“You know the drill, Senator. They feed on anger and fear. Deny contact and you deny the gratification of any response.”
“To hell with the drill. Cara’s been hurt enough. This has got to stop.”
“We’re working on that, sir. But temper and emotion don’t help.”
Furious, Tate leaned forward, slamming a fist on the table. Then, just as suddenly, he recovered himself. “Fine. You’re right, I suppose.”
“What was the message this time, Cara?”
“How pretty Sophy was in her dance clothes and how Audra caused a scene when she disappeared at the museum today.” Cara stared down at her rigid fingers. “He said I’d never see him, but he’s always watching, always close. He said he’s watching right now.” She closed her eyes. “He wants to meet me.”
Tate stifled a curse. “If you even consider it, I’ll—”
Cara managed a wan smile. “I may be terrified, but I’m not crazy.”
“You’re not meeting anyone,” Summer said flatly. “From now on, I’ll take your calls at home when you’re here. We need to sever all his links, rile him up, and then wait for him to make a mistake.”
“What else do you suggest?” Tate covered Cara’s hands carefully.
“I’d like to assign a monitored cell line so we can trace his calls in real time. He’s fast at dumping phones, but if we establish a pattern of call locations, we’ll narrow the field. If he calls often enough, we’ll track him by his pattern.”
Cara nodded slowly, though Summer could see how she hated to give up her privacy. “What else?”
“Tonight your biggest job is to rest. Your girls need you healthy and clearheaded. So does your job.”
“Do you need something to sleep?” Tate asked. “If so, I can get you a prescription.”
Cara shook her head and stood up. “Does anyone want to join me in some warm milk? It always seems to work for Audra and Sophy.”
“I’ll pass.” Summer was glad to see Cara busy rather than pale and brooding. “By the way, Senator, you might want to phone your mother, since she was cut off.”
“Damn, I completely forgot. I’ll tell her I had an urgent call that came in on your phone, honey.”
Summer got up to help Cara while he placed his call. “Are you okay with this?” she asked quietly. “I can get additional security here, if you want.”
“Do you think that’s necessary?”
“At this point, no.”
Cara stirred the milk as it began to bubble. “Then don’t. Your other ideas were good. Let’s see what develops.”
Behind them, Tate hung up. “World War III averted. Amanda will call you tomorrow, honey. She wants more details on your dress.” He glanced out into the darkness. “And you might as well know that I’ve taken steps of my own. I’ve hired someone to keep an eye on you and the girls.”
“You did what?” Cara frowned at him. “You should have asked me first, Tate.”
“Maybe I could say the same thing about you calling in the FBI. But there’s no use arguing. The man I’ve selected is a pro, and he’ll get the job done.”
Like a good prosecutor, Cara seemed to be sorting through every nuance of his statement. “Can we trust him?”
“Without question. I’ve known his family forever and his record is impeccable. They don’t come any better.”
“Having another stranger around will upset the girls terribly, Tate.”
“Just hear me out. Then we’ll decide what’s best.”
Summer didn’t like the idea. Wild cards made her uneasy. “You’ve run a complete background check, sir? If you pick the wrong man, this could backfire badly.”
“I’m aware of that.” Senator Winslow watched Cara pour hot milk into a cup. “Don’t worry, the girls will like him. So will you.”
Summer heard quiet footsteps out on the porch. Three light taps came at the door.
Odd that there had been no sound of a car. Probably the senator had contacted an old law school crony with a few years in the reserves and a yen to play James Bond, but too many players put any mission at risk—especially when the players were amateurs.
She tried to think of a simple way to hatchet the plan without upsetting the senator. Because hatchet it she would, without question.
When Tate went to the door, Summer leaned forward, trying to see outside. The senator moved aside, clasping a broad shoulder encased in a worn gray sweatshirt.
The sweatshirt and the well-muscled shoulder belonged to Gabe Morgan.
