“I was going through the pictures from Claudio before I gave them to Kevin and I saw—”
Her phone buzzed again and she quickly rose. “I have to meet up with Mrs. Jennings’s limo. Sorry, Bec. We’ll have to talk later.”
“But—”
She was out the door and gone before I could object. I couldn’t just leave this. It was too important.
I bumped into Case in the hallway.
“Agent Case, I know something about—”
“Later, Miss Jackson,” he said, pushing by me to get downstairs to meet Mrs. Jennings.
Collins simply held up his hands when he passed me as I opened my mouth. “Not now.”
Really?
Frustrated, I sought out Ortiz, meeting her on the stairs. “I need to—”
“Mrs. Jennings will be here any moment.” She started to brush me off, just like everyone else, but I wasn’t going to be dismissed again. Besides, she owed me.
I grabbed her arm, stopping her. “It’s important! I think I know what’s going on—who’s after Mrs. Jennings and who put Parker in the hospital.”
That stopped her. She looked at me with agent eyes; they revealed nothing. “I have to stand watch by the front door, come with me. And keep your voice low, we don’t want to get everyone all excited until we know what we’re dealing with.” She checked all the front windows and peered out the door, down the street. With a look of satisfaction, Ortiz strolled over to the front desk where amazingly, Francesca sat for once. Ortiz spoke low, and slowly—the scary voice—and punctuated every word with a finger tap on the desk.
“Do. Not. Move. From. This. Spot. We clear?”
Francesca couldn’t bob her head fast enough. Maybe Ortiz should’ve been Francesca’s watchdog instead of mine.
The agent moved off to the side of one of the large windows, her eyes continuing to scan outside. “Spill.”
“I was looking at Claudio’s pictures. There was this man who was at all of the sites where Mrs. Jennings was having photo shoots, and I think that Mrs. Jennings’s cape was bugged with a GPS. I have a photo—”
“What exactly did you see?”
Ugi and Joe passed by, arguing in Italian. I waited until they were gone to answer.
“A shiny, silver button. It looks like a tracking device.”
She stared at me blankly for a moment, then did a fast glance around the room. Mostly everyone was upstairs; only Ortiz, Francesca, and I were in the front part of the building. She pulled me closer.
“We put it there, in case of something like what happened at St. Peter’s Square. Whenever anyone in the First Family travels, we do that in case our barrier is breached and they’re taken hostage. Unfortunately, there was a malfunction and I had to yell.”
“Oh.” Of course they would track her, especially in a large crowd, it made sense. That still didn’t explain my silver-haired policeman. “But what about the guy? He—”
She made as if to put a finger to my lips. “There are more agents around than the obvious ones.”
Right. Like Parker and Candace.
“Don’t say anything. Mrs. Jennings hates being tagged, so we have to be subtle about it. And Candace will get angry if she even thinks that a layer of cover has been compromised.”
Her fingers on my arm were almost painful. After the Vatican incident, the last thing Ortiz must have wanted was more alone time with Candace.
“Okay, Ortiz, loosen up.” I pried her fingers off. She held her hands up and backed up a step.
“Sorry. This has been the worst assignment for bad luck.”
I wouldn’t argue that.
“Don’t worry, Bec,” Ortiz said, her voice calmer, “it’s not a perfect system, but we have a lot of failsafes.”
I should have felt better, but I didn’t. Their backup security measures hadn’t worked in the square—that had been luck. But I took a little comfort that here in the office, and with the agents around, the First Lady would be safe.
“I should go help upstairs.” Ortiz waved me away and returned to her vigil.
I helped Kevin and Sophie prep Mrs. Jennings’s last wardrobe change, that simple sheath dress in effervescent green, paired with the oversized gold disc earrings and a gleaming pair of nude patent leather Louboutin pumps, the red sole shiny, new, and unworn.
I pushed the rolling rack with the dress and accessories into the models’ changing room, which had been thoroughly cleaned just for Mrs. Jennings. Finished, I backed out, closed and locked the door.
