When Fates Collide

by Isabelle Richards

  Greene picks up another crab and hammers away at a claw. “Officially, the FBI isn’t taking action at this time. But, I’d like to take a bit more precaution.”

  Wishing my water were something stronger, I take a long sip. “You’re freaking me out. Is there or isn’t there a threat? What kind of precautions are you talking about?”

  “We don’t know if there’s anything to be worried about yet. This could just be my spidey sense on the blink. But I think now’s the time to play it safe. I want you to put the car in storage. It draws too much attention, and you’re too much of a target in it. And I want you to move again.”

  “Come on, Greene, again? I know it isn’t permanent, but I just got settled. ” I’m protesting, but deep down I know he’s right.

  “The damn press is all over you. They’re camped out in front of your door, and your neighbors are complaining. I know your landlord isn’t too thrilled about it either.”

  “How would you know that? Has he called?” I ask. He looks at me smugly, and suddenly it all makes sense. “So you’re the TG in the TG Inc. on my rent check.”

  He nods, chuckling slightly. “What does the T stand for anyway?” I ask.

  “Taegan. But I’ve been T to everyone as long as I can remember. Taegan’s too tough to say, I guess.”

  I lean back in my chair and stretch. The knots that the masseuse removed yesterday have already come back with vengeance. “So, landlord, where should I move to now? Have any other condos for me to sublet?”

  “Nope, this was a just a fluke that happened to work out. I got called over yesterday when someone broke in. We caught the guy. He didn’t get anything, but that’s because you don’t have anything there. While I was there, I packed up the few things you do have.”

  I shove a piece of crab in my mouth. “Wow. I’ll try not to let the door hit me on the way out. Where am I supposed to go tonight?”

  Greene reaches across the table to wipe a piece of crab off my chin. “Meredith is on assignment, won’t be back for a while. She said you can stay at her place as long as you need.”

  “Yes, I have such fond memories there,” I say sarcastically. Actually, the truth is, I have spectacular memories there, minus the whole kidnapping thing.

  “What about her roommate?” I ask. “I can’t imagine she’s going to be too eager to have me show up again.”

  “McCarthy? He’s never home, and even if he is, you’ll get along great with him. He’s a riot. My favorite person to go on a stakeout with.”

  A boy roommate? This feels like trouble.

  “Stop right there,” Greene says, obviously sensing my hesitation. “Before you let your mind wander, Max’s in a long term relationship. You’ll have no worries there. Plus, he knows Gavin. They got pretty close while we were looking for Brooke. You couldn’t be in safer hands. And like I said, he’s never home anyway.”

  I motion for the check. “All right, Greene. I’ll stay at Meredith’s, I’ll keep my head down, and I’ll put the car in storage.”

  “Great, I have just the place, run by a retired FBI agent. I can run the car over there myself if you want,” he says with a sheepish grin. “This way, we know you won’t be followed or anything.”

  “Sure, sure,” I say with a raised eyebrow. “This has nothing to do with you wanting a test drive, huh? Just remember, Greene—you break it, you buy it.”

  He taps his fingers on the table. “It’ll make us even for the window I have to replace at the condo.”

  I grimace, thinking about the never-ending list of damages caused by this whole situation. “Okay, we’re even. Now take me to my new temporary home.”

  As we leave the restaurant, I reach out to hand him the keys but quickly change my mind. “Why did you make me come and get the car if you were just going to have me put it in storage?”

  “It was drawing a lot of attention being in evidence, more than I was comfortable with. I was asked about it by people who shouldn’t have had so much curiosity about the case. I’ve started wondering if we have some guys on the take. Today, there’s a mandatory sensitivity training. Everyone in the department is supposed to report, so it was a good day to sneak it out of impound and get it off the grid.”

  I lean against the car. “If it’s mandatory, how’d you get out of it?”

  He coughs into his hand. “Got the flu. Don’t I look sick to you?”

  I hold the back of my hand up to his perfectly cool forehead. “Yup, real sick.”

