by Merry Jones
As I stepped into some comfy sweatpants, Nick came in, bringing Luke for another meal. Telling me not to worry, Nick sat with us as Luke nursed. Whoever had been here had been in a hurry, had made a mess but hadn’t done much damage or, apparently, taken anything. A window in the dining room had been broken; that was how they’d gotten in. Nick went on, reassuring me, making it sound like no big deal that yet another crime had been committed in our home.
When Nick finished his update, he stood. “Well, if you’re okay, I’ll go finish straightening—”
“Wait,” I interrupted. “Tell me about Eli.”
Nick stiffened. His eyes shifted just a tad. “Eli?” Nick tried to sound confused.
“Please, Nick. Don’t pretend it’s all coincidence.”
“What are you talking about?” He sat again, blinking too fast.
“What am I talking about? Your brother Eli? Eli the former Ranger? Eli who was trained in Special Ops? You know, Eli the trained killer and suspected undercover agent is in town just when, by chance, a federal agent is cut open on your back porch. Then, the very night I find Eli skulking around in the dark, your brother Tony is mugged and threatened and searched by people who think he has something they want. The next morning the FBI shows up, and that same day the house is ransacked by people who are obviously convinced that something they want is here.”
“And you think this is about Eli?”
I met his eyes, didn’t say a word.
“Zoe, you’re stressed out. Anyone would be.”
“Do not condescend to me, Nick. You’re the one who told me the stories about Eli. That he was trained to be invisible, to eliminate problems and disappear. No one really buys the idea that he’s a freelance photographer—”
“Photojournalism”
I frowned at him.
“Okay. To tell the truth, Tony and I were just talking about this with Sam.”
“Sam’s back?”
Nick nodded. “His car is apparently undamaged.”
“So?”
Nick’s face was grim. “So. Tony is convinced that Eli has nothing to do with any of this. He insists that Eli has grown up and is just as he claims, traveling the world to cover interesting journalistic stories.”
“And you? What do you think?”
Nick sighed. “I guess it’s possible that Eli might have settled down. But I doubt it. The truth is Eli has a side to him …Let’s just say I wouldn’t be surprised if he were involved. Like you said, he’s had the training. He knows how to kill. And he’s capable of it. Sam thinks Eli’s some kind of covert agent, but he can’t begin to guess for whom.”
I pictured Eli, his strong hands. Dangerous hands. Holding my baby.
That same baby had fallen asleep in my arms. I carried him to his crib and tucked him in. Nick watched, waiting for me to say something, but I didn’t until we were out of the room.
“No matter what”—I met Nick’s eyes—”this is our home. It’s the place where our children live. If Eli has any involvement, I don’t care if he’s a federal agent or a spy or a photographer or your brother. I don’t care who he is. He needs to stay away or, I swear, I’ll turn him in myself.”
Nick reached for me, held me close, kissed my forehead. “I know.”
We stood in the hallway, hugging, but, even then, I wasn’t sure where Nick’s loyalties lay. I thought about Eli, the possibility that he was some kind of covert government agent, whatever that meant, and questions rushed through my mind. But with my head pressed against Nick’s shoulder and my body enfolded in his arms, I couldn’t ask them. I couldn’t find the words.
FIFTY-TWO
WE JOINED TONY AND Sam in the living room. Tony sat in the wingback, one leg twitching, but he couldn’t stay still. He popped up, moved a pillow, sat, twitched, got up again, straightened a cushion. Sam sprawled in the recliner, stroking Oliver, sucking a beer.
“We set all the furniture straight.”
Obviously, Sam had finished helping. Tony paced, circling the room, eyes darting around my knickknacks, making me nervous. “Looking for something, Tony?”
“What?” He sat again. “No, nothing. Just trying to, you know, figure out what they were looking for. If anything’s missing.”
I went to the shelves, began replacing collectibles. The Japanese doll from Uncle Dave had toppled in its glass case, which was on its side on the floor. Great-grandma Bailey’s mortar and pestle had separated and rolled behind and under the sofa. A Wedgwood vase, amazingly undamaged, sat upside down beside it. Nick helped me and, as we worked, the brothers talked.
