He led them through the house to a row of French doors opening onto a wide porch. Just beyond was a nicely manicured lawn bordered by walkways and shrubs and a couple large shade trees. “We can play out here,” he said.
“Great!” Emily said, opening one of the doors and holding in a grimace at the hot air that wafted in. “Out you all go!” The three children rushed past her, and Mateo tried to wriggle out of her arms in an attempt to follow them. She and Brent followed and closed the door behind them.
The children produced a soccer ball from somewhere and began kicking it around the grassy area. Emily walked the baby across the shaded porch, holding onto his hands and letting him toddle at his own pace. He kept trying to steer them toward the impromptu soccer game his siblings were playing.
“Doesn’t know how small he is, does he?” Brent said, chuckling, his hands stuck into his pockets and his eyes twinkling behind the large glasses he wore.
“You look delightfully nerdy in those glasses, you know,” Emily said.
“Glad you think so.”
After a bit, she scooped up the baby and sat down on one of the wicker-and-linen chairs on the porch. Brent came and sat on the matching loveseat.
“It’s hot out here,” Emily said, wiping her forehead. “I don’t know how they do it.”
“Practice, I’m guessing.” Brent sounded a little distracted, and she glanced at him. He was eyeing the security cameras pointed at the porch, French doors, and yard.
“Listen,” he said, “keep watching the kids. I have some stuff to tell you, but I don’t want it to look to Romeo like we’re having a super deep conversation. Remember, we don’t know each other.”
“Got it, but Brent—you really have to stop teasing him.”
“I’m not. But enough about him.”
Emily leaned back in the chair and let the baby play with her fingers as she kept her eyes trained on the three older children and listened to Brent.
“I want to bring you up to speed on the mission. Earlier, I placed tiny cameras—we call them Dots—in strategic places around the house. Yes, that’s what I was setting up this morning when I left the dining room. I need to be able to keep an eye on things when I’m not here.”
“When you’re not here?” Emily couldn’t help but glance sideways at him.
“You’re staying here—Nanny is a live-in position,” he said in a low voice. “Tutor, not so much. But don’t worry. If you need anything—if there’s any trouble—I’m only a call away. I’m camped out in a van basically around the corner from this property. And like I said, I will have eyes on all the main entry points and living spaces of the house.”
Emily felt a sense of relief. “I’m glad you’ll be nearby. Still, sleeping in a van doesn’t sound too comfortable.”
“It’s a conversion van—like a little camper inside. It’s actually pretty cozy. Thanks for being concerned about me, though.” After a moment, he added, “I need your help with something.”
“Okay?”
“Keep me posted on what you think of the guards. Tell me if anything about them seems off to you.”
Emily’s spine tingled. “Sure. But why?”
“It’s unconfirmed, but ICS has reason to suspect someone on Mr. Gonzalez’s security detail is part of the plot.”
Chapter 6
The children eventually tired, and Emily called them to come in and hydrate. The house seemed deliciously cold compared to the oppressive heat outside. The children drank water greedily and talked in loud, excited voices about their soccer exploits.
“Juan, Sofia?” Brent said, nudging his glasses up his nose. “Ready to finish lessons?”
“Yes!” they said, scrambling in the direction of the school room.
“Have fun,” Emily told Brent, taking Daniel’s hand. “And don’t forget about things like reading, writing, and arithmetic!”
“You’re funny, Nanny,” he said, wagging a finger at her.
That was a codename, wasn’t it, Brent.
Emily led Daniel back to the stairs. “Come on, little guy. Your mama’s schedule says it’s nap time for you and Mateo.” She instinctively winced, wondering if she should have announced it. Weren’t little kids diametrically opposed to naps? Would she have to haul a fit-throwing child up the stairs?
“Yeah,” Daniel said, “seton cansado.”
“What does that mean?” she asked with a little trepidation.
“Tired.”
“Oh.” Emily blinked and then shrugged. “Well, then. Let’s go do something about you being tired, shall we?”
They went upstairs and she closed the curtains of the room the two little boys shared, darkening the space nicely. After a diaper change for Mateo, she tucked them in and tiptoed out of the room.
“I have no idea if that’s all they normally do at nap time or if there’s some kind of routine,” she murmured as she eased their bedroom door shut behind her. “Songs and stories and stuffed animals positioned just so…”
She stood still, listening. A little voice babbled faintly from within the room, but there were no signs of major chaos.
“Huh. Kids who know when they’re tired and just nap.” She felt like it was supposed to be harder than that, and she didn’t quite trust Mateo not to cause trouble. But after several moments of hovering outside the door, she realized the baby’s babbling was subsiding and nothing catastrophic had happened.
Stepping away, she looked around, wondering what she should do next. Thinking back to the morning, she realized she’d never checked to see what Sofia had done with the milk-soaked dress.
Peering into the little girl’s room, she spotted it on the floor, kicked half-way under the bed. She picked it up. It was already beginning to smell sour, and she resisted the urge to hold her nose. Instead, she carried it at arm’s length and hoped the smell wouldn’t linger in the room.
