The front door opened and closed, and Travis walked around the corner, loosening his tie. He'd gotten a job with Thomas's advertising firm. It was based in California, and the story was that he was taking over for Thomas since he'd moved out to manage their East Coast office, but Travis somehow managed to stay in Eakins. None of it made much sense, but I hadn't thought to question them until now. America and I had been busy with our own family. It'd been far too easy to overlook things.
I stood, hugging Travis. "You okay? Is that a fresh black eye?"
Travis grimaced. "I totaled the SUV."
"Where's Liis?" I asked.
"Her friend Val took her to get diapers and such," he said, looking tired.
"Can someone answer the fucking question?" America blurted out. "Why is Liis here without her husband?"
"Mare," Abby warned.
Camille brought Dad a steaming mug, and his eyes lit up for a few seconds.
"Decaf," Camille said.
"Why are we here, Abby?" America demanded.
"To keep you safe," she blurted out. "To keep us all safe."
"From what?" I asked.
Travis shifted. "From whoever shot Thomas."
I looked up at my wife. Her mouth hung open a bit, and she'd stopped rubbing my shoulders.
"What the fuck does that mean?" Trenton asked, reaching for Camille's hand. She took it, looking just as stunned and worried as America did.
"It means ..." Jim began, taking a deep breath. "The FBI are here, and they seem to think whatever happened to Thomas wasn't an accident. Now ... everyone, just calm down. You're safe here. The kids are safe. When Taylor and Tyler get here, they'll be safe too."
"So that's the plan?" Camille asked. "To hole up here like a safe house?"
"Do they really think someone is targeting our family?" Trenton asked. "Why?"
Travis seemed irritated with each question. "It's possible."
"The whole family?" Trenton asked.
"Possibly," Travis responded.
"Olive," Trenton said, running down the hall and out the door.
CHAPTER SEVEN
LIIS
24 HOURS EARLIER ...
I SAT IN A SEEDY HOTEL ROOM, judging the peeling white paint and outdated furniture. I'd stayed in a lot of shithole places during my time with the FBI but never with a newborn. I'd been holding her since we'd arrived, too nervous to set her down before scouring the room with a black light.
After a short knock, Agent Hyde cracked open the door. "It's me."
"Come in," I said, half relieved, half annoyed. She'd come empty-handed when I'd specifically asked for clean sheets, pillows, blankets--not from the motel--rags, and Lysol--and a lot of it.
"I know what you're thinking," Hyde said. Her dishwater blond hair was pulled back and secured at the nape of her neck. She was Quantico's top female agent after me. I was glad she was there, but she wasn't exactly the warm and fuzzy type. I wanted to be tough, buttoned-down, and unfazed, too, but it was hard to keep up that persona with my nursing bra unsnapped and smelling of baby vomit.
"You don't have a clue what I'm thinking," I said.
"It's all on its way."
Maybe she does. "It'd better be. He knows I hate D.C., and this motel is atrocious."
"Talking about taking one for the team." When Hyde saw my expression, she swallowed. "Sorry, Agent Lindy. Bad joke. But after what happened to Salvatore Cattone in the nineties, the mob isn't going to come anywhere near D.C. This is the safest place for you."
"A bacteria breeding semen storage facility?" I asked. Hyde wasn't fazed, and she didn't respond. I looked up and sighed. "How is he?"
She only offered one word. "Sore."
I looked down, angry that my hormone levels were changing too dramatically to control. Tears streamed down the bridge of my nose, dripping from the tip onto Stella's pink and brown polka-dotted footie pajamas. Just a few days before, the crying had been foreign to me. Now, it was all I could seem to do.
The Bureau had just fifteen minutes' warning that the Carlisis had split up and were closing in. They had traveled with the intention of assassinating Thomas and Travis. One small group had been traced to Quantico, the other to California. Travis's hitmen had bad intel, something that had been planted and circulated back in his undercover days when he was just an ad exec to the rest of the world, but it was only a matter of time until they tracked him to Illinois.
