“Got it,” said Ruth. She nodded as she savored the intellectual side of the drama. Ruth hated conflict when it was happening to her but had great analytical skills. “So you will let Shannon spin it while Blair and I get the real story.”
“That’s my plan,” I said. “Unless I see Reid and hear otherwise.”
“How can you stay so calm? Don’t you want to go up to Karen and scratch her eyes out?” Ruth baited with a chuckle.
“I don’t even entertain what I want to do. I know what I will do is arm myself with information and wait for an opportunity to use it. That is a difference between working hard and working smart.”
“Was your nursery actually inside the Pentagon war room?” Ruth teased. I laughed. I weighed my options with my outcomes and moved forward. My game was always strategic and I always played for the long-term win with the least amount of extraneous effort.
I saw a splash of Kelly green out of the corner of my eye and looked expectantly for Blair. She was zipping over to Ruth and me as if she had wheels on her black penny loafers.
“WHAT is going on?” I asked. Her green eyes were blaring “Extra! Extra!” and I couldn’t wait to hear all about it.
“Guess who is in my photography class? Patrick!” she blurted out, not giving us a chance to guess. At least something was going right for the first day of school. Blair had been waiting to get another class with Patrick ever since the failed and bemoaned love connection last year.
“Juicy! There is even a darkroom! How perfect!” I quipped. I had never taken photography, but I assumed that was part of the class.
Blair laughed. “I’ll settle for him sitting next to me like he did today…” Blair burst into a sly grin. She put a finger to her lips and let it sizzle on her lower hip like she was hot stuff to make us laugh. Then she added in a hushed whisper, “He is SO cute!”
Ruth looked worried. “Wait a minute. I heard something about Liz Cooley hanging out with Patrick. Have you guys heard that yet?”
“What?” Blair froze as she listened. “Liz Cooley? You have got to be kidding me!” I saw this heading rapidly in the wrong direction.
“Hang on,” I counseled. “Let’s not act until we can see what we can find out.”
Blair nodded. “Brilliant idea. You know what this means, right?” I was afraid I did. Blair did not take a passive wait and see approach. She liked more control. “That’s right. Undercover.”
“Oh no,” I moaned. “Can’t we ask around first? Do we have to go straight into stalking?”
“I prefer the term ‘investigating,’ as you know, Whitney,” Blair said with a laugh.
Ruth was already laughing. “I’m in. Let me know the time and place.”
I saw Reid over Blair’s shoulder. He looked like he had breezed in from vacationing five minutes before. He was wearing navy and green plaid shorts and a white long-sleeved button-down oxford with the sleeves rolled up. My heart quickened as our eyes met. As my tan and chiseled boyfriend came toward me, I pushed my thoughts about Karen out of my mind.
“Not staying long?” I pointed to Reid’s Oakleys, which were still on top of his head. “School is so tedious. I’m sure you have more important things to do. Lovey, let’s go for lunch and jet to the islands…”
He smirked. “Blair.” Reid greeted her with a courteous nod. “Whitney, charming as ever. You are full of good ideas today,” he said with mild sarcasm as he picked up my hand and kissed the top of it. “How are your hands still cold when it is over eighty-five degrees outside?”
I couldn’t help but consider if he was holding my hand on purpose to read my thoughts. For my amusement, I thought of sunshine and rainbows. I wanted to see if I could elude him.
Blair scoffed at the comment and looked at the clock. I knew that was too much public display of affection for her tastes and she wanted to bolt. She looked at me, raised her eyebrows, and said, “Whit, I’ll catch you later. Lots of planning to do so gotta run.”
“Wait! I almost forgot!” I retracted my hand from Reid and handed her the note in my pocket explaining about Karen. The clock ticked loudly again and the metal bell was about to sound. I thought I caught a glimpse of Karen Eubanks at the end of the hall. I suddenly hoped that was her as Reid pulled me into him for a quick kiss goodbye. His lips tasted like peppermint Certs and the cool burst filled my head. As he kissed me, I imagined a waterfall from a Jamaican tourism commercial.
