Ivan isn’t in the kitchen, just Josh
and the Agent from the surveillance van, sitting at the kitchen island gripping
mugs of coffee. A bowl of pretzels is sitting on the counter between them. They
don’t acknowledge our appearance. Their eyes are glued to the FOX NEWS correspondent
blaring from the small TV Pop keeps on a rolling cart. Their full attention is
focused on a deep voiced man on the screen with the most gorgeous blue eyes.
“Earlier
tonight, the President spoke with the Russian President, Vladimir Putin.
“Um,” I say uneasily as I scurry across the floor and
grab a cold Pepsi out of the fridge. “W-What’s going on?” I ask twisting off
the cap.
Everyone “shushes” me.
I take a long drink, one eye on the set, and sit down
on the stool next to Josh. Josh passes me the bowl of pretzels without taking
his eyes from the screen. “Thanks,” I whisper, and pick up a pretzel. Turning
sideways, I focus on what the news correspondent is saying.
“… we will
broadcast live what they discussed just as soon as we hear from the White House
press secretary.” The talking head pauses
and tugs up his coat sleeve to check his watch. “As usual they’re running behind. But we will broadcast live from the
press room.” He looks and sounds a tad irritated. “Stay tuned after a break from our sponsors for top of the hour
breaking news…” Next is a commercial about a Labor Day sale for Miracle Mattresses’ featuring a
sexy-looking couple, wearing skimpy bed cloths….let’s just say they looked a
little too happy spooning on top of a
Miracle Mattresses in the middle of
the store’s showroom.
I turn and smile at the guy from the van. He has dark
circles under his eyes, and looks like he hasn’t slept in days. He extends his
hand and says, “Agent Skip Landowska.” He’s all business tonight.
I shake his hand. “I, um, met you the other night.”
Pop shakes Agent Landowska hand too. Agent Landowska picks up his coffee mug takes a sip and grimaces.
Pop picks up the pot of coffee sitting in the machine
at the end of the bar, sniffs it then says, “Er, don’t drink that slug.” He
takes the coffee, dumps it in the sink, and makes a fresh pot.
I drink Pepsi and look at Josh.
The acid burns my throat but the cold liquid is heaven and I feel my second
wind coming. Being home helps. Plus seeing Pop futzing in the kitchen. Josh is eating a pretzel. He picks up another pretzel
and shoves it in his mouth as if he’s starving. I sit up straighter on the
stool and say, “So fill us in. What did we miss?”
Josh washes down the pretzels with cold coffee and slides
his gaze to Agent Landowska. Agent Landowska says, “We
think the Press conference has something to do with your Mom.”
My stomach does a little flip. I widen my eyes in
response and take another drink. Before Agent Landowska can elaborate, the string
of commercials ends. Dramatic FOX graphics and theme music begins as the TV camera
zooms in on the face of the same handsome reporter.
He says, “Good evening...and
welcome to FOX News Live.” He pauses to glance down as someone slides a
sheet of paper under his face. He scans over the paper then blinks at the
camera. “I have just been handed some BREAKING NEWS—it seems the President has
just called an emergency press conferences in the oval office...which is highly
irregular for this time of the night. Seems our White House correspondent Andrew Bixby
just happened to be there covering a fundraiser and well I digress…. He
stops talking, arches a perfect
eyebrow then turns slightly in his seat as the station engineer cuts to
the President
Sharon Parks, the first woman president, ever. Flashes
and clicking noises emit from cameras around the oval office. I twist forward
to see the small screen better. Parks is sitting
behind her big ancient desk. Even at this ungodly hour, she looks as if she
just stepped out of a salon. Pop and I followed the campaign closely. We think
it’s so awesome having a beautiful, black, Republican woman in the most
powerful position on the planet.
“Thank you
all for coming on such short notice and at this late hour,” President Parks says, sounding genuine and somewhat
emotional. “Now I must ask the photographers
to leave.” A serious smile plays at her red lips as her eyes quickly swim
over the swarm of reporters crowded into the oval office, begin filing out the
side doors. The camera zooms in on the numerous legal sized white envelopes
stamped “TOP SECRECT” and “CONFIDENTIAL” bundled and stacked on top of her
desk. Before speaking, the President raises her hand to brush a stray curl from
her eyelash. She’s wearing a tailored sapphire silk suit; makeup done to
perfection, medium length dark brown hair softly curls around her face exposing
a diamond stud ear rings, not too big.