  “If someone starts sniffing around about the car, that’ll tell me we have a mole somewhere.”

  “Sounds like something out of a crime novel. I sure hope your spidey sense is wrong.”

  “Me too, Lily. Me too.”

  I hand him the keys, and he drives like a bat out of hell all the way back to the city.

  Eighteen

  Everything in Meredith’s apartment reminds me of Gavin. It’s going to be hard to get over him if I’m reminded of him everywhere I look. Trying to keep busy, I unpack. Greene only collected a small suitcase and two boxes worth of stuff, so ten minutes later, I’m settled into Meredith’s room and left with nothing to do but think about Gavin. Disgusted by what a “mopey cow” I’ve become, I head up to the rooftop pool and swim until my body cries for mercy. It hurts, but in the best way.

  I decide a long hot shower is in order after I hobble back to the apartment. Eventually, my arms and legs stop screaming, and I throw on some sweats and crash on Mer’s bed to read some research material. After rereading the same paragraph ten times in a row without retention, I put it away and call Gavin. A very groggy Gavin answers, and I realize my error. “I called you crazy late again. I’m so sorry. I promise I’ll get used to the time difference.”

  “Luv, you can ring me anytime. I’ve wanted to talk to you all day.” I fill him in on the car situation.

  “We know Grimaldi isn’t a danger. If Greene is hearing stuff about you, I think we need to take it very seriously. He’s not the type to overreact. Promise me you’ll be careful.”

  I adjust the pillow behind me. “I wouldn’t be surprised if he, Sully, and Mer set up my staying here as a way to keep an eye on me.”

  “However it came about, it’s a good idea. Meredith called me this morning to tell me about it. She said the building has just upgraded its security. There should be no repeats of last time.

  “That’s a relief,” I reply. “Greene said you know her roommate?”

  I hear the sheets rustling on his end, and I picture him sprawled across his bed. It makes me wish I were there with him. “Max is a great bloke. You’ll get along well with him, and I’ll be able to rest easy knowing he’ll keep you safe. You’ll really like his girlfriend. She’s a laugh a minute.”

  I gently pull my cross back and forth along the chain around my neck. “Greene says he isn’t around much, so I’ll likely be on my own a lot. Maybe you’ll have to come back and keep me safe.”

  “You know there’s nothing I’d like better. But, my luv, I have a company that needs me.”

  He pauses as though he has more to say. Most likely he’s about to rant about how I should come and see him in London. Not in the mood, I speak before he has the chance. “Time for bed, Oxford. I’ll talk to you later?”

  “Good night, Lily. Sweet dreams, luv.”

  The next morning, I wake up and have no idea where I am. My brain starts to piece together yesterday, and after a moment, everything clicks. A new day, new home, another chance to start over. Begrudgingly, I get out of bed.

  Today, I need to stop talking about changing my life and start actually doing something. I don’t want to have one more conversation about how my life is in flux. If I’m going to declare that I’m in control of my life, I’d better take control already.

  I throw on some running gear and pack my backpack with work supplies—my laptop, some files and pens—and run the four miles to Politics and Prose, an independent bookstore that was my favorite place to write and be inspired once upon
a time. I haven’t made it down this way in years, which could explain how I’ve forgotten about the enormous, painfully steep hill en route on Connecticut Avenue by the National Zoo. After the punishment I’d doled out on my body yesterday, my limbs are threatening to quit on me before I’ve made it halfway up. Panting for air, I slow down until a group of kids starts to snicker and point. They piss me off enough that I kick it into gear, keeping up a steady pace all the way to the bookstore.

  Politics and Prose is a popular spot for writers. When I arrive, the place is packed, but I’m lucky enough to snag a seat when a woman leaves. As I settle in my seat, the familiarity returns, and I feel a surge of motivation. Today is about embracing opportunity when it presents itself—not just for talking about change but actually making it. The good thing about this blog, besides it being great writing exercise, is that it’ll keep me honest. I’m determined to only write the truth, and a blog about someone doing diddly-squat definitely won’t be successful.