Replacing my thoughts with happy images whenever Reid touched me was my strategy until I could totally figure out how much information he could absorb from me at once. Reid whistled the notes to Bob Marley’s “One Love” as he walked down the hall. It was the theme song to the Jamaican commercials. He had seen the image in my mind. I had to laugh. This took head games to a new level.
I slid into my Latin class and took the first seat I could find. The tiny teacher with bouffant hair and a tweed suit was sloshing her coffee cup into the air and chanting, “Latin is not dead! Latin is not dead!” Hooray, I thought. It was one less problem to solve.
In the less than two hours I had been back at school, I had racked up enough homework for myself. Gathering proof on Reid and Patrick would keep me busy for the rest of the day and, unfortunately, the night as well. Blair’s undercover work was always extremely involved and she used the cloak of darkness to achieve her information. Reconnaissance was never easy.
Chapter Twelve: Proof
I could only hope that what Blair had planned would not land us in jail. She was fearless and wasn’t going to let Patrick slip through her fingers—again. Mission impossible was not an option. This mission had to be a success. There was no choice if we would accept going with her or not; we were her friends and automatically drafted.
I was prepared when Blair called that evening and said, “I think what we need is a stakeout.” This was our surveillance method of last resort. It involved people we could trust, equipment, and an unrecognizable car. We didn’t do it often because it had the highest risk of us getting caught.
"Apparently, Liz’s car has been at Patrick’s house a lot lately. If he is dating Liz, that changes everything. I am not going to put myself out there and get tangled up in a love triangle. I would rather avoid that headache. That’s why I need concrete evidence," Blair said flatly.
My instincts told me Patrick was not dating Liz but I kept that to myself. I did not have the proof Blair needed to get her methodical mind settled. I was used to making my decisions on gut feelings but I knew that would be disconcerting for Blair. She dealt in certainty and a clear path.
I gave a final effort for us to acquire information without any risk. “Are you sure you don’t want me to find a way to talk directly to him?”
“No way. I can’t imagine how you could do that without raising some suspicion. My best friend is suddenly asking him what is going on in his love life? Not to mention, I would totally freeze up around him even knowing you had tried it. I know this seems extreme to you, but if all goes well he will know nothing about it and I will know how to proceed. I’ve thought it out and this allows me the greatest control with no exposure.”
“OK, as long as we don’t get caught,” I pointed out. I was already pulling my black turtleneck out of the closet.
There were bigger issues here than the immediate success of this mission. I wanted Blair and Patrick to finally find a way to connect and Mr. Parks said self-doubt was the worst enemy one faced. This was the way to remove that obstacle and I recognized that once Blair knew Patrick was single, nothing should stand in her way.
“It’s all in the technique, remember? I’ve got it covered,” Blair promised. “I’ve already lined up Ruth to come pick you up in thirty minutes. She’s in the Olds.”
Oh brother. Ruth’s family had inherited a maroon Oldsmobile when her grandmother died a few months ago. Blair called the car “mission material” because it was inconspicuous, dark, and boring. It was the ideal car to blend into any street landscape. Blair was always thinking a
bout material we could use for any potential situation. When Ruth’s family got the Olds, it was her version of pay dirt.
In less than an hour later, Ruth, Shannon, and I rumbled up to the Delaneys’. It trolled like a motorboat. Our FBI-esque car needed a new muffler, but it was too late now. It was already go time.
Blair buzzed out of the house and directed the maroon Olds to keep moving. She wanted Ruth to park a few houses down the street and not in front of her house. Per Blair’s instructions, we were all in black and we all looked like cat burglars. Ruth had on a black beanie hat, which really completed the look.
Blair motioned to me to get out of the car to help her. She had Eileen’s black backpack in her hand and promptly unzipped it. She handed me the mini flashlight and told me to direct it to Ruth’s license plate. She fished out some white surgical tape and extracted the Swiss army knife scissors. She cut some thin strips and placed them on critical spots of the raised, metal block letters. This tape surgery allowed Blair to turn an “O” into a “C” by placing the white tape over half of the dark letter on the white background. Her theory was if someone saw the license plate to call the police, they would get the letters wrong.