“Zoe knows about Eli.” Nick handed me a crystal candy dish. “I told her what we’d been saying.”
“Wonderful.” Sam grunted. “Why not call the papers? Broadcast it.”
“Excuse me, Sam.” My hands were on my hips and my face was hot. “You’re in my house. Nick is soon to be my husband. It’s time you stopped treating me like I’m some outsider—”
Nick put his hand out, trying to calm me, but I was just getting started.
“I’ve had it with you three whispering behind my back. I don’t know or care about your family secrets. But if your brother Eli is putting my family in danger, I have a right to know about it, and if any of you is hiding that kind of information from me, I swear I’ll make you regret it.”
“Stop her, Nick. I’m scared.” Sam feigned fright, his hand clutching the puppy.
Nick remained silent, but I wasn’t finished. I demanded that they tell me what they knew. “So, what do you think? Do you think Eli was Agent Harris’ contact?” I looked from Sam to Tony, back to Sam.
“Who knows?” Sam shrugged. “Knowing Eli, he might have been. And he might even have knocked her off.”
“Stuff it, Sam,” Tony snapped. “Eli’s not an agent. And even if he were, why would he kill another agent? They’re on the same side—”
“Unless she was crooked,” Sam offered. “Or he was.”
“I’d like to see you say that in front of Eli.” Tony sat up too fast, held his ribs.
“If he’d show his face, maybe I would.”
“Trust me. He’s not involved.”
“Okay, girls, quiet down.” Nick finally spoke. He was putting my Japanese tea set back, piece by piece. “The fact is we don’t have a clue what happened. Or what role, if any, Eli has in any of it.”
“He was her contact, I’ll bet you a hundred bucks.” Sam gulped beer. “Maybe he didn’t kill her, though. Maybe her cover got blown and she got killed before she could connect with him.”
That was one possibility.
“Look, there’s no way Eli was her contact.” Tony was adamant. “He has nothing to do with any of this. Why does everyone always blame Eli?”
Nick dismissed him. “Stop defending him, Tony. You don’t know any more than the rest of us. Eli might or might not have been her contact. And he might or might not have killed her, for reasons we don’t know and can’t begin to guess. But no matter what, we know that Eli is a problem.”
“I’m telling you, Eli didn’t kill her.” Tony winced and held his side, gingerly repositioning himself.
“Hey—maybe Eli’s cover got blown just like the dead broad’s.” Sam ignored him, conjecturing. “That would explain him laying low, sneaking around in the dark. And it explains why Tony got mugged. The fuckers—excuse my French, Zoe—the fuckers thought he was Eli.”
“Point is”—Nick faced me—“there are a lot of possibilities, none of them good. Whatever Eli’s role is, the bottom line is that this house has become a focal point for the feds and whoever mugged Tony and killed the agent. We don’t know who they are. They might be spies or terrorists or drug dealers or space aliens. They have nothing to do with us, but they seem to have something to do with Eli. And since Eli is ours, his problems are ours, like always. Only this time, he’s gone too far. This time he’s endangered Zoe and our kids.”
Our kids. Plural. I was touched; Nick referred not just to Luke but also
to Molly as “our.”
Tony stood up again, defending Eli. “You guys. Eli is not responsible for half the stuff we blame him for—”
“And we probably don’t blame him for half the stuff he’s done, either,” Sam growled.
“But, like I said, this isn’t just about Eli,” Nick continued. “I agree with Zoe. This is our home. And now our home has been put into jeopardy.” He faced me, took my hand. “Zoe, you and the kids need to be safe.” His eyes were misty, maybe apologetic? “I think the three of you should move to a hotel for a few days. Just until things settle down—”
“Whoa, Nick—hang on.” Tony was suddenly animated. “That’s simply not necessary.”
Nick glared. “Says who, you? The expert on security and safety precautions? The one with the bruised ribs and smashed head?”
