Deep Harbor

by Fern Michaels

  “Here.” CJ handed the brown envelope to Matt. “My mechanic’s report and a flash drive with photos. I think someone was trying to kill me. Ernie, he’s my mechanic, says that if I had not run into that car at the intersection, the steering would have gone within a few blocks. And, all along I’ve been saying that Snapper’s death was not a suicide. I think he was murdered.” There. Done. She’d put it all out there for the FBI agent. “And I am positive that the crap cologne guy is the one who killed him and tried to kill me.”

  “Considering everything you’ve told me, it does sound logical.” Matt was still writing vigorously. “Do you think you could describe him to one of our sketch artists?” His voice was steady.

  “Sketch artist?” CJ was stunned that he seemed to believe her enough to suggest using a sketch artist.

  “We could also try reviewing the footage from the lobby security cameras, but they tend to tape over them pretty quickly. I can look into that as well,” Matt said.

  “But wait. Didn’t you say this was not official business?” Suddenly, her inner self was getting worried.

  “Of course. But this does sound rather serious. If we can identify the man you refer to, he might have a rap sheet.”

  “Yeah, but . . . I . . . I thought this was between us. I mean, I am absolutely certain Snapper did not kill himself, but—”

  “But nothing, CJ. This is what you wanted. Someone to believe your theory.” Colin was firm but kind.

  “Yes. Okay, but how does all of this play out?” CJ knew that if she was right, she was stepping into a big pile of bullpucky.

  Matt took the lead. “You’ll come down to our office and meet with one of our sketch artists. We’ll run it through the computer. If we get a match, I’ll get in touch with DC police. We have a very good working relationship. Well, at least some of us do.”

  “So unless you get a match, all this stays with us?” CJ was pumping Matt for reassurance.

  “Yes. It has to. I’ve had two drinks!” Matt was giving her what she needed: someone who would listen to her allegations and someone who had the authority to do something about it.

  “Come down to my office tomorrow after you’re finished with work. Say five o’clock? I’ll make sure there’s someone available to sit with you.” Looking at his watch, Matt got up. “I’d better get going. Thanks for the libations, and thanks for the information. CJ, we will get to the bottom of this. I promise.”

  As Colin walked Matt to the door, he lowered his voice.

  “I really appreciate this, Matt. In the beginning, I thought CJ’s imagination was running wild. But with the events of the past few weeks, and her car incident yesterday, I am now sure that something is going on. What it is, unfortunately, I have no idea. But definitely something.”

  Matt squeezed Colin’s bicep. “Not to worry. We’ll take good care of her.”

  As Colin shut the door, it occurred to him that Matt had said, “We’ll take good care of her.” What did Matt mean when he said that? And who’s the ‘we’? He shook off his apprehension, thinking he was getting a little more paranoid, too.

  CJ sat up as Colin came back into the room. “So?”

  “So what?” Colin shot back.

  “So did you make your next date with him?”

  “What? No. We didn’t discuss that. Why?”

  “Because you said you liked him and you had spent time with him. Just wonderin’ . . . one of us has to have some kind of love interest. It’s been too long for both of us.” CJ sat back in the luxurious sofa and plopped her feet on the marble-and-stainless-steel coffee table. Nuevo Italian decor. Kick had loved everything Italian. Funny that he hadn’t opened an Italian restaurant. CJ would often tease him about it. As she glanced around the room, she added: “Col, I know Kick would want you to be happy. It’s been four years. I think it’s okay if you want to like someone. It doesn’t take anything away from what you had with Kick. It just enhances your life further.”

  “My, aren’t we being the contemplative one tonight?” Colin had rarely heard CJ wax philosophical. She was funny and thoughtful, not rarely in a deep, reflective mood.

  “Seriously, Colin. Just look at everything that’s happened lately. Snapper. George. My car. And let’s not forget the mysterious common denominator, the Smellenator. Life is crazy and unpredictable. Then, if we peel back another layer, there’s Kick. Who would have thought we’d lose him so soon? Go back another layer to my parents. It’s just all too obvious that time is fleeting, and the only time we really have is the present.”

