The picture moved to a sultry brunette standing in front of a digital map of the entire country.
"This is national news," Alex whispered. Her mind started working through the scenarios.
Daniel muted the sound.
"The school must have called the police," Daniel said.
She just looked at him.
"What?"
"Daniel, do you know how many people go missing every day?"
"Oh... their pictures don't all end up on the news, do they?"
"Especially not full-grown men who've only been missing a few days." She got up and started pacing. "They're trying to flush you out. What does that mean? Where are they going with this? Do they think Kevin killed me? Or do they think I figured out the truth and took off with you? Why would they think I'd take you with me? It has to be about Kevin. It is his face, too. They must think I lost. Right? This news spot would be easier for the CIA to arrange than for my department. Of course, if they're working together..."
"Will Kevin see this?" Daniel worried. "He's right there in DC."
"Kevin's not showing his face, regardless."
She paced for another minute, then went to sit with Daniel again. She curled her legs under her and took his hand.
"Daniel, who did you talk to yesterday?"
His color heightened. "I told you. I didn't speak to anyone but the people at the counter."
"I know, but who were they? Male, female, old, young?"
"Um, the checker at the grocery store was a guy, older, maybe fifty, Hispanic."
"Was the store busy?"
"A little. He was the only checker. There were three people in line behind me."
"That's good."
"The dollar store was small. It was just me. But the woman at the counter had a TV on--she was watching a game show. She didn't look up much."
"How old was she?"
"Older than the first guy. White hair. Why? Older people watch more news, don't they?"
She shrugged. "Possibly. The third?"
"Just graduated, I guess. I remember wondering if school was out before I realized she worked there."
Her stomach felt suddenly heavier. "A young girl? And she was friendly--very friendly." It wasn't a question.
"Yes. How did you know?"
She sighed. "Daniel, you're an attractive man."
"I'm ordinary, at best. And I'm a decade too old for a girl that age," he protested.
"Old enough to be intriguing. Look, it doesn't matter. We'll do the few things we can. You stop shaving as of now, and we lie not just low, but flat. Aside from that, all we can do is hope the girl's not a news watcher. And that they don't run any pieces on whatever social media kids are using right now."
"Would they?"
"If they think of it. They're throwing Hail Marys."
He dropped his head into his free hand. "I'm so sorry."
"It's okay. We've all made mistakes on this little endeavor."
"You haven't. You're trying to make me feel better."
"I've made several major errors in the past few weeks."
He looked up, disbelieving.
"One, I didn't just ignore Carston's e-mail in the first place. Two, I fell for the trap. Three, I missed your tracker. Four, I didn't arm the ceiling in the barn. And then Kevin made the mistake of taking off his gas mask... I guess that's the only one I can think of for him, except for not having transport out. Bummer, I guess he wins that round."
"Well, he also did something wrong in the beginning or the CIA would have bought that he was dead."
"Good point. Thanks."
"Arnie, though," he said sadly. "Arnie's still batting a thousand."
"Don't you just hate those insufferable perfectionists?"
Daniel laughed. "So much." The humor left his face. "But I don't think you made so many mistakes. I mean, I guess when it comes to what's best for you, yes. But for me... Well, I'm glad you fell for it."
She gave him a sardonic look. "That's taking romance a little too far, don't you think?" She wished she could completely excise the memory of their first night together, with a scalpel if necessary. She wished those images weren't so clear and sharp in her mind--the tendons standing out in his neck, the sound of his muffled screams. She shuddered, wondering how long it would take until they faded.
"I'm serious. If it wasn't you, they would have sent someone else for me. And if that person had gotten the best of Kevin, whoever it was would have killed me right then, wouldn't he?"
She looked into his earnest eyes, and then shuddered again. "You're right."
He stared back for a long moment, then sighed. "So what do we do now?"