“These sealed envelopes...” She waves a beautifully manicured hand over the stacks
and pauses as if to collect her emotions. Her gold wedding band glints in the
bright spotlights. “These sealed
envelopes,” she repeats sternly then clears her throat and continues, “Were brought to me approximately one hour
ago by the Pentagon.” She gracefully sweeps her hand over the entire top of
her desk again to emphasize her point. “Every
one of these documents refers to one woman…Agent Eva
Sheahan-Blakely. Her astute brave
accomplishments, and in particular, her alleged death and bungled case.”
A sudden uneasy chatter rises in the room and then dies down as quickly when
President Parks raises her hand. “May I
ask all of you to please hold your comments and questions until I’ve a chance
to explain my thoughts on this tragic and unprecedented case?”
I glance around at Pop, Josh
and Ivan. They are watching and
listening as if their lives depend on
what the President is about to say. I wonder what the heck is going on now.
She continues, “Earlier
today, during a meeting with the team working the on going investigation, I
asked—Elliot, the FBI Director— point
blank by if he thought that FBI Agent William Werthoust had anything to do with
Agent Eva Sheahan-Blakely’s alleged death—”
A reporter breaks in and
says, “Mrs. Parks, William Werthoust is the Bureau’s point man however there’s
a rumor around DC that you want Special Agent Ivan Brody as the Special
Agent in Charge to take over the investigate—”
Parks holds up her hand. “I
was just getting to that...” She smiles tightly. “Tom,
let me know if you’d like to switch places with me.”
The President pauses during the round of nervous
chuckles. The voice off camera says, “Sorry Madam President.”
President Parks regains the room’s attention and folds
her hands on top of the desk. “Very well
then… fellow Americans, tonight, I
have called this press conference to publicly state that part of that rumor Thomas mentioned is in fact, true. I hope to clear up
a few things too. This morning, at approximately ten A.M.” ––she raises her voice over the garbled
mumbling from the press— “I’ve met with privately
Agent Werthoust and asked him to step
down. I have also met with Special Agent Ivan Brody
and asked him to take over the case as SAC, he has agreed. Now if you have any
questions, I will do my best to answer them.”
Several reporters call out
questions. Most of them ask about stuff we already know, and the newspapers
reported on over the past nine months. I pick up my Pepsi and finish it off.
“Thank you Madam President. Can you elaborate on the
mysterious KGB agent stalking Cookie Blakely, the fallen Agent’s daughter?”
The next question catches
my attention because they say my name. I almost spew all over the countertop. I
cover my mouth with my hand and strain my ears to hear every word. Pop’s hand
is holding my other hand. I glance at him. His eyes are glued to the TV.
“I’m sorry,” Parks says firmly, “but
due to the sensitivity of the case I will not be answering any more questions
at this time. However, I will add that, I am opening a full congressional examination
on the mottled handling of this case thus far. That is my opinion. ”
The Whitehouse press corps shouts
out more questions. “Is Werthoust being charged with murder?” “Has he
been fired?” “Have you spoken with the family?”
“I’m sorry, but at this time, I am not prepared to tell
you any more. This is a matter of National Security and an ongoing
investigation.” Mrs. Parks
stands up and exits the oval office via a side door.
My head feels like it’s about to burst and questions
explode from my lips. “Is Werthoust
under arrest? If so, they should charge with murder! Where is Ivan? And
more importantly, where is my stalker?”
Josh just shrugs his shoulders
and Agent Skip is on his cell. Pop sips his coffee. I watch them
wondering if they’re keeping information from me to protect me.
Ivan comes through the back door abruptly and shoots me one
of his intense looks. He grabs the remote, clicks the TV off, and walks over
and stands in front of Pop. “You heard.”
“Yes,” Pop says somberly. “Not sure what it all means
though.”