“No, seriously, hold on—cool it for a second.” Tony raised his hands, a peacemaking gesture. “Whoever wanted to search me has searched me—if they think I’m Eli, then they think they’ve searched Eli. By the same token, whoever wanted to search the house has done it. If they found what they wanted, they’re satisfied and won’t be back. If they didn’t find it, they know it’s not here, so they won’t be back. Either way, they won’t be back. Not for Eli, and not for the house.”
Nick rubbed his eyes and sank onto the sofa, deflating.
“You know? I think the kid’s right, Nick.” Sam stroked Oliver. “They blew their wad here. They’re done.”
The doorbell rang and Oliver leapt to the floor, barking, interrupting our family meeting. I started to get it, but Nick beat me to it. “You stay here.”
I didn’t. I followed him, asserting my own will. It was my house, after all. It had been mine for years before I’d even known Nick, and, at the moment, I didn’t appreciate being told what to do in it. Even so, when I saw who was at the door, I wished I’d stayed in the living room.
“What’s the matter with you people? Don’t you answer your phone? I’ve been calling all day.” Anna was carrying a dry-cleaning bag. Oh dear—I’d forgotten about my father’s tuxedo. I was supposed to pick it up. In fact, I’d forgotten the entire list Anna had given me. All day, I hadn’t thought once about, hadn’t done anything for, the wedding. Anna would raise hell.
But Anna didn’t raise hell. She stood speechless in our little foyer, gaping, appalled at the mess that surrounded her. “Good Lord. What have you done?” she accused Nick. “Look at that closet.” She hung the tuxedo in it, spinning around, scolding us. “And my God—what happened to the kitchen?”
Anna shed her coat and scurried around, picking up cereal boxes and dish towels, stacking plates and pots. The doorbell rang again. This time it was Susan.
“The verdict came in.” She beamed. “We won. I got him off.” She danced across the threshold, but her winning glow faded as she noticed that the disarray in my home was markedly worse than usual. “Good Lord, Zoe. What happened? The place looks like it was ransacked.”
Thankfully, Susan didn’t wait for an answer, because she glanced into the kitchen. “Is that Anna in there?”
I nodded. “Great.” Susan rushed off, joining Anna in the kitchen, introducing herself even though they’d met before. “Anyhow, you’re the expert; I’ve got a question: What are the rules concerning borrowed and blue?”
The two worked together, discussing what Susan should lend me for the ceremony: Would a sapphire count as both borrowed and blue, or did she need to provide two separate items, and, by the way, what piece would go best with Susan’s matron-of-honor gown, and where did she think the colander or the cake pans should go? Oh God. They were straightening up my kitchen. When they finished organizing it, I’d never find a thing.
While Anna and Susan tidied up, Nick and I were left alone, facing each other in the hallway. With the commotion, I could have left our conversation unfinished. But I didn’t want to. I’d thought about it, and I’d made a decision. I was going to tell Nick that even though I didn’t want to, if he thought it best I would honor his opinion and take the kids to a hotel. I never actually voiced that decision, though, because before I could speak, Nick put his hands on my shoulders, his grip gentle but firm.
“You’re right. This is your house.” His hands tightened, squeezing. “Stay home.”
“Are you sure?”
He nodded at the kitchen. “There’s a crowd here most of the time, so you’ll be safe. And Eli’s hanging around somewhere nearby; you’re probably safer here than anywhere else. He wouldn’t let anyone hurt you or the kids.”
I thought of Eli, his knife, and I saw again the gaping slices on Agent Harris’ torso. “But what if Eli’s not—”
“Forget Eli. Even if he’s not around, it’s like Tony says: Whoever these guys are, they’re done with us. They’ve been here and done their thing. They probably won’t come back.”
He kissed me, watching to make sure I was okay. Then, releasing me, Nick headed back to the living room, leaving me to deal with the kitchen, where Susan and Anna were having a heated argument about where to put my coffee mugs. Stepping into the kitchen, I slid in a puddle, realizing that, again, we’d forgotten to take Oliver out.
FIFTY-THREE
WEDNESDAY NIGHT, I LAY awake, spooned against Nick as he slept. He’d been especially attentive in bed, as if apologizing with his body for the upheaval his family had brought to us that week. His touch had been soothing and slow, his kisses lingering and gentle. His fingers lifted the tension from my back and neck; our skin melted together, merging with a healing warmth, synchronizing our heartbeats.
