After fastening the clasp, he moved around and held out a hand to help her get up and reclaim her balance. “Hopefully, this will serve as a reminder, not only of this weekend, but of the beauty inside you that I hope you will continue to let rise to the surface. You should be proud of yourself,” Luka assured her. “I know I am.”
“I do feel like I’ve done a lot of work here,” she answered, wishing it were all yoga related instead of meaning that she was one step closer to pinning a murder on the man she’d enjoyed spending time with over the last two days. As soon as she felt she was stable, she pulled her hands from his. Ellie’s palms were beginning to grow clammy and even though she’d been relaxed moments before, her breath was coming faster now.
He smiled as he answered. “I hope we get to work together again soon. There is still much I could teach you. Perhaps you will find some time in your schedule to come back, or when I return to the east coast soon, I could check in with you.”
“Sure,” she answered with more confidence than she felt, knowing he wouldn’t be able to find her with the trail of fake information the FBI had used in her registration. “I’d like that.” It would be true if she thought they would just be working on her positions and stretches. It was the fact that she feared what he wanted to work on would be strangling the life out of her that made her answer hollow-sounding.
“Hey,” he said, apparently misunderstanding her tone and placing his hand on her shoulder in a comforting gesture. “It is hard to say goodbye when you’ve worked so intensely with someone like we have. There is a reason they call these mountaintop experiences.”
At least she had something to explain her battling emotions. “The retreat center is in a valley,” she reminded him, getting a laugh in return.
“We will meet again,” he promised as she turned to walk away. “I am sure of it.”
It was all Ellie could do suppress the shudder that wanted to work its way through her. If he was the one killing women, then she was invested enough she wanted to see this through, which would mean facing him down to bring him in. Glad he couldn’t see her face, she answered him honestly, “I’m counting on it.”
As soon as she stepped into the hallway, Ellie had to lean against the wall. Her mind was a mass of conflicting thoughts wondering how she could have been so wrong about Luka. Her father had taught her that her instincts would be her greatest tool in the field, but obviously there was something wrong if she’d been unable to read her instructor. While the necklace wasn’t enough to say he was guilty, Ellie knew it was enough to place Luka under constant surveillance to gather additional details. There were so many reasons she had been opposed to working out of the office. Even without the stress of bullets flying, she still wasn’t dependable to gather simple intel effectively. It was enough to convince her that after this case was closed, she would never let herself be forced into going out again.
The doctor she had met earlier walked by with Lydia at his side. They stopped when they saw Ellie bent at the waist, with her hands on her knees.
“Are you okay?” Lydia asked, concerned.
Ellie’s mouth was dry, a feeling of panic rising up within her.
Dr. Evans put his hand on Ellie’s wrist, checking her pulse. The idea that she had been blind to what must have been right in front of her all weekend, had her on edge so that she stood and jerked her hand away from the doctor’s light touch.
“I’m fine,” Ellie choked out, feeling her skin crawl from the contact.
“Oh, look,” Lydia pointed to the necklace Ellie was wearing. “The Master has rewarded you for your hard work.” She paused and glanced at the man standing next to her. “Are you going home now?”
“Yes, I am,” Ellie responded, glad for the prompting that she couldn’t just stand in the hallway reeling over her new discovery. She needed to leave the center and make sense out of what she’d stumbled into.
“If we can help you in anyway, please let us know,” Dr. Evans spoke, taking Lydia by the elbow and tugging to move them along the corridor. As they reached a bend in the hall, Lydia turned back to look over her shoulder and smiled.
Chapter Sixteen
Looking around, her apartment was exactly the way she’d left it, but somehow, it felt different. If everything here had remained the same, then the only logical option for what was different had to be her. She moved to the kitchen and pulled out a bottle of Chardonnay from the refrigerator. Usually, Ellie maintained a rule that alcohol was only to be consumed while eating—or prepping—a meal, but this seemed like a good time to make an exception. Hating the idea of being a cliché and drinking alone, she raised her glass in the direction of Henri the betta fish, silently swimming around in his bowl. “At least you’re not a cat,” she spoke aloud, trying to find some kind of consolation that she wasn’t turning into an old maid who would devote her life to caring for strays until she went completely crazy from the solitude.
In the hallway, she could hear voices and realized Phillips was getting rid of whatever his flavor of the weekend had been. It was only six o’clock, which made her wonder what was wrong with the woman if he was turning her out already. She continued sipping away at her wine, trying to force her body to unwind. She was almost itching to change into more comfortable clothes and try going through the workout they’d used that morning.
Realizing she wasn’t going to be able to shut her mind off on her own with all the suspicions and lack of supporting evidence, she set her wine glass down hard enough that it splashed some onto the counter, and then grabbed her suitcase to change.
Ten minutes later, she was three stretches into her warm-up, wearing her mid-calf yoga pants and sports bra. Even though she’d never admit it, in such a short time, she could already feel the tension leaving her shoulders and the constant swirling of facts and theories had stopped running in her head.
