Deadly Dossier

by Josie Brown

  Jack nodded, taking it all in.

  Sort of. What he was really thinking about was how he might be able to sneak the recipe book back into some unopened box in her garage.

  He’d climb over the far backyard wall, enter the garage through the side door, and be out in no time. Piece of cake.

  Then he’d head down to San Diego to take care of Rodriguez, which would be a bit harder, what with all his bodyguards, and it being a public place—not to mention it would have to look like natural causes.

  Mrs. Stone had made the right decision to stay out of the game.

  Maybe it was time for him to cash in his chips as well.

  He was not alone.

  He’d just gotten up on the brick wall when he saw the figure emerge from the little girl’s playhouse in the middle of the yard.

  What…the hell?

  Jack went flat on the wall. It was a full moon, but whoever it was hadn’t seen him—not yet, anyway. The man, dressed in black, had a ski mask over his face, and was wearing infrared goggles.

  He was also holding a semiautomatic rifle.

  As the man made his way to the back door that led into the kitchen, Jack slipped over the wall—

  Landing in a pile of leaves.

  The intruder had just opened the screen door when he heard the crunch of leaves and turned around.

  Jack dropped onto his belly. Despite having a suppressor on his Glock 21, the last thing he wanted to do was have a shoot-out in Donna’s backyard.

  The other guy wasn’t so concerned. The man’s head turned as he scanned the yard. Jack didn’t move a muscle. Hell, he didn’t breathe. But when the man raised his rifle and aimed directly at him, Jack knew he’d been spotted.

  He was a sitting duck.

  Jack saw the flash from a gun—not from the rifle, but from another gun pointed out the French door of the upstairs balcony, off the master bedroom.

  Donna shot at the intruder.

  She must have hit him, too, because the man groaned in pain. It wasn’t a fatal shot because he stumbled toward the wooden picnic table, upturning it and ducking behind it just as a second shot ricocheted off one of its planks.

  It took the intruder a second to realize what was happening. When he did, he shot back at her. She must have ducked, but he was spooked enough that it gave Jack the few crucial seconds he needed to pull out his gun.

  That’s when he heard the child crying inside the house. It must have been the youngest daughter, Trisha. Had she been hit with a ricocheting bullet?

  A second later, the yard and house lit up, and an alarm wailed.

  The guy limped away, through the side of the yard.

  Jack didn’t follow. Donna’s security system was hooked up to the Hilldale police. A symphony of police sirens could already be heard. They were getting closer by the second. A single man trying to leave the gated community, either by car or on foot, would surely be questioned.

  From his cell, he called Nola’s phone. She picked up after three rings.

  “House of Utopia,” she answered in a singsong voice.

  “I’m parked in the White BMW sedan in the alley between Avery and Maple. Meet me there so that you can escort me out of the ruckus.”

  Nola let loose with a husky chuckle. “I thought you’d never ask.”

  By the time she strolled into the alley, the sirens had stopped, but even from where he stood he could hear the hum of the crowd milling around the police cars in front of Donna’s house.

  Nola hopped in beside him. “Did you set off Donna’s alarm?”

  “Yes, but I wasn’t alone. Someone almost did a B and E on the Widow Stone’s place—and he was packing heat.”

  “You think it’s the Quorum, don’t you?”

  Jack nodded.

  Nola pursed her lips. “I’m sorry I didn’t catch it on the monitor. But a girl’s got to take shower sometime—”

  “Don’t blame yourself. The place has been a graveyard for a year now. I wish Donna’s dog, Lassie, was a real watchdog. Arnie and I had no problems making friends. She didn’t even bark at the shooter in the backyard.”

  Nola shivered. “And they say it’s safer in Suburbia. Ha! These houses sit on almost full-acre lots. Even if you’re able to scream, no one will hear you. I’m going to requisition an attack dog from Acme. One with sharp fangs. A German shepherd.”

  “I’m sure Ryan won’t have a problem with that.” He started the car’s engine. “I guess we can’t avoid the hubbub, since it’s the only way to the security gate. Once we’re a few blocks beyond it, I’ll let you out, and you can walk home.”

  Her mouth puckered into a pout. “And you call this a real date?”

  Nola sat close enough to put her arm around his shoulder. When they drove slowly past the crowd, she muttered, “Slow down and look the other way while I speak to an old boyfriend.”

  The beau was one of the cops on crowd control. He lit up when he saw her.

  “What’s all the fuss, handsome?” she asked sweetly.

  He frowned to see her with a male companion, but when she smiled up at him, he only had eyes for her. “Your neighbor across the street had a possum or something set off her alarm. At least, that’s what she thinks.”

  So, Donna was doing her bit and covering for Acme, Jack realized.

  “See what passes for excitement in these parts?” Nola pouted out loud before upping the wattage on her smile tenfold. “Speaking of excitement, don’t be such a stranger, Officer. You know how I feel about hard…metal.”

  Jack sighed as he rolled down the street. “You never fail to amaze me,” he muttered.

  She nodded, satisfied. “That’s what they all say.”

  He’d just hit the 405 going south when he remembered he still had the box he’d taken from Donna’s Aunt Phyllis. If Donna ever went looking for her recipe book, even if she couldn’t find it in her own garage maybe she’d remember her aunt’s pack rat mentality and check the old lady’s garage. Besides, Phyllis’ house was in Pasadena, right off the I-10. From there, he could hit the road to the I-5 and take it south into San Diego for the fun and games of the Rodriguez hit.

  I can’t believe Ryan would think Donna would find this sort of life exciting, he thought. But he had to admit, it beat hanging diapers out to dry.

  Chapter 19

  Bona Fides

  The items carried on an agent as proof of his claimed identity is called his “bone fides.”

  It may be formal identification, such as a driver’s license, a passport, a marriage license, or an employee pass—all forged.

  It may be photos of an agent, digitally altered to superimpose images of him with others of merit, who, in reality, he’s never met before.

  It may be written endorsements from others.

  So, how do you know if the person you meet is “the real thing?”

  Assume the worst. Ask questions later.

  That way, your heart stays in one piece.

  Welcome to Relationship 101.

  By the time he circumnavigated LA’s highways to Phyllis’ tiny cottage in Pasadena, it was after two o’clock. As he’d hoped, the house was dark and still inside. The door to the garage wasn’t even locked.

  He found one of the boxes marked SHIVES, nudged aside the tape holding it shut, and crammed the recipe book deep inside. Just as he slid it back onto the shelf, he was hit with the glaring garage light.

  Aunt Phyllis stood there with a baseball bat in her hand. “Jeez, guy! You’re lucky you’re not a raccoon.” She squinted at him. “Who the hell are you, and what are you doing in here?”

  “We met when I was doing the research on your…er…sister’s husband. For my client’s last will and testament.” Jack gave her a wide smile and prayed she’d remember.

  Aunt Phyllis squinted even harder. “Ah! You’re that guy? Heck, wouldn’t have known you if I passed you on the street. I’m blind as a bat without my glasses.”

  “You’d given me some mementos and I wanted to ma
ke sure to return them to you.” He pointed at the box now holding Donna’s cookbook.

  She frowned. “At two in the morning?”

  “I’m leaving town. You were my last stop.” He knew better than to lie to her, even without the bat in her hand. “You’re right, I guess I could have left it on the front stoop, or in the mailbox or something, but I was worried that it was too important to just leave anywhere.” He reached out with it.

  She took it with one hand. The other took his hand and squeezed it. “I want to thank you for finding my niece. I guess you know she was the heir apparent after all! In fact, she got the first check just yesterday. It couldn’t have come at a better time for the poor thing. You see, her husband left her—just took off out of the blue—and she’s been paralyzed with grief.” She shook her head angrily. “Maybe having a little financial independence will give her the gumption to admit it to herself and get on with her life.”

  Jack patted her on the back. “Well, then, I’m glad to hear that they moved on the paperwork as quickly as they did. I guess I should let you get some shut-eye. Good night, Ms. Lindholm.”

  She held onto his hand and murmured coquettishly, “You know, my original offer still stands.”

  “You mean…” Aw heck, he thought, is she coming onto me? If I insult her, I’ve got to duck fast. She’s still holding that bat—

  “Yes, silly! Of course I do!” Seeing his shocked face, she added, “You know—introduce you formally, to my niece.”

  As much as he’d love that more than anything in the world, he knew he couldn’t.

  There would come a time.

  Hopefully, sooner rather than later.

  “I get it,” she said with a giggle. “You like playing hard to get. That’s okay,” She looked at her watch. “Before you take off, you can at least come in for a piece of pie. In fact”—she winked slyly—“Donna made it herself.”

  He thought about it for a moment. What the heck? He’d never see this woman again.

  For that matter, he’d probably never see Donna again, either.

  He had nothing to lose. And yes, he was hungry. If spending an hour with her aunt was as close as he was going to get to her at this point in their lives, then so be it.

  “Do you know what goes great with pie?” Phyllis asked. When he shook his head, she sighed rhapsodically. “Martinis! I’ll whip up a batch of those as well…Young man, it’s not polite to laugh at a woman my age. In an hour you’ll soon find out I’m a lot funnier after I have a drink or two in me. Hey, if you play your cards right, you might get another story or two out of me, about Donna—not that I’m trying to set you two up or anything…”

  Jack’s head felt as if he’d been KO’ed with a sledgehammer. He opened one eye, and found himself staring at the ceiling.

  It wasn’t the ceiling of his Venice Beach apartment, either.

  Moving his neck was just too damn painful so he focused on the pattern of the ceiling tiles until he realized he had somehow made it back to Acme headquarters.

  He breathed a sigh of relief that he wasn’t in Phyllis Lindholm’s house either. He didn’t know how he’d let her talk him into all those dirty martinis. During Donna’s vetting, had he known how many war stories Phyllis had about her niece, he would have just come over with a bottle of Grey Goose, some vermouth, and a jar of pimento-stuffed olives, then hit the record app on his iPhone and let her chatter on. It would have saved Emma at least a week of research.

  Even now, one story in particular—about some boy who’d gotten fresh with Donna while she was a freshman in high school, and how she’d dealt with him—seemed so fresh in his memory, so real to him, that he could actually hear Donna’s voice in his head.

  But then he realized he wasn’t imagining it.

  She was there, in the room with him.

  He lifted his head to discover he was sprawled out on one of Acme’s conference room tables. He was alone, and the door was shut. So, why was he hearing Donna’s voice?

  Then he saw her—with Ryan, through a two-way mirror. They were sitting across the table from each other in the conference room on the other side of the wall.

  What the hell was she doing there?

  “I want in.” This time, there was no hesitation in her voice.

  “Hmmm. Well…” Ryan’s words trailed off, and he blinked. Twice. Then he frowned.

  Jack breathed a sigh of relief. Good, he sees it as a sign that she’s fickle, and he’s not going to give in.

  Donna must have realized this too. Arching a brow, she muttered, “Don’t tell me you’re having second thoughts about the offer! What, have you filled your mommy quota for the month or something?”

  “Part of your charm has always been your sense of humor. No, Donna, we are always on the lookout for good field ops. And quite frankly, I can’t think of a better candidate for what we need. Your ‘mommy’ status is the perfect cover. And the fact that you already know how to shoot is a bonus, but–” He stopped abruptly. “Tell me, Donna, have you ever killed anyone?”

  Her eyes flashed angrily, but she kept her cool and forced a shrug. “No. Why do you ask?”

  “Because once you make the decision to join Acme, there’s no looking back,” Ryan warned her. “I just want you to be perfectly sure that you won’t regret the choice you’re about to make.”

  She didn’t speak. She didn’t have to. The little telltale signs Jack knew so well were all there. When the pupils of her eyes darkened a shade, she had dredged up a past hurt. The tip of her tongue through her lips was her shorthand for determination. Whenever she pushed the hair behind her right ear, she signaled she was ready to move on, with no regrets.

  As these three signs played out before him, he realized that no matter how badly he wanted to protect her, he couldn’t stop her from what she had to do:

  Take down Carl’s killers.

  To do that, she’d need Acme.

  And yes, Acme needed her, too. The way she handled herself with the killer in the yard was proof enough of that.

  Affiliating with Acme will keep her from being the last thing she wants to be—a victim, Jack thought.

  He could understand that perfectly.

  He realized, right then and there, that he had no right to stand in her way; that no matter how badly he wanted to protect her from others, he couldn’t protect her from herself.

  “My bottom line is this, Ryan—I’m not spending the rest of my life as a victim. All I'm asking is that you give me a chance. It's the least you can do.” Donna said it in the same tone she used on her children when she wanted to make it clear to them, in no uncertain terms, that they weren’t going to get their way.

  Then she rose and started for the door.

  Donna had almost reached the threshold when she felt Ryan’s hand on her arm. “Okay, tell you what. Come back tomorrow, say, around ten. I’ll put you on the shooting range to see if you’re as good as Carl claimed. Then we’ll take it from there.”

  She was wearing that take-no-prisoners smile Jack had come to know and love. “That will work. Trisha is at her nursery school until two.”

  She shook his hand. Then, impulsively, she gave him a kiss on the cheek too.

  Ryan blushed bright red.

  Jack laughed out loud.

  She certainly knows how to play him, Jack thought. I would have made her work a little harder for it.

  Almost as if he’d heard Jack, Ryan tapped his side of the mirror then motioned for Jack to join him.

  So, he knows I’m in here, Jack thought. That’s just…great.

  He rolled off the conference room table and onto his feet. Time to face the music.

  He walked in to find Ryan staring out the window. Without turning around to look at Jack, he said, “Grab a seat. Sorry we woke you.”

  “It was worth it.” Jack puckered up and made a kissing sound.

  Ryan shrugged. “You’re jealous.”

  “You’re right. And you’re going to regret the decision to hire h
er.” He reached in his pocket for his wallet and took out the one-hundred dollar bill Ryan had handed him just the other day.

  Ryan held it up. “Want to go double or nothing on that?”

  Jack smiled. “You’re on.” Jack pocketed the bill. “I’ll need it to cover expenses tonight, in San Diego.”

  Ryan snorted. “From what I’ve heard about the girls in that club, you’ll need more than that. See my assistant about petty cash.”

  As Jack hit the threshold, Ryan added, “Jack, remember—if Donna makes it all the way, it’s because she wants it that badly.”

  Jack nodded, but he didn’t look back.

  By the time Jack made it back up to Los Angeles, Ryan had Donna’s shooting range targets hanging in his office. Beside all the perfect bulls eyes to the heart, there were a couple where the groin area had been blown to smithereens.

  That gave Jack a reason to smile.

  Ryan didn’t say a word as he watched Jack’s eyes take this in, but the smirk on his face said it all: upping the ante had paid off.

  Ryan was just as proud about her perfect physical, clean-as-a-whistle background check, and her passing the psych evaluation.

  Jack shook his head in disgust. Out of the corner of his mouth, he muttered to Emma, “Looks like teacher’s got a new pet.”

  “Frankly, I’ll be ecstatic if she’s able to go all the way at the Farm,” Emma declared. “What happened to Carl was sad. And the way she found out was awful! I can understand her wanting to be in on whatever it is we have to do to take the Quorum down.” Emma stopped, as if she’d just thought of something. “Hey, if she does, I’ll finally get to meet her, face-to-face. And you will, too.”

  He shrugged. If Donna ever knew the role he played in Carl’s murder, he’d be the last person she’d ever want to meet.

  The only way to make it up to her was to take down the Quorum.

  He had a lot of work in front of him.

  Chapter 20

  SERE