Gunning for the Groom

by Debra Webb

  “I can just imagine the staff’s opinion of our meeting.”

  “I’d do this for any one of them,” Sophia replied.

  Frankie raised an eyebrow.

  “Well,” she amended, “maybe not this, precisely, but I take the time to know what’s going on with my people. Now, tell me what you had in mind.”

  Frankie wondered how many surveillance teams Sophia had at her disposal. “I haven’t had dresses in mind at all,” she said. There wasn’t room for much beyond her determination to clear her father. “No ruffles,” she added, when her mother gave her an anxious look. “Simple is better.”

  “Clean lines. Got it.” Sophia nodded and turned to the rack. “What about lace?”

  Frankie struggled to come up with any fashion terms applicable to wedding gowns. “Wasn’t your dress lace?”

  “Yes,” she said quietly. “It was fashionable at the time.” She unzipped one of the garment bags. “Let’s start with this one.” She handed the gown to Frankie. The curtains that blocked the window to the rest of the floor were already closed. She locked the door and motioned for Frankie to undress.

  “Here?”

  “Our next appointment can be at the boutique with champagne and the works.” Sophia waved her hands. “Come on, sweetie.”

  Frankie thought about the burn scars on her thighs and the surgical scars on her back and sides. She hadn’t let anyone see them since the rehab hospital declared the wounds healed. “Can we just look at the dresses today? I’m not comfortable doing this in here. At the office,” she added, hoping to appeal to her mother’s work ethic.

  Sophia studied her with one of those X-ray gazes only mothers possessed. “What is it? Talk to me, sweetie.”

  How could Sophia have her followed—possibly mugged—one minute and turn the office into a bridal boutique the next?

  “It’s not how I imagined it, that’s all. I haven’t imagined it,” she said, hoping the right words would tumble out of her mouth if she kept talking. “You know I was never the little girl who dreamed of walking down the aisle.”

  “Is it the scarring?”

  Frankie shivered at Sophia’s astute guess. “No,” she lied. That was only vanity, anyway, though she’d forever think twice about wearing shorts and short skirts. “When my friend Jack got married, his wife had one of those big princess gowns with the, um, little tucks in the skirt.” Jack had died in the attack that left Frankie wounded and paralyzed, but his wedding was the only one she’d attended. Hopefully his widow would forgive her for surviving.

  “Here.” Sophia put a bridal magazine in her hands and nudged her toward a chair. “Flip through that and dog-ear the pages that appeal to you. Don’t analyze, just gut reactions.”

  Frankie obeyed, ignoring the slide of zippers and whooshes of fabrics behind her. Where was Aidan when she was in real trouble? Muggers were no problem compared to a determined mother of the bride.

  “All right, turn around.”

  Again Frankie cooperated, helpless to remain aloof as Sophia beamed in front of a wall of white. “Do any of these resemble what you marked?”

  There were gowns of every style, from a bell-skirted ball gown to a sleek and modern sheath with a band of sparkles at the waist. “Is it even possible to walk in a mermaid gown?” Frankie asked.

  “I’ll teach you, if it’s the one,” she promised. “All the more reason to choose early.”

  Unconvinced, Frankie walked over, standing by her mother to assess the dresses in the lineup. “I guess I like the sweetheart neckline,” she said, flipping to a page in the magazine showing a similar style.

  “Very romantic,” Sophia said approvingly as she reached up and moved that dress to the far left. “Anything else?”

  “I do want to try on an extravagant ball gown,” Frankie admitted. “Just for fun. Aidan would laugh if I wore it,” she lied. He wouldn’t laugh, because they weren’t getting married.

  “Not a chance,” Sophia declared. “I’ve never seen a man so adoring.”

  Frankie let that go, choosing two more gowns and handing her mother the magazine. Then she noticed the last dress. “Mom,” she whispered. “That’s your wedding dress.”

  Sophia smiled. “Your father swayed on his feet when he saw me. He never admitted it, but I was sure there were tears of joy in his eyes when I walked down that aisle. There’s no pressure at all, but it might be a nice way to include him on your special day. We were married in May,” she said, her voice full of memories. “It might not be right for a September wedding.”

  Overcome, Frankie barely kept it together as she promised to try on the column of lace with a chapel train. She endured the calendar search for the right date for the boutique and then escaped to the safety of her office.

  She leaned back against the closed door, her heart lodged in her throat and her hands quaking. Ages ago, when they were stationed in Europe, she’d gone ice-skating on a frozen river, her mitten-covered hand safe in her father’s big palm. She remembered that day so clearly, the bite of the wind, the squeal of laughter when he spun her around. She remembered standing hand in hand with him weeks later, watching from the bank as the thinning ice cracked and split, to float away with the current.

  She felt that way now. Cold. Fractured. Drifting on a course she couldn’t control. She wanted to know which woman was the real Sophia Leone. Was it the savvy businesswoman who hired covert teams and kept state secrets, or the warm mother devoted to her family? Were Sophia’s two sides mutually exclusive? Frankie caught her reflection in the window glass, hating the haunting similarities between mother and daughter.

  She’d told Victoria the truth mattered above all. Ideally, she wanted to clear her father’s name. Barring that, she wanted her mother’s full explanation for the part she’d played in his downfall. Suddenly, Frankie wasn’t sure what truth she wanted or even how far she was willing to go to hear it.

  She should just march down the hall and confront her mom, demanding an answer for each of her suspicions. But giving in would be selfish and blow any chance of justice. A confession without evidence was useless. Worse, if she was wrong, she’d destroy her relationship with her mother—something she’d been so sure she could live without. Now the possibility of that finality frightened her.

  Frankie turned away from the window and dropped to the floor behind her desk, where no one could see her. On her back, she pulled her knees to her chest and just rested there, searching for a solution.

  When had doing the right thing become so twisted and complex? If her mother went to prison for her crimes, Frankie would be alone. If she told her mom everything and was wrong, she’d face the same solitary fate, with an extra helping of guilt for doubting her mother’s motives and actions.

  The statement from the safe-deposit box was clear. That picture from Iraq didn’t lie. The conversation Frankie had overheard an hour ago confirmed something wasn’t right.

  She heard Aidan’s voice in her head, urging caution. The only time she’d mastered patience was during her navy career. Aidan had been involved in all this for a few days, while Frankie had been dealing with the storm cloud looming over her life for far too long. So why was she thinking about walking away? Could she spend the rest of her life pretending she’d come to terms with how her father died?

  Which took precedence, family or country? She’d been raised by two people who preached the philosophy of God, country and family, in that order. Had her upbringing been a lie, and if so, what did that make her?

  She closed her eyes, but her mother’s face filled her mind. All her life Frankie had heard people say she had her mom’s beauty and her dad’s grit. She’d chosen the navy in an effort to make her own way, outside the reach of her father’s influence and her mother’s shadow.

  What did it mean that so much of her identity and perception of self was t
ied up with two people who as of a year ago felt more like strangers?

  Her office door opened with a soft squeak of hinges and Frankie opened her eyes. She might be new, but no one should feel free to walk in here without knocking. That someone had come snooping might turn into the break she needed.

  She sat up and startled Aidan. “What are you doing?” Her question overlapped into his inquiry about whether she was all right or not. “Stop asking. I will let you know when I’m not feeling well.”

  “You’re on the floor,” he pointed out.

  She clambered to her feet, hating the way her hip seized in the process. “I was thinking.” He raised his eyebrows, but she refused to elaborate. “What brings you by?”

  “Your mom suggested I take you to lunch.”

  “Why?”

  “Beats me.” He shrugged. “I’m just following orders.”

  “She’s deliberately keeping me away from work today.” Frankie made a fist and rubbed at the sore spot in her back. Rolling down the slope with the mugger had tweaked something. Not enough to matter, just enough to annoy.

  Aidan looked to the ceiling. “She’s watching out for you. She saw the police report.”

  “I heard.”

  “I’m glad she told you.”

  Frankie nodded. “Thanks for sticking up for me.”

  “Any fiancé worth his salt would do the same.”

  She was suddenly exhausted. “Is it bad form to go home early my second day on the job?”

  “You’re the boss’s daughter.” He tucked his hands into his pockets. “Let’s have lunch and then you can ask me again.”

  During lunch, she told him about the conversation she’d overheard between Sophia and Paul. She kept the impromptu wedding dress exhibit to herself.

  “I’ll see what I can find on the team tailing us,” he said. “Knowing Sophia planted them startles me.”

  Frankie let him have his objective delusions.

  “Apartment or office?” he asked, when they finished eating.

  “Office. I’ll be damned if she keeps me out of there all day long.”

  “Frankie.”

  “I promise to behave, but I will get what I came for.” It helped knowing he’d be researching, as well.

  Back in her office, she sat down behind her desk and debated her options. There had to be something definitive. Something she and Aidan could agree on about her mother’s involvement with her father’s ruin.

  What Frankie had considered black-and-white, starting with that damaging statement from the safe-deposit box, was becoming a foggy bank of gray. She was tired of words that weren’t answers, weary of incomplete theories rolling around in her head. Frankie’s focus narrowed to finding one inarguable piece of intel she could use to force her mother to talk.

  She pulled up the research on crime trends and client services Leo Solutions had provided since opening its doors. Then she pulled up the current proposal. Present or past? Which research would pay off sooner?

  Mentally, she flipped a coin, and wound up combing through her mother’s email, for lack of any other option. Her mom was too smart to leave anything that might implicate her on the company server, but Frankie just wanted to see what was there.

  The email address from a doctor caught her attention and Frankie dug a little deeper. The message, forwarded from Sophia’s personal account, confirmed an appointment this afternoon. Frankie worked her way back through the correspondence, easily tracking the old trail of emails. Researching the doctor, she discovered he was a psychologist and her mother the patient.

  Frankie wanted to give a victory shout. Something like this, in the wrong hands, could push Sophia out of the company and into an early retirement. As Paul had said earlier, investors and clients didn’t like any sign of weakness at the top.

  “Prepare for a shock, Mom,” Frankie whispered. It would be a matter of a few keystrokes and Leo Solutions would be in serious trouble. “The truth will come out.”

  Better if she could figure out the connection and compel her mother to be honest—for once since her dad had died. Noting appointment dates, she was surprised they went back so many years. This wasn’t a short-term grief counselor her mother had consulted to overcome anxiety during the recent family struggles. This was a long-term doctor-patient relationship that went back to when they’d moved to Seattle.

  Troubled, Frankie switched gears, learning as much as she could from the doctor’s website, skimming through articles ranging from marital counseling to drug abuse recovery and just about everything in between. She noted the shrink’s address and clicked for directions. Visiting the office wasn’t likely to get results, but it would give her a bit more leverage when she talked to her mom.

  Frankie sat back, assessing the discovery. Sophia had been seeing a psychologist for years. One more skeleton lurking in her mother’s closet. Did it have any bearing on the statement she’d written to ensure that General Leone was convicted of treason? Every step forward led to two sideways and one back.

  Why would her mother see a psychologist?

  The little girl inside Frankie wanted to deny her parents had dealt with marital trouble. They’d rarely fought and as far back as she could remember they’d always been close. Marital problems didn’t explain why Sophia was still keeping the appointments.

  Frankie’s agenda app on her computer chimed with an alert for the afternoon meeting. Grabbing her company tablet, she headed for the conference room. The meeting was a simple status update on current antivirus and malware solutions. When asked, Frankie shared an update on recent cyber crimes and the latest scam alerts she’d gathered.

  She listened, watching as Sophia took notes by hand, asked questions, then moved along to the next topic. It was a rare glimpse of her in full business mode.

  “Thanks, everyone,” her mom finally said, flipping her notebook closed. “Keep up the great work.”

  Frankie caught her eye as the others filed out of the room. “One more thing, if you have just a minute?”

  “Sure.” Sophia gave her bright, happy smile. “You seem to have a handle on the job.”

  “It’s great,” Frankie said. “I was curious about our association with medical and mental health providers. Do we have products or programs to assist them?”

  “We do,” Sophia replied, unfazed. “Is there a particular area of concern?”

  Frankie wanted to believe the doctor was a client now, but she’d seen the emails. “No.” She swallowed. Why did she feel so terrible lying to her mom, when Sophia never told the truth? “I was just curious about the potential within the market,” she said. “I have a few contacts that could benefit from our encryption products.”

  “Go on and talk it over with Sales if you have some ideas,” Sophia said.

  “Now? On my own?” Frankie wondered how her mom would slip out of this.

  Sophia gave her an odd look. “I’d go with you, but I have another appointment. You can manage.” She started for the door, only to turn back. “Did you and Aidan decide on a venue for the reception while you were at lunch?”

  Frankie felt as though she was caught in a never-ending game of hide-and-seek. “No.” She almost admitted he hadn’t brought it up.

  “Oh. That’s fine. It will depend on the timing of the ceremony, too. We’ll talk later tonight, okay?”

  “Sure.” Dread slithered between her shoulder blades as Sophia walked out.

  Frankie didn’t want to think of reception venues or anything else, and not just because this engagement was a farce. When she found the right guy and decided to marry, they were going to do it right and elope. It wasn’t as if her dad was around to give her away, and she wouldn’t want her wedding day shadowed by the secrets and lies her mother carried around.

  Weddings were supposed to be celebration
s of love, not burdened with bitterness and emotional baggage.

  * * *

  AIDAN WORRIED ABOUT Frankie the rest of the day. It was clear her patience was gone, and he used every spare minute of his afternoon to do the research that would give her the answers she needed. The pain and confusion in her eyes bothered him as much as the sharp glint of determination. The woman was drawn as tight as a bowstring and last night’s attack put him right there with her. He didn’t believe the mugging was random. They’d managed to threaten someone, but who and how?

  Trusting his gut instincts, he used his phone and booked a hotel room under a different name. After work they could buy her a new phone and get checked in. They wouldn’t spend the night—that would be too much temptation—but they could talk without fear of being overheard. He’d make sure they each had a key in case either of them needed an escape hatch.

  With only a half hour left in the workday, he sat down at his desk to address reports and office email, and to continue his research on his real case.

  He proceeded carefully, knowing he garnered more attention from both partners because he was the fiancé rather than a typical new hire. He and Victoria had been exchanging emails since he left Chicago. She was searching for the mysterious man who’d pointed Frankie to the safe-deposit box, and Aidan was digging into Leo Solutions and their clients. Someone close to the Leone family had motive enough to embarrass and destroy them. The more he studied General Leone’s service record, the more the treason charge baffled him. It felt like a smoke screen for something else. The more time he spent around Sophia, the more convinced he was she and Frankie had been used, as well.

  Frankie had seen her father at Bagram, when Sophia was sure he’d been in Kabul. Sophia had claimed responsibility at the graveside, but the statement without more support was meaningless, though Aidan had passed all that on in his daily reports to Victoria.