  Once my post for the day is written, I dig into my article. A ton of research is required to write the type of piece I want, and I’ve barely made a dent in my pile of reading when I notice the sun has set. The whole day has gone by in the blink of an eye. I hear my stomach howling for some attention, so I pack up and call it quits.

  I debate running home verses taking the Metro. It’s dark, but this is just about the safest part of DC. I decide to brave it. The run downhill is a piece of cake compared to the run there was. During my run, I have this nagging feeling that someone’s behind me. I stop several times and look around, but I don’t see anyone. It’s probably all in my head, but I can’t shake the feeling. I’d swear I hear another set of footfalls keeping pace with mine. Either there’s someone following me or I’m losing my mind.

  As soon as Meredith’s building is in view, I sprint to the door. During the elevator ride up, my mind races, worrying that someone really was following me. By the time I lock the door behind me, I’m in a full-blown panic. I call Gavin and get his voicemail. I know I shouldn’t, but I keep calling. After the fifth time, he answers.

  “Lily, is everything okay?”

  I pace the living room, flailing my arms as I shout into the phone. My words come out in one long jumble. “No! I think someone followed me home. I didn’t see anyone, but I felt someone. I’m probably imagining the whole thing, which is even more upsetting. I don’t want to turn into a crazy paranoid person.”

  “I’m so very sorry I didn’t answer. I was in the shower.”

  “Oh, so you’re naked. Now, I’m paranoid and horny. Thanks, Oxford, you’re a lot of help,” I joke, actually letting out a chuckle despite myself.

  “I’m happy I can make you laugh. Sorry for getting you all worked up. I promise to rectify that as soon as I see you.”

  I sit down on the sofa and plop a throw pillow in my lap. “I miss you. I ran home, and all I wished was that you were here waiting for me.”

  “Wait. You went running? My little Lily that whined like a little girl when we did a little calisthenics? What’s gotten into you?”

  “You got into me. Now you aren’t here to get into me, so I have to run off my sexual frustration.”

  He chuckles. “Who knew I would have such an impact on you!”

  I roll my eyes even though he can’t see. “Oh, can it, Oxford. You know exactly the impact you have.”

  “As much as I’m enjoying this discussion of my sexual prowess, I have to run. Figuratively, not literally. I’ve a conference call to China in a few minutes. These late night calls are just dreadful.”

  “Yeah, you and your naked, sexual prowess go call China. I’m off to shower by myself. Who knows what I’ll get up to in there all by my lonesome?” I blow a raspberry for childish effect.

  “You minx! You’re truly evil, you know that?” I hear another phone ring in the background. “I really have to ring off now. Good night, luv. Cheers.”

  I check the lock on the door so many times that I worry I’ve suddenly developed OCD. Three glasses of wine later, I’m finally calm enough to hop in the shower. But I take Meredith’s softball bat with me, just in case.

  As I’m toweling off after, I hear noises outside in the apartment. Panicking, I grab the bat. I stay in a batter’s pose for what feels like an eternity, ready to hit a line drive through someone’s skull if they try to come into the bathroom. Surprisingly, the mystery guest makes no move toward the bathroom, but I do hear him or her puttering around the living room and kitchen, whistling. What kind of sadistic, cold blooded axe murderer’s out there whistling while preparing to send me to my doom? When the whistling turns to singing and the smell of onions wafts through the air, I realize that either my supposed killer is making me my last supper or perhaps I’ve misread the situation.

  Just as I’m considering peeking out, there’s a knock on the door. I scream, then immediately cover my mouth, realizing I’ve just given away my position.

  A deep voice laughs. “You can come out, you know. I won’t bite. Dinner’ll be ready in ten. Gavin told me you’re a hearty eater, so I made plenty.”

  I open the door a crack, bat firmly in hand, and a round face with enormous dimples pops into view.

  “Hey there,” the man says.

  I jump and scream again, clutching the bat with both hands again. My brain starts to do the math and I finally figure it out. I step out from behind the door. “Max?”

  “Yup. Who were you expecting?” he asks.

