"She got herself a bodyguard?"

The scratchy, nicotine voice broke the early morning quiet. The bearded man nodded, his enjoyment of the chirping cardinals momentarily forgotten as his replacement joined him. The peace disrupted, he lifted binoculars to his eyes, tracking the guy's movement down the street. "Walked her to her car. They had to park a few blocks down last night." He'd shaken his head when the guy opened her car door, before handing the blonde a thermos. Musta got laid. "Show-off."

"They were hot and heavy last night. I had to shift my position because it looked like they were heading right at me."

"Did they see you?"

His assistant smirked. "They weren't capable of seeing anyone."

Too bad they hadn't made their move last night, he thought with a yawn. But Hotshot was proving skittish. Afraid to make a move. Afraid to make waves. Afraid of his own shadow. But as the days of recon stretched out, he acknowledged he was gettin' tired of waiting.

"Want me here? See where he goes?"

The bearded man thought a moment. An extra set of eyes could be useful today. He checked his watch. "Yeah, but he's comin' back. Clear outta here. Move to Mulberry and watch until he leaves. Then follow him. I wanna know where he goes."

* * *

From the windows upstairs, TJ discovered three more possible locations for Alyssa's stalker to lurk. Good cover, low traffic spots he'd have to investigate-- maybe that night after work. He glanced at his watch. "Three minutes," he vowed. Dress shirt unbuttoned, tie slung around his neck, he hadn't been able to resist the urge to do a little recon of his own. Binoculars to his eyes, he trained them on the magnolia below his bedroom window.

A minute in, he checked his watch again, his neck prickling with the erosion of time. He still had a subway ride to City Hall Square to endure. Ready to give in, he spotted movement. A bearded man surfaced, startling TJ-- despite his gut urging him to pursue the possibility.

"I'll be damned." The bearded man was followed by a short, clean-shaven guy dressed in non-descript, dark-wash jeans and a black jacket. He trailed them to the corner, where the bearded man turned right and crossed the street. The little guy turned left. Moving to the kitchen window, he watched Little Guy come into view. Details began to take shape as he drew closer. Dark blond hair under a Red Sox ball cap. A gray shirt with a band logo under the black jacket. TJ pulled out his phone. It would be a shitty picture, but better than nothing.

Satisfied that Little Guy wasn't moving, he hustled through the house to find his shoes and the damned jacket Alyssa insisted he'd have to wear. Tightening the tie around his neck, he wondered about Little Guy. Was it a shift change? Or had he been left behind to follow TJ?

Grabbing his phone, he checked his keys and locked the apartment door before dialing Sean. "Hey-- I've picked up a tail. Can you get someone over here to follow him?" He pressed the elevator button. "I can give you . . ." He checked his watch again and shook his head. "Christ-- like ten minutes, but then I need to head for the subway. He's on Mulberry, about a block down from the brownstone."

Down in the vestibule, he scoped out the magnolia again, making sure Little Guy hadn't come back around the front. In three strides, he left the walkway, heading for the tree. The faint scent of smoke took him back to the previous night. Alyssa in his arms, he hadn't been paying attention, but he'd smelled cigarettes.

Ducking under the tree, TJ wished he wasn't wearing the only suit in his closet. The charcoal, all-purpose funeral-wedding-job-interview coat and pants were his go-to uniform when he was on leave. Unlike most of the guys in his unit, he didn't enjoy wearing dress blues out in public. Unless it was a required event, he preferred his anonymity. "This suit needs to last all week." He swore when a branch scraped against his arm.

Moving closer to the trunk, he inspected the ground around it. Two crushed cigarette butts had been dropped in the mulch bed. Several trampled shoe prints indicated a lot of time spent there-- or more than one person. Had he missed the opportunity to confront No-Key? When the bearded man had been only feet away.

Hyper aware of the time-- and where he was supposed to be, TJ sighed. He withdrew a crumpled tissue from his pocket and scooped up the cigarette butts. Shoving them in his pocket, he rose from the ground, his gaze shifting to the notch in the tree. A cigarette had been ground out against the bark. Eyeballing the distance, he guessed about five feet. On a hunch, he compared it to his own height. Lifting his hand to his mouth, he mimicked smoking. Where would he snuff it out? "More like six feet." Of the two, that made Little Guy the smoker.