Moments later, the other agents came in, surrounding Candace and the First Lady. The dressing room was inspected again before Mrs. Jennings and Candace went in. We stood by, waiting for them to come out, when I heard Nelson order Dante to wait by the door.
Earlier someone mentioned that today was payday; the checks were messengered over by the bank. Would there be one for me? I could use the cash.
I went down to the reception desk. There he was, holding a large envelope.
“Hello, Bec.”
“You’re early,” I said as Francesca signed for it.
He peered past me at the agents milling about in the common area.
His eyebrows shot up. “She’s still here?”
I drew in a slow deep breath, trying not to draw attention to us. Thank God she was leaving right after the interview. I was beyond ready for this all to be over with. Tomorrow I was declaring a free day and demanding to see Parker.
“Just wrapping everything up.” I put my hand on his arm. “I’m sorry, but you can’t be here now.”
He leaned over to whisper in my ear, his lips brushing the lobe. It sent tingles down my spine. Only Dante—and Taj—could do that to me.
“Can I take a peek?”
Before I could refuse, his face suddenly hardened. He wasn’t looking at me, but someone behind me.
“I thought only authorized people were allowed in here today,” said Taj.
He said it loudly enough for Case and Nelson to turn around—and come over to where we were all clustered together.
Through clenched teeth, Dante said, “See you later, Bec. After everyone’s gone. Maybe we can go to a club tonight. By invitation only. My cousin Antonietta is the hostess.”
“Maybe another time. I don’t know how long this is going to take.”
“Ciao, Bec.” His voice was tight, but thankfully he didn’t make a scene and left the office. Taj flashed his signature smirk. So much for easing international relations between those two.
I went upstairs just in time to see Mrs. Jennings come out of the dressing room looking more astounding than she had in the past three days.
“The best yet,” said Lidia, a proud and beaming smile creasing her face.
Mrs. Jennings laughed softly, then made her way into the studio. I followed along with everyone else. Even though so much preparation had been done, it seemed like there was no end of things to do. Ugi and Joe fawned over Mrs. Jennings while Angelo adjusted his camera and grumbled at Aldo for the thousandth time for being lazy. I thought that Serena would be happy now that she was finally allowed to be in on things, but she only slunk around the studio frowning and demanding changes.
“Angelo!” she snapped, “we need more light on Mrs. Jennings. I don’t want any shadows on her face!”
Angelo’s neck turned red—I could see it from across the room where I tried to stay out of the way.
“You don’t worry, Serena, Angelo Bardoluciano make her perfetto!” he boomed with a hand flourish. Then he began mumbling none too softly in Italian. I was guessing it was about knowing his job; Angelo didn’t take instruction well.
Serena’s next victim was Varon, standing next to the door, out of the way of the frantic traffic of Kevin, Sophie, and Aldo fetching things.
“You’re in the way, we need space to work!”
While Mrs. Jennings raised a brow, Varon’s face remained impassive, but he crossed his arms over his chest. “I’m where I need to be.”
B
etween the black look on her face and her screechy voice, we all knew Serena was wound tight today.
She peered at Mrs. Jennings, then walked with calm deliberation to Joe’s station. She fumbled around with his stuff as he pleaded silently with Varon for help. Varon’s gaze stayed on Serena. A second later, she was making a straight line—scissors poised in her fist—toward Mrs. Jennings.
I was frozen, but my mind raced. It had been Serena! She bought the cables taking out Parker’s car, and now, demented, she was going after the First Lady.
Collins leapt forward, tackling Serena while Ugi screamed and threw himself into Joe’s arms.
Thud!
Serena and Collins hit the floor. She was dazed as Collins yanked the scissors out of her hands, his knee on her chest, pinning her to the floor. Nelson and Case had jumped in front of the First Lady, their bodies protecting her and guns drawn. Ortiz and Mignone blocked doorways, also with guns aimed at the editor.
“A thread!” Serena wheezed. “There’s a thread hanging from the underarm of her dress! It needs to be snipped! Everything has to be flawless!”
Almost everyone turned to look at Mrs. Jennings. She lifted up her arm, and there was the sinister string.
Poor Serena was still on her back, splayed out in an unflattering position with her arms and legs spread-eagled.
“I wasn’t going to hurt her!” she cried, “I’m sorry! I only want to make sure it’s perfect.” She looked at Candace, frantic and wild-eyed. “Unlike some people, I care that it’s perfect!”
Now she was all-out sobbing, and I felt sorry for her.
“Let her up, slowly,” Candace ordered. Collins holstered his gun and pulled Serena up none too gently.
“Can … can I go to my office?” she stuttered. Tears streaked her face, ruining her teal green eyeliner.
Candace nodded. “Collins, get her out of here. And she’s to stay in that office.” Candace turned slowly around, her eyes resting on each person. “Everyone not needed, out. I will call you as you’re needed. Joe, you stay and touch up Mrs. Jennings’s hair. Ugi, you’re next, so don’t go far. Aldo and Angelo, is the equipment set up and ready to go?”
They both nodded.
“Wait in the hall. Move it, people!”
Sophie, Kevin, and I hurried out, Taj walking behind, unrushed.
“Taj, I’ll call you in after our writer does her interview. Stay close,” Candace said.
He nodded and joined our group outside. The door was left open enough so we could hear but not see the interview. Ortiz stood guard downstairs, Mignone at the studio door. Collins was probably keeping a sharp eye on Serena in detention in her office. Nelson, Case, and Candace remained with Mrs. Jennings.
“Can you believe Serena?” hissed Sophie. “What was she thinking?”
“That’s the closest she’s gotten to Mrs. Jennings since she arrived,” Kevin mused wryly.
I shook my head. “And that’s as close as she’ll ever get.” Was Serena involved in the plot?
“I’m going to check on her.” Sophie looked at me and Taj, then elbowed Kevin in the ribs. “Don’t you think you should also?” She wiggled her brows up and down.
“Uh, yeah. Of course, sure,” said Kevin. Sophie rolled her eyes and grabbed his hand.
Taj and I were finally alone, but he didn’t so much as look my way. I stood there, uncomfortable being so close and feeling so far. I swallowed and headed for the stairs, but he snagged my wrist, stopping me.
“Nerves,” he said simply, crooking up one side of his mouth.
I nodded shakily, unsure of whether to stay or go.
He withdrew his hand. “I have to go over my notes.” He stared at me a few long moments and turned away.
That was my cue to leave. I went downstairs to the common area, no longer caring about the interview. Obsessed with working out the clues I’d collected, I tapped them into the notes app on my phone:
1. Parker and the First Lady looked alike. It was easy for Parker to have been mistaken for Theresa Jennings.
2. Whoever caused the accident was tech-savvy enough to know how to access a car’s electronic systems and alter them.
3. Serena bought computer cables that could be used to connect to a car. She put them on the company expense account, yet there were no new cables in the office.
4. Serena didn’t have, or didn’t appear to have, any kind of technical expertise, but how-to info was easily obtainable.
5. She’d been high strung from the moment Candace and the agents arrived; she’d gone loco over a thread today.
6. Parker may have seen something or someone right before her accident, but she was in no position to tell us what or who.
7. The Man was present before and during Mrs. Jennings’s visit, showing up almost everywhere, and wherever Taj was.
8. Taj was very tech-savvy. He could easily have pulled off the car hack, but he hadn’t been here.
9. Dante was courteously persistent about meeting the First Lady.
10. Dante was a good driver and navigated Rome’s treacherous streets with ease.
11. It had been Dante’s idea to go up on the crumbling Pantheon roof and take pictures.
12. Dante had cousins throughout Rome, even in the Vatican guard.
13. Serena, Parker, and Dante all knew each other; and Taj, Candace, and Parker all knew each other, but there didn’t seem to be any suspicious connection.
14. Kevin, Sophie, Ugi, Joe, Aldo, Angelo, and Francesca seemed to have no connection to any of this other than that they worked at Edge. I ruled them out as suspects.
15. Taj was a virtual ghost—neither I nor any of my friends could come up with anything other than the most basic of info on him.
16. Was the cyclist at the Pantheon targeting Taj and somehow involved?
17. The cape Mrs. Jennings wore to St. Peter’s Square was tagged by one of the agents, but they didn’t seem to have any backup systems when it didn’t work.
I scrolled through the list I’d made. Nothing seemed to connect. I couldn’t point a finger at any one person, which meant the First Lady was still in danger and I was no closer to figuring out who caused the accident.
I felt like I had to do something. Walking as fast as I could without running and inciting the twitchy agents to tackle me, I went upstairs, ignoring the suspicious looks first from Ortiz, then Mignone.
I heard Taj’s voice. His interview was well under way.
“Tell us the truth—did you really try to sneak into the Smithsonian and try on every available inaugural ball gown?”
Mrs. Jennings laughed, then demurely evaded the question. Taj asked one or two more, and then the interview ended with Candace thanking her. I was anxious for Mrs. Jennings to leave, even though it was kind of sad to see her go.
“Excuse me,” said Taj as he followed Mrs. Jennings, Lidia, Candace, Case, and Nelson downstairs. “Would it be possible to get one picture of the First Lady across the street in the piazza? Just one—I can’t use any of the Edge images. I need to have my own photos for the blog.”
He looked respectable—and irresistible—in his pristine and crisply starched robin’s egg blue shirt, open at the collar, cashmere vest, and gray suit, which fit every angle and contour of his perfect body. Who could say no to him?
Candace.
Hands on hips, she turned to him. “You don’t have any pictures from the last few days? Why not? You had plenty of opportunities.”
“It’s okay, Candace,” Mrs. Jennings said. “Taj can take a few quick photos. It’s the least I can do for him for helping retrieve my cape,” she said, flashing a winning smile. “It’ll only take a few minutes. And the cars are parked right there, aren’t they, Case? I can duck right in.” She started walking, which meant the matter was decided.
With a stony face Case muttered, “Yes, ma’am.” He and the other agents weren’t happy about this change of schedule, no matter how small.
“Thank you, Mrs. Jennings,” Taj said, making a litt
le bow.
Amidst the mumbling and frowns, Nelson and Case went ahead to check out the piazza, Ortiz led the escort, and Candace followed. Mrs. Jennings asked Taj to walk with her so they could talk, Collins and Mignone at their sides, while Varon and I followed last. Kevin and Sophie were upstairs babysitting Serena. I couldn’t wait to see Mrs. Jennings get into the limo and drive away, safe.
When we stepped outside, it was late afternoon. The light was soft and the heat of the day was dissipating. Ortiz crossed to the middle of the street to divert any traffic while waving everyone over. Taj took a few candid photos of Mrs. Jennings with the rustic houses as a backdrop. Then he had Candace pose with her.
“Thank you so much, Candace. I know this visit wasn’t easy,” said Mrs. Jennings.
“It is always a pleasure to see you, Mrs. Jennings,” said Candace.
The First Lady turned to the rest of us. “And it was nice to meet and work with all of you. Try to enjoy the rest of your stay here—it is a beautiful city.”
My smile felt forced, I was tired and fidgety.
Case opened the door of the car. Nelson was at the wheel. Mrs. Jennings paused and turned to Taj. “Did you get enough pictures?”
He motioned to her to stand in the middle of the street. “Just one more.”
She posed in front of one house with boxes of dripping flowers. It would be a stunning photo. Taj lifted his camera to take the shot.
Bang!
An explosion of sound and smoke engulfed us. I heard screams and shouts and coughs. My eyes burned and teared as I gagged on the smell of sulfur. Even though my ears were ringing, I heard the pounding of frantic footsteps. I waved my arms frantically until at last the smoke began to thin.
And then it became really clear—Taj and Theresa Jennings were missing.
TRICKS AND TIPS FOR THE EDGE-Y GIRL
You know the old rule—if you’re going to splurge, put it in your hands or on your feet. Whatever you wear, make your bookends count. A fabulous bag and a great pair of shoes pull any outfit together.
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Panic erupted.
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