Fifteen minutes to form the plan that Thomas would risk being assassinated in our front lawn. Snipers were in place when the car came screeching down the road. As they sprayed the front of our house with bullets, one sniper blew the back of the rented Nissan Altima's tire, and another targeted Thomas's vest. My husband went down, and he stayed there until the ambulance arrived. The Nissan sped away, caught after a twenty-minute car chase. The agents in pursuit finally tackled them after they'd fled on foot. Vito Carlisi pulled a gun, and he was shot and killed. The others were arrested. Thomas couldn't have executed a more perfect plan.
I could still feel his lips on mine from just before he walked out the front door. I'd kissed him goodbye, not knowing if it was real or not, or for how long. Possibly forever. But Benny was dead, and we'd finally cornered one of his men to testify against the remaining Carlisis: a washed-up Vegas gambler who was now shaking down small-time strip clubs for Benny, who happened to be Abby Maddox's estranged father. Mick Abernathy was now in custody. Abby had handed over a six-inch stack of intel on her own father, giving him no choice but to testify against the remaining Carlisis. We knew they wouldn't stop without blood. It was our hope that Benny's men would believe Thomas's death would serve as a warning and keep Travis or me from testifying.
I could have planned a lifetime and still never prepared myself to see the father of my child gunned down in our front lawn. That moment was when the tears began to fall, and they hadn't stopped.
After a specific knock on the door, Hyde did a quick check, sidearm ready, and then let in another agent in plain clothes, holding large plastic bags. "Afternoon, Agent Hawkins."
He nodded to Hyde and then me. "Agent Maddox."
"Lindy," Hyde corrected him. "She's still Lindy."
"I'm so sorry," he said, stuttering over his words. "I thought ..."
I could only shake my head, feeling tears pool in my eyes again. It made me angrier each time. Where was that phenomenon people always talked about? Being cried out?
Thomas had proposed to me several times, but that wasn't in the plans, and I always stuck to the plan. The day Stella came into the world, plans changed, and I decided it might not be so bad after all. The next time I saw Thomas again, he'd promised to propose. No airplanes writing in the sky, no flowers, no Eiffel Tower or any other theatrics, but we had a new plan. I just had to make sure I would see him again.
Agent Hawkins laid out a thin blanket and began unpacking the plastic bags. "The queen size sheets and comforter you requested. The crib sheets, pillow, rags, and Lysol. The sheets have all been laundered. The crib sheets with the detergent you requested."
"Thank you," I said, watching as he excused himself.
Hyde was already wiping down the crib as I turned to place Stella on the thin blanket. I unfolded her crib sheet and smelled it to confirm it had been laundered in mild baby soap. I breathed in deep, remembering how much Thomas loved this smell as we readied the nursery. A nursery we weren't using.
I made Stella's bed and then picked her off the thin blanket to place her tiny body in the center of the crib. She flailed and cried while I changed her diaper and then settled down as I dabbed her shrinking umbilical cord with alcohol and buttoned her PJs back up from ankle to chest. I placed a pacifier in her mouth, and she suckled on it until she stilled and fell asleep. She looked so small in that filthy motel-issued crib. She had a brand-new, breathtaking nursery at home, and she'd barely seen it. She didn't deserve this germ-infested room.
My throat tightened, and the tears flowed again.
Hyde held o
ut a tissue, her expression emotionless.
"You must think I'm nuts," I said, wiping my eyes.
"No. My sister's had kids. It doesn't last forever."
"I didn't know you were an aunt. Nieces or nephews?"
"Both," Hyde said. She was trying to hide a smile. "Hunter is five. Liz is three. Noah is eight months."
"Wow," I said, breathing out a laugh.
Agent Hyde's expression softened. "You've been through a lot, Lindy. Cut yourself some slack."
I thought about her words, and she was right. I would never be so harsh to anyone else in my situation. I nodded, wiping the tip of my nose. "Thank you. I will." I cleared my throat, trying my best to think and feel like the agent I once was. "Any new information on Maddox?"