Untangling himself from the branches, TJ returned to the walkway and shook out his jacket. A quick glance around him confirmed the neighborhood coming to life. The scent of coffee wafted from windows cracked to capture fresh, spring air. A school bus engine roared in the next block. Two mothers held kids' hands as they rushed for the bus stop. No one was paying any attention to him.

He strode out to the corner of Mulberry, making a point of checking his watch before he crossed the street. Little Guy should be watching. With any luck-- Mullaney had found someone to follow him. A minute later, his neck prickling with warning, TJ knew someone was back there.

Battling a decade of training, he resisted the overwhelming urge to glance back. To see his enemy. To engage. Picking up the pace, he covered the next three blocks and entered the subway station. Descending into darkness, he blended seamlessly into the crowd on the platform.

* * *

"Coffee." Alyssa stifled a yawn after steering an exuberant young woman she'd bumped into in the parking garage to the personnel office. Smiling, she remembered her conversation with Teagan. She was the one who was supposed to latch onto some poor stranger far too early on a Monday morning. Not the other way around. But the enthusiastic woman was ecstatic about her new job. In personnel. At city hall. Double yawn. "The glamour will wear off soon enough." Alyssa sighed as she pressed the elevator button. Had she been that excited all those years ago?

Resisting the urge to guzzle from her thermos, she watched the numbers tick up until the doors slid open. Thinking about the young girl downstairs reminded her of the grad student. "Start with the calendar." That would be the easiest way to trace back the two years. Since she'd remembered the grad student the previous evening, Alyssa had felt a strumming sense of urgency she couldn't explain. A new detail-- one she hadn't remembered before. Anything new meant the possibility of filling in the blank spaces in her memory. The memory of the student was solid-- unlike her crazy nightmares. Why wouldn't she follow up?

Using her key, she entered the suite leading to the mayor's office. It was still too early for most of the office staff to be there. But as she walked the carpeted hall to her office, she noticed a few lights on further down the hall. She set her briefcase and clunky purse on the credenza.

Surprised by the happy, little glow suffusing her, she smiled. T had carried her briefcase. He'd made coffee. "He walked you to your car," she whispered, releasing an unsteady breath. Whether he'd realized it, he'd honored her fear. He'd walked ten blocks back to where they'd parked the previous night. Despite it being daylight, despite their time crunch to get in early--Teagan had insisted she wasn't walking alone. Alyssa wasn’t sure which was worse -- O’Brien on the offensive or the kinder, gentler version. Though well-hidden, the softer side was dangerously attractive.

She flopped down behind her desk. "Don't get attached," she reminded. "He leaves in three weeks." Glancing at her thermos, Teagan's repetitive mission prep returned to haunt her. Dutifully, she pulled out her phone and texted him that she'd arrived safely.

* * *

Thirty minutes later, Alyssa drummed nervous fingers on her desk. The steady buzz of voices told her Monday morning had officially started. If the mayor's scheduler had arrived, she could fill in another blank. Heart racing, she stared at her computer screen-- at the calendar page from two years earlier. "Exactly when you thought it happened," she confirmed. A note on her calendar to talk to Theo-- about a kid doing his thesis on the dismantling of the Gulf War. "George Fisgar." The name didn't ring any new bells-- just the memory that she'd spoken to him once. Releasing a steadying breath, she printed out the email she'd sent Paul, asking his advice. Would Theo be interested? Was this a story they could use? What special interest groups could it sway-- one way or another? Pro-military backers? Anti-military opponents.

She frowned at the email. Only two years earlier-- but a million light years from how she felt now. How had she taken a simple request for an interview and twisted it into a thing? God-- she'd sliced and diced everything back then. Every issue. Every press story. Every comment-- always circled back to Theo. How would it affect the mayor? Her entire world had revolved around her boss. Getting him re-elected. Her job like a needy lover who could never receive enough attention.

"No wonder you want a change." Hell, she needed a change. To something that could benefit people-- instead of just one man. She needed a change to something real.

Leaving her office, she moved three doors down to the scheduler's office.

