“I can’t believe you! What’s wrong with you, Flynne?” Erika’s eyes widened and she jerked out the first tranq dart as she growled, “Is Keith really going to see Mark?”
Flynne stowed the gun and rose. “Yep.”
As she fumbled for the second dart, her movements just a little less precise, Erika began swearing. Beginning with the mildest epithets, she cursed Flynne up one side and down the other. By the time she extracted the second dart and dropped back to her chair, Erika had run out of curses and gone into hyper-vocabulary mode. Her voice slurred as she fumbled for her phone. “—can’t believe some rogue agent got me. It’s insane.”
This time, Flynne smiled at the words. She stood and confiscated Erika’s phone. “I’ll take that.”
The ten minutes she expected it to take her to get Erika into the car and on the road stretched into twenty as she taped, tied, and dragged their best agent’s girlfriend out the door and into the backseat of her car.
With a duffel bag of Erika’s clothes and all the food she could pack quickly from the cupboards and fridge, Flynne started for the door. The sight of Erika’s phone on the counter prompted a new thought. She snatched it up and sent out one tweet from Erika’s Twitter account.
Two
The dossiers of three potential clients lay open before him. Mark leaned back in his chair, fingers templed under his chin, eyes riveted on the one tiny spot where the painting crew had either missed or wiped away fresh paint. About the size of a dime, he often found himself staring at it. Thinking. He thought of it like the “spot” a dancer uses to keep herself balanced and keep dizziness at bay.
It worked, too.
Well, it worked until Flynne’s knock interrupted his thoughts. “Come on in. Back so soon?”
Keith Au—um… Shafter walked in. “Flynne isn’t out there.”
“She’s out to lunch.” He sat up and grinned at his favorite agent. “What can I do for you?” Mark gestured toward the blue chair Flynne hated so much and then froze at the look on the man’s face. “What is it?”
“She said you needed me here to check out—”
Every foul word in every language he knew rose to the surface, but Mark respected Keith too much to let even one fly. Something deep inside niggled, hinting that he should respect himself that much, but he managed to remember that he didn’t have time for introspection. “She did, huh?”
Mark ripped the handset from its cradle and punched a single button. “Hey, hey, hey! Leave a message. No promies, but maybe it’s your lucky day and I’ll call you back.”
His scowl must have been telling. “Went to voicemail?”
He nodded.
Keith’s lips thinned and his jaw went rigid. “Could that be because it’s sitting on her desk?”
“What?”
Without a word, Keith stormed from the room and returned before Mark could even step away from the desk. He wiggled the Anime-cased phone. “Sitting right there… on her desk. Next to a pile of books, a Kindle, water bottles…” He stepped forward. “And how did she go to lunch without her wallet?”
Dropping back into the chair without looking might not have been the smartest move. Mark fumbled and nearly landed on his backside instead of in the chair. He pulled up office monitors and scrolled back until he saw Flynne exit. Slower, he slid the bar all the way back to the moment she’d exited his office for hers—unnecessarily, of course. Seeing things in reverse doesn’t hide facts.
“You’d better come see this.”
The minute Flynne reached for the first bundle of cash, Keith barked out two orders. “Pull up that surveillance she was so worried about and unjam my phone.”
Mark complied… and sent messages to Tyler and Raina. Get in my office now.
The two agents burst through his door and nearly ran over Keith as he paced in front of the desk. Erika’s phone rang… and she obviously didn’t pick up. In one fluid move, he made another call. Mark listened.
“Hey, Ralph? I need you to do something. Now. Go to Erika’s place, and see if her car’s there—if she’s okay. Call me right back.” Keith paused before nodding an answer “Ralph” couldn’t see. “Yeah. Emergency. Go.”
“You don’t think—?”
Keith nodded. “She took cash, tranq supplies, and what did she do in that corner?”
Mark scrolled back, but no matter how close he zoomed or which angle he looked at, he couldn’t tell. “I don’t know.” Both men pushed their way into Flynne’s office, and only when Mark nearly bowled over Tyler, did he hear the younger man shouting.