Summer sat back, frowning. “But you told me that you were—”
“Gabe Morgan, landscape and general contracting. That was my arranged cover. Under the circumstances, the fewer people who know my real status, the better. But I’ve been watching you work and the way you carry yourself. I’d say you’re a professional.”
Summer nodded curtly. “FBI. We need another professional on the grounds, not an amateur.” Summer watched Gabe’s eyes narrow, growing frosty.
She ignored his scowl as small details fell into place. The memory of how he stood in a motionless stance, legs slightly apart, weight perfectly balanced. The way he always kept his left side to the senator, so his right arm was free. The way his sweatshirt bagged slightly at his waistband.
The man was carrying, she realized. And the man was a pro.
Even now he stood wary, powerful and silent in the doorway. This was no ex-law-school pal. Gabe Morgan was in prime physical shape, and he carried more than a few scars on those powerful shoulders she’d glimpsed as he emerged from her shower.
The cold professionalism in his eyes, gave away no secrets and Summer wondered how many men had stared into those cold eyes as they’d fought a swift, silent death. “Well, that little joke is on me.” Summer’s tone made it clear that no more jokes would get past her.
The senator motioned Gabe to bring up a chair. “Sorry, Cara, but we knew it would only make you more jumpy. When you told me about the box, Gabe and I decided it was time to bring you into the loop.”
Cara’s voice was icy. “So all this time you were working for Tate? How nice of you both.”
“Gabe is here as a personal favor, honey.” The senator took her hand. “I know how hard this is, and believe me, I know exactly how much it hurts to give up your privacy. But Gabe has plans on how to upgrade the security here. I’ve got to make some calls, and I’d appreciate if you’d hear him out before you snap off his head and mine.”
Cara poured Gabe a cup of tea and held it out. “Nothing personal, but I’m trying to keep my head above water, and it keeps getting harder.”
Gabe took the cup with a nod. “Understood, ma’am. You’ve got your job to maintain and your family to protect. I can help you do that, but you’ll have to take precautions.” Gabe looked at the senator, who nodded and left the room, cell phone to his ear.
“What kind of precautions?” Cara asked quietly.
“Tomorrow you have a new lock installed at your office.” He sat back, fingers clasped. “Keys only to you and your assistant. I’ve had her checked out, by the way, and she looks clean.”
Cara made an irritated sound, then shook her head. “Em would murder me if she knew. Go on, Mr. Morgan. Let’s hear the rest.”
“No one in or out of your office without your approval, and all visitors announced by your assistant.”
“Ms. Mulvaney advised the same thing.”
Gabe looked at Summer. “I’m glad to hear it. Next, I’d like a list of everyone entering your building today, along with everyone who works on your floor.”
Cara tapped the paper in front of her. “Here’s the floor list. I’ll have the complete building roster tomorrow.”
“I assume there are security cameras in place.”
“Not that I know of.” Cara frowned. “They may be hidden, of course.”
Summer made a note in her book to rush a requisition of all security tapes for Cara’s building.
“Possibly,” Gabe continued. “Most p
ublic buildings have multiple levels of surveillance since 9/11.”
“I can ask—”
“No need. I’ll make a few calls tomorrow. The fewer people involved, the better.”
The man was pretty good, Summer thought grudgingly. Was he CIA? Quantico HRT? Secret Service? With the senator’s connections, he could be any one of the three. But even then, she didn’t like the thought of turning over her responsibility for the family.
Gabe pulled a blueprint out of his black ballistic nylon bag and anchored the sheet with teacups. “The main points of access to the house are here and here. I’ve added an exterior motion detector by the rear kitchen door and put in an alarm to sound in my quarters. I also suggest glass-break sensors on all the downstairs windows. To be absolutely safe, the upstairs windows should be wired, too, but that’s your call.”
“Go ahead,” Cara said tightly.
Gabe tapped six more points on the blueprint. “I’ll install monitors on all your major downstairs windows. These should be operational by tomorrow morning.”
The bushes outside those windows limited the range of efficiency for motion detectors, Summer knew. “Pressure plates, I take it?”
“Set to notify me wherever I am. I’ll relay any information to you, of course.”
Summer pointed to one corner of the blueprint. “There’s a cellar on the west side of the house that needs to be blocked off. I checked earlier and found no interior access, but I want a more careful look tomorrow.”
There was a hint of respect in Gabe’s eyes. “So you noticed that. We’ll check it out together.”
Not a polite suggestion, but a command.
Summer frowned at Gabe. “What about these small windows near the pantry and the first-floor landing?”
“I’m setting up an interior motion detector to cover that area, but I doubt anyone will try for access there. The windows are too small.”
“Second floor?” Summer shot back. “There are eighteen windows up there.”
“A realtor’s dream and a security nightmare.” Gabe looked at Cara. “I’d suggest wireless monitors upstairs.”
“Do it.”
“That means no more sleeping with the windows opened.”
Cara smiled grimly. “Summer has already given me an ultimatum about that.”
“What about that big tree outside Audra’s window?” Summer tapped the blueprint. “A well-trained intruder could be across a branch and inside in seconds.”
Gabe’s eyes narrowed. “I’ve got someone coming by tomorrow. He’ll see to it that there are no branches with access to the windows or the roof.”
You’re good, Mr. Morgan, Summer thought. But I’m better. “There’s also the small balcony off Ms. O’Connor’s bedroom. Access is possible via the garage roof.”
“Already noted. I’d like to nail that balcony door shut. Then I suggest we wire the porch and roof with motion sensors.”
The senator returned and sat down next to Cara, who looked more tired than ever. “Do what you have to,” she said. “I find I’m not in the mood to use the porch anymore.”
Summer pushed aside her tea. “What else?”
“I’ve set up a surveillance camera on the front door.” Gabe’s eyes narrowed. “It’s imperative that all of you check outside before opening the door.”
Cara nodded slowly. “I’ll talk to the girls. Thank God, tomorrow’s Friday, and I’ll have the weekend to explain to them. We’re going to have to postpone the ceremony, too.” She took a deep breath. “More calls to make and questions to answer.”
Gabe glanced at Tate Winslow.
Uh-oh, Summer thought. What next?
“We’ll discuss postponing the wedding later.”
The senator cleared his throat. “I want to take you and the girls up to the ranch in Wyoming this weekend, Cara. You know how quiet it is and how much the girls love riding. It will be better if Gabe’s team can tackle all these security upgrades without interference.”
“Go to the ranch? But—”
“I’ll fly us up.” Tate slid his arm around her shoulders. “We can be there in time for a late dinner and my ranch hands will provide all the security we need. No one will get past Bud and his men.”
Gabe’s jaw worked up and down, which left Summer thinking he didn’t like this part of the plan. “Sir? May I remind you that these men are not professionals.”
“You’ve made your point, Gabe. But we’ll handle this part my way.”
There was a momentary silence. “Understood.”
“Ms. Mulvaney can help the girls pack tomorrow so they’ll be ready. After breathing in that clear mountain air and taking in a few world-class sunsets, you’ll feel like a new woman.”
“I hate it when you manage me,” Cara said. “But the ranch sounds like heaven.”
“One more thing. What if Gabe and Ms. Mulvaney take a little trip of their own?” Tate took her hands. “Down to Mexico.”
Cara stiffened. “Absolutely not.”
“We need them to check out the clinic. This is the best time, while we have a security team here at the house and the girls safe with us at the ranch.”
“No.” Cara frowned. “It could be very dangerous.”
“We’ll have a good cover story,” Tate cut in. “Gabe had done some research on the place. Ms. Mulvaney could pose as his wife while he investigates the programs at the clinic. They will, of course, need to look around and scrutinize the facilities.”
Gabe sat forward, nodding. “While we’re there, I would plan to make contact with one of the clinic’s staff, who may have information for us.”