"Good morning, Donna." Alyssa toiled through the Monday morning pleasantries. Donna's kids coming to visit . . . the teething grandbaby. All while the question smoldered in the back of her mind. Who was George Fisgar? Had he talked with Theo while she was out? Had he published his paper? Did his research on SCUD missiles have anything to do with her recurring nightmares about them? Why would she dream of missiles? She'd never held more than a passing interest in the military-- except when Theo needed her to be an expert. Only when something was an issue, would she immerse herself in the topic. As Donna yammered on, her pulse quickened as she recalled the image of a missile exploding overhead as she fought with a bearded man.

"Are you okay?"

The question jarred Alyssa from the memory. "I-- I'm fine."

The graying woman scrutinized her. "You're a little pale."

She forced a smile. "Still haven't had breakfast. I came in early because we're dealing with a security consultant this week." She glanced at her watch. "In fifteen minutes."

Donna's stare seemed to bore through her. "Go eat something. I saw fruit in the kitchen."

"I will," she assured. "I need some direction, though. I'm looking for the schedule books for two years ago. I have the weeks narrowed down." She listed the timeframe for the week before her attack and the month after it.

Donna picked up her reading glasses. "Those would be archived already."

"You're sure?"

"The whole year," she clarified. "I only keep one prior year here in my office for quick reference. Not enough space for more." She waved to her cluttered space. Record boxes were stacked four high in the corner. Digging through the pile on her desk, she surfaced with her building reference guide. "Schedules, official and unofficial meetings and phone logs," she read from her guide, "are stored in the second level basement. I can jot down the room and shelving location-" She glanced up from the directory. "Where they're supposed to be."

What the hell did that mean? Alyssa pictured the vast labyrinth of the multi-level basement storage. She hadn't expected a needle-in-a-haystack search. "Supposed to be?"

"Once I box up the records and label them-- I tell the facilities guys where they're supposed to go." She shoved the glasses to her forehead. "That don't mean they actually get there."

Alyssa smiled. Okay-- not as bad as she'd imagined. If Donna had specified a location, hopefully she would find them there. "Can you-" She stopped when she noticed the older woman checking her computer and jotting notes on her pad.

"One step ahead of you, hon." Donna handed her the neon green sticky note. "That's where the schedules and the mayor's call logs should be."

Halfway back to her office, Donna called out behind her. "You'll need this key."

Alyssa retraced her steps. "I thought we had a clerk down there?"

Donna's smile faltered. "Not since the last round of budget cuts. Old Raymond took that as a sign to retire. We were issued keys last year."

Back in her office, she stuck the note to her computer screen and tucked the key in her skirt pocket. Teagan was due any minute. Her treasure hunt would have to wait until after lunch.

* * *

"I seriously could've used that information fifteen minutes ago." TJ ended the call from Mullaney, still pissed over the failure to get a tail out there fast enough. Pausing in the hallway outside the mayor’s suite of offices, his footsteps echoed on the polished marble tiles. Sure, it had been a somewhat insurmountable task. Ten minutes notice for a tail? But all it did was remind him of their shoestring, half-assed plan. Not telling Sean about the stalker had been a mistake. One he'd take the hit for. He'd allowed Alyssa's fear sway his decision.

He'd observed Little Guy from the distance of a subway car. Following him. That meant No-Key was aware of his existence in the apartment. Maybe even knew who he was. Due to the pressing schedule, TJ hadn't had time to lose Little Guy before entering City Hall. So, if there was a political connection to this puzzle-- he'd revealed his hand.

Shaking off his annoyance, he raised his gaze to the ornate ceiling, still slightly awed by the location he found himself standing. People drifted around him as he paused to admire the scenery, the buzz of conversations blurring into one indistinguishable murmur.

Life was certainly strange. Four years earlier, he’d traipsed through a similar corridor. The palace of a rogue government, a million light years from Boston. The marble had been grander, the sheen of filigreed gold dripping from every surface nearly blinding him. But this . . . He glanced overhead again. This taxpayer shrine was still damned impressive.

He checked his dummy ID badge and tucked in his shirt, trying not to wince when he tightened his tie. A necessary evil, he reminded himself before opening the door to the corridor that would lead to Mayor Theodore Robbins’ inner sanctum. His polished yuppie loafers were damned comfortable in comparison to his desert dusted, military-issue boots. Hell, given the opportunity, he’d probably shave a minute off his full-gear mile wearing these babies. The shoes-- he could definitely get used to.