Shannon came around to see what we were doing. “Don’t you think that is illegal?” she asked. Her tone was flippant and conversational.
“I think that it is smart,” was Blair’s clipped and evasive answer. “We are only going a few blocks. Then we will take it off.”
We all climbed back into the car. “Wow. This is like sitting on a living room couch back here. It feels brand new!” Blair laughed. The deep backseat was maroon velour.
“You and Blair are probably the first two people to ever sit back there,” Ruth agreed as we glided down the street. “My grandmother only drove this car twice a week to her hair appointment and to church.”
“Well, it’s a smoooooth ride!” I called from the back. “It feels like we are flying in a plane! I can’t even feel the car moving. Ruth, this is a great car!”
“Great for you guys! I can’t imagine parking this boat at school!” Ruth contradicted. She had to speak loudly from the front seat to cover the distance between us. “I’m waiting to clip another car’s side mirror.” At least with her Wagoneer, she had some height advantage and could swerve out of the way in time.
“OK, enough chitchat. Let’s get focused. Ruth, head to Fence View Road in Colonial Estates, but turn down the street BEFORE Fence View. We cannot park on his street. In the event we get separated or spotted, we make a run for it and meet back at the car as soon as you safely can," Blair directed. “And do not call anyone by their real names. Everyone will get a code name: Whitney, you are Blackjack. Shannon, you are Black Beauty. Ruth, you are Midnight, and I’ll be Black Hawk. We have to use our code names; let’s review.”
Shannon neighed her approval. “I feel like we are in a stable. At least I’m not Black Panther.” I laughed at the reference and saw Blair smile. Shannon was referencing the revolutionary leftist organization group from the 1960s, but that was not the reason Blair would never use the term “black panther.” Our friends knew little about our kung fu training. I made a stalking motion with my hands. Panthers were stalkers, not runners. They were silent and cautious. Because of its quiet style, the black panther is known as the ghost of the Shaolin animals.
Blair gave me a flick with her finger to stop playing around. Then she started to reorganize her backpack.
“It could be worse. I’m surprised she didn’t go with our mother’s maiden names,” I sighed, resting back into the seat.
“Well, I would have if you didn’t screw that up so miserably last time,” Blair said with an air of sarcastic exasperation. She tossed me a bottle of water.
“Oh, yeah. Right,” I agreed with a contrite grin. “I got confused! I called Blair by Delaney, instead of her mother’s maiden name of Burke.”
“Yeah, so she’s yelling DELANEY down the street. My REAL name. That was brilliant undercover work.”
“Live and learn,” I shrugged, laughing.
“How often do you two do this stuff?” Ruth asked suspiciously.
“Too much!” I joked back. “Or, I guess I should say, enough that we now know to bring water and snacks.” I held up the water bottle as proof.
“Oh good. I like snacks,” said Shannon. “Hand me something.”
We passed the white church with the steeple at the intersection and turned into Colonial Estates. The neighborhood was full of mature trees and quiet brick residences. A creek ran through the community and we crossed the wooden bridge that had been secured with asphalt. In the Jeep, we would be bouncing all over the place but in the Olds, we didn’t feel a thing. Ruth parked and turned off the car.
“OK. No one open the door yet. Let me duct tape the interior light,” Blair ordered. She pulled a generous strip off the silver roll of tape and slapped it over the white plastic light in the ceiling.
“Jeez. You are scaring me,” Shannon laughed.
“This is no laughing matter. Patience, Planning, and Preparedness. You’ll be thanking me later. Especially if we need to make a quick getaway. We don’t want to be diving into a brightly lit up car. Darkness is our friend. Remember—stay in the shadows, away from the streetlights and away from the road. Shannon, you will be the lookout.”
“Don’t you mean Black Beauty?” Ruth asked, poking fun. She fizzed with laughter.