Back in the loft, she glanced around, realizing she didn’t know where the laundry room was. She looked for her house map and schedule and then remembered, with a sinking feeling, that the last time she’d seen it had been in the little boys’ bedroom. There was no way she was sneaking back in there for it.
The guard would know where the laundry room was.
What had he said about getting in touch with him in the surveillance room? There was a whole-house intercom system.
She spotted a panel on the wall with a grid of buttons. Crossing the loft, she eyed it. One large button was clearly marked “talk.”
“Well, here goes nothing.” She pushed the button. “Um—guard? Are you there? I was hoping you could help me with a question.”
Emily jumped at the sound of her own voice echoing from the nearest open door. The crib in the little boys’ room squeaked, and she heard Mateo begin talking to himself again.
Oh, no!
The panel on the wall came to life as the guard replied, and Emily could hear the laughter in his voice. “Please accept my apologies for not explaining the intercom completely,” he said. “I have put us on a private channel so we are not broadcasting to the whole house. You startled the tutor, I think.” He chuckled.
Emily groaned and clapped a hand to her forehead.
This isn’t embarrassing at all.
“Don’t feel embarrassed,” the young guard said.
He’s watching me right now, isn’t he.
She straightened and fidgeted with the little dress she still held, aware of being watched.
“What can I help you with?”
“I was hoping you could give me directions to the laundry room.” Emily held down the talk button and waved the dress in the direction of the nearest security camera. “I left my map in the boys’ room when I was tucking them in.”
“Of course, Senorita. Down the stairs, take a left and go down the first hall you come to. At the very end is a door. The laundry is just through there. You won’t miss it.”
“Thank you,” she said.
“You’re very welcome, Senorita.”
He is very friendly and kind, she thought as she descended the stairs. At least I won’t have to tell Brent he’s “off” and might be part of an assassination plot.
She reached the bottom of the stairs and frowned, turning left as the guard had instructed.
On the other hand, what if that’s what he wants you to think, Emily. What if it’s just a nice-guy act to look innocent?
Or what if I’m just paranoid. I’ve been known to get jumpy about stuff before.
Her footsteps seemed loud to her, as she walked down the empty, wood-floored hallway. The house was so big, much of it was empty all day. She felt very alone and very watched at the same time.
Yep, I’m definitely prone to jumpiness. Okay, the only option is to not rule anyone out until I know for certain they’re not a threat to the Gonzalezes.
Although I’m pretty sure this guard—oh, why can’t I remember his name?—isn’t capable of plotting an assassination.
He just doesn’t seem like the type.
She reached the end of the hall and discovered it ended in a “T.” She looked from side to side. On her left, a hall headed toward the back of the house, yet another pair of French doors at the end—these covered in a semi-transparent, cream set of curtains.
To her right was a cozy, rounded nook with low book cases making up a window seat. The window looked out over the circle drive with the fountain in the center.
A black SUV rolled slowly into view, and she recognized Diaz at the wheel.
One or both of the Gonzalez parents were home.
Turning from the window, she opened the door the guard had indicated and stepped through into a less grand, more utilitarian area of the house. Yet another hall crossed her path, this one tiled in black and white as if it was made of a life-size checkers board.
Doors on either side of the hall sported labels.
“Utility… storage… linens… laundry… Oh! Laundry!” Emily opened the door and found herself in the largest laundry room she’d ever seen. “This is literally bigger than my bedroom,” she said aloud, her voice echoing around the tiled interior.
A gleaming, industrial washer and dryer set hugged one wall, a table for folding clean clothes stood in the center, a press for pants and a steamer for gowns—Emily spent a moment just turning in circles.
She finally spotted a row of stainless steel, muslin-lined hampers. She placed the soiled dress into the appropriate one and then backed away to the door. She stood for a moment, blinking.
“Wow.”
That’s quite the laundry room.
Remembering that the children’s parents were likely home, and that Brent was probably almost done with his two pupils, she hurried back to the door she’d entered by, leaving the checkerboard floor and the astonishingly fancy laundry room behind.
She passed the window nook and headed back down the hall. One of the doors leading off this hall was now open, and she could hear a man’s voice came from inside the room. She walked more slowly, trying not to make a noise on the wood floor.
It sounds like Diaz.
Something about his tone sounded furtive and angry all at the same time. He spoke in Spanish, and she wished she knew what he was saying.
An idea popped into her head, and she paused in the hall, pulling her phone from her pocket. Acutely aware that whoever was in the surveillance room could probably see her, she tried to act like she was merely checking a text on her phone.
Instead, she opened the search engine and typed in “translate Spanish.” It brought up a tool in her browser, and she listened harder to what Diaz was saying, trying to pick out the individual words.
Dos dias.
Two days.
Yo planeo.
I plan.
Preocupación.
Worry.
Asesino
Assassin.
Emily startled and stuffed her phone back into her pocket, continuing down the hall as quickly and quietly as she could. Any moment, she expected Diaz to dash out of the room and stop her. She shuddered.
Could he be plotting to assassinate the man he was supposed to protect?
She needed to tell Brent.
Right away.