“What’s wrong? Where’s Fly—?” Tyler froze. “Why does Keith have Flynne’s phone?”
At Keith’s glance, Mark nodded. He’ll handle this better than I would, anyway.
“Tyler, you used to work in this office.” Keith pointed to the empty area. “What would Flynne put over there?” He cleared his throat. “Or rather… what would she hide over there?”
His gut sinking into his shoes, Mark stared at the space. It looked empty enough—to the untrained eye. But artwork hid seams in uneven panels that slid aside. Behind them—office supplies, the office’s shredding and recycling area, and locked files. Agent files.
While Tyler rattled off these things to Keith, Mark slid open the panels and used his access codes to get into the firesafe file boxes. Not one looked askew. He counted. Every agent had two sets—by year and by surname. All but one were there. That one was in his desk—he thought.
Keith dug through shredded bits of paper that couldn’t be reassembled if you wanted to for any sign of what had most recently been shredded. A hopeless attempt, but Mark understood why he tried. Meanwhile, he sent Tyler for the missing file. “I just need to be sure it’s there.”
Their new agent stood there, arms folded over her chest. “Can someone tell me what Flynne did? The girl’s a whiz with tech stuff, but c’mon? She speaks in emojis or something. Is she smart enough to—?”
The three men spoke in unison. “Yes.”
Keith added. “Just smart enough to know how to create a nightmare for the rest of us.”
Tyler returned with the file. “It’s here—looks complete to me.”
A tingle ran up Mark’s spine, but he had to hide all signs of nerves. “Tyler, sit.”
Her cocked eyebrow showed Raina’s thoughts. “Does he speak and roll over, too?”
One of the men said, “Stuff it.” The other, “Shut up.”
When Tyler asked what to do next, Mark answered with the only thing he could think of while his mind worked out other problems. “Go over every bit of that desk and tell me what’s wrong—including why you think Flynne would leave each of those items there and fill her backpack with cash—need to know how much is missing—tranq gear, and burner phones.”
“If she took all that, there wasn’t room for any of this.” Tyler flipped open the wallet. “She’s missing her visa card and her driver’s license.” One by one, he checked every item on, in, and near the desk. “Something’s gone… He closed his eyes as if trying to remember. When he shook his head, Mark’s heart sank into his shoes as well. “Sorry… can I see the surveillance footage? I might notice something there that isn’t now. Or vice versa.”
Keith’s phone rang. He grabbed at it with more desperation than haste even. “Yeah? What’d you find?”
It only took a second before Mark knew what Keith would tell him. Erika was gone. Another second passed before Keith quit staring at the screen and turned it to face him. There Erika’s phone lay on the tiny counter. Abandoned. Fear, amazement, and confusion swirled in what once had been his gut. The full reality of the situation hit him. She’s done it. She’s actually done it, hasn’t she?
He hated to say it, but Mark had to. “Tell him how to grab it with a Ziploc bag.” Keith hesitated, waiting… and Mark knew why. He closed his eyes and gave the order. “Keith… find Flynne. Take Raina.”
As if oblivious to the cold storm raging in his heart, spring wildflowers dotted green meadows on
each side of the Dolman highway. Keith gripped the steering wheel with unnecessary force as he inched the speedometer past sixty-five to seventy. The engine informed him it wouldn’t go much faster, but he accelerated just a smidge anyway.
“Don’t kill your car, or we’ll never get there.”
Keith shot Raina a sidelong glance, scowled, and held the car at seventy-five. As much as he hated to admit it, she was right.
“Sweet ride…”
Maybe you’re not so bad after all.
“But I’d have thought you’d have a car with decent speed in your line of work.”
“Instructors don’t need fast cars to get to and from their jobs.” If he bit the words between gritted teeth, who could blame him?
Another two miles passed before she spoke again. “Why do you live way out here?
They crested the rise in the road that hid the stretch of Hearthfield Way from southbound traffic, and he relaxed just a little before answering. “Privacy. I’m dead, remember? I can’t be seen by anyone who knows me.”
“So, that’s what’s up with the beard. I don’t get guys and their beards.”
