CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE ~ OPERATION: COOKIE CUTTER ~ by B.A. Linhares

Josh drops his arms and pushes me toward the door. “Feed me woman!”

We shuffle down the stairs and I flip my hair back and stick my tongue out at him.

“What was that for?”

“I’m not your slave,” I say, a little too harshly as I’m trying to recover from Josh’s (friendly) hug. Sean always said, “feed me woman” he never offered to help me prepare the food or clean up afterward. Little things like that stay with you.

Josh says, “I was joking. What are you, a woman’s libber?”

“No. I was kidding around.” I drop my eyes, watching my step.

I flip on the hall lights as we reach the bottom of the stairs. There’s water all over the wooden floors and the oval foot rug in front of the door is soaking wet.
“Holly crap!” I step off the last stair and place my hand on the wall, taking care so I don’t slip in my sandals. I turn the foyer light on too and see that the puddle of water is huge. “Oh my gosh. This is worse than I thought!”

“I tried to tell you.”

I check the front door to make sure it’s locked, and try to punch in the secret code and on closer inspection, I see that the thing was messed with. I turn and look around wondering if anything is missing. Josh follows my gaze. I push past him and look around the living room. It looks fine.
“Is something missing?”
I circle the room. “Not that I can tell. Josh, somebody totally messed up our security system. Check it out, the plastic cover is loose and it’s not working at all.”
Josh takes a pen light out of his pocket. “The wires are pulled lose. Better call this in. This is a crime scene.” He takes out his cell phone. Then he pauses and looks at me. We stare at each other. We’re both thinking that if he calls the police we'll have another big media scene to deal with.
He says, “You thinking what I’m thinking?”

I nod. “I think we should call Agent Brody.” I look down. “First I better clean this water up. It’s going to ruin our wooden floors.” I flip on all the lights on the first floor.

Josh kneels down and rolls up the rug. “Is it okay to drape it over the porch railing?”

“Yeah. Thanks. I’ll get a mop and bucket,” I say unhappily. I'm not unhappy just because I have a crazy person stalking me, it's because I really don't want to deal with this mess.
While I fetch the mop and bucket from the closet in the half-bath, Josh rolls up the wet rug and drapes over the railing on the front porch. He closes the door and watches me mop. It takes about a hundred swoops and I have to ring out the mop numerous times. I have a case of Cinderella syndrome and there’s a definite mood alter is in the air. This is great. I have to do housework while Char and Sean hang with the rich and famous. Josh and I don’t say anything the whole time. I return the cleaning stuff to the closet and take out my cell. I guess it's my house so I'm the one who needs to call Agent Brody. I stand in the living room and punch Ivan’s saved special number.

Josh sits on the arm of the couch and asks, “You calling Ivan?”

I nod. Ivan picks up on the first ring and I don’t even have to tell him anything. He just tells me not to worry. I hang up, look at Josh, and slide my phone in my pocket, raising my shoulder in a shrug. “He’s already on it,” I say and motion Josh toward the front door.

Josh looks surprised. “We can just go?”

“Yeah. Ivan said he's deal with it. He knows where we are going.”

Josh looks surprised. “He does? Did he say who broke in?”

“Nope! The FBI strives on super secrecy.”

Josh pushes the door open, letting me go first. “Nосле!”

I know that means ‘after you’ in Russian. I learned that on my first day in class. I enter the kitchen and I flip on the lights. Josh ambles restlessly around the kitchen looking around for something to do.

“Take a seat.” I gesture at the stools tucked under the kitchen island. “I need sustenance,” I mutter and head toward the refrigerator. I look toward the back window as I open the refrigerator door wondering if Ivan is out there. I stick my hand inside fridge pushing stuff around trying to decide what to eat. Keep it simple. Sandwiches.

Instead of sitting down, he comes over and stands beside me. “Whoa,” he says looking inside of our jumbo refrigerator. “Can we just pull some stools over and graze?”

