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

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.