  “Wow. What have you been reading lately?” Colin was taken aback by the seriousness of her reflections.

  “I don’t have to read to figure out what the hell is going on around me. At least realize that maybe I don’t know what the hell is going on around me, and maybe I’m, we, are supposed to take each day as it comes and try to squeeze some joy out of it.”

  “You’ve got a very good point. But right now, I think we need to concentrate on what happened to you and make sure you’re protected until we can sort this out.”

  “They don’t offer protective custody unless a crime has been committed,” CJ reminded him.

  “Okay, whatever; we’ll go down and have you meet with a sketch artist. Once that’s done, then perhaps Matt will be able to take this to the next level. Whatever that might be. See? I’m trying to think the way you just said. Take the day as it comes.”

  “Right. But I still think it’s okay to like someone, Col. Really. You deserve to be happy.”

  “As do you.”

  Chapter 14

  Thursday morning, CJ decided to go for a run before work. It wasn’t her usual routine, but after that heart-to-heart talk with Colin about living more in the present, she decided it was time to walk the walk, so to speak.

  As she exited through the garage, she glanced over at her rental and remembered that she had an appointment to test-drive an SUV that afternoon. Selecting a new car would have to wait another day. She was getting weary of all the daily surprises and secrecy.

  She checked her watch and decided she had time for about a twenty-minute jaunt. That ought to get her lungs open and the blood pumping. She headed down the driveway and punched the security release button. The gates opened and she jogged toward the road. About forty feet into her run, she heard the bellow of a motorcycle behind her. Just as she glanced over her shoulder, it dawned on her that the bike was aiming for her. She leaped into the well-manicured boxwood of the house next door, and screamed, “Asshole!”

  With a few more cuts and scrapes added to her tally of injuries, she headed back to the house.

  “What the hell happened to you now?” Colin demanded, noticing more scratches on her face and a few leaves in her hair.

  “I had a run-in with some landscaping. Some asshole on a bike almost hit me.”

  “What kind of bike?”

  “The big, loud, obnoxious kind.”

  “Are you okay? Did he stop to help you up?” Colin’s concern was rising.

  “Yeah. I’m okay, but no, he didn’t stop. I swear it looked like the guy was coming right at me.” CJ was struck by what she had just said, and they looked at each other in horror.

  “Oh my God. Whoever it is, he knows where I live.” CJ slumped down on a stool in front of the large island prep counter in the middle of the kitchen.

  “Okay. Maybe we should go straight to Matt’s this morning,” Colin said, taking control.

  “No. I have a ton of work to finish, and I am sure he has a lot going on today. Let’s just keep our appointment.”

  “What if I go with you to work?”

  “What, you’re my bodyguard now?” CJ was exhausted, and it wasn’t quite eight in the morning. She was thinking about the day ahead.

  “Very funny. Okay, how about this—I’ll drive you to work and pick you up. That way, you won’t be alone at any point outside the Rayburn Building.”

  “That sounds like a fine plan. Let me go change into somet
hing less athletic, and we can head out.” She got up and went to her room to put on her work outfit.

  They left through the front door since Colin’s car was still parked in the driveway. Colin pressed the button for the gate to open and pulled through. He stopped the car and waited for the gates to close behind him. “What are you doing?” CJ looked puzzled.

  Not wanting to alarm CJ further, he didn’t say that he wanted to be sure no one snuck through the gate while it was closing behind them. His concern for CJ’s safety had grown exponentially. “Huh? Nothing. Just going through my mental checklist.”

  Once Colin was sure CJ had entered the Rayburn Building, he knew she would be okay since security there was tight enough. Even though that stink-o guy was able to get into the building, Colin felt pretty sure that he wouldn’t try to pull a stunt inside.

  For the rest of the morning, CJ muddled through the paperwork and the e-mails. Instead of her normal walk to get a bite for lunch, she opted for the cafeteria in the building. She didn’t want to take any chances on the streets of Washington. And she knew she wasn’t being paranoid. It struck her as odd, though, that she was maintaining her calm through all of this. Maybe she was just going through the motions while being in shock. No. She was sure she had her head on straight. Her inner self echoed her conscious thoughts, telling her that she had to think. Clearly.