The moment his feet came into contact with the sound-absorbing carpet of the hallway, the echo of voices became more distinct. The reception desk empty, TJ moved down the hall, passing several offices along the way. If the titles over the doors were any clue, Theo had quite an impressive staff of yes men-- both male and female.

The mental blueprint in his head told him he was nearing an open common area that would lead to Alyssa’s office. He flicked a glance at his watch. 0830. By 0800, he’d completed a sketchy briefing with Theo’s security detail. Alyssa was right-- Luther was a little strange. Burke was impassive, yet hostile that a stranger was calling the shots in his domain. TJ could respect that. But since the blackmailer could be anyone-- and likely was someone inside, he'd argued for keeping Burke's staff in the dark-- for the most part.

He’d already received confirmation from Mullaney that his hacker daughter was tapping into the city’s mainframe computer while he strolled the halls of the mayor's office. If MaryJo was half as good at cyber antics as Mullaney claimed, it shouldn’t take her long to bust into the archaic system. Then, because of the city’s patchworked network of operating systems, it would probably take MaryJo thirty minutes or so to breach the Mayor’s secure network.

That’s where he came in. It would be up to TJ to entertain the troops long enough for MaryJo to peruse the internal network for suspicious files. If she found anything interesting, the plan was to leave a back door open so they could skulk around the network after hours for a more thorough review.

He was only steps from the common area when his ears perked up. A cluster of female staffers gossiping . . . One ear cocked toward the hallway behind him, he paused. Wouldn’t look good to be caught eavesdropping.

H caught the word security-- followed by a short burst of laughter. Great. Middle school, all over again. His ears burned as he flicked a glance at his watch. The staff meeting wasn’t scheduled for another fifteen minutes.

Maybe he’d been made. He inched closer to the conversation. Theo had insisted they keep the whole engagement thing quiet-- thank God. Keeping his hands off Lyss would be hard enough. But faking they were over-the-moon about a pending wedding would have been distracting.

As the man with the most to lose if those pictures became public, Mayor Robbins wanted their minds focused on the photos. Find. Eliminate. And get the hell out.

In fifteen minutes, Alyssa would announce a security specialist who would be upgrading work stations over the next several days. A simple explanation for his presence. The workstation excuse allowed him to move around the Mayor’s wing unobstructed. Once people knew to expect a stranger in their midst, they never gave the person a second thought. He could operate covertly in an overt fashion. It was the best of both worlds.

Another plus with the Keep-It-Simple Plan was covering MaryJo’s butt. Should anything unusual happen while she was surfing through the system-- even if she crashed it, he could blame it on the workstation upgrade. The final sweet spot-- it gave him virtually free access to every office in the suite. He could take as long as he pleased to rifle through anything that seemed suspicious and no one would suspect a damn thing.

Taking another step, he heard the end of a conversation about the hot, new security stud. He paused, tilting the fake ID around to see his picture. Hell-- that was him. TJ grinned. He’d been wrong. Totally not like middle school.

He froze when he heard Alyssa’s voice enter the fray, his sensors instantly recognizing her soft, husky tones. Curious, he moved closer. Would she agree with the general consensus on his hotness? Since his job was to blend in, there was no sense walking in at an inopportune time. The opportunity to eavesdrop was a bonus.

The breathy little catch in her voice evoked images of the previous night-- talking in the dark. About nothing. And everything. She'd confessed her nightmares about the assault. About waking several times a week-- to her briefcase being snatched from her hands.

"Are we talking about the same, guy, Kelly?"

Thoughts scattering, he smiled over the disbelief in Alyssa's voice.

"Dark hair, incredible eyes. Smokin’ hot bod," the other woman ticked off. "I saw him in the lobby." She made a smacking sound with her lips. "Yummy."

His tax dollars hard at work.

"He is definitely fine." Two other women agreed before drifting from the reception area.

"He's-- okay." Voice reluctant, Alyssa played along.

Ouch. TJ smothered his laugh. Like hell, sweet. Her moans during the night had likely woken his neighbors. Okay didn't begin to describe it.

"Paul was boring as hell and you woulda married him."

Her chuckle crawled down his spine, directly contrasting the sudden, fierce loathing TJ felt for the bastard he'd never met. Paul-- the chicken-shit who'd left Alyssa to fend for herself.

"I can't argue that." Her voice suggested amusement.