Alex frowned. "Well, our options are limited. My face still isn't ready for scrutiny. But it's now better than yours. So we can stay here and keep our heads down, or we could go north. I have a place. It's not as fancy as this one or as well protected. I don't have a Batcave." The jealousy in her voice on the last line was unconcealed.
"So you think it's safer here?"
"It depends. I'd like to get Arnie's thoughts about the town before we decide. Kevin's take wouldn't hurt, either. Hopefully he'll call soon. The plans have changed a little. I think he's going to get his wish. He gets to be the victor after all."
*
THE DAY DRAGGED. Alex didn't want to leave the television. It didn't change things much, knowing how many times they aired the piece and how many outlets picked it up, but she still had to watch. Arnie took the new situation with the stoicism she expected, only the tightening of his eyes betraying his worry.
Alex wanted to send Arnie to the Batcave with a list of everything she needed. She'd love to have the SIG for herself, plus extra ammo, and for Daniel the sawed-off shotgun that she'd seen in Kevin's stash. A sniper rifle wasn't as helpful in close quarters as a shotgun would be. It could incapacitate multiple attackers with one load of buckshot.
She also wanted to hunt for gas masks--she couldn't wire up the house if she didn't have a third for Arnie. She doubted Kevin would have overlooked such an obvious safety feature, but then again, maybe it was obvious only to someone like her. In his world, Kevin probably only worried about bullets and bombs.
But though she wanted these things badly, it might already be too late for preparations. If the flirtatious checker had called after the first broadcast--which could have aired earlier in the day than the one they'd seen, or even the day before--it would take a certain amount of time for their enemies to begin the search. Someone had to get here, then ask questions around town, and finally start investigating possible leads. But then, if that someone had good luck, the surveillance would begin. And she had no way of knowing if it already had.
Even though she and Daniel were staying inside with the windows covered, someone could be watching Arnie right now. If Arnie took a field trip to the Batcave, the watcher would follow. At that point, they might as well put up a banner that read CONGRATULATIONS, YOU'VE FOUND THE RIGHT PLACE! HELP YOURSELF TO A FEW ROCKET LAUNCHERS!
They could do nothing that might give away the existence of the Batcave.
Her most essential defenses were in easy reach, everything of importance loaded into her backpack--neatly Ziplocked by category--for a quick retreat. She had Arnie move the truck to the back of the house, close enough to Arnie's bedroom window that they could be in the front cab with one well-hidden step.
She wished Kevin would call or that he'd trusted them enough to give Daniel the number to his own burner phone, in case of emergency. There might be additional safeties he'd built into the place that Arnie wasn't aware of.
Daniel made dinner for the three of them, and though it wasn't as high-spirited an affair as the previous night's, it was still delicious. She told him to slow down with his stock of ingredients. It might be a while before shopping was on the agenda again, even for Arnie.
It surprised her how unaware Daniel seemed to be of Arnie's presence--well, not unaware, exactly, just unaffected. Not that he was rude to A
rnie or ignored him, but Daniel made no effort to hide his new closeness with Alex in front of him. Twice he took her hand; once he kissed the top of her head as he passed with the dishes. Arnie, unsurprisingly, showed no reaction to Daniel's exhibition, but she couldn't help but wonder what he thought of it.
Arnie told them he had the dogs on rotation to run the perimeter fence--all six miles of it--while it was light out, the time when scouts would be watching through binoculars. If anyone was perched close enough to watch the house, the dogs would alert him. After that announcement, he went to bed early, keeping his normal routine. Alex and Daniel stayed up to watch the evening news.
He curled around her on the sofa so naturally that it didn't feel out of the ordinary at all. She couldn't remember feeling so physically comfortable with anyone in all her life. Even her mother had been a brittle hugger, someone who rarely expressed affection, in words or actions. Alex's closeness with Barnaby was verbal, never physical. So she thought that she should feel awkward and embarrassed with her legs draped across another person's lap, her head cradled against that person's shoulder while his arms were wrapped around her, but she felt only oddly relaxed. As if his proximity somehow removed a portion of the stress from the situation.
The Daniel piece played again, but it ran later in the program than before, and she could tell the night anchor was bored by the story. The Agency might be able to force this bit into the news for a short time, but they couldn't keep the networks from reacting to what a nonstory it was. Of course, there was the obvious second act.
"I should probably warn you... if you haven't thought of it already," she said.
He tried to sound glib, but she could hear the wariness. "I'm sure I haven't."
"Well, if this story doesn't get results quickly, they'll have to up the ante to keep the press working for them."
"What does that mean, up the ante?"
She leaned back so she could see his face, her nose wrinkling in distaste at what she had to say. "They'll make the story more salacious somehow. Say you're suspected of a crime. Invent a student who you abducted or abused. Something along those lines, probably. They could be more creative, though."
His eyes shifted from her face back to the television screen, though the announcer had moved on to early primary predictions. He flushed, then went pale. She let him take his time with the idea. She could imagine how hard it would be for a good man to realize he was about to become a villain.
"There's nothing I can do about it," he said quietly. It was not quite a question.
"No."
"At least my parents aren't around to see it. Maybe... I don't think all my friends will believe it."
"I wouldn't," she agreed.
He smiled down at her. "At one point in the not too distant past, you thought I was going to murder a couple million people."
"I didn't know you then."
"True."
When the late news was done, they engaged in a more subdued good-night, then she began the cleanup. They might have to leave quickly. She dismantled and stowed her lab, then changed into leggings and a black T-shirt--things she would be comfortable in if tonight was the night they had to run.
She knew she was tired, but her brain couldn't seem to slow down. She didn't want to miss anything else. Daniel might be right--perhaps her first big mistakes were actually good things in that they might have saved his life. But she couldn't afford any more errors. It wasn't just her own life at stake now. She sighed to herself. There were benefits to having a liability, but the load was definitely much heavier.
A quiet knock interrupted her thoughts.
"Don't open the door," she cautioned quickly, jerking upright. The cot rocked underneath her.
After a short pause, Daniel asked, "Are you wearing a gas mask?"
"Yes."
"I thought so. Your voice sounds muffled."
Another pause.
"Is your security system terribly difficult to disarm?" he wondered.
"Give me a minute."
It took less than that to secure the live wires. She pushed her mask back onto the top of her head and opened the door. He was leaning against the frame. She couldn't see him perfectly in the darkness, but she thought he looked tired... and sad.
"You're very worried," he inferred, reaching to touch her mask lightly.
"Actually, I always sleep with this. It feels weird if I don't have it on. Is something wrong?"
"More than everything? No. I was just... lonely. I couldn't sleep. I wanted to be with you." He hesitated. "Can I come in?"
"Um, okay." She took a step back, switching the light on.
He looked around, a new expression taking over. "This is the room Kevin gave you? Why didn't you say something? You should have my room!"
"I'm fine here," she assured him. "I'm not much for beds, anyway. It's safer to sleep light."
"I don't know what to say. I can't sleep in a king-size bed knowing you're stuck in a storage box."
"Really, I like it."
He gave her a doubtful look, which turned suddenly sheepish. "I was going to invite myself in, but there's barely room for you."
"We could shift some crates..."
"I have a better idea. Come with me." He offered his hand.
She took it without considering what she was doing. He pulled her down the dark hall, past the bathroom door, to his own room. The only light came from a small lamp on the bedside table.
It was a very nice room, more in line with Kevin's usual aesthetic than her own storage space. There was a massive bed in the middle of the room, covered in a white comforter, with a rustic four-poster frame made of artfully unfinished logs. A gold blanket that matched the tone of the wood was draped over the foot of the bed.
"You see?" he said. "There's no way I could sleep in here again after seeing your sad situation. I'd feel like a horrible excuse for a man."
