayer. Whitney looked up. “Great food.”

“Let’s get a combination plate and share it,” he said easily.

It wasn’t until they ordered that Whitney realized the intimacy of what they’d done. They always shared their food. She didn’t address the issue now, but made a mental note not to do that again. They needed to separate in all ways.

The son delivered their drinks. When he left, Max said, “Coffee’s your favorite drink. How come you’re not having any?”

She shrugged.

He pushed. “Why?”

“The smell made me sick at Macy’s Place Monday night.”

“That’s odd.”

She fidgeted with the napkin. “I’m going to use the ladies’ room.”

“We stopped twice so you could go on the way up.”

“You know my digestive system is whacky this week.”

She stood and walked to the back, where restrooms were located. As she went down the hall, the door to another, smaller room was ajar. She got a glimpse inside. Four men were sitting around a table. They wore suits and head turbans. A skitter went through Whitney. She ducked into the bathroom. Three stalls. One occupied. She did her business, and when she came out, she saw Arabella at the sink. Her eyes were red. Tears glistened in them.

“Excuse me,” Whitney said, “but are you all right?”

The woman nodded, wiped her hands and hurried out. When Whitney followed, she noticed the door to the smaller room was closed.

Suddenly, she didn’t have a good feeling about this place.

o0o

The convention center chosen for the conference was not far from the White House. It was big and fancy and loomed before Connor as he took the walkway to the front door. His mentor, Lucius Montgomery, would be at the welcome reception held the night before the workshops began, and Connor was thrilled about seeing him. On the other hand, he would be forced to face some facts that he’d been avoiding for six months. At least Calla wouldn’t be in attendance. She was probably barefoot and pregnant in the hills of Casarina, a small country off the coast of Italy. Their last communique had been a text. It’s done, Connor. I’m sorry. He’d gone out and gotten drunk with alcohol from the black market. Six months after that, he’d left Syria.

Banishing the memory, he entered the ballroom. Several high tables had been set up, covered with white cloths. They had no chairs at them so people would mill around instead. He scanned the crowd. He knew more people than he’d expected. Two guys he’d worked with before in Syria. An Indian doctor he respected. He spotted Lucius at the same time the older man saw him. A familiar smile transformed Lucius’s face and he headed toward Connor. Connor met him halfway. Lucius took Connor into one of his big bear hugs and held on tightly. The scent of his soap, the same one he used overseas, sent a swell of feeling through Connor.

When Lucius stepped back, he held on to one of Connor’s hands. “Thank you for coming, son.”

“You’re welcome. My cousin lives in D.C. and I can visit with her while I’m here.”

“Wonderful. That table over there is a group who are waiting to discuss the vaccination work you did in Syria. Would you like to sit with them or should we chat first?”

“Let’s chat first.”

He pointed to the entrance of a hotel bar off to the side. “Go through there to get a drink while I tell the others we’ll be with them shortly.”

Connor headed out of the main room. He sidled up to an empty space at the horseshoe-shaped bar and while he waited for the bartender, he glanced down the row of occupied stools. A sweep of midnight hair caught his gaze. It reminded him of Calla’s lovely locks. Everything about her was lovely and far too delicate for Syria. Then the woman turned.

And Connor almost swallowed his tongue. Because the only woman he’d ever loved was staring at him. Calla Marcello Gentileschi. He’d thought he’d never see her again after she married someone else.

o0o

Max drove to the police station, thinking about the case. “I got vibes at the restaurant too,” he told Whitney, “but I don’t want to jump to conclusions.”

“I agree. How do we handle the police?”

“They’ve been read in, since the FBI will need their help when the warrants are issued.” His expression was odd. “Your admirer came out to talk to them today.”

“Cal? Is he still here?”

“I have no idea.”

“I’m surprised he took this assignment.”

“He probably asked for it because you were doing the legwork.”

She didn’t tease like she used to when Cal Adams came up. No more teasing or flirting or anything, he knew, would take place between them again. He missed it already.

The police station was a small brick building with a parking lot that held six cars. He and Whitney exited their vehicle. They entered the office and found Cal Adams sipping coffee in the reception area.

Since he had an eagle eye on the door, he saw them right away, stood and came over. “There you are.”

“We didn’t expect you to wait for us,” Max told him.

“No? I thought I said I would.” He turned all his attention to Whitney and touched her arm. “Hello, Whitney.”

“Cal. I’m glad you’re on this case. Have you talked to the guys here?”

“Some. Captain Kirk is waiting for us.”

“Captain Kirk?” She giggled.

He grinned. “Yeah, poor guy.”

They walked down the hall and entered a small office. Captain Kirk stood. “Hello, agents.”

“Captain.” Max was formal. “Thanks for your input on this.”

Adams stepped forward. “Tell him what you know.”

“The Jamika family have been model citizens. The mother is quiet most of the time, but the sons talk to the patrons and seem pleasant. Never once have the police been called about them.”

Whitney explained about the men in the backroom.

“Ah, yes. Probably the grandfather and uncles.”

“Or at least that’s who they’ve said they are.” This from Adams.

Kirk frowned. “We have no reason to question that. But then again, you got a job to do.”

“What do you know about them losing their youngest son?” This from Whitney.

“It was a tragedy. The whole town turned out for the memorial service.”

“And he died in a boating accident?” she also asked.