“I don’t either, but Erika loves it.” If he closed his eyes, Keith knew he’d be able to feel her hand stroking it before kicking him out the door at night. Only the knowledge that he’d probably total his car kept him from indulging.
They took the corner to Hearthfield Way much faster than he ever had. Gravel flew in an arc in his rearview mirror. Right out of a movie. Erika’d like that.
“Keep us alive, Shafter.”
Keith started to inform her that he’d never lost anyone. His jaw clamped shut at the memory of a tiny woman with a ferocity to intimidate any man. He’d failed her. That knowledge still rankled. “I’ve never made a reckless driving mistake.” There. At least that was true.
“You’re about to now. And for what?”
That question nearly got Raina ejected from the moving car. I really need to invest in some cheesy spy gear—a button I can press that opens a secret panel in the roof and ejects unwanted, mouthy passengers.
When she pressed again, Keith just said, “I need to get there, okay? This is serious.”
“Didn’t say it wasn’t, but kill—”
Maybe it was wrong—he didn’t even know anymore—but Keith just demanded she be quiet. “Look out for kids.” Despite every intention of shooting past the entrance to the town square without slowing, he crawled past the stores and streets until he entered the empty area between settlements one and two. He shot forward again, spinning his wheels as he rounded a corner.
“Keith!”
“I meant it. Shut up.”
Erika’s tiny house did its level best to loom in the distance, but nothing the size of a modest storage unit could be that imposing. When he slowed, Raina gasped. “Is that like a temporary place until she builds—?”
“It’s her house. Stuff it.”
“Stop treating me like some—”
Keith jerked into the drive and came to a jarring stop. He turned to face Raina and almost didn’t blast her. Almost. “Then stop disrespecting my friend, our client, and the woman I love.”
Her hazel eyes glared back at him. Will I ever get used to those light eyes with her mahogany skin?
“What?”
“Sorry… I can’t wait for you to meet Erika. She’s going to love you.”
The scowl returned and Raina turned to open the door. “Whatever.” Despite her display of nonchalance, by the time she caught up to him at Erika’s door, Raina asked, “Why?”
“Why what?”
“Will your girlfriend like me?”
He unlocked the door before answering. Glad Flynne locked it anyway… “You are a lot alike, I think.”
After that, she could have told him she’d hidden Erika away herself, and Keith wouldn’t have heard it. He stepped inside and pulled out his gun in one smooth movement. Unnecessary—perhaps, but Keith didn’t know what to expect.
His phone buzzed—Ralph. “Yeah?”
“Sorry, had to go. I can come back if you need me, but I think Annie ate some bad chicken. I’d like to stick around here—”
“We’re good, but thanks. Say hi to Annie for me. I’ll pray for her.”
The moment Keith disconnected, Raina pounced. “Who’s Annie?”
“Ralph’s wi—”
“Wife. Fine. Who’s Ralph again?”
This is a total waste of time! I have a girlfriend I want to call wife someday to find and you want to know about my neighbors? It wasn’t fair, of course. In the same situation, he’d be asking the same questions. They were valid—solid.
And wouldn’t help him a bit right now.
“He started the town. That’s all.” And that’s when Keith remembered the phone. He shoved his at Raina and asked her to call Ralph and ask where it was. “I’m going to start looking around.”
It took exactly thirty seconds for him to see it—a tranq dart in the chair. Just as he would have groaned, Keith spied another on the shelf above the chair. Blood on the tips told a story. “Oh, no you didn’t…”
“What?” Raina stepped up, Ziploc bagged phone in hand. Then she saw the tranqs. “No way… Two?”
“Flynne’s not field trained.”
“Erika could be dead by now! What was the potency of those darts?”
Why her words soothed, he couldn’t have explained, but Keith just gathered the darts and moved on. A couple of market totes were gone… and food. Salad bags from the fridge—and cheese. The Doritos Erika had brought home the night before—and bananas. One small, empty cubbie confused him. “Why’d she take the trash bags?”
“Maybe she killed Erika? Two tranqs could in a small woman. How big—?”