Ivan and Pop discuss the news and I catch Josh’s eye. I get up and go around sitting on the
stool next to him. Josh sits back and
rests his hands on his thighs and I lean closer to his ear. “Josh, I have about a million questions I want to ask Ivan but no clue where to start. Everything is
happening too fast and not fast enough.”
He says, “I filled Ivan
in on what we found out at the LOC.”
“Okay. That’s good.” I feel Ivan
watching us so get up and walk outside to toss empty bottles in the recycle
bin. I close the door take a few deep breaths and return to the kitchen. The
last thing I want right now is to draw attention to myself. I feel like I’m
going to lose it and I don’t know why I want to cry. Get it together. You can do this. I avert my eyes and take the
stool next to Josh again. I place both
hands between my knees to keep them from shaking.
“Cookie…”
Ivan says my name so softly I almost think I imagined it. I
look over at him and smile. One of Ivan’s
blonde eyebrows arches high on his forehead. He looks at Josh
and then back at me, somewhat perturbed.
“Hi Ivan.”
Ivan flips through a small notepad lying on the bar. “Josh gave me a quick rundown of what you two found
out while doing research for you’re so called “your faux investigation”.” He
raises his hands and puts finger quotations around your faux investigation.
Then he paces around the kitchen and continues, “Agents Markowitz and Smith also filled me in on your evening events
and whereabouts…I understand you and Josh
actually saw your––”
“Whoa, Ivan,”
I say, interrupting him, before he tells Pop what happened in the alley.
Ivan swings around and narrows his eyes at me.
“Um, before we talk about all that, could you please explain
to us what the President was talking about?” “What was with all of those stacks
of top secret envelopes?”
“Sorry, that’s classified.”
“Come on Ivan,” Josh
says, sounding exasperated. “We are only trying to find out what really
happened to Cookie’s mom. The Blakely’s have a right to know what it was!”
I shout, “Yeah!” Josh’s
uproar has me off my stool. I couldn’t have put it better. I throw my fist in
the air and yell, “Right on Josh! Ivan, we have a right to know.”
Josh goes on, “It’s not fair that Cookie and her father
have been kept in the dark. Now they find out that from the President that
Agent Werthoust and his merry men botched her mom’s case.” He shakes his head.
“Man, something must’ve gone seriously wrong with to get the President to hold
a press conference in the middle of the night. The information Cookie and I dug
up at the LC tonight is freaking mind blowing.”
Josh unzips his satchel and pulls out the thick stack of
paper Mr. Getman printed out for us at the LC, and slaps
them on the countertop. Ivan comes
over and thumbs through the pages.
“We made copies of everything.” I go to Pop and snake
my arm through his. I didn’t realize he was in the process of measuring coffee
beans. The spoon full flies out of his hand and little brown beans plink-plink
on the tile floor like a broken pearl necklace.
Pop doesn’t seem to care. He frowns deeply, looks at
me and then at Ivan and bellows, “We bloody well have a right to know!”
Josh says, “Enough is enough—”
“Okay!” Ivan
says loudly, and holds up his hands. “Everybody please calm down! Remember, I’m
on your side.”
Josh looks suspicious.
“We hope so.” I let go of Pop’s arm, and dash to the
pantry, grab the broom and dust pan to sweep up the coffee beans. I rise up and
dump the coffee beans in the waste can.
“Listen!” Ivan
shouts loud enough for me to hear from inside the pantry. I come out and he
says, “I absolutely identify with your frustration. Agent
Werthoust didn’t handle the case well.”
Josh gasps. “That’s an understatement.”
“Yeah,” Pop growls, his face is bright red.
Oh, man. I squat down, sweep up the rest of the coffee
beans, and keep an eye on Pop. If he gets too worked up, it won’t be good.
“Have the powers
that be who worked on the investigation screwed up? Totally, and now I have
to start from the beginning.”
“Cookie and I have been through hell and back.”
Ivan says, “I won’t let that happen on my watch and
neither will the President.”
“Right…now that
the President has stepped in maybe we’ll get somewhere.” I’m syked that
President Parks is personally involved and look at Ivan
for encouragement.
“I give you my word Christopher
that President Parks and I will not rest until we’ve
turned over every stone.”