“Sure, you want a fork or do you prefer to eat with your hands?”

“Is a shovel out of the question?”

I start pulling out food containers and Josh holds out his hands.

“Yoh, let me help.”

“Okay, um, set these on the island.” I pass Josh several sealed plastic container and he places the one by one on the island.

“What’s this?” He holds one up and I see that the label is blank.

“Who knows. I guess Pop didn’t bother to write what’s inside. Just set it on the counter.”

“It might be a science project. That’s what my mom calls stuff in the back of our fridge.”

I smile and bending at the waist to look at the stuff on the shelf inside the refrigerator door. “I’m not big on condiments,” I say, and then pause and look at Josh. “Do you like condiments?”

“I like pickles.”

I turn the jars so I can read the labels. “Let’s see, we have sweet, sour, hamburger dill, gherkin, kosher, and bread & butter.” Josh comes back over and stands behind me and I step aside. “You decide.”

Josh bends over, studying the choices. “Dang, this isn’t a kitchen, it’s a grocery store!” 

“Tell me about it. Our pantry looks like a mini-Safeway and that silver stainless steel door next to the pantry door, is a walk-in freezer. There is enough frozen food in there to feed a small army. Pop says we’re set for any disaster except nuclear fall out.”

Josh just shakes his head at me and pick up the kosher pickles and then a jar of green Spanish olives stuffed with garlic cloves. He reads the label, makes a face, and puts the olives back.

 “Oh, while you’re in there, I’ll take a Pepsi. Help yourself to whatever you’d like to drink and anything else you want.” I take the lids off everything.

Josh clutches the pickles in the crook of his arm and takes two Pepsis out of the soda dispenser. He closes the fridge with his hip and sets everything on the bar by the pile of food. He looks at me as if to say what next.

“Want to slice the roast beef?”

“Okay. You like thick or thin slices?”

I shrug. “Thin is better for sandwiches.” I pull out a cutting board and head into the pantry where Pop keeps an on going supply of homemade cookies and goodies. I suddenly feel like I have all this nervous energy. I guess the nap helped a lot. I haven’t felt this good all week. I was starting to think I had Swine Flu or something. I return and see that Josh took it upon himself to fetch a carving knife and is expertly slicing the roast. I set the container of cookies on the bar. “What’s your favorite cookie? Chocolate chip or oatmeal”

Josh looks up from his carving. “Yes.”

I laugh. “Are there any foods you don’t like?” I ask, hoping to avoid talking about Sean and Char. I’m enjoying hanging just out with a cute guy named Josh O'Dell. Why would I want to bring those two into the conversation.

He looks up and smiles. “I’ll eat anything except liver and Brussels sprouts,”

I make a face and shiver. “Ewe, organ meat!”

We bust out laughing at the innuendo. I toss a head of lettuce and he catches it like a football. “Do you want pumpernickel, white, wheat or whole grain,” I ask crossing the floor.

“You have pumpernickel? I love pumpernickel!”

I get a loaf of pumpernickel bread out of the breadbox and join Josh at the island. I take out four slices and glance around at all the stuff on the countertop.

“What the matter?”

“I forgot plates, duh.” I cross to the cabinets take out a couple of plates and place them on the countertop then pass Josh two slices of pumpernickel and a set of flatware. I twist off jar lids. “Um, did I mention that I’m going to be Pop’s assistant for his catering business?”

“Wow assistant to a master chef. That’s pretty cool.” Josh spreads mustard and mayo on his bread. “Is this going to turn into a career move for you?”

“No, just a way to make some cash. I still plan to go to college.” I pop open a container of left over macaroni salad and sniff the ingredients. I make a face, turn around, and toss the salad in the sink, running the water and garbage disposal. I return to make my roast beef sandwich and see that Josh already spread mustard and mayo on my bread and added lettuce and tomatoes slices. “Thanks.”

 “I noticed at your party that you like the works,” Josh says, and opens the pickle. He spears one with his fork and places it on the edge of my plate.

