She was out the door nine minutes later. Her duster flapped around her ankles as she hurried through streets just coming alive with morning traffic. With each step, she tried to figure out what she’d done to infuriate her boss.
Maybe it was her unconventional hair therapy. Had that backfired? Had one of the teens suffered a traumatic loss of identity after hacking off their long, beaded braids? Or Leela? Was the mutilated wife now mourning the loss of her hair? Could she feel it added to her disfigurement? Think that not even surgery would help her now?
Or was it Amal? Dear God, had she pushed Amal too hard? Dragged the agreement to visit the Borghese out of her? Precipitated a panic attack? Her stomach clenching, Callie could visualize the pregnant woman springing out of bed, grabbing her pencil and viciously slashing another drawing.
With her thoughts roiling, she rounded the corner and blew out a relieved breath. Whatever had precipitated the director’s summons apparently hadn’t included a call to outside authorities. No police cars, no fire trucks, no ambulances or flashing strobes of any kind were parked in front of the center. The terra cotta building sat dark and silent, showing only the dim outline of a single lighted window on the ground floor.
Her office. That was her office.
More confused now than apprehensive, Callie slapped her palm against the keypad and yanked the door open. She started down the dimly lit hallway but had taken only a few steps when she caught the back-and-forth of angry voices coming from her office.
Simona. And Carlo. Trading such fast and furious Italian that Callie couldn’t catch even a gist of their heated conversation. She was about to call out when something banged against the metal file cabinet and Simona issued what sounded like a sneering taunt. Then, suddenly, the taunt ended on a squawk.
Uh-oh. This was not good. Not good at all.
Like a bright red warning light, the prince’s startling revelation that he itched to kiss the condescending smirk off the director’s face flashed in Callie’s head. She almost turned tail and ran. A sharp crack and a growled curse held her in place. Her imagination running riot, she decided she’d better make her presence known. Like now.
“Simona? Carlo?”
She heard a rattle. A thump that sounded like the legs of her office chair hitting the floor. Her boss’s angry acknowledgment.
“In your office!”
The tableau that greeted her confirmed her worst fears. Simona bristled with fury and Carlo’s cheek sported a fat red blotch.
“You, uh, wanted to see me?”
“No.” Simona’s arm whipped out. A rigid index finger stabbed at the flickering screen of Callie’s desktop. “I wanted you to see this.”
“Why did you boot up my computer?” Callie asked in confusion. “Did yours crash?”
“I didn’t boot it up. It was on when I got here.”
Thoroughly confused, Callie looked from her to Carlo and back again. “Who turned it on, then? Nikki? One of the mental-health techs?”
The prince rubbed his cheek and took it from there. Shooting an angry glance at his nemesis, he answered stiffly.
“None of the other staff members have come in yet. Il Drago found the computer on when she arrived. At which point she called me and started ranting about my having another judge on my payroll. One who would authorize access to your case files.”
A chill slithered down Callie’s spine. “Someone...someone got into my case files?”
“So it appears,” Simona threw at her. “Unless you forgot to log out and shut your computer down last night.”
“Of course I logged out!”
Carlo aimed another glance at the director and tried to soften what was feeling more and more like an inquisition. “Are you certain, Callie?”
“Yes!”
Or...
Frantically, she searched her memory. Images flashed by like a slide show. She’d talked to Amal. Confirmed the tickets for the Borghese. Gone down to her office. Logged on and updated the case file. Logged out and hurried to brief Simona on the breakthrough.
Another series of images popped into her head. Of Joe helping Emilio scan the staff and residents’ palm prints into the new electronic key pads. One after another. With plenty of time in between to take a break. Amble down the hall. Scope out Callie’s office.
No! She wouldn’t go there! She couldn’t!
Despite the fierce self-denial, a sick feeling curled in the pit of her stomach. She’d jotted down the password, she now remembered. Aleppo221. She’d reversed the digits but acknowledged now that wasn’t much of a challenge for a determined hacker.
Her office was too small and crowded to get to her desk. The sick feeling spread from her stomach to her lungs as she uttered a bleak request. “Simona, look under the blotter.”
“Why?”
“Just do it.”
The director took two steps and jerked up the blotter. The violent movement dislodged the sticky. It floated free and drifted down to lie on the desktop like an accusing yellow eye.
“You wrote down the pass code?” Simona breathed fire. “And left it where any idiota might find it?”
Callie couldn’t answer. Couldn’t breathe. But she could visualize the yesterday’s scene as if it replayed in high definition.
Joe and her. Standing toe to toe in this same office. Not every resident’s home of origin was documented, she’d informed him. And even if was, the case file containing that information was protected. She couldn’t disclose it without the written consent of the individuals involved. And she could hear his answer. As terse and sharp as a hammer striking iron.
So get their consent.
She staggered back a step as another scene spun through in her mind, too vivid to block. Joe and Emilio. So clever. So skilled. Circumventing legal requirements by plugging an absurdly long override code into the keypads at the center’s front and back entrances. Then waiting in the hall when Callie dashed upstairs to tell Amal she’d booked museum tickets.
No! Joe wouldn’t search her desk. He wouldn’t hack into her files.
Would he?
Stabbed through the heart by sudden, crippling uncertainty, Callie spun on her heel. She ignored the director’s sharp command to come back. Ignored Carlo’s urgent plea to talk this through. She wanted no part of either of them. No part of the pain that clawed at her heart.
* * *
Joe was bent over a map of Rome when his phone buzzed. A quick glance at caller ID showed Carlo’s photo and phone number. He hit Connect, knowing his friend’s face would flash up on the other end.
“Yeah?”
“We need you at the center,” the prince barked. “Now!”
His pulse kicked. “Why?”
“Simona. She called me. Callie, too.”
“Callie’s there?”
“She was. She just stormed out.”
“On my way.”
* * *
Callie wandered aimlessly. She didn’t notice the city springing to life around her, had no idea where she was. She couldn’t focus enough to identify any landmarks.
Her thoughts centered on Joe. Only Joe.
He’d promised, she thought, her heart twisting. That morning in Naples. Before they’d explored Pompeii. He hadn’t liked being pinned to the mat. Still, he’d agreed that theirs had to be a marriage of equals. Reluctantly, she remembered, and only after grabbing the out she’d offered him with both hands.
Extraordinary circumstances. That was the out. Had he used it? Made a unilateral decision to access the files?
Blind to the traffic beginning to churn the streets, Callie turned a corner. Two seconds later she stopped dead. Oh, sweet Jesus! Not the fountain! Not now, with the silly, stupid wish she’d made three months ago rising up to mock her.
She tur
ned away. Made it several yards down one of the three streets leading away from the fountain before she surrendered to its inexorable pull. Her feet dragging, she turned and retraced her steps.
Thankfully, it was too early for the usual horde of tourists. Only a hardy few had braved the cold to add their contribution to the more than three thousand euros tossed in the fountain’s basin every year. The offerings of these early risers hit with dull thunks. Callie saw why when she threaded through the sparse crowd.
How appropriate! How ironically appropriate! Rome’s iconic fountain was bone dry.
With a hiccuping laugh, she sank onto the steps leading down to the basin. Last night she’d wandered Rome’s beautifully illuminated streets and marveled at how magical the city was at Christmas. Now it felt as cold and empty as the fountain and too dreary for words.
Yet... Dammit! She hated to tuck tail and scurry home like a scolded child. Yes, she’d screwed up. Yes, she’d left a barely disguised version of her computer’s password where person or persons unknown might find it. But every time she tried to pin Joe’s face on that nebulous someone, her heart stuttered.
Shoulders hunched, nose sniffling in the cold, Callie burrowed her chin in her coat collar and stared unseeing at Oceanus and his pawing steeds. Joe hadn’t violated her trust. He wouldn’t. The certainty seeped into her heart slowly. Steadily. Replacing the doubt with a soul-deep relief.
She had no idea how long she’d been sitting there, lost in thought, when an excited exclamation pierced the cold morning air.
“Oh! Look!”
Callie’s glance cut from the wide-eyed coed just a few feet away to the fountain. It came alive right before her eyes. Water trickled into the top basin. The sun had arced high enough now to add a frosty sparkle as the stream filled that marble bowl.
“They’ve turned on the fountain.” The young coed a few feet away threw Callie an excited grin. “Isn’t that awesome?”
“Totally.”
The trickle gained volume. The top basin spilled into the second. Its overflow emptied into the third. That overflow fanned sideways. Soon the splash into a half dozen marble shells filled the air. Breathlessly, Callie watched as the giant circular basin at the fountain’s base began to fill.
* * *
Joe didn’t need a GPS lock to know exactly where to look for her. Sure enough, he spotted her huddled against the cold and sitting shoulder to shoulder with a young woman sporting a Stanford University backpack. The two of them were completely absorbed in the spectacle of the Trevi Fountain coming to life.
He hung back, remembering the last time they’d gathered at this same fountain. Him, Carlo, Travis and Kate, Dawn and Brian and Tommy. And Callie, of the pansy eyes and serene smile. He still found it incredible that none of her friends had seen the worry she’d hidden behind that Mona Lisa facade. Even more incredible that he’d pierced her stubborn defense and gotten her to trust him.
That trust now hung by a thread. After Carlo’s terse account of the confrontation at the center, Joe knew she had to think he’d betrayed her. Rehearsing and discarding a dozen different approaches, he settled for simply saying her name.
Her hips swiveled. Her head turned. Those soul-stripping eyes locked with his. “Hello, Joe. Tugging on my electronic leash?”
“We need to talk.”
She gave a short laugh. “I thought that was my line.”
The coed flashed an uncertain look from her to Joe and back again. “Do you want me to hang with you awhile?” she asked Callie.
“No. But thanks for the offer.”
“You sure?”
“I’m sure. Go ahead, make a wish.”
The twentysomething pushed to her feet, all long-legged grace and unfettered energy. She tipped her backpack off one shoulder and rooted around in its cavernous depth for several moments.
Joe preempted her and produced a coin. “Here.”
She hesitated and threw another glance at Callie. At her nod, the college student accepted the euro with a mumbled, “Thanks.”
Joe sank down in the spot she’d just vacated. Hip to hip, he and Callie watched the young woman face away from the fountain. The euro sailed in a clean arc over her shoulder and splashed into the half-full basin. She turned, spotted the ripples, and gave a jaunty thumbs-up before joining several others her own age for a flurry of group shots and selfies.
“I hope she gets her wish,” Callie murmured.
Joe didn’t answer for the simple reason that he didn’t think a reply was required. Beside him, Callie drew up her knees and rested her chin on the flap of her coat.
“Do you remember the last time we were here?” she asked after a moment, her gaze on the glistening water.
“I remember.”
“We made a wish then, Dawn and Kate and I. Should I tell you what my wish was?”
Joe wasn’t sure he wanted to know. When he made a noncommittal sound, she angled her chin and pinned him with those incredible eyes.
“I wished for a dreamy romantic hero, à la Louis Jourdan,” she confessed.
“Who?”
“He was one of the stars in the original movie version Three Coins in the Fountain.”
Right. Nothing like losing out to some ’50s-era matinee idol he’d never heard of.
“A dreamy romantic hero, huh? Sorry, sweetheart. Looks like you scored zero for three.”
“Actually,” she countered, “I think I scored three for three.”
He was still digesting that when she scooted around on the step so they were knee to knee. Pulling off her glove, she feathered her fingertips across his cheek.
“I don’t want movie star flash and dash, Joe. I want a real hero. One who’s earned his stripes the hard way. One who would never lie to me or betray my trust.”
He captured her hand and held it against his cheek. “I didn’t hack into those files, Callie.”
“I know.”
“Nor did any of my crew.”
“I know.” Her mouth twisted in a grimace. “I admit I freaked when Simona confronted me this morning. It was such a shock, coming out of the blue like that. But once I got here, once I took time to think things through, I knew you wouldn’t renege on our agreement.”
Joe wanted to let this moment spin out. Given a choice, he would’ve kept the ugliness at bay until their butts froze to the cold marble step. Unfortunately, he didn’t have that option. He needed to bring Callie up to speed and get them both back to the center.
“We’ve verified the breach didn’t originate in-house,” he told her. “The hacker overrode the password and powered up your computer from a remote device.”
“Device?” She glanced quickly from side to side and lowered her voice. “Like a laptop?”
“Yeah.”
She took a moment to process that. “You said he overrode the password. So he didn’t use the one I scribbled on a note and stuck to the underside of my blotter?”
“No, but remind me to teach you some of the finer points of computer security.”
“Oh, Joe! I’m so glad. Well, not glad. But I thought... Simona and I both thought...” She blew out a frosty breath. “Well, let’s just say I was getting ready to pack my bags.”
Joe could have relieved everyone’s mind about that a lot sooner if he’d instructed Emilio to activate the interior cameras he’d installed yesterday. The hidden eyes would’ve picked up anyone entering or exiting Callie’s office.
Well, that hurdle was now cleared. According to Carlo’s terse account, he’d informed an outraged Simona that the cameras were in place and were going active until further notice. Di Lorenzo hadn’t related her response.
“Have you determined the location of this remote device?” Callie wanted to know.
“Not yet. But we’re close.”
<
br /> They damned well should be, with cybergeeks on two continents pulling out all the stops. Joe’s people, DIA, NSA, their Italian counterparts, even Brian Ellis, whose skunkworks cadre sat elbow to elbow with the members of the Military Satellite Communications Systems division at Los Angeles Air Force Station.
“We’re also close to tagging which files he went into, if any,” Joe told her. “Once we have that information, we can talk to the subjects. And hopefully nail down who’s so interested in them, and why.”
“That’s skirting pretty close to the line,” Callie worried. “Simona might object.”
“Carlo can take that one on. From what he’s told me, he and Simona have been duking it out all morning.”
“Um. Not quite all morning.”
Joe cocked his head. “You know something I don’t?”
“Maybe. When we get back to the center, you might want to ask Carlo if his cheek still stings.”
“Huh?”
“Just ask him. In the meantime...” She got up and brushed off the seat of her coat. “I guess we should head back. I’d like to find out if I still have a job.”
“Hold on.” Joe unfolded his tall frame. “You say you got your wish. I sure don’t see myself as dreamy or romantic or much of a hero, but what the hell. As long as it works for you.”
“It works. Believe me, Joe, it works.”
“Maybe. But this is what works for me.”
Her nose was cold, her lips almost as chilled. They warmed under his, though, and sent a welcome heat rolling through his veins. When he raised his head, the smile in her eyes confirmed that all was right between them.
“Since that seems to have worked out so well,” she said, “maybe I should make another wish.”
“Sure you want to tempt fate twice?”
“Pretty sure. Do you have another euro?”
He watched as she took the coin and assumed the proper position with her back to the fountain. Eyes closed, she looked as though she was sorting through dozens of possibilities before settling on one. Then she sent the coin sailing to join the others in the basin.
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