  My heart starts to settle. “Sorry for the screaming. Last time I was here, I was kidnapped, so I’m still a bit jumpy.”

  He crosses his arms. “You mean you’re not over that yet? Jeesh. Someone’s a drama queen. No worries then. Come on out, get some grub, and we’ll get acquainted.”

  Relief washes over me, and I start to calm my pounding heart. I lower the bat and try to catch my breath.

  He points to the floor by my feet. “You dropped your towel there, Slugger. Not that I don’t love a free show, but it might be better if we were properly introduced first.”

  I glance down, taking in my previously unnoticed nakedness. I gasp, turning beet red, and run for Mer’s room where I slam the door behind me. I hear his deep belly laugh echoing, even from behind closed doors. I get dressed but stare helplessly at the door, not ready to return to the living room to face my humiliation.

  “Oh, lighten up already,” he yells from the kitchen. “If we’re going to bunk together, shit’s gonna happen. It’s no big thing.”

  When I finally come out, with clothes on this time, he walks over with his hand out. “Max McCarthy, at your service.” He points to the glass dining room table. “Now sit and eat. I made fajitas.”

  Max is one-hundred percent Irish, from his red, curly hair to his millions of freckles. He’s about six foot two, with a strong, broad build. From the commanding way he speaks to his imposing posture, everything about him screams, “I’m a cop.” He also has a thick Boston accent that reminds me of my childhood.

  I sit down at the table and unfold my napkin, amazed that he’s actually remembered to put out napkins. “I’m sorry I freaked out on you. Greene told me you’re never home, so I was caught off-guard. Something creepy happened earlier, and I’m on edge. I was sure you were here to kill me.”

  He brings over a plate of grilled peppers, chicken, shrimp, and beef. “As a rule of thumb, killers don’t usually sing. But I hear you what you’re saying. Sorry to have ruffled your feathers. Go ahead, dig in.”

  I take a tortilla and stuff it with rice, beans, and guacamole. “Yes, when I heard ‘It’s 5 O’clock Somewhere,’ I guessed I might be in the clear.”

  “Ohhh, a smart ass, eh?” he says in a Three Stooges voice. “We’ll get along great.”

  After taking I bite, I say, “This is amazing!”

  “Thanks,” he replies. “I have seven brothers and sisters, and I was always on cooking duty.”

  I add a little sour cream to my fajita. “If you can cook so well, why w
as there no food in the house when I stayed here before?”

  “Mer refuses to cook. Won’t even make herself cereal. So, when I’m not in town, there’s nothing around.”

  As it turns out, Max is a chatterbox. He spends the whole meal telling me his life story and not once allowing me to get a word in edgewise. He has a wicked sense of humor, and I laugh until my sides hurt. Greene was right. Max’s as harmless as they come.

  He’s so busy talking that he’s barely able to eat. After a particularly long spiel, he shoves the rest of his first wrap in his mouth and reaches out to assemble another. “So, tell me what gave you the heebie-jeebies today.”

  I put my wrap down on my plate. “It felt like someone was following me. Not that I saw anyone or anything. I just had a feeling like I was being watched. I’m probably just being paranoid.”

  “Slugger, with everything you’ve got going on, I’d trust your gut. I read your file, and there’re some nasty names in there. Press and actual criminals both. You need to keep your eyes open and trust your instincts. I’m persona non grata with my girlfriend right now, so I’ll be around a bit more than normal. I’m starting to think that may be a good thing.”

  “Can you help me get some pepper spray? I heard DC has a policy about it and it’s hard to find.”

  He nods. “Mer should have a little one we can put on your keys.”

  “Thank you. Even if I never use it, I’ll feel better having it.”

  He gives me a thumbs up. “Got to keep my roomie safe. What kind of agent would I be if you got axed while living here?”

  I glare at him. “That makes me feel so much better.”

  He takes a big bite. “I live to serve,” he says with his mouth full.

  Stuffed, I push my plate away. “So, what did you do to get on the outs with your girlfriend?”