"Girl, that man was the definition of a useless politician." The older woman lowered her voice when someone shushed her. "I ain't sayin' nothing bad about Mayor Robbins," she defended. "Paul's workin' for the competition now."

Another woman tsked. "Best thing you coulda done was break off that engagement."

Damn straight. Pretending to concentrate on the file in his hands, TJ strained to hear Lyss' response. Hating to admit he was curious. Had she been crushed by Paul's betrayal? He gave himself a mental headslap. Focus, idiot.

"Kel-- he dumped me, remember?"

"Him takin’ up with that tramp after your accident was the best thing that coulda happened, honey."

"That-- woman," Alyssa substituted delicately, "is the daughter of one of the Mayor’s oldest friends-- and a man we elected to congress last year."

"The reason Paul went after her in the first place." When the older woman laughed, it was a rich, honeyed sound.

Alyssa cleared her throat. "So, we need to discuss the mayor's schedule changes-" Nice try. TJ imagined her face, likely flushing crimson.

Kelly chuckled. "Before we talk schedules, let’s finish discussin' the hot consultant. Girl-- you need to swipe right on this one."

"Swipe? How do you-" Alyssa's voice rose an octave.

"Oh-- I know all about swipin'."

"You have grandchildren," she sputtered.

"And they taught me about swipin'." She frowned. "And somethin' about me needing to get 'woke'."

Unfortunately, it was time to make his presence known. TJ retreated several paces to the entrance. With a deliberate clatter, he retraced his steps. "Excuse me. Can someone direct me to the receptionist?"

He knew his voice carried, because the conversation ceased by the time he approached again. Retrieving a folded slip of paper from his pocket, he pretended to read it. Raising his gaze, he discovered two women gawking-- and one glaring. "I’m looking for Miss Barnes. My name is TJ O’Brien. I’m here for the system upgrade."

A polite, fake smile plastered to her lips, Alyssa stepped forward, her arm outstretched to shake his hand. "Mr. O’Brien, I’m Alyssa Barnes."

He held her fingers a moment longer than necessary. "I understand you’ll direct me to the workstations I need to upgrade?"

"That’s the plan." Her tone was all business. "I'll show you where to get started." Turning, she discovered what had to be half of Theo’s staff -- all women, he noted with a smile -- pooled in the reception area. Her shoulders sagged. "Each workstation upgrade should take about fifteen minutes. I’ve set up a computer in the conference room for you to work on when Mr. O’Brien gets to your station-"

"Please ladies, . . . call me TJ," he interrupted, for the sheer fun of annoying her.

Alyssa’s expression held a hint of sour lemons, but she was too professional to let it show. "Ladies, please don’t delay Mr. O'Brien when he gets to your workstation. This upgrade has to be completed in the next few days." She turned back, eying him squarely. "You can follow me."

Knowing she could sense his gaze, TJ enjoyed the view of her luscious butt, contained in the tight, black skirt he'd zipped up only three hours earlier.

"Stop that," she ordered through gritted teeth. "You need to behave here."

"Yes, ma'am." Unable to hide his grin, TJ loosened the tie suddenly constricting his collar. It would be a very long day.

* * *

“Did I catch you at a bad time, dear?”

Alyssa sat back in her chair, her stomach growling. “Hi, Mom-- I’m just about to break for lunch.”

“Oh, good. Come downstairs,” she urged. “I’ve got a table at Mario’s. We have

a lot to catch up on.”

“We certainly do.” Like why the hell her mother had launched the lie about her

pending marriage to Teagan. She stretched to close her office door, relieved to have plans that didn’t include him. Because-- it had crossed her mind to go looking for him. Which would have been a seriously bad idea. She needed to stay out of his way. Let him do his job. Focus on your own work.

Instead, her mother had inadvertently saved the day. “Perhaps you could bring me up to speed on my engagement.” Alyssa smiled when the phone went silent. The words deafening silence were not ones normally associated with Madeline Stanhope.

“Darling-- I was only thinking of your cover.”

“My cover?” She shook her head. “You’ve been watching too many movies. I’m doing the same job I do every day, Mom. I don’t need cover.”

“Well, you must admit-- Maggie is probably taking all of this a little better,

right? I’m taking the pressure off you.”

“I told you last night I didn’t-”

“Please come downstairs?”