“If Erika was in medical distress, Flynne would have gotten help and called. She did this to keep Erika out of danger—”
“Then why tranq her? Why—?”
What else she said, Keith didn’t hear. He ignored it and made a mental note never to work with her. Raina makes me miss Corey at her worst.
His phone rang again. Tyler’s name flashed on the screen. Never had Keith Shafter… or Keith Auger answered a phone faster. “Whatcha got for me?” He set the phone on speaker and began examining Erika’s. Had she tried to call him before Flynne shot her?
“I found what Flynne hid. Pretty smart. We’ve got the numbers of the phones she took, and something else…”
Just at that moment, Keith powered on the phone and stared at the screen. “Oh, no…”
“—posted to her Twitter. It’s just a hashtag, but a weird one.”
“#HashtagRogue—with the word hashtag spelled out.” Keith sank into the chair, staring at the phone. “This is bad, Tyler…”
Tyler’s next words confirmed his suspicions. “I’m pretty sure Flynne wrote it, though. That’s just the way she’d do it to make a point.”
“Thanks Tyler. I’ve got to go. I’ll check in when I’m done here, and I have a plan.”
But he didn’t get up. He just stared at the silly, silly tweet. #HashtagRogue. Keith’s mind churned. Flynne, do you even realize that Erika knows more about protection detail than you do?
“So, where do we go now?”
Eyes closed, Keith took a deep breath and tried to remain as calm as possible. “I need a moment, all right?”
“C’mon, Keith. You really don’t think that little miss ‘unicorn dust and rainbow farts’ is going to hurt your girlfriend, do you?”
Not laughing—impossible. When she kicked his ankle and demanded he take her seriously, he gave her a look that prompted an apology before adding, “I’m more worried about Flynne. Erika’s going to kill her.”
Three
The sign announced the on-ramp to the Rockland loop a quarter mile ahead. Flynne glanced back at the still-sleeping Erika and racked her brains to figure out what to do. You’re dead.com! All the times you ignored strategy sessions because you thought, “Well, this isn’t my circus, so wh
o needs these monkeys?” Yeah. Bet you’re regretting that now, aren’t you, Dortmann?
Instinct said to stay away from any place the Agency might know she knew about, and home obviously fit that bill. Flynne gripped the steering wheel and stared straight ahead as the ramp to the loop entrance appeared. The wheel jerked right—almost as if by itself and late enough that she barely missed the exit marker in the process.
Traffic surrounded her, and something about it felt strangely comforting. Cars zoomed by on her left, as she zipped past ones on her right. Blissful normalcy. Totes underrated.
As her exit neared, two sides of herself warred like angels and devils on cartoon shoulders. If only the halo didn’t keep bouncing from one side to the other. Which one of you creepy things is the creepiest?
The idea that they might not expect her to go home so soon… or even that they might not know she’d “gone rogue” yet, prompted her to signal like a reasonable driver, shoot across two lanes in six seconds flat—not like a reasonable driver that time—and zip down the off-ramp. Her ideas formed and transformed as she worked her way through the city to her duplex three streets off Wharton Drive.
Her street—empty. Just the way she wanted it. Flynne made sure Erika was still asleep and breathing and climbed from the car. Though it probably lasted a good thirty seconds, Flynne stood at the back of her car and deliberated—planned. If she left Erika there—a big risk, but a huge time saver—and went to retrieve…
Risk or not, it was a plan and the only one she had. Flynne bolted from the car and began jogging. Four duplexes down, she froze. Backtracked. With the car doors locked, she raced back down the street.
On the other side of Wharton sat the Elmhurst neighborhood and the Detweiler’s house—a key item in her still-forming plan. As if a beat, she ticked off each street as she jogged past. Arthur, George, James, Oliphant, Quaker. At Rosewood, she jerked right and raced to the fourth house down.
Fumbling for the right key, stumbling inside, punching the numbers into the keypad—it all took longer than it should have. Duty trumped desperation as she dashed for the mail, grabbed every plant in the house, and put them all in the bathtub. Two inches of water later, she shut off the tap and froze at the sight of a row of prescription medications on the counter.
Hashtag Rogue Page 2