“Yep. He was the first of them to go to college in this country. Yale. Full scholarship. He was home for summer vacation.”

“That poor family.”

They spoke at length with the captain. Adams outlined how the execution of the warrants would go down.

They exited and, once in the reception area again, Adams turned to Whitney. “What are you two going to do?”

“Surveil the diner for a bit.” Max answered. “It’s dark and the place closes at nine so we’ll go unnoticed.”

“Why would you do that?”

“Whitney has a feeling about Jamika. So we’re going to poke around a bit.”

“I’d definitely trust her instincts.” He checked the time. “We’re meeting back at your headquarters in two hours.”

“See you then, Cal.”

A soft smile. Another touch on the arm. “I’m glad.”

Once they were in the car, a few doors down from the diner, Max couldn’t help himself. “God, he flirts openly with you.”

“He always has. But it never mattered before.”

Ten minutes after they parked on the street down from the café, the lights went off and the closed sign lit up. In minutes, the two sons and four supposed male relatives walked out the side door of the diner.

They got in a white van and drove to the outskirts of town and stopped at a warehouse on a deserted side street. Six men piled out and five went into the building. One remained by the door.

To keep watch?

“No question about this,” Max whispered. “Posting a guy outside makes them suspicious.”

“Yeah. And what the hell are the others doing inside a warehouse at nine at night?”

“Let’s head to D.C. Call Adams and tell him that we need another warrant for the warehouse.”

They were both quiet on the drive back. At one point, Max saw Whitney’s eyes were closed. Very unusual. Jesus, she had all the signs of pregnancy: sickness, dizziness, the urge to pee, exhaustion. And somewhere in his mind, he realized he hoped she was. That would end this whole mess.

o0o

Connor didn’t move, afraid the hurt he’d never managed to excise would well up and swallow him whole. Dear God in heaven. What had he done to deserve this chance encounter? Or was it chance? Had Lucius known she’d be here? Never. He wouldn’t have suggested Connor come in here without forewarning. His mentor had been around for the fallout of her rejection, and it hadn’t been pretty.

He knew the moment she saw him. Her coal-dark eyes widened, and a poignant expression filled her face. Why not? One fact he had always been certain of was that she loved him.

Apparently, she could move, because she eased off the stool and came toward him. The gentle sway of her hips, the easy carriage that he so appreciated hadn’t changed.

“Hello, Connor.”

Neither had the husky timbre of her voice.

He cleared his throat. Went to speak. Twice. She waited. “Calla.” He practically breathed her name.

“I know this is a surprise.”

Something was strange about her tone. And up close, he could tell she’d lost weight. “That’s an understatement. Did you know I’d be here?”

“Yes, Lucius called me.”

His world spun. None of this made sense. Why would his mentor do something that would hurt him so badly? “I don’t understand.”

“Don’t blame Lucius. He knows my situation. I wanted to talk to you, and I didn’t think you’d take a call from me.”

“I might have. Why on earth could you want to see me?” Didn’t she realize what she’d done to him?

Her dark eyes deepened with pain, and her luscious mouth frowned. “I went back to my castle,” she said, shaking her head at his moniker for the palace she lived in. “I married my prince.”

“And?”

“You were right. It was the wrong decision.”

“I don’t know what to say. What you expect of me.”

“Which is why I’m here. Why I wanted to see you.”

“What are you going to do now, Calla?”

“I don’t know, Connor. I guess that depends on you.”o0o

At midnight, the Secret Service director’s office was full: Drew Michener, the director, Manning from the FBI, Agent Larson, the man in charge of their part of the investigation, along with Cal Adams, the two teams who’d gone on fact-finding missions today, and a representative of DHS, the Department of Homeland Security.

Agent Larson began. First, we’ll start with a rundown on each of your findings. Agent Dwyer, you go first.”

“Larry Smith gave us complete access to his files, computer, office and home. To be sure, Cal, one of your men might want to follow through, but I don’t think we should focus on him.”

“What conclusions did you draw?”

Whitney told them about The Sahara Café, about the men in the backroom, about her feeling that something was off with the whole family. Max went into how they’d followed the group to a warehouse and how the family had posted a lookout. “All that’s worthy of further investigation.”

Lois Cromwell told her story. “We checked out Marla Braid. Apparently, her son’s a hell-raiser, but everybody seems to like him. She’s outgoing and a good boss. We don’t think she’s dangerous.”

Laurence went next. “Edgar Hines has potential. He keeps to himself in the neighborhood, and the police said there were reports to family services about how he took care of his wife. Seems he isolated her. I’d like to see his computer.” The agent continued, “We checked his social media activity, but we need to dig deeper. I say we get a warrant.”

After all the information was shared, Larson turned to Director Manning. “Your opinion, Jim.”

“We’ll execute the warrants tonight for Hines and Jamika. Good job, all of you, especially how quickly you got this done. And Drew, I’d like to thank you for assisting us.”

“If you need us again, let us know.”

Whitney and Max left the office. She said, “I’ll take a car home, Max.”

“What? Why?”

“I think it’s fitting we part here. We’re done with the investigation and I’m taking comp time. You should get some rest, too.”

“That’s ridiculous. I’ll take you home.”

“I don’t want to be with you any longer.”

He looked like he was about to explode.

Giving him her back, she picked up her phone and called Uber. When she turned around he was gone.

Really, really gone, this time.