“Fine,” she relented, “but this conversation isn't over.” Alyssa knew her

mother’s game. By the time she arrived at the restaurant, Maddie would do her best to change the subject. What would it be this time? A tableside violinist? A magician? When it came to meddling, her mother had attained a PhD in bait and switch distractions. “I’ll see you in five.”

Outside, she inhaled a breath of fresh, spring air. Pausing on the plaza, she lifted her face to the lemony sun. A day earlier, she could've spent a lazy Sunday on a patio with a pitcher of mimosas, enjoying green-budded trees on the verge of bursting open.

Crossing the esplanade, she ducked into Mario's. Her mother had a table in the corner. One of the few restaurants open on Monday, it was already filling with briefcase toting diners. Intent on the lecture she would deliver, she almost missed Maddie's companion. "You brought TJ!"

Joy suffusing her, she scooped her nephew from his carrier and plopped into a chair by the window. "Hi, buddy," she cooed to the grinning infant. "I've missed you."

"You just saw him yesterday."

Acknowledging the pull of longing, she stared into enormous, blue eyes. Her brother's son. I want one. "I know," she acknowledged, "but this was supposed to be my week with him."

"You should've held your ground with Theo," her mother suggested. "You haven't taken a day off in months."

Finally glancing up, Alyssa smiled at her mother. Still stunning in her sixties, Madeline drew attention from the sea of suited bankers. As though she had a neon sign over her head, they eyed her from their tables. I hope I can look that good. She knew from the mirror that morning she was looking a little haggard. At least her lack of sleep the previous night was a result of too much sex instead of too many nightmares. "I know."

After the waiter had taken their orders, her mother leaned forward, excitement flashing in her eyes. "I'm on the case," she declared, launching into an enthusiastic explanation of her research. As she recited the names Sean had given her that morning, Alyssa realized where they'd come from. The men in the army picture. On one detail, they'd all agreed. Madeline Stanhope needed to be kept busy.

"Tell me what you've learned." She glanced down at the droopy-eyed baby, her heart clenching when he raised a tiny fist to his mouth for a quick slurp.

"You can put him back in the carrier for his nap," Maddie suggested as their salads arrived.

"No." The sleepy, squirming lump was staying in her arms until she was forced to relinquish him. I want one. Shifting TJ, she picked up her salad fork. "So, what have you discovered?"

"I'll start with Petru-" She glanced around furtively. "Budget boy has already caused a few issues," she confided.

Amused by her mom's cloak and dagger antics, Alyssa held her smile. "What sort of issues? He was only appointed three years ago."

"Call girls," she blurted before lowering her voice to a whisper. "He was reprimanded, but it was swept under the rug."

"I don't remember hearing any of that." Alyssa stabbed a tomato, smiling when TJ murmured in protest. No wonder Jules is so skinny.

"You have to know the right people, darling." Maddie's Cheshire cat smile belied her excitement. Perfectly lacquered nails drummed her iced tea glass. "I'd remembered hearing the story when it made the rounds, but I confirmed it today with one of my sources. She confirmed Joe's on a very tight leash now."

Alyssa swallowed the urge to laugh. Her sources-- likely one of the other queen bees she lunched with. "One of those being his wife's?"

"That one is a choke-chain," she responded dryly.

" Is there anyone in Boston you don't have the goods on, Mom?"

"Probably not." Maddie shrugged. "I have trouble retaining minutiae, but not gossip."

"Gossip isn't minutiae?"

"Here-- eat this." Madeline buttered a slice of bread and handed it to her. "You're looking a little pale." Raising a brow, she appeared intent on waiting until she took a bite. "Gossip is currency," she pointed out.

The fresh, yeasty bread was like a cloud in her mouth. The salty, delicious, bad-for-her butter made Alyssa swoon. She took another bite. "So, we can probably rule out Joe," she said around a mouthful.

"Not completely. Not yet." Her mother rolled her eyes. "But he's really in no position to blackmail anyone. Not with a guillotine hanging over his head."

"What about Burke?" Alyssa dropped her voice, conscious of their nearness to city hall and the sleeping baby in her lap.

Her mother reached over her plate to twirl a bite of pasta on her fork. Before she could protest, she'd shoved it in her mouth.

"What am I? Three?"

"Mothers never stop worrying about their daughters." She filled another fork. "You're too thin," she said conversationally. "Teagan is going to take care of this . . . issue-- so you need to stop worrying."