  On her way to lunch, she stopped in the restroom and got a glimpse of herself in the mirror. “Boy, do you look like death warmed over.” Getting closer to the mirror, she pulled at her fine features. CJ was a pretty woman; at least she had been until now. Physically fit. Again, at least up until now. Collarbone-length light brown hair. As she peered further, she noticed a few gray hairs scattered among the brown. Oh swell. I really do look like something the dog dragged in . . . if I had one. And if I did, he probably wouldn’t want anything to do with me. Ugh.

  CJ splashed some cold water on her face and continued to admonish herself. Looking back into the mirror, she had a sudden change of tone. “Okay. That’s enough of a pity party.” She continued to speak to herself in the mirror. “You are going to call a salon and get that hair into shape, get a facial, and maybe a makeover. You are not going to let some slimeball stench-o-meter get to you.” With that pronouncement, she stood straight and reminded herself of a famous writer’s words: “Head up, boobs out, ass in place!”

  She marched into her office and found Christophe’s phone number and dialed. The receptionist with an accent sounded appropriately snooty for such a high-end salon. “Good afternoon. I would like to make an appointment for a cut, color, and makeup,” CJ barked back.

  “Ven voud yew like to come in?” The receptionist sounded bored.

  “How soon can you get me in?” CJ was impatiently tapping a pen on her desk.

  “Ven voud yew like to come in?” the receptionist repeated with more snark.

  CJ knew she wasn’t going to get anywhere unless she was specific. “How about tomorrow?”

  “Vell, vee usually need two veeks.”

  CJ was going to push Snottypants’s buttons. “I am so glad to hear that. How about tomorrow?”

  This generated an annoyed sigh on the other end. “Led me check,” Snottypants said, and put CJ on hold—or “ignore” as CJ would often refer to the waiting time.

  CJ smirked at her verbal volleyball game with the hostess without the mostest.

  “Vee can fit yew in tomorrow afternoon at three o’clock. Name please.” She was losing her accent. CJ’s smirk turned into a big smile. “Carol Anne Jansen. Tank yew,” she replied, deliberately imitating the receptionist.

  What seemed to be a short time later, her cell phone rang. It was Colin, letting her know he was waiting for her on the street outside.

  “Be down in a few.” CJ went through her usual checklist routine before she left. Computer sleep mode. Check. Desk lamp off. Check. Desk drawers locked. Check.

  As she was getting into the car, she exploded with excitement. “Col . . . you’ll never guess what I did today!”

  He cringed at the thought of what she might have done now. God only knew what she could get into in less than a day.

  “Are you sure that I want to hear it?”

  She slapped him on the arm, and announced, “I’m getting a makeover tomorrow at a snooty salon!”

  That was not what he had expected to hear. “You what? With everything that’s going on, you’re having a spa day?”

  “Yes. I. Am. Besides, it’s not a spa day. It’s a makeover day. Remember what we were talking about last night? Living in the present? Well, I think it’s time for this girl to live. Period. Enough grieving and living in fear.”

  Colin turned sideways so he could take in this new attitude. “What the hell have you been reading?” He repeated the question he had asked the night before.

  “I’m serious. Yes, we have a lot to uncover and resolve, but there’s no reason why I should look downtrodden or frumpy.”

  “Frumpy? You? Granted, you’re no fashionista, but I’d never describe you as frumpy.” Colin was trying to be kind as he proceeded to unravel the mystery of this new version of Carol Anne Jansen, the woman he had known since she was a child of ten.

  “Come on. I’m a plain Jane. I need to give myself a little umph. Lift my spirits.”

  “If you say so about needing a little umph. But you’re not a plain Jane. You never were.” Colin was being reassuring. “So what exactly are you unfrumping?”

  “Hair for one. Can you believe I found some gray? Yikes! And a little makeover!” CJ sounded excited about something for the first time in a very long while.