“OK, kudos for remembering, Shannon—I mean Black Beauty. Usually code names don’t start until the door opens, but you are right, we can’t be too careful. We will go up the hill and head directly for those big bushes across the street. No one talk until we get there.”
“Wait, what the heck is on Blackjack’s face?” Shannon asked, her mouth hanging wide open.
“La piéce de résistance: my dad’s night vision goggles!” I exclaimed gleefully. I had put them on more as a joke than as something I thought I would need.
“They certainly are hideous. Soldier of fortune is not a good look for you,” Shannon said.
“They are heavy, that is for sure,” I said, taking the head gear off. I wrenched the strap off my head and saw Blair putting on a pair of black leather gloves.
“OK. OK. Enough with all this chatter. Blackjack—put those in the backpack. What’s so funny?” Blair asked. I couldn’t stop laughing.
“Sorry, I’ll pull it together. I just felt like a member of the A-Team for second. Or more like the B-Team. Do you want a cigar to go with your black leather gloves, Hannibal? I mean Black Hawk,” I joked, referencing Colonel Hannibal Smith, the leader of the A-Team.
“If you have a problem, if no one else can help, and if you can find them—maybe you can hire the B-Team,” Ruth said in a serious, deep voice. Shannon started to hum the overdramatic A-Team theme music and we all started laughing. A smile cracked Blair’s face.
“OK. I’m done. I’m ready. Must have just been nervous.” I took a deep breath and opened the big Oldsmobile door. The four of us huddled together as we walked down the street.
We crept to Fence View Road and to the sculpted boxwood bushes that served as our stakeout station. Patrick’s house had cedar shake shingles and a white columned portico with a white fenced balcony on top. Two trees flanked the white front door and the slope to the left was covered in a mixed shrub garden. There was a circular drive that gave the house the air of a country estate. Parked in front of the house was Liz’s Miata. Even I knew her license plate. It was 2 Cool—an obnoxious nod to her last name of Cooley. I was surprised, all right.
Through binoculars, we were able to look closely inside the windows. Over the portico, an arched window glowed from the center hall and two matching arched windows did the same around the windowed door. The other rectangular windows of the house were sporadically dark. Blair, holding her binocs in hand, zoned in on a room with the flickering light of a television and the blue glow of a computer screen.
We rearranged ourselves to get a better view. It had to be
his bedroom. There was a big Blown Away print by Steve Steigman on one wall and a red Corvette poster on the other. Blair was hardly breathing. She held the binoculars rigidly to her face.
“I see them moving around in the room that is just off of his bedroom. That must be the family room but the blinds are closed so all I see are their shadows,” Blair analyzed aloud.
After about five minutes, Shannon whispered, “I can’t see anything. What’s he doing?” She unwrapped a roll of TUMS she had in her pocket and popped a few in her mouth.
“Why don’t you try a higher view point?” Blair suggested. “You ARE the lookout. Climb this tree.” Blair pointed to a Japanese maple that covered us like an umbrella.
Shannon easily scaled the trunk and sat on a low branch. She settled into a spot and began reporting. “Patrick just walked in to his bedroom! He has a bag of what looks like Combos and is grabbing something on the computer!”
“Shhh…” Blair answered. “Where’s Liz? What is she doing?”
“I think he’s leaving the room. Is he leaving the room? Black Beauty, do you read me?” I asked. We all froze, waiting for Shannon to answer.
“Oh! Me! Wait! Yes! He’s walking out. He’s walking out the bedroom door! Now both of them are on the move! Oh! They are walking out of the house! He’s seen us!” Shannon whispered urgently. I couldn’t imagine how he could have seen us.
“That’s not him. That’s his dad coming out with their dog!” Ruth verified, holding the binoculars steadily up to her eyes.
“Black Beauty, get down! Get down!” Blair hissed to Shannon. “We have to get to the car!”
In her haste to get down, Shannon fell off the tree limb and landed on her back. A loud thwack sounded from under her.
“Shhh!” Blair steamed, glancing in Shannon’s direction.
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