Cara closed her eyes. “Even in prison, Costello is a dangerous man. Assuming that he’s behind this, he’ll have people watching the clinic. Probably informers among the staff, too.”
“Honey, you can count on Gabe to get in and get out without being detected.”
“And Summer?”
“I’ll see that she’s safe, ma’am.” His face expressionless, Gabe pulled a map from his nylon bag. “Say the word and we start our preparations.”
Cara stood up slowly. “I wish I had another choice, but I don’t.”
“In that case, we’ll leave you to it.” Tate nodded at Summer, then followed Cara out into the hall, where their voices drifted away.
Summer drummed a hand lightly on the table. “Just for the record, I’m not window dressing, Morgan. If this is going to work, you need my help.”
“And I assume I’ll get it.” Gabe unrolled a map of Mexico. “But I also made a promise that you wouldn’t be put at risk. You’d strictly be present as my cover.”
“I’m releasing you from that promise. I’m trained, and I can protect my own butt perfectly well. Meanwhile, I’ve got security rounds to make.”
Gabe followed in silence as Summer keyed the alarm for a delayed exit. The alarm light began to blink, and he remained at the door, waiting for her to leave first.
“Is this turning into some kind of infantile testosterone match?” Summer’s voice was tight.
The alarm continued to count down.
“Well?”
“Not on my part.” Gabe muttered something under his breath and walked out in front of her. “But when the testosterone starts flying, you’ll definitely know it.”
chapter 11
U pstairs in the small room at the north end of the house, Audra eased out of bed, fully dressed. Liberace raised his head as she passed, then settled back down in his cage. Down the corridor her mother was speaking quietly with the senator as they stood outside the master bedroom.
Funny, the way the two of them acted. Like lovers, only trying hard to hide it.
But Audra wasn’t a kid. She saw how they looked at each other and how they kissed with a lot of tongue when they thought no one was watching. Audra was pretty sure they were sleeping together, but not here in her mother’s house. Probably they went somewhere else, like maybe the senator’s town house or even to a hotel.
Thinking
about that made Audra feel hot and funny. She didn’t like it when her friends asked her things about the senator, like wasn’t he handsome and did she think he was a good kisser. For God’s sake, he was going to be her stepfather, so what was she supposed to say?
But underneath Audra was curious, even though she didn’t want to be. Her best friend, Tracey Van Doren, said that being curious about sex was no big deal. Her mother had been married four times and since each husband was younger than the last, Tracey had been curious a lot.
Audra wondered how it felt, having a man all the way, completely inside you. Sure, she’d done some experimenting with boys. Some of them were friends of Tracey’s, and the kissing had been exciting and really cool. But the other stuff had gotten weird. Afterward, she’d felt—
Empty.
She frowned at the darkness, listening to her mother’s door close. Were they finally going to give in and stop this stupid charade that they weren’t really lovers?
Audra heard low footsteps in the hall, then the senator’s quiet voice as he passed her door. Talking on his cell phone, probably to Washington or Paris or Bangkok. She had to keep reminding herself how important he was. And she liked him—really liked him, almost more than she could remember liking her real father, who had been a jerk. Especially when he was drinking.
Audra didn’t want to screw things up, either. Her mom was pretty cool—for a mom. She deserved to be happy with an important man like the senator, who could actually sit and listen to what you had to say without smirking and being clueless like most grown-ups.
Down inside her jacket her cell phone chirped loudly.
Damn.
Audra answered quickly, keeping her voice low. “What?”
“Hey, I’ve been waiting down here on this damned lawn for twenty minutes, freezing my butt off.” Tracey sounded irritated. “Where the hell are you?”
“My mom just got to sleep, okay?”
“No shit. Is he banging her right there in the house?”
“Shut up, Tracey.” It bothered Audra a lot when her friend said dumb things like that. Worst of all, it made Audra feel like some kind of traitor. But they had been friends since they were three, and Audra was pretty sure Tracey didn’t mean it. All the tough words were just a cover for The Fear.
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