Chapter 7
Emily felt the urge to run, but she forced herself to walk at a normal pace, rounding the base of the stairs and following the faint sound of voices to the entrance of the school room. Her heart sank when she realized both Mr. and Mrs. Gonzalez and a guard she hadn’t yet met stood talking to Brent.
I need to tell him!
She inwardly grimaced, being careful not to show her frustration on her face.
I have to maintain cover. Ugh!
She hovered at the edge of the little group. Juan and Sofia were recounting their day to their parents in excited detail. Emily noted that their father listened intently to them, interjecting questions about their lessons here and there. Mr. Gonzalez was a tall, lean man with dark hair, tanned skin, and smile lines around his eyes. He wore navy blue slacks and a white shirt with what appeared to be a recently-loosened tie. His suit jacket was folded over one arm.
Emily hoped neither parent would be too curious about Brent’s unusual curriculum, but he had apparently done a good enough job bringing the surveillance tricks back around to science that the lesson sounded almost normal. She guessed the children’s excitement over a science topic was the main thing their parents were hearing.
She eyed the guard standing nearby. He was stocky and bald, and he had the kind of face that seemed to naturally settle into a frown.
Resting guard-face.
He stood with his back to the wall and his arms crossed over his chest, looking generally intimidating.
Definitely a suspect, Emily thought. She mentally chastised herself. What else should a guard look like? Intimidating is kind of his job.
As if feeling her eyes on him, he glanced at her and she dropped her gaze to the floor.
“Ah, here is the nanny, Emily Tessier,” Mrs. Gonzalez said, causing her to look back up and plaster a congenial smile on her face.
Mr. Gonzalez shook her hand and introduced himself. “Delighted to meet you,” he said. “How are the little ones?”
“They’re doing well. Sleeping, at the moment,” Emily said. “I am impressed with how well they take their naps.”
Mrs. Gonzalez beamed.
“Well, it looks like everyone is in good hands.” Mr. Gonzalez nodded in approval.
“You did not meet Duarte earlier,” Mrs. Gonzalez said, motioning to the guard nearby.
The man nodded tightly but didn’t say a word. Sofia and Juan dashed up to him, however, and asked something in Spanish.
At their words, a transformation occurred. The man uncrossed his arms and smiled broadly at them. He replied something in a teasing tone, his voice low and rumbly.
Brent and Emily exchanged a quick glance.
I need to tell you something!
Mrs. Gonzalez laughed and hushed the children. “They have a game of pestering him for sweets when he comes back from an outing,” she explained to Emily and Brent with a rueful shake of her head.
Brent slung his satchel across his chest and nudged his glasses up his nose. “I’d better get going,” he said, “lessons are done for today. It was great meeting you, sir.” He shook Mr. Gonzalez’s hand.
“Adios, Mr. Peters!” the children said. “You will be back tomorrow?”
“Of course! It’s a school day, isn’t it?”
“Oh, only a half-day, though,” Mrs. Gonzalez interjected. “We will go hear the choir later in the day and need time to prepare.”
Emily wanted to follow him as he left. She needed to give him the information. But if she and Brent didn’t already know each other, would she?
No.
Holding in a sigh, she remained where she was and tried not to watch Brent’s retreating form.
I can’t even call him when I have a moment alone. I don’t have his number—if he even has a new phone
.
* * *
Daniel wanted to read more books with her when she got him up from his nap. Mrs. Gonzalez took Mateo, and the older two followed their father around. Emily and the three year old settled into a wide chair in the loft and read the books she’d already read to him earlier. This time, with Mateo not around to turn the pages faster than she could read them, Daniel was full of questions.
She wasn’t quite sure how to answer them all.
“Why there lines on the walls?”
“Umm… because they like striped wallpaper?”
“Why they say goodnight to la luna?”
“Who?”
Emily felt someone looking at her, and she glanced up. Moreno had paused at the top of the stairs, his dark, sharp eyes trained on her and Daniel. After a moment, he walked to a door across from the stairs and opened it. Beyond were more stairs. He ascended them without another word or glance their way.
Her skin crawled no matter how hard she tried to tell herself she was just paranoid.
He feels… lethal.
Brent could be lethal if needed, I’m sure. He’s a highly-trained spy for crying out loud.
But this guy is different.
She added him to her mental list of guards to tell Brent about.
“What’s up those stairs, Daniel?”
“More rooms.” The little boy shrugged.
“Is that where Moreno stays?”
He nodded. “He likes being up tall.”
“Up high?”
He nodded again and then returned his attention to the book in her lap.
After the children were tucked into bed that evening, Mrs. Gonzalez thanked Emily for a great first day. “Has anyone shown you your room yet?” she asked.
Emily shook her head. “No, although I did see you marked it on the house map. One of the guards said he put my bag in there.”
The woman shook her head. “Sometimes those guards can only think of guarding. I apologize you weren’t shown the room yet.”
“It’s fine,” Emily said, hurrying to put her at ease. “It was a busy day for everyone. I wouldn’t have had much time to explore it anyway.”
Mrs. Gonzalez led her across the loft and for a moment, Emily thought they were headed for the stairs Moreno had ascended earlier.
Tutor, Nanny, Spit-up, Spy Page 3