But after that, as Nick faded, I felt alert and restored. I felt him breathing, his steadiness. And I thought about the day, the conversations that had been unfinished. Nick had taken Molly, Luke and Oliver to the playground after school so that Molly wouldn’t have to see the state of the house. Tony was preoccupied with e-mails and his laptop, but by the time Nick brought Molly back, the team of Sam, Susan, Anna and me had all but restored the place to its normal level of chaos.
But, as we worked, I’d become more and more uncomfortable with Sam and Tony. The only reason they’d included me in their conversation about Eli was that I’d insisted. If I hadn’t, Nick and his brothers would have kept me out of the loop. In fact, secrecy seemed to run in Nick’s family. Eli, they said, had an entire secret identity, but what about the others? What did I know about any of them, really? It had taken a long time to uncover the truth about Nick’s past, his first marriage and dead wife who’d shot him. But what about Sam? Obviously, he was slippery, maybe devious.
Why was he so secretive about his business? And why did he carry a gun? How crooked were the deals he was always pushing? Could he be involved in not just investment scams but something bigger? Something that might involve contact with an FBI agent?
And Tony, the softer, less rugged version of Nick, was helpful, gentle with Molly. Tony had given me a back rub that had ironed out my kinks and relaxed muscles I hadn’t known were tight. But he wasn’t easy to know. Granted, being gay in a household of macho brothers, he may long ago have become secretive to protect himself and his privacy. But Tony had been the one person in the house to have contact with the dead agent. And he was also the person who’d been mugged by people he claimed not to know, who he’d said were looking for something he claimed not to have.
The fact was that it wasn’t just Eli who might have a double life. Neither Sam nor Tony seemed to be simply who he claimed to be. Nick, Sam, Eli and Tony were all, in their own ways and for their own reasons, devious. And, lying beside Nick, I became certain that, deliberately or not, one of them had endangered us all.
I was still awake, still contemplating that conclusion, when Luke woke up with a howl. I went to him and rocked him, but though I changed his diaper and nursed him, he fidgeted and cried, didn’t fall asleep until morning, so, once again, I was up all night.
FIFTY-FOUR
THURSDAY, THE MEN HAD to pick up Nick’s tuxedo and deliver my father
’s to him so he could try it on. Nick wouldn’t leave me alone, so he asked Anna to come over, even though I told him I preferred that she didn’t. All I wanted to do was sleep. But while I was sipping coffee and reading the press’ latest account of the unsolved FBI agent’s murder, Susan called.
“I’ll pick you up at ten-thirty for our girls’ day.”
I hesitated; I’d forgotten all about it.
“You forgot?”
“No, of course not—”
“How could you forget? I asked you days ago—”
“Susan, I didn’t forget; I just—”
“Forgot. Well, tough. We have appointments at eleven at Toppers and reservations at one thirty for lunch, so I’ll pick you up. Oh, wait—you fired Ivy.”
“Anna’s here.”
“That’s great. Is she going to fill in now?”
Fill in? “Susan. She’s an event planner, not a sitter.”
“But at least until the wedding. Without Ivy, you’re going to need somebody. Especially this week.”
Of course, Susan was right.
“Ask her. You’re her current project anyhow. I bet she’ll be happy to stick around.”
I was sure she would, remembering how she’d relished taking over my household and how the men had reacted. “I don’t know, Susan. She’s tough to be around.” I whispered it, in case Anna was listening.
“What are you going to do, hire a stranger?”
Susan was right. No strangers. Anna was pushy, but she was a known quantity.
So, as soon as I got off the phone, I decided. Anna was reliable and honest. I would ask her to help me at home, just until the wedding was over. There. At least that problem was solved. I went to the sink, put my coffee mug into the dishwasher and gazed out the window. The sun was trying to peek out of the clouds. Buds were bursting on the few spindly trees that lined the curb. Traffic was light. And Ivy was standing on the sidewalk, staring at the house. Oh Lord. What was she doing there? I went to the front door, opened it and stepped outside.