I dump the beans in the trashcan and I look up. Two
little creases appear on Ivan’s tan
forehead. Wrinkles from dealing with horrible people: terrorist, child
molesters, murders—my stalker. “Parks appointed you
to take over Mom’s case,” I say, pointing at Ivan
with the dustpan. “Please tell us where the case stands.” I grip the broom
handle like sword.
“Well, I first presented the President with a detailed
outline of how I intend to carry out a fail safe plan to solve this case once
and for all if it is the last thing I do. You guys have to trust me.”
Ivan sounds genuine, but Werthoust said the same thing. I put
the cleaning stuff away and stroll around the bar. “Trust me. Huh?” I tap my chin. “Where have I heard that line
before…? Oh, I know! Agent Werthoust.”
I stare at Ivan and he places his
hands on his hips and shakes his head dolefully.
“Man, you’re a tough crowd.” A little smile plays on
his lips as he looks at the people in the kitchen.
“We just want
to know the truth,” I say, crossing my arms over my chest.
“Fair enough.” Ivan
stares at me openly with his intense blue eyes. He is a very good-looking man.
“So what’s this plan of yours? And how is it any
better than the one Warthouse worked on for almost a year with zero results.” I totally surprise myself
talking to a Federal agent in this manner. Who do I think I am?
Ivan tells me, “It’s complicated.”
“Well, Josh
and I can help you.”
Josh says, “Just tell us what you want us to do.”
“Absolutely not,” he states adamantly. “To teenagers involved
in a volatile investigation such as this isn’t going to happen.”
I smack my hand on the tile. “And why is that?”
“It’s extremely dangerous. We think we are dealing
with a manic that will stop at nothing.” Ivan
throws up a hand. “Hell, I can’t even
wipe my own nose without first getting clearance from the President.”
Josh says, “No one can stop us from researching Eva. I mean, because it’s available to anyone,
right?”
Ivan looks thoughtful. “You have a point there. Now that I
think of it, there is something you
can do to help me.”
Ivan bends at the waist and picks up a silver brief case
leaning against the legs of the stool he’d sat on earlier. He crosses the
kitchen floor and places it on the nook table, fingers the combination lock,
and the brass clasps pop open. Inside are more white packet marked TOP SECRET
like the ones stacked on the president’s desk. He removes them, slides two
legal size pads from flaps from inside, and crosses the floor. He hands one to
Pop and the other one to me. “Cookie, Christopher,
you can read these.”
Pop raises his bushy red eyebrows in surprise. “What
are the notepads for?”
“You said you want to help. I need a lot of input from
you and Cookie. Do you best to remember every detail regarding your trip to Austria
last December? Even if you feel it’s insignificant. Write it down no matter
what. Also—and this may sound odd—I want you to try and recall anything you remember about Eva. Was there anything she said or did didn’t sit
well with you over the years.”
I raise my hand. “What do you mean by ‘sit well’?”
“You know, things that made you go hum.”
I nod. “Ah.”
The machine gurgles loudly announcing the coffee is
ready. Pop lays his legal pad on the counter and fetches more mugs and a
plastic container of fresh baked ginger cookies. I scrounge around the junk
drawer in the island for a couple of pens then reach over placing one on Pop’s
legal pad. I plop down on a stool next to Josh
and stare at my yellow pad. “I can’t do this right now, my brain is fried.”
“We can work on it together if you want,” Josh says sounding tired.
“Thanks.” I raise my arms over my head and stretch.
Pop sets a platter of ginger cookies in front of us.
“Thanks, but I could go for something a little more
substantial.” I look at Josh. “How
about you?”
“Sure, thanks,” Josh
says, popping his neck. “I can always eat.”
I hop down. Go to the fridge and start pulling out the
cream cheese, a bakery bag of everything bagels, a plate of sliced beefeater
tomatoes, and sliced roast beef. When I turn around, Josh
is there to help me with my load.