Just as she was about to transition to a position on the floor, there was an insistent knock on her door. She took a moment to consider not answering it, and then Phillips’s voice came through.
“I know you’re in there, Ellie, and I want to talk to you. Open up.”
She quickly undid the locks on her door before swinging it open and pointing at the surprised man in front of her. “No wonder the woman left. You are entirely too demanding.”
Not even attempting to hide it, Phillips’s eyes moved from the usual hold he kept on her face to run slowly down her body, all the way to her bare feet and then back up. She couldn’t deny that it was a compliment to feel this kind of appreciation from a guy.
“Did you have a point when you knocked on my door, or did you just do it to ogle your neighbor since you lost your date?”
At her words, his eyes quickly snapped back to her face, and he had the good sense to look slightly embarrassed. “You okay?”
“You tell me,” she taunted. “It seemed like you were looking for something. Did you find it?”
Not one to be pushed around, he straightened up and gave her a grin that would probably talk most girls out of a bar without him even having to buy them a drink. “Not yet, but if you’d let me give you a more thorough check-up, I might be able to find what I’m looking for.”
“You’re a pig. You know that, right?” Ellie struggled to stay mad at the man in front of her.
“Yes, but I have it on good authority you’re a fan of bacon, so I don’t consider that much of an insult.”
“I’m too tired to cook. If you were hoping to sponge dinner, you’ve come to the wrong place,” she teased, moving so Phillips could come in and she could shut the door.
“Why don’t you wear this when you run?”
“If the way you’re acting is any indication of what would happen, then I’m right to stick with running pants and an oversized T-shirt,” Ellie warned, letting him know that even though she found the banter amusing, he was still crossing the line of civil conversation. “What’s going on?”
“I got a call from Phil, who wanted me to get
a message to you.” The man that had been laid-back and grinning seconds before was now standing straighter and had flipped his all-business switch.
“Phil called you?” Ellie didn’t want to insult him, but she was confused about why Phil hadn’t picked up the phone and called her himself.
“Wasn’t sure if your phone was still uncompromised. He asked me to tell you a few things before you get to the office tomorrow,” Phillips explained.
Ellie moved to the sofa and gestured that he should follow her.
“He wants you to play your routine exactly the same: show up at the normal time and do everything just like you always do when you first arrive. The only two exceptions are that he wants you dressed like you were on Thursday, and instead of sorting your inbox for new requests, he wants you to start updating the file from your work this weekend. He said every factual detail needs to be recorded, but your instincts and gut reactions, he wants you to leave out until he gets in, and then he wants you to share it with him so he can help you decide what to put in and what to pursue a little on your own first.” While he paused, Phillips raised his hand and rubbed the back of his neck. “Ellie, what the hell have these guys gotten you wrapped up in? And why is one of the most brilliant agents in the Bureau hovering over you like some kind of mama bear?”
Ellie lifted a finger for him to wait a second while she processed what he’d just told her. “Were you quoting him for the directions or just paraphrasing him?”
“Quoting.” Phillips all but rolled his eyes at the question. “An agent would have to be an idiot to not respect the guy, but he has some hang-ups about the details, so he made me repeat the message back to him three times before he’d let me off the phone.”
It wasn’t that hard to picture. Phil might be a former adrenaline junkie who lived for the chase, but he’d been put in charge of their division for a reason. The guy had an eye for detail that rivaled Ellie’s, so she knew there was something important he wanted her to pick up on when she first arrived. She wasn’t aware that anyone knew about her surface review of all the offices in the basement every morning, but that was the only thing that seemed to make sense in what Phillips had just shared.
“All right, enough stalling,” Phillips said, bringing her back before she got too lost in her head. “What’s going on?”
“I was on a little assignment this weekend,” Ellie told him.
Instead of the surprise or concern for her she’d expected to see, Phillips broke out into a huge grin. “Oh yeah, I can see that,” he shocked her by saying. “Were you undercover or just throwing the badge around?”
She couldn’t help it. Ellie laughed out loud at the question. It was like the person who’d been such an in-control grown man just seconds ago had transformed into a kid on Christmas morning, impatiently trying to figure out what was in his present. “I guess I was undercover.”
“If you don’t know, then my bet is you probably didn’t keep your character very well.”
With that, she reached out and punched her neighbor in the shoulder. She knew she packed enough heat in the hit to cause him some pain, but she had to concentrate to keep from shaking her fist because of the throbbing in her knuckles. Her father had taught her from a young age to never let someone know you were hurt. This seemed like the proper time to practice that lesson.
“I was undercover, but it wasn’t difficult. I basically just had to be myself and use a different last name and reason for being there,” she clarified.
“Whatever it was,” Phillips said, “you seem to have not only survived it okay, but come back the better for it.” When he finished speaking, she noticed he was pointing at her abdomen, but his eyes were focused a few inches higher.
“Unless you need something else, you’ve delivered your message, and I’m exhausted, so I just want to go to bed.” Ellie was trying to prompt him to leave so she didn’t have to try throwing him out. On occasion, Phillips reminded her of a stray dog that she’d fed one time. Even if she didn’t treat him well anymore, he tended to hang around in the hope that she’d throw him another bone.