"Well, I'm not trading. I already have my room wired."
They stood awkwardly in the doorway for a moment.
"I didn't really have anything specific in mind to talk about. I just wanted to be where you were."
"It's okay. I wasn't sleeping, either."
"Let's not sleep together," he said, then he flushed and laughed embarrassedly. "That didn't sound right at all." He pulled her hand again, toward the big bed. "Look, I promise to be a perfect gentleman," he said. "I'll just feel less anxious if I can see you."
She climbed up on the thick white comforter next to him, laughing with him at his awkwardness and wondering privately if she wanted him to be a perfect gentleman. She reminded herself sternly that this was not the appropriate time for those kinds of thoughts. Maybe someday in the future when their lives weren't in danger. If that day ever came.
He took her hand but otherwise gave her space. They both lay back on the stacks of feather pillows. He put his free hand behind his head and looked over at her.
"Yes, see, this is better."
And it was. It didn't make sense--she was out of her secured room and farther from her other weapons--but, paradoxically, she felt safer.
"Yes," she agreed. She slipped the gas mask off her head and laid it beside her.
"Your hand is cold."
Before she could respond, he sat up and grabbed the blanket from the foot of the bed. He shook it out, then settled it over them. When he lay back, he was closer to her. His shoulder touched hers, and his arm lay over hers as he took her hand again.
Why was she so vividly aware of things that, in the grand scheme of survival, didn't really matter?
"Thanks," she said.
"Don't take this the wrong way--I mean it as the highest compliment and not as a slight to your company--but I think I might actually be able to sleep with you here."
"I know what you mean. It's been a long day."
"Yes," he agreed fervently. "Are you comfortable?"
"I am. Don't take this the wrong way, but I might put my mask back on at some point. It's just a weird sleep ha
bit."
He smiled. "Like hugging a teddy bear."
"Exactly like that, only not adorable."
He rolled toward her and leaned his forehead against her temple. She could feel his eyelashes brush against her cheek as he closed his eyes. His right arm snaked around her waist.
"I think you're adorable," he breathed. His voice sounded like he was already half asleep. "And terrifyingly lethal, too, of course." He yawned.
"Very sweet," she said, but she wasn't sure if he heard her. He was breathing so evenly she thought he might already be out.
She waited a few moments and then, carefully, she reached up with her free hand to touch his curls. They were so soft. Her fingers traced his features, totally calm in unconsciousness. It was that same innocent, serene face that had never belonged in her world. She didn't think she'd ever seen anything quite so beautiful.
She fell asleep like that, with her hand tucked possessively around the nape of his neck, the gas mask forgotten behind her back.
CHAPTER 17
Kevin didn't call.
Daniel didn't seem to think this was odd, but Alex thought she detected some extra strain in Arnie's shoulders.
It was too long.
As she'd understood things, Kevin only had to get into a position from which he could follow the one person they knew for certain was involved--Carston. He could have made the drive to DC in two days, even taking it easy. She'd told him exactly where to find her old boss once he was there. It was only a few hours' work, at most. If Carston wasn't where he was supposed to be, Kevin should have called. What was he doing?
Or had something happened to him? How long should she wait before suggesting that possibility to Daniel?
The new worry added to her paranoia. She strung an extra lead outside the door to her room so that it could be armed while she was in another part of the house. It was so frustrating, not being able to wire the whole first floor. Just one gas mask short.
On the plus side, every hour hidden helped her face. Under low-wattage lighting and with a lot of makeup, she might be able to escape notice for three or even four seconds.
The wait was an odd mix of boredom, stress, and the strangest kind of happiness. Doomed happiness, happiness with a deadline, but that didn't make it less... all-encompassing. She should be in a very dark place right now, the pulsing beat of the hunt filling her ears, but she found herself smiling as a default expression. It didn't help that Daniel was just as inappropriately giddy as she was. They talked about it the next afternoon while watching the news.
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