I smile and hand him the plate of tomatoes. I grab two
more Pepsis. Looks like we’re pulling an all-nighter. I set the rest of on the
bar and take a small stack of plates from the cabinet, plucking the long
serrated knife from the knife rack. There’s an empty slot in the rack. “Pop?” I
turn around and see Pop refilling Ivan
and Agent Skips coffee mug. He fill his and takes sip. Is the butcher knife still
in the bushes?”
“Damndest thing…it wasn’t there when I went to get it.”
Agent Skip
says, “Our team looking into it.”
Josh and I share a baffled look and Skip
looks us over his mug. He says, “There’ve been a lot of lookie-looks wandering
around the neighborhood.”
I hand Josh the
knife and he slices the bagels on the cutting board. “Who would take our
knife?”
“Yes, and they
make my job hell. Too bad I can’t shoot them.” Ivan’s
cell goes off. He excuses himself and leaves the kitchen.
We all laugh.
I alter slices beef and cheese on the bagel halves
then fetch Grey
Pompon and mayo from the fridge. Mindless
tasks help calm me clear my head and focus on Mom.
Ivan pushes through the kitchen door and joins us at the
island. He takes across from Josh and
me. He looks worried about something. I place the plate of sandwiches in the
center of the island and peek over at Ivan—his
eyes are darting between the three of us. I focus on his face trying to read his
thoughts. He catches my eye and holds it, I feel my face heat up but I don’t
look away.
I smile and hold the plate toward him. “Sandwich?”
Ivan nods and picks up a sandwich and a napkin. Pop slides
his mug of steaming black coffee closer. “Thank you,” he mumbles and takes a
sip. “You are very kind.”
Pop settles on the stool nearest the coffee pot
looking weary, but at ease. I glance at the chef wall clock and wonder why Pop’s
doctor hasn’t called back. Maybe he did and we didn’t hear the phone over the
television.
Pop eyes his notepad and pen as he dunks a ginger
cookie into his coffee. “I’m not much of a story teller.”
“Do the best you can.,” Ivan
says around a mouthful. He swallows and wipes his mouth. “Wright
it down, even if you feel something it is insignificant.”
And for the next few minuets, we all grow quiet while
we eat.
Ivan eats half his sandwich, and then set it down and
while wiping his hands; he says cautiously, “Um, I need to let you know that
the call I took a few minuets ago. It was from my overseas contact. But first, I
must warn you that things could get fairly
crazy quickly.”
“What does that
even mean?” Gulp. I wipe my mouth and
ask.
“Well, as you
know, the suspect was able to evade my men pursuing him in the Capital South
Metro station vicinity. However an on-looker Agent Smith spoke to claimed to know
you two from school.”
I screw up my face. “Who?”
Ivan goes back to the briefcase, takes out a photograph,
and consults his notepad. “James
Beal.” I’m speechless and I feel
my eyes go wide as Ivan hands me a
photograph of Beal standing inside the Metro Station grinning like a goon with
several cameras around his neck. “You know him?”
I just nod my head and stare at the photo.
Josh takes the photograph from me and says, “Sure. Beal’s
been a pretty good friend for years. We’re in several advanced classes
together. He’s one of the so called smart kids and the official school
photographer.”
“Why was Jimmy
in the city?” I ask, finding my voice.
“Mr. Beal
said he was in the city just shooting photos of stuff for the school newspaper.
More importantly, he told Agent Smith that he noticed your yellow Mustang in
the ally and saw a strange man approaching you. He said he recognized him from
seeing him at Georgetown
High School a couple of
times. Mr. Beal said he was able to fire off a few
shots before my men moved in. He gladly handed over the rolls of film from his
cameras.”
All I can say is, “Whoa.” Then Pop, Josh and I share a look. Now that Beal is involved, I
can only imagine what a pain in the butt he’ll become. This is not good.
For the next few minuets we talk about what Beal told Agent
Smith about seeing Valentine hanging out on the sidewalk near the pool the same
day Sean and I saw Valentine
in the taxi the day we broke up. I rehash what occurred in the parking lot but leave
out the parts where Sean and I fought.
After that, Ivan rambles off his
agenda for the interim and Josh takes
notes on my legal pad.
Meanwhile, I pick at my sandwich and wonder if I will
ever go to bed. How long has Valentine been stalking
me? For all I know he’s been watching me my whole life. If he wanted me dead he
certainly has had a million chances to oft me. What is his deal?
Pop opens one of the TOP SECRET packets and looks
through the reports. My eyes wander over and see that half of the words are marked
through with thick black lines. Yawing wide, I bite my bagel sandwich and zone
out. I picture myself as a special agent. Before I invest in a trench coat I
should do more research on qualifications for the position. I know zilch about
guns or how to shoot one. Why am I thinking about all this right now? I
shouldn’t make any snap decisions regarding such a dangerous career choice on
so little sleep. I start thinking about the headline and this makes me worrying
about even going to school again. I turn my attention to Ivan and ask, “What do Josh and I do
if Jimmy asks us about my stalker?”
He muses this over. “Just say that the FBI told you
not to discuss it with anyone.”
I mutter, “That’s easier said than done. Beal is a royal pain in the butt.”
Josh
laughs. “Beal has a crush on Cookie.
But who doesn’t.”
“Shut up!” My face feels like it’s beet red. I throw a
chunk of bagel at Josh. He
catches it, pops it in his mouth, and takes his dish to the sink. I can’t
believe Josh
said that.
I stare at him until Ivan
says, “I have a meeting with President Parks in the morning. After that I am
flying to Austria.
From Austria I will be
flying down to Florida
late Friday.” He’s looking at me as if trying to remember something. I slide my
eyes at Josh. He’s bending over the
dishwasher helping Pop tidy up the kitchen.
Does Josh
have a crush on me?
Ivan asks, “Cookie, I understand you two are spending
Labor Day Weekend in the Orlando
area…and Cocoa Beach?”
Hearing my name snaps me out of my muse. I sit up
straighter on my stool. “Um, yes, sir, that’s the plan.” Pop
comes over and stands next to me. I
nudge him. “Right Pop?”
“We are.”
“Super. I’ll need phone numbers and addresses of where
you will be staying. Both of you, please, keep your cell phone on your person
at all times, you too Josh. If you
need to, call my cell any time day or night. Cookie and Josh,
if you see this character at school call me immediately. I will either answer
or have a coded message that will give you instructions to hang tight until I contact
you. That will only occur if I’m forced to scramble numbers.”
I’m thinking no can do. Doesn’t he know about our
school rules regarding electronic devices and the like? Then it dawns on me
that Ivan has already spoken with our Principle
and all.
Ivan sips his coffee and continues, “When I arrive in Florida, I will contact you as soon as
possible.” He sets his piercing blue eyes on me. “Any questions Cookie?”
I put my bottle to my lips and nod “no” then hard swallow
the Pepsi. My eyes water from the carbonation.
Ivan goes to his briefcase and takes out another packet
that is sealed in a large zip lock bag. “Skip
will be handing this note from the suspect over to the appropriate department
for tests.”
Josh elbows me. “I handed the note over to Ivan,” Josh
tells me in a low voice. Josh motions
me closer so I lean toward him. “I had
to give it to Ivan.”
“Oh. Okay,” I say, in a little voice.
A tight smile plays on Josh’s
lips as he continues to write feverishly. I slide my eyes at Pop. He doesn’t
seem to know anything about the note. Josh
elbows me again and I lean over and see lots of short sentences with little asterisks
and underlined words that stand out on the lined yellow legal notepad. He’s
like having a personal secretary. “Why?”
“Several of Ivan’s
men saw Valentine throw it in the Mustang. Heck, Jimmy
probably took a picture of the envelope flying in the backseat.”
True. I blink at Josh
and try to maintain a calm voice. “Does Ivan
think what it says is legit?”
“We won’t know until the crime lab people at the
Georgetown MPD compiling the evidence.”
Josh slides the notepad in front of me and I read what he’s
been writing: I gave it to Ivan. He doesn’t want Mr. C to know about it just yet.
I nod slowly.
Ivan stops talking. I looks up and see his eyes dart
between Pop, Josh and me. I nod slowly
again. I can only imagine how Pop will react when he learns that Mom might
still be alive. Hold down the roof Nelly.
Ivan comes over, picks up the legal pad and reads Josh’s notes.
Josh changes the subject. “Who are you setting up as the
local point man while you’re in Florida?”
Ivan puts down the notepad. “Sergeant
O’Dell, you father, is the local
point man on this case. He’s been acquainted with the case since the beginning.
His department is getting a task force up to speed to assist the other agencies.”
“Very cool, that Dad is working on the case with you.”
Josh smiles and drums with the pen on the notepad, then arches his eyebrow at Ivan. “Sir, my Mom says she’d like it if you want to
come over for one her home cooked meals. Your complements make her feel good.
Dad and I forget to tell her what a good cook she is.”
Ivan turns toward Josh
actually looking bashful for a second. “I’d be honored,” he says, and then he’s
all business again. “Listen up Josh. I
see you take through notes. The first chance you get, I want you to tell your
father everything that you and Cookie know so far. That way everything is on
the up and up.” He looks at me. “If either of you hold anything back you both could be charged with withholding
information.”
Gulp. I notice that Pop seems to have disconnected him
self from the conversation. He’s over staring out the back door. Is he worried
that my stalker is lurking outside somewhere. He is…
Ivan clears his dry throat and says, “Cookie, do you have
any bottled water?”
I get up, grab several bottles of water out of the
fridge, set them on the island, and turn my attention back to what Ivan is saying. Josh
and Ivan helps himself to water.
After Ivan
takes a long drink he says, “Christopher,
Cookie and Josh…I suggest that all
three of you vary your activities from you normal schedules as much as
possible. As long as you take a few simple safety measures, you should be safe.
I have instructed several of my team to travel with you to Florida. You can’t talk to a soul about
any part of the probe.” He sips some water and points at me with the bottle. “Is
that understood?”
I gasp. “I won’t…geez.” I let out a long breath and
sit up. My tailbone feels like it’s starting to fuse with the stool.
Pop is still looking out the back door. Maybe he’s
watching Beggar. I call out, “Pop? Everything
okay?”
He doesn’t say anything. He returns to the island and
starts putting the food away.
I jump up to help. “Everything out there okay Pop?”
“It’s raining,” he says wistfully. “There’s a storm
brewing in the Caribbean and I’m worried about our trip to Florida.”
My gaze goes to the plate-glass window in the nook.
Josh says, “That’s right Mr. C, it’s hurricane season in Florida.”
“No way!” I say, as I gather the dishes and pray for
good weather in Florida.
Pop puts the lid on the ginger cookies and looks at Ivan. “Any clue as to how long it will take to catch
this creep?”
Ivan twists the lid onto the water bottle. “If all goes
according to my plan, it shouldn’t take long.”
I look at Ivan’s
plate. “Finished?”
He pops the last morsel in his mouth and studies my
face. His Adam’s apple bobs up and down as he swallows the moist lump. “Oh, yes,
thank you.” He picks up his napkin, swipes his mouth.
I stack everything on a tray and carry it to the
counter next to the sink. I load the dishwasher and keep an ear and eye on Ivan Brody and Josh O'Dell
as they discuss the case. Even though I wish I had a normal life most of the time, I have to marvel at my life. Not many
kids get to experience what I have. I close the door to the dishwasher and lean
against the counter.
Pop tops off his and Ivan’s
coffee, and then rinses out the decanter in the sink. “You holding up okay
love?”
“I’m fine.” I push off the take the soiled napkins in
the garage and toss them in a wicker hamper next to the washing machine. I
stroll back to the island and Josh and
Pop look amused. “What’d I miss?”
Ivan adds several teaspoons of sugar to his coffee and
stirs.
Pop says, “Ivan
was just saying that you may’ve overheard him refer to something called OPERATION
COOKIE CUTTER. It’s the codename for your Mum’s probe.”
I look at Ivan and he smiles boyishly at me.
“Do you like it?”
I burst out laughing. I’m laughing so hard tears are
and run down my cheeks. I’m forced to use a dishtowel to blot my eyes and blow
my nose. I can’t stop laughing. Josh
touches my shoulder looking alarmed and it sends me off into another fit of the
giggles. Eventually, I get a bad case of hiccups and have to excuse myself.