"He's alive," she said.
I swallowed down an urge to cry. "And the Carlisis?"
"In custody. One dead."
"Which one?" I asked.
"Vito," Hyde reported.
I rubbed the tension from my neck. The stress and the baby were taking a toll, and I could barely keep my eyes open. "Benny's favorite. That's going to hit them all hard."
"Don't discount Giada. She's unstable."
Hyde was right. The Carlisi's matriarch could be considered even more dangerous than Benny was. She stayed in the background, but she had ordered many of the hits, via whisperings in her husband's ear. "It will either break her or resolve her to finish this." I nodded, reaching for my phone.
"Agent Lindy," Hyde said, taking a step forward. When I froze, she continued. "I can contact the director if you'd like to notify him of Giada."
"Oh, right," I said, setting down my phone. The Carlisis thought I was a grieving widow. If there was a trace or mole or any other intel being given to the Carlisis--which we could only assume since they'd known Thomas's exact location, and later found out Travis's--I had to be careful. Only a small handful of people knew that Thomas was alive. It made sense to have protection and to be moved from our home to a safe location, but if I was making calls to the director about anything other than my anger over what had happened to Thomas, it could tip them off.
"We need to find who or what they're using for the info," I said.
"We're on it."
"Do we have a lead?"
"Agent Lindy, the baby is sleeping. My sister always naps when the baby is sleeping. It's about the only time she--"
"Okay," I said. "You're right."
Hyde seemed surprised at my response but quickly recovered, stripping the bed and remaking it with the clean sheets, pillow, and blanket in the time it took me to take a shower. I plodded to the bed in house shoes, unwilling for my bare feet to touch the crusty carpet.
I lay down, smelling the slightest hint of lavender. Hyde noticed me looking around and sniffing.
Hyde shifted her weight, and her face flushed. She was noticeably uncomfortable with my unasked question. "I asked Hawkins to track down a couple of air freshener plug-ins. Your home smells a little like lavender, so I thought it'd make you feel more at ease. Just a couple. If it's too much for the baby ..."
"No," I said with an appreciative smile. "No, that was very thoughtful of you."
"It was Agent Taber who suggested them."
"Val," I said with a smile, but then my eyes began leaking again.
"She'll be on the first flight. She insisted on accompanying you to Illinois."
"Thank you," I said, already feeling desperate to see my closest friend.
Hyde didn't smile or show much of a response, but even that made me feel comforted because I was used to that with my mother. She showed her love in what she did for me. My father was the affectionate and animated one. Maybe that was why the director had chosen Hyde as my personal security. Besides being one of the Bureau's best drivers and best with a pistol, she was also somehow maternal.
I rested my head against the pillow. It also smelled a bit like lavender, and I had to wonder if Hyde had spritzed it to further help me relax. I wouldn't ask. I didn't want to embarrass her again.
I watched Stella breathe, the buttons on her footie pajamas rising and falling. She looked so peaceful. I wondered if she missed Thomas's voice, or if she knew this wasn't where we belonged. I didn't realize I was crying again until the pillowcase felt wet, and I closed my eyes, begging myself to relax enough to get some rest. Stella would be awake soon, and I couldn't take care of her if I didn't take care of myself. We were leaving for a different location in the morning, and Eakins the morning after that. I would need all of my strength to break over a dozen hearts.
"Hyde? Will you be there tomorrow? In Eakins?"
"Where you go, I go, Agent Lindy."
"Can you tell whoever you need to tell to call Thomas? Tell him I love him?"
"I will."
I felt my muscles melt into the mattress, but as hard as I tried, I couldn't sleep.
CHAPTER EIGHT
FALYN
THE PACKING TAPE made a high-pitched noise when it pulled from the roll, and I froze. Our only television was on in the living room down the hall, and I listened through the muted conversation between SpongeBob and Patrick Star for footsteps padding toward the closed door of my bedroom. I'd wanted to get a head start on packing but wanted Taylor there when we broke the good news to the kids. