Watching Their Steps

by Alana Terry

  “No way, the TSA guy? How did they know?”

  “It’s just a cover. He disappears before the regular—see, there.”

  Sure enough, just as the man turned to hurry the line through the checkpoint, the impostor turned and walked out of the camera’s view. “Did you catch him anywhere else?”

  “He comes back. Watch”

  Sure enough, seconds later, a hand slipped the phone back into the plastic crate that held Keith’s things. “I just—how did—wow.”

  “He’s good. If he wasn’t a crook, I’d want him. He’s not as good as Larry, but then few people are.” Mark snapped off the screen and watched as Keith processed the information. “You were adamant that Claire couldn’t have done it, and I think the tapes prove that, but I have to ask. Did you doubt her at any time while you were gone—even for a moment.”

  “I think for a second, after it was over, I remember thinking, ‘That was fast. If Claire hadn’t been so shocked...”

  “Natural reaction. You’re just going through the processing. That’s good. I’d be more concerned if you said no.”

  Keith nodded. “Denial is powerful stuff. You’re right. If I hadn’t questioned, it’d be bad.”

  “You’ve been feeling guilty.” It wasn’t a question.

  “Yeah. She’s family. You don’t doubt family.”

  “Don’t make me lose all faith in you, Keith. You doubt everyone. To keep the client alive, you doubt everyone. Me, Karen, Corey, even Justin, Jill, Anthony, and Larry. You doubt anyone and everyone. It keeps people alive.”

  “Yeah. I don’t have to like that part.”

  “No, but you do it because it’s instinctive. I bet you doubted me the minute that second call came through.” Keith didn’t have to answer. The truth of it was written across every feature. “That’s good. I can sleep at night because I know you’ll do your job. That’s why you’re going back in. Saturday.”

  “Three-week anniversary. Should I bring flowers and chocolate?”

  “Take a chick flick. I’ll find out from Karen what Erika wants to see.”

  “There’s no electricity, Mark.”

  “Take a portable DVD.” At the disgusted face Keith made, Mark howled. “Yeah, you’ll have to sit a little closer than you like, but watch the stupid movie with her. She’ll relax with you again.”

  “Whatever.”

  “How are you going to win back her trust? We can’t afford to be exposed. I swear, the directors of every agency in Washington would be down on us so fast....”

  “I’ll be honest but show loyalty to the agency. I won’t trash Corey, but I won’t condone her garbage either. I think it’s the best way to ensure she knows I’m still me. I think that’s a big part of the big picture. She trusted Karen and she trusted me. When we brought in Corey, we violated her trust by bringing in someone who, in her mind, she couldn’t trust.”

  “Makes sense. I don’t know, though. Corey did some serious damage.”

  “I’m just going in and being who I was and treating her the way I did before—like none of this happened. I think it’s the best way to put it all behind us.”

  “I’m trusting you, Auger. Get out there and do some damage control—even if it means you have to watch Kiss and Make Up until that stupid battery dies. Take spares, just fix this.”

  “I want another bonus—one I can keep.”

  Mark laughed and rose to shake his best agent’s hand. “You keep us out of the papers and the courts, and I’ll see that one happens.”

  “Don’t tell Erika about that.”

  Mark never would, and both men knew it, but Mark had to ask. “Why not?”

  “She’d insist on taking half.”

  Chapter 14

  ERIKA PACED THE LIVING room despite her exhaustion. She’d discovered, about eighteen hours after Keith left, that pacing irritated Corey. So, when she was up and awake, she paced. The rattle of the chain, the occasional thud as she turned the corner, and the shuffle of her shoes across the floor would normally have driven her to the brink of insanity and back, but the stress visible on her “guard’s” face made every irritating noise worth it.

  Corey had tried everything, but Erika couldn’t help gloating at failure after failure. A shortened chain meant more frequent thumps as she did an about-face. The woman demanded that Erika clean the bathroom, but she refused. If the person “the Agency” sent to guard their abductee wanted a clean toilet seat upon which to dole out the rest of her excrement, then she could clean it herself.

  Erika ate her meals walking, her snacks walking, and even paced in the shower just to keep the chain rattling. Corey retaliated by making her wear the infernal thing twenty-four-seven. Once it became a battle of wills, Erika determined that she would win—at any cost.

  When Corey had blasted her once again, pulling her gun and demanding that she sit, Erika had held out her hand for the phone. It became an instant, utterly satisfying, memory. Corey blanched, but dialed. Erika hadn’t actually expected to speak to anyone, but Keith’s “Mark” had come on the line and listened courteously as she’d bawled him out. Instant catharsis. And now, in just an hour or two, Corey would be gone, and Erika planned to collapse on the couch without moving for any reason—aside from sleep and using the bathroom—for days if necessary. If they didn’t want her having blood sugar issues, they could bring her food. She wouldn’t budge.

  “Your calves are going to be bigger than an elephant’s.”

  “But they’ll be strong.” Erika refused to take the bait.

  “Strong and huge.”

  “And your problem is?”

  “Look, if you want to look like a freak, that’s your business.” Corey’s voice sounded positively peevish.

  The satisfaction in realizing she’d caused it nearly sent Erika into visible ecstasies. “Sure is.”

  “Look, when Karen gets here and practically shoves you out there to get shot, just remember that the stupid things you do puts more than you in danger. These people are working hard to keep your sorry backside alive. Show them the courtesy of not doing anything that’ll force them to take a bullet or twenty for you.”

  “You’ve told me half a dozen times that I had the best man in America protecting me. Well, you sent him away, so does that make you the stupidest woman in America or just the most arrogant?”

  “Listen, you—”

  “No, listen both of you! I could hear you for the past quarter mile! How on earth do you expect to protect her if you’re shouting like a crazy woman? Get your stuff together. It’s almost dark. You gotta get out of here the minute that sun is down.”

  Both cabin-bound women stared at Karen in the doorway. Then, as if relief hadn’t arrived, Erika kept pacing. Karen took one look at her and asked, “Has she tried to escape or something?”

  “Um, she’s here under duress. She’s supposed to be chained.”

  “You don’t have a gun?” Karen seemed to deliberately tack patience onto each word.

  “I have one.” There was that peevish tone again.

  “Then get that shackle off her. Man, Corey, where’re your brains?” Before the disgruntled woman could answer, Karen added, “Nah, don’t bother. I really don’t want to know.”

  As much as she didn’t want to do it, Erika kept pacing. The second she saw Corey’s furious expression, she sighed in relief. It wasn’t worth the exertion if she didn’t irritate Corey in the process. “Do you see this? She’s just trying to annoy me!”

  “If you ignored her, she’d quit. I bet she stops the minute you step out that door.”

  “Probably,” the woman muttered, giving Erika even more personal satisfaction. It was worth every minute of self-inflicted torture. Every second, really.

  As predicted, the minute Corey passed through the door Erika plopped onto the couch and put her feet up. Glancing at Karen, she stretched. “What took you so long?”

  “I got here the minute it was safe. Oh, and we’re leaving.”

  “Where
are we going?”

  “You’re going to park your car in the garage at Helen Franklin’s and then we’re taking off again.”

  “Where to?”

  “What matters,” Karen continued with an exaggerated roll of her eyes, “is that you’ll be away from here. They don’t expect us to move you, there’s been no threat, so it’s perfect.” After downing a glass of water, Karen crossed the room and sank into “Keith’s” chair. “We’re close, Erika. I wouldn’t be surprised if it was less than a week.”

  KEITH FELT RIDICULOUS. Why should he be nervous? The helicopter was less than an hour out. The only disadvantage to the move was that it meant they now had electricity, which meant she could torture him with the movie for days if she wanted to—and she’d want to. That thought made him smile. No one could say protecting Erika Polowski was dull. Nope. No one.

  The cottage—you really couldn’t call it a cabin—had been left spotless by the last occupants—a great relief after the previous cabin. In fact, it looked as if they’d stepped into someone’s home rather than a safe house stuck in the coastal woods of Oregon. The décor, style, everything seemed to indicate that Martha Stewart planned to stop in and critique or something. Comfortable furniture filled the living spaces; personal touches to bedrooms such as school awards and posters hinted at a real family home. Either it truly belonged to someone in the Agency, or the house was a masterpiece of diversionary proportions. Regardless, it impressed Keith.

  The cliffs overhanging the ocean would provide diversion. He’d be able to take her for walks along the cliffs. Erika would like that. The dossier said she’d never been to either coast; at least he could give her a new experience or two. Maybe, once the coast was clear—he snickered at the unintentional pun—they’d be able to take her down to the shoreline and let her walk along the beach. It was a small consolation prize for a month of her life lost, but she still lived. Regardless of their failures, they’d kept her alive. Helen Franklin was alive, and they thought they’d have Anastas and his crew in days.

  As it was, they had over half of the most important people under constant surveillance. The minute everyone and everything dropped into place, the nightmare would end, and Erika and Helen could have their lives back. That meant success—two lives saved from the greed and lawlessness of people who used others as a means to their own gain. That’s what hurt the most—seeing people as disposable or as slaves to fill the coffers of the insatiable.

  As nervousness churned in his gut again, Keith frowned. It made no sense. Then again, this was a second chance to finish the only job he’d been removed from and do it right this time. Anyone would be nervous—wouldn’t he? He needed to quit overthinking things. Ever since the trip to Columbus, he had developed the obnoxious habit of uncertainty. Second-guessing everything drove him crazy. Something from that trip still unsettled him, and despite Mark’s assurances to the contrary, he knew he’d missed something.

  Just as he heard the soft whap, whap of the helicopter blades, his new cell phone buzzed with a text message to announce their arrival. He grinned at the one-word message. Catch. That had to be Erika’s influence.

  Duffel in hand, Erika ran from the helicopter just as it rose from the ground and headed farther up the coast. She stopped just short of him and gave him her trademarked—at least he thought it should be—disgusted expression. “I told you to catch.”

  “Well, that’s true but you jumped before I could get out there.”

  “Excuses, excuses.”

  Keith jerked his thumb into the house. “Make yourself at home.” He grabbed her duffel bag and followed her into the house. “Pick a room—any room.”

  Her eyes traveled around the house as she entered. “Swanky.”

  Eyes rolling, Keith pointed to the hallway. “Room service is about to end. Take your pick, or I’m picking for you.”

  “I’ll take this one.” She stepped into a pink and purple unicorn-infested nightmare of a little girl’s room. “It’s sweet.”

  “You’re going to be butchering those things in your sleep.”

  Erika shrugged, took the bag from him, and tossed it on the be-ruffled bed. “Some people count sheep, I slaughter horses. What’s the difference?” His dubious expression prompted the appearance of surrender, but Keith was skeptical—even when she added, “Okay, so I figured out that having the best as your guard-slash-warden is a little better than having a half-crazed psycho.”

  “Isn’t the definition of psycho something akin to completely crazed?”

  “Tell me there’s food.”

  Keith rolled his eyes. “There’s food. Seriously? You didn’t eat before you got in the ‘copter?”

  “I did, but that was several hours ago. They made a stop, every four miles, all the way up the coast from Mendocino. It’s like a very loud, very bad rollercoaster ride.”

  “They’ll continue all the way to Vancouver too. Smart.” Impressed, Keith pulled out a couple of kiwi fruit and passed them across the counter. “Karen said you like these.”

  “Yum! Want one?”

  “Um, hairy b— well, I can’t say what they look like, but it’s gross, so no.”

  “Grow up. Here, where’s the potato peeler?”

  After digging through several drawers of various utensils, Keith pulled out what he decided must be the Cadillac of kitchen gadgets. “This?”

  “Nice. How’d we score this place?”

  “I think Karen is feeling guilty about Corey.”

  “She should,” the visible shudder was unmistakable, “that woman is insane.”

  “They’re sending her for a psych eval and a few other things. She’s never done anything like that before.” Keith took the green, slimy, slice of fruit and tried to ignore the seeds that looked like little black ants mocking him. “She’s really one of the best.”

  “You can’t all be ‘one of the best,’ and Karen says you’re the best.” Erika stifled a snicker as Keith tried to swallow the slice whole. “It’s sweet. Chew.”

  If he closed his eyes and pretended he didn’t know what it looked like, Keith had to agree. It was a little like honeydew with a hint of sourness—for which he blamed and complimented the seeds. However, it was difficult to ignore the seeds as he chewed them. “Do the seeds have to look like bugs?”

  “Oh, don’t be such a baby. Man, what a—”

  “I thought you just said I was the best that the Agency has. If I’m the best, I’m not the wuss you want to make me out to be, so stuff it.”

  Between bites of kiwi and snickers at his expression, Erika gave him a rundown of her week with Corey. “She didn’t like pacing.”

  As he thought about it, that made sense. “Yeah, you’re right. She doesn’t like that. I think better when I pace, and I think it annoys her.”

  “Well, I paced for five days straight. My legs are still sore.”

  “You did what?”

  He waited for her to say something that indicated she was teasing, but Erika just shrugged and said, “Look, she was annoying. I wasn’t giving her an inch or a mile.”

  “And now you’re paying for it.”

  “Oh,” Erika continued as if he hadn’t just shown her who really was tortured by the pacing, “and she made it very clear that you’d never be interested in a girl like me. For the record, you like very feminine girlie girls who like to sip sweet tea in large hats and jump at spiders.” She winked. “So, don’t get any ideas. Corey has determined that we are incompatible.”

  “Got it.”

  “I thought about pointing out that you’re too smart to get caught up in a drama machine like her. I mean, yeah, I get that I’m not your type. I can take that. I’m not looking to do the whole Stockholm Syndrome thing anyway, but if she thinks a guy with sense is going to fall for—”

  “I was attracted to her before the cabin, Erika. When I say she was unrecognizable there, I’m not exaggerating.” Whether she didn’t believe him or was too disgusted to discuss it further, Keith didn’t know,
but the subject changed so fast it took him a minute to follow.

  “Did you know she kept me chained twenty-four-seven? Were you guys even trained at the same place?”

  He had a choice, and it was a hard one. If he defended his co-worker, he risked annoying Erika when he most needed to regain her trust. Then again, displaying too much disloyalty to an agent and the Agency was a great way to imply they’d made a mistake, and that was sure to stick in her mind. After one of the fastest and most nonsensical prayers he’d ever made, Keith tried to walk that very fine line that usually meant straddling a very sharply picketed fence.

  “Look, you know I disagree with how Corey acted about some things. She let her emotions interfere with her reason and it made things more difficult than they had to be, but—” Keith shook his head as Erika started to pounce on his words. “On the other hand, she hadn’t built a trust with you like I had, and she’s a woman. She’s not as strong or as fast as I am. Women typically have to rely more on restraints and locks than men do. It’s a simple fact of the job.”

  “She was rude.”

  “Unquestionably.”

  “Arrogant.” Erika’s eyes dared him to contradict her.

  “I’d never deny it.”

  “And brutal.”

  “I can’t agree with that. You are here, healthy, and uninjured. You weren’t as comfortable as you could have been, yes. You would have been more comfortable with a man, yes. You would have been more emotionally comfortable with someone like Karen, without a doubt.” He swallowed and waited, allowing his words to sink into her mind. “But Karen, alone in the house, would have had to use the same restraints in nearly the same way.”

  Chapter 15

  WITH MOVIE IN HAND, Erika strolled from her pink and purple prison. Why she’d been so obnoxious as to insist on that room, she didn’t know, but her pride resisted allowing her to request a change. The look of dread on Keith’s face as she waved the movie suddenly made Karen’s dismay clear. Keith didn’t like action movies. That was odd for a guy, but tough luck. She’d missed it in theaters, thanks to losing three employees at once, and she’d missed the debut on DVD, thanks to whatever she knew or shouldn’t know—or something like that.