She chewed contentedly, too hungry to fend off her mother's pampering. "What about Luther," she repeated.

"Divorced from wife number two."

"How long ago?" Alyssa shuddered, trying to imagine the balding head of security capable of finding not one but two women who'd agreed to marry him. "He creeps me out," she admitted before she could stop herself. Between the sunny, heated window next to her and the slow slide into a carb-induced stupor, she blinked back a sudden lethargy.

"Why?" A brow arched in surprise as Madeline nibbled a bite of lasagna.

"I'm not sure," she admitted. "He's a skulker."

Madeline patted her lips with the damask napkin. "He's very loyal to-" She scanned the tables near them. "You know."

She was growing tired of the spy movie conversation. "I know."

"He was very thorough-- the investigation-- when you were attacked," her mother's voice faltered, a flash of worry crossing her features.

Damn. The last thing she'd meant to do was bring up something else for her mother to worry about. "You're right," she agreed hastily. "I'm sure we can rule him out."

"Maybe I'll have another look-"

Alyssa glanced down at TJ, hoping for a quick diversion, but her pink-cheeked, cherub-lipped nephew was sound asleep. "I'll need to get back soon," she improvised. "What about the rest of the list?"

"The representative," her mother said from behind her napkin, "has always been jealous of you-know-who."

Relief at the move back to conversational safe ground warred with annoyance over her mother's secret code. "But he helped McQuinn get elected."

"He did a great deal more than help." Maddie lowered her napkin. "Your boss is known for working tirelessly for any candidate the party throws their weight behind."

"Are you sure you're not prejudiced against our newly elected representative?" Alyssa smiled at her mother's withering glance. "You shouldn't hate McQuinn just because you hate my former fiancé."

"Alyssa, darling-- I don't hate Paul." Madeline reached for her iced tea. "I just believe he's a low-rent, social-climbing, scum-sucking, cowardly bastard."

Alyssa swallowed a sudden burst of laughter. "I'm glad we cleared that up."

"Obviously, I'm still working on my research," Madeline admitted, her tone defensive.

"Can you keep in mind that we need a low profile on this?" For a busywork assignment, her mother's vengeance against her former fiancé could possibly create other issues. Then again-- Paul sort of deserved it. "Be careful who you ask questions of," she warned, "and how you ask them."

"I am a professional," Maddie reminded. "Sort of."

Alyssa shifted in her seat, regretting the need to return to work. But the dusty basement treasure hunt awaited. She startled at the reminder. "Hey-- I have another name for you to investigate."

The frown cleared from her mother's brow as she dug out a pad. "Who?"

"This is very random-- but it's something I remembered last night." Alyssa smiled at her mother's eagerness. "A grad student who was in touch with me two years ago."

Her mother's pen hesitated. "Two years ago?"

She released a steadying breath. "Eight days before the attack. A guy named George Fisgar got in touch to set up an interview with Theo."

"Fisgar," she muttered, jotting it on her pad. "And?"

"And . . . I don't know if they ever met," she admitted. "But I remembered it last night and I've-- never remembered it before."

Her mother's eyes reflected understanding. The need to know. The need to fill in blanks the investigation had never pursued. "So, this is separate from the blackmail thing."

Alyssa nodded, relieved to have another person who understood. Who had the same burning questions. "This is just me-- being curious. I'd like to follow up on it." Regretfully, she rose from her chair. "I have to go, Mom." Sweet little TJ whimpered when she transferred him to the carrier. "How far are you parked? I'll carry him out for you."

Maddie waved her off. "I valet parked."

They walked out together, Alyssa hoisting the baby carrier. She waited until her mother's car was brought around and buckled TJ into the back seat. Leaning into the driver's window, she kissed Maddie's cheek. "Thanks for lunch."

"Don't forget dinner tonight at seven. MaryJo is coming, too. Sean wants a sit-rep from everyone."

Barely managing a straight face, Alyssa nodded. She waited for her mother to pull away from the curb before she burst out laughing. Sit-rep, indeed. Several minutes later, she paused mid-step as she re-crossed the esplanade.

"Damn it-- she did it again." Maddie hadn't needed a violinist to avoid discussing her fake engagement. Instead, she'd demonstrated a new level of manipulation. A new low in pure deviousness. Her mother's diversionary tactic-- an innocent baby boy.