Wow, an attentive guy. There is a God. I pass Josh the roast beef and then help myself to a couple of slices. I pop open the metal container full of potato chips and place them between us.

“Your dad gave me his business card,” Josh says as he cuts my sandwich in half diagonally, and then his. Josh also takes a bite of one of his halves and he after swallowing the food, he says, “I passed it on to my mom.”

“Cool. Thanks.” I nod my head and take a bite of my sandwich. I’m starving. Josh helps himself to a few chips and some cheese. We grow quiet and my thoughts return to the issue of our front door being open and the security system being busted. I smile and pass him a napkin.

He wipes his mouth. “Anyway, she’s pumped because she throws parties and fundraisers all the time. She uses various local catering companies to feed the masses, but invariably something goes wrong.” I open a container of an assortment of cheese chunks and pop a square of cheddar into my mouth. “For instance, last month, she had a women’s luncheon at the church and a male stripper showed up.”

My mouth is full so I bug my eyes. I’m not really listening to him. I’m freaked out about our front door. I glance toward the back door and at the kitchen door.

“Anyway, from now on, Mom promises to only use Chef CAB for all her catering needs.”

I put my hand in front of my mouth, which is full of food, and ask, “Not to change the subject, but do you think Ivan knows who broke into our house today?” 

Josh follows my gaze. “I think it was your Mom. I noticed that your room was freezing.”

Sorry. I can’t laugh at Josh’s little joke. I look at him with sad eyes and his grin fades. I drop my eyes. You could cut the air with a knife. I suppose he assumes I’m in a playful mood and it’s okay to joke around, but if he thinks that I take the strange chilly episodes lightly he’s dead wrong.

I need an attitude check.

I silently put my sandwich down, go over, and open the back door. I look up at the sky. I take a deep breath and talk to God. Okay. I get that Josh is trying to be a funny so I don’t worry. I like him more than anyone. Way more than I ever liked Sean. But, there’s always this barrier keeping me from opening up to guys about what I’m really feeling. Like right now. Do you know what I mean? Of course you do. All I’m asking it to please make it so I can talk to Josh openly so we can be close friends and so we can get our heads around this investigation…assignment...thingy. I mean without me freaking out every time the dialogue gets deeper into the woods…

“Hey Cookie? I’m really sorry for being a jerk just now.”

I turn around slowly and return to the bar. “Forget it.” I smile at Josh. “Um, do you want to eat out on the patio? It’s not too bad, the rain cooled things off.”

“Sure, why not?”

We take our food outside and we settle across from each other at the little round patio table. A cool breeze flows the over our skin and the air smell fresh and clean. It’s as if Georgetown has gone from Indian summer to fall in the past few hours. A bug that lands on the table. We both swat at “Got him!” Josh tells me happily and wipes his hands on a napkin. I light the citrus scented candle Pop keeps out here to repel insects. “Good idea,” Josh says digging into his food. After a few more bites, he says, “This is really good.”

“Oh, baby you ain’t tasted nothin’ yet if you think that roast beef sandwich is good! My Pop is the best chef in the world, bar none.”

Josh laughs. “You should make a commercial for his catering business.”

We come up with several goofy ideas for catering advertisement, laughing so hard we can barely breath. After that, we don’t talk again until we’ve eaten the rest of our food. Josh sits back in his patio lounge chair placing a plate of potatoes on his lap, Pepsi in hand. He offers me a chip and I take one. Josh takes a sip of Pepsi.

“So,” I ask, pointing at him with the potato chip. “What do you want to talk about?”

Josh turns his head toward me chewing. He swallows. “You feel like talking about what happened that got you so upset today and have that nightmare?”

I pick up my Pepsi, sit back and run my tongue over my front teeth praying there’s no food stuck between them. “Em, not really. Just thinking about it makes me mad.”

“You promised to fill me in on all the drama. Besides talking about stuff will help us with the investigation.”

“Okay. You’re right––as usual.” I blow my next breath. “It wasn’t just what happened today that got to me upset. I think it’s all the stuff that’s happened over the last nine months or so combined with all of my other problems.” I laugh. “Huh, actually make that my whole life, which has a never been what you’d call normal. Mom was rarely home. If we wanted to see her, we had to fly to Austria, a neutral country.”

“How many times did that happen?”

“Hardly any. Only twice.” I reflect on the two trips Pop and I took during my lifetime. “Seventeen years seem like one.” “No offense to Pop, but growing up with only one parent around most of the time made me feel cheated.” I can feel Josh watching me and I raise my voice in frustration. “Having people stare at you all day and being the brunt of Char’s gossip grapevine sucked!” I pick up a crumb and throw it to the mocking birds gathering on the yard. “What kind of person does that to their best friend? Char is turning into a real b-word.” I look over at Josh and frown. “I’m cursed.”  I wipe my fingers on my jeans and look out at the backyard, just staring off at nothing for a moment. I have an idea. Let’s talk about my stalker. That’s a more interesting subject and I won’t have the urge to cuss so much.” I pick at a plastic nub on the arm of my chair. I really want to go somewhere, get out of the house, but I guess we have to wait around for Ivan.

Josh laughs a little. “Momma always says, what goes around comes around.” He waits a beat and says, “Don’t take this wrong, but what does growing up with only one parent have to do with what’s going on?”

I lift on shoulder. “Doesn’t one bad omen lead to the other?”

Josh flings crumbs at the birds and says, “No, your case is more like Murphy’s Law, anything that can go wrong will go wrong.”

I nod my head. “Yeah. I guess. Ironically, I think about my problems and compare them to the people affected by Katrina…”

Josh shakes his head side to side. “Why? There so completely different. Just saying, you can’t practically compare an act of nature to losing your mom the way you did. Sure a lot of people lost loved ones in that horrible storm, but, it’s like comparing apples to oranges.”

I sigh. “So, why do some people go through really difficult times and others seem to have it so easy? Is it bad karma? Or do you think they bring bad stuff on themselves?”

“I think a lot of what happens in life is fate. It’s also about choice,” “I think we learn from the consequences of our actions.”

“Pop says we learn mostly from our mistakes,” I say, “of which I make a lot of. My latest mistake was thinking that I could hang onto a good looking boyfriend. What’s hard is that there’s no reason or logic to life’s ups and downs. They just hit you up side of the head and make you feel like a train wreck.”

“If I’ve learned anything in my short life, it’s that life is chaotic. You can choose to go with the flow or fight to fix whatever knocked you on you butt. Do you want to walk on the sunny side of the street or stay in the shadows.” Josh pauses. “We have our whole lives and a lot to look forward to.”

“Truly,” I murmur, and close my eyes for a second thinking I’m seventeen years old, what do I have to look forward to...? My trip to Florida is about it. I picture Sean and Kelly in front of her house. Even though I’m upset about having my pride badly bruised from being dumped by Sean—deep down I’m glad. I don’t have to deal with him and his neediness anymore. I have a funny thought and laugh.

“What’s so funny?”

“I was just thinking that I ought to send Kelly Albright a thank you card and flowers for taking Sean.” I look at Josh. “Josh, Sean isn’t the nice guy people think he is.”

Josh nods knowingly. “Believe me, Palmer’s reputation will catch up with him.”

I guess it’s true about guys bragging about their sexual activity to each other. I wonder if Sean lied about us. I shrug him off and focus on my strange dream. Werthoust’s face flashes before my eyes. Then Valentine’s. They are one and the same. No. Valentine isn’t Agent Werthoust. Was Fredrik Koshechka in Austria when Mom disappeared?

“Josh, I’ve been thinking a lot about what Agent Werthoust asked me. You know, about seeing anything strange or any peculiar people while we were in Austria. The same night he asked me that I see the old man at the Checkmart. Then Ivan and his team of special agents show up and tell us some weirdo x-KGB dude might be spying on us because Mom is Russian and worked with the US government—”

“The KGB is defunct.”

“I know, that’s what we’re taught in school, but after my most recent dream and nightmares––I get the feeling that somebody foreign has been watching our family for years.”

 “Dad said they don’t know for sure it’s x-KGB. It could be Middle Eastern terrorist.”

 “I’m just going by what Ivan told us. He said the President and the Pentagon are involved. They have “chatter” too…my guess that means the people behind this are talking amongst themselves.”

 “I suppose it could be a pocket of disgruntled KGB guys.”

“Just hear me out,” I say earnestly. “I don’t want to forget the details of my dream before I have a chance to write them down.” I go ahead and tell Josh the details about how I fell and hurt my head nine years ago. Josh listens and makes a face.

“When we went back to our suite, I think there was a man in the elevator—in my dream he looked just like Valentine.” I take a deep breath. “And when I connect all the dots they point to this old man I keep seeing around town. Why is he wearing heavy clothing and using disguises? Is there something I’m not seeing?” I picture the man in my dream, it hits me like a ton of brinks, and I sit forward. “Oh crud. Think about it, Valentine can’t hide the heart-shaped birthmark unless he wears make-up or a hat––”

Josh says, “Could be Valentine’s just a perv and the bad guys haven’t shown up yet.”

I sit back and mull over that. After a few minuets, I hear Josh laughing to himself and I bug my eyes at him. “What’s so funny?”

“I’m sorry, I was just thinking about Palmer.”

I hold up my hands palms out. “Whoa. I’m finished talking about him.”

“I know. It’s just that when I overheard Billy Brennan in gym class today going on about how Sean was groping some hot babe at CB’s on Saturday night, I thought man these guys will make up anything to look macho. It’s just that...no, you’re right just forget it.”

I watch a little crease between Josh’s eyebrows deepen as he folds a napkin in half, making sure all edges line up, and places it on his thigh. The silence is starting to make me feel really uncomfortable.

“Josh, tell me,” I say, letting out a pent up breath. “I can take it.”

“Well,” he says reluctantly, “you saw Palmer and me talking at your birthday party. He made it sound like you were the only girl on earth for him. He told me he spent over a hundred dollars on the watch he bought you, but that you were worth even more. I thought wow, this guy is head over heals for Cookie Blakely. That’s why I didn’t believe Brennan today that and he’s always shooting off his mouth. But this time—I believe—Billy was telling the truth. Basically…they were saying that you are a PT. Hey, I’d be happy to teach Palmer a lesson.”

Hearing this from Josh raises my blood close to its boiling point, but I keep my cool. I cross my arm over my chest. “Don’t waste your energy.”

We’re silent for a moment then Josh says my name softly and a little smile appears on his lips. “If it’s any consolation, I hear that Kelly is a total skank!”

A little giggle makes the corner of my mouth twitch. “No she isn’t.” I pick up a chip and zing it at him.

“Plus she never baths either. We’re going to call her stinky.”

“Nice try, but it’s too late. My friends already told me that Kelly Albright is really nice.” Under my breath I add, “And she’s beautiful and swims like a fish…and I’m just me––boyfreindless––if that’s even a word.”

On that note, I jump up and start clearing off the table. I stack our plate and blow out the candle. “Sorry folks, but there are some things I’m not willing to do to keep a boyfriend around.”

Josh stands up abruptly and starts helping me clear the table. He places out silverware on the plates and picks up the potato chip container.

“So I guess it’s all my fault! Yep, I pushed Sean away one too many times so now I hope he has someone who will take care of *ALL* of his needs... if you catch my drift! Well I guess it’s out of the bag now, the whole school knows that I’m official still a virgin.” I realize I’m ranting and snap my mouth shut and wish the ground would open and just swallow me up.

We don’t say anything for several minuets. Personally, I think I’ve said enough. Josh—on the other hand—appears to be thinking about something. I sneak a look. His lips are pressed together in a tight line causing two very sexy dimples in his cheeks to appear. He’s probably trying to figure out how to get me (the most messed up girl in the universe) out of his life. I open the door to the storage closet off the patio (where we store yard tools and supplies) and rip off a small garbage bags from a roll. I hold it open as Josh tosses in our trash and scraps. Then I twisty tie the top. Josh takes the little bundle from my hand and finally breaking the deafening silence. He asks, “So, you still up for going down to the LOC?”

“Um, sure,” I say, glancing around the yard all of the little lights are on and the sky is a deep purple. “It’s not too early?” Shocked that he still wants to be around me.

 “A little bit. But I just wanted to make sure your were up to it.”

“I’m up to it, Josh. We have to work on our investigation.”

“Great. My dad gave me his police pass and called ahead to clear it with the night clerk, we can stay as long as we want.”

“Cool.”

I slide the glass door open and Josh holds up the garbage bag.

“Should I take this out to the alley?”

“Sure, that’d be great.” I pause just inside the door and glance at the chef clock. “Speaking of Dads, I wonder if mine will be back anytime soon.”

Josh pause on his way to the ally and shouts, “Should we stick around until?”

“No, he trusts me in your capable hands.”

Josh doesn’t get my little joke.

I jab my thumb over my shoulder. “I’ll leave him a note.” I close the door and watch him though the pane. He seems distracted by something in the yard. Then it dawns on me that he’ll need the combination to open the gate. I open the door and run up behind him.

Startled, Josh jumps and swings around and raises his hands in a marshal arts move, still clutching the little garbage bag.

“Sorry,” I say, and suppress a smile. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

He points at Mom’s overgrown rose garden and we squat down and squint through the shadows. Beggar kitty is peering out at us.

I squeal. “Hey, kitty.”

Josh calls, “Here, Beggar! Come here!”

The kitten immediately runs right to Josh and starts rubbing against his legs, purring at full volume. He follows us to the gate. After I open the lock, I pick up the kitten while Josh opens the gate and tosses out the trash. While we’re out in the alleyway, the surveillance van pulls under the street light and parks by our fence, where it was last night. Josh and I creep down to the street and hide next to the corner of our privacy fence.

I peer around the corner. The sign on the van now has pictures of giant wrenches and pipe pictures instead of flowers and says, Bob’s 24 Hour Plumbing Service. I whisper, “They keep changing the sign.”

“They don’t want to draw attention,” Josh says in a low voice.

One of the eyeball camera lenses rotates slowly toward us as if to say, howdy-do. I have the urge to wave, but I don’t want to give us away. I snicker. “What a joke. All of those doodads on top give them away.”

“Yeah, but think about it...who would want to try kidnapping somebody while there’s a rig full of hulking dudes armed to the teeth watching every movement?”  He nods. “I still shiver when I think about my altercation with Ivan the other night...”

“You have a point.”

I lean toward Josh and whisper, “Speaking of…I wonder if Special Agent Ivan Brody or any of his team will emerge from inside and tell us who broke into the house.”

Josh says, “That would be nice.”

We wait for about five minutes, but nobody come out of the van. Beggar starts squirming, his claws are digging into my arm. I nudge Josh. “Let’s get outta here.”

Josh locks up the gate and we hurry back to the house. Josh consults his watch and says, “We have a little time to kill before leaving for the Library of Congress.”

“Good. Mind grabbing the dishes?” I ask, and take the kitten inside with me and set him on the kitchen floor. He rises up and wanders over to the small TV on the rolling cart. “Mind if I check the weather forecast?”

“Be my guest.”

Josh clicks on the television and surfs around before finding the weather, just wondering about that storm that blew through here. He stops on a local news channel then crouches down next to me and pets Beggar. “I’ll make Beggar a little snack,” I say, rise up and opening a cabinet. I take out a bowl and look at Josh. “Um, do me a favor and make sure Beggar doesn’t take off through the house. Pop would have a fit if he pees.”

Josh keeps a hand on the scruff of Beggar’s neck while I slice off a small slab of roast and cut it in tiny squares. I set it on the floor with a bowl of milk. While Beggar chows down, we keep an eye on him and tidy up the kitchen and listen to the meteorologist tell us that the Freak storm was due to global warming or climate change. Josh and I both laugh.

I finish up, stroll over, and check on Beggar. I laugh. “He’s licking the paint off the plate.” I take it over to the sink, rinse it off and put it in the dishwasher. I dry my hands and look at Josh. He’s watching the TV and holding Beggar in his arms like a baby.

Josh says, “Check this out.”

I walk over and see a picture of my mom in the corner of the screen. The broadcaster says, “Breaking news. One of our sources called the station a yesterday and said he talked to someone who had information on Agent Eva Sheahan-Blakely, the deceased American CIA operative. After meeting with our source,  we feel what he told us is legitimate. Nevertheless this information on Blakely is vague at best. The mysterious man agreed to talk to me, but he would not let our crew film shoot my very brief interview that took place at an undisclosed place in Georgetown. The man I met is Russian and has a large statue. He’s in his mid-sixties, very fit, and very pleasant in demeanor. All he said was that he was quote––sorry for any angst his actions may cause and he hoped the American government would cooperate with his wishes––whatever they are––unquote. I spoke with the authorities working the ongoing investigation and they said that through chatter on the Internet they were aware of several unnamed foreign agents that were making serious threats to US agents and their families. Anyone with information, please contact the Federal Bureau of Investigations. Also in the news is the trial of Jerome Sanchez, the disgruntled runner up of American Idol…”

Josh picks up the remote and turns off the TV. I the reporter’s words play in my ears: very pleasant demeanor…does that mean he doesn’t plan to kill me as well? Did he kill Mom? I hang up the dishtowel and feel a quick icy cold blast of air on my face. Mom? I glance around expecting to see Mom in the room. But of course she isn’t…

“Better put kitty outside,” I say, blinking back to the kitchen. I dash off a quick note to Pop letting him know were I am and not to worry that I am with Josh O'Dell. After attaching it to the fridge door with a magnet, I turn around and stare at the black TV screen. I’m tempted to turn it on and see if there is more news on Mom. Josh sets little Beggar outside, brushes the fur off and locks the door. He sees me frowning at the TV.

“Wow, so my stalker went public…sort of.”

“Cookie, how do we know if it’s your stalker?” Josh shifts little Beggar to his other arm. “It could be anybody who worked in Intel.”

“True. But the description sure sounds like my Valentine…I mean the old man.” I cringe. “What wishes do you think this man wants the American government to cooperate with?”

“I have no idea.”

I wave at the back door. “I bet Ivan does…though he won’t tell us because everybody who works in the government is so tight-lipped or ambiguous.”

“Isn’t that why we’re doing our own investigation?” Josh scratches under his chin and I notice his five o’clock shadow. “Yeah, but  hey, at least we have perfect weather for the next few days,” he says cheerily and I remember why he turned the TV on––to check the weather––we just happened to see the news report on Mom’s case.” Josh looks at his watch. “Hey, I didn’t realize the time. We should head out pretty quick.”

“Okay.” I turn off the lights and we head down the hall and pause at the foot of the stairs.

Josh asks, “Mind if I use your facilities?”

“Sure, you can use the downstairs restroom. I’ll run upstairs and collect our stuff.” While upstairs, I brush my teeth, swish some mouthwash, and use the toilet. I dash into my bedroom, shut down my laptop and get our stuff. After a quick mirror check, I trot down the stairs and hand Josh his satchel. I ask, “Ready?”

Josh sweeps his eyes around the room. “Don’t you want to turn off some these lights?”

“Nope, my father is afraid of the dark.” I say, tongue in cheek.