  “Huh.” Colin was pleased at her new attitude but also a little confused. “Well, I am happy to hear you so cheerful. It will do you good, I am sure.” That said, he put the car in gear and headed to the J. Edgar Hoover Building and her appointment with a sketch artist.

  “I’m a little nervous. And excited.” CJ was in a genuinely good mood.

  Colin peeked in her direction. “Are you okay?”

  “Yes! I’m a little nervous. And excited,” CJ repeated, wondering if she was going to have to repeat everything to everyone. “Why?”

  “Well, you’ve been through a lot. Snapper. The condo. Both of them. Trip to LA. Car crash. Motorcycle altercation. Just sayin’. It’s a lot for one person to go through in less than a month. And let’s not forget where we’re headed today! Sketch artist for Monsieur Le Pew.” Colin wasn’t sure if he believed CJ’s mood. Was she delirious?

  “I know! And all that is exactly why I’m trying to look at things in a different light. With a new hairdo to boot!” CJ sat back in her seat, folded her arms in an “and that’s the way it is” sort of way.

  “Okay, cookie. You’re the boss!” Colin smiled at her and patted her on the knee.

  Once they were through the security checkpoint, Matt greeted them and showed CJ to a small, windowless room. “Can I get you something to drink?” Matt asked cordially.

  “Um, just water. Room temp if that’s okay.”

  “Coming right up.” Matt nodded for Colin to follow him. “We’ll be right back.”

  Walking to the kitchen area, Matt spoke softly. “We are really serious about this.”

  Colin responded with, “Who are the ‘we’? Am I missing something here?”

  “I’m not at liberty to discuss details, but let’s just say we are investigating a few incidents involving some high-ranking people in the government. This guy CJ saw could be an important link.”

  Colin was taken aback. “High-ranking people?”

  “I’ve already said too much, but I want you to know that we’ll make sure all of this is kept confidential.” Matt was annoyed with himself for having divulged any information, but he knew he had to give up something to keep CJ and Colin in the mix.

  “Okay, fine. But what about some protection for her? The car? The motorcycle dude I mentioned earlier today on the phone? She’s in danger for sure.” Colin needed reassura
nce.

  “If we can match the sketch with someone in our files, we’ll at least have someone we can tail.”

  “I don’t give a shit about him. I’m worried about her!” Colin wasn’t liking the nonchalant air from Matt and raised his voice a bit.

  “I totally understand. I’ll get someone on it. But as you should know, we can’t offer official protection unless a crime has been committed and we know who the perpetrator is. . . .”

  “Hold on! She needs protection. Period. I’m not going to have her go through all this only to have someone push her in front of a bus! From what I can glean, she’s offering you some valuable information. The least you can do in return is to keep her safe.” Colin was trying very hard to rein in his anger.

  “I said ‘official protection.’ We do have ways. Please, don’t ask me any more questions. I promise we will look after her once we get a match.”

  “And what if you don’t get a match? You’re going to let her be a sitting duck?”

  “Colin, please, let’s not take this any further. Especially here.” Matt gestured with a nod and an eye roll, as if to say, Remember where we are. The headquarters of the FBI.

  “Right. Got it.” Colin wasn’t sure if he really got it, whatever it was, but he knew that arguing wasn’t going to get him any further.

  “Come on. Drew—yes the artist’s name is Drew—will be here shortly.” Matt smiled, and Colin returned the grin.

  They carried a few bottles of water into the room in which CJ was waiting patiently. A few minutes later, the artist arrived.

  “CJ, this is Drew. Drew, this is Carol Anne Jansen.”

  CJ could hardly keep from laughing. “Nice to meet you, Drew.”

  “Yeah, I know. Drew drew. But can he really draw? I get it all the time.”

  The artist was a diminutive man in his early sixties. With a matter-of-fact tone, he continued, “Shall we get started?”

  CJ sat next to him at the large conference table as Colin and Matt exited the room. They didn’t want to interfere with her concentration.

  It took less than an hour for CJ to give Drew a very detailed description. “Too bad you can’t do a scratch and sniff.”