***
The next morning, Ellie surprised herself by waking thirty minutes before her alarm went off. Out of habit, she rolled out of bed, threw her hair into a messy ponytail, and grabbed her running clothes. Twenty minutes into her usual route, she realized the pumping of her heart from the aerobic exercise felt good, but she missed the way her mind tended to settle during yoga. If this case ended up forcing her to get less sleep so she could run and do yoga every morning, she was going to hunt down whoever approved the plan for her to do field work and make them pay. Apparently, she’d been silent long enough that people had forgotten who her father was and how he’d raised her. As she ran back up the stairs to her apartment, she realized it wasn’t something she could blame people for. Until this week, she’d seemed to have forgotten the same thing. Now that she was coming back into herself, she just needed to figure out how to be sure everyone else got the memo.
When Ellie slipped on the high-heeled pumps that increased her height by nearly three inches, she swore, knowing by the time work was over, her feet would be killing her. “You’d better have a reason for this kind of torture, other than just wanting another look at my legs,” Ellie spoke as though Phil could hear her. She’d done everything to make her appearance impressive, pulling out every grooming tip she could remember Janice giving her. Her hair had been curled, and her makeup was perfect. Taking one last look at herself in the mirror, she reached up and undid another button on her blouse, deciding a little cleavage was a vital part of any outfit—according to her mother, anyway—so she’d try doing this Janice’s way and see how it worked out.
Arriving at the office before everyone else, Ellie slipped into her routine. Except for the slightly pinched toes in her unusual office footwear, it felt good to be back in her space again. She noticed all her files were in perfect stacks. Ellie was organized, but not obsessive-compulsive about it. She liked order, but not perfection, so she knew she hadn’t left her space that way. Apparently, Phil wanted her to know someone had gone through her desk. She had nothing to hide in there, but the idea of someone going through her things still made her angry.
Almost derailed by the emotion of feeling like someone had violated her private space, she remembered Phillips conveying the message that she was to go through her morning routine exactly the same way she always did. She moved through each of her co-workers’ offices and realized the tops of their desks were identical. Every file was perfectly stacked, without a single paper edge sticking out of the folder. That might not be unusual for a couple of the guys, but there were others who probably hadn’t seen the tops of their desks in years, so Ellie knew someone had gone through the whole department.
Her final stop before going back to her office was at the networked printer. It was online, and out of habit, she opened the main paper drawer. The top sheet of paper wasn’t lying flat, which Ellie knew would create a paper jam as soon as someone tried to use it, so she reached in to flatten it, only to feel something underneath. Lifting the top sheet, she found a small envelope with her name printed on it in block letters.
Knowing that Phil used block letters when he wrote, she quickly opened the envelope. Inside was a piece of paper that said simply, “Find a way to keep typing until I get to the office. You did well this weekend, and your identity picked up some interest since your return home.”
That seemed like a strange message. Something was going on other than this case, and until she had the full picture, she decided to listen to the little voice telling her Phil wouldn’t lead her astray, so she went into her office, intentionally messed up the order of the files on her desktop, and then logged into the system to begin entering her notes from the weekend.
By the time everyone in the department was at work, Ellie realized she was tired of typing. She’d entered almost all of her factual observations and hoped she was nearly at the end of this part of the report, because
she wasn’t used to sitting at her desk this long. Her neck and shoulders were tight, and she found herself missing Lydia’s magic massage.
The rhythmic tapping of Phil’s cane on the tile floor told Ellie her boss was there and headed in her direction. He used the end of his black cane, decorated with a multitude of small skull and crossbones, to knock on her door.
“You look better than the last time I saw you,” she greeted him, glad to see he didn’t appear to be managing as much pain today.
He made a dismissive gesture with his hand, and then said, “Since you completed a field assignment, it seems like we should celebrate with a cup of coffee.”
“You drink coffee?” Ellie asked, not sure she’d ever seen him with a cup of the elixir she adored.
“Not often,” he answered, “but I’m not allowed to drink hard liquor anymore, and we need something other than lemonade for this conversation. Do you know where we can get a real cup of the stuff? If I’m going to drink it, I want it to be half decent.”
“I think I can manage something better than that,” she confidently responded, spinning to grab her purse from her desk drawer.
Fifteen minutes later, they were walking into Mocha Joe’s, where the Goth girl behind the counter was being instructed by Joe in the fine art of making some kind of creation. The sound of Phil’s cane had them both spinning around to greet the customers, but when Joe saw Ellie, his eyes did a fast head to toe inspection, much like his cousin had done the night before, only faster and with a lot more respect.
“Obviously your time away agreed with you,” Joe began.
She couldn’t stop the smile at his praise and then remembered Phil was standing beside her, probably analyzing her every reaction. “Joe, this is my boss at the Bureau, Phil.” She motioned to the older man to her right. “Phil, Joe owns this place and makes the world’s best coffee.”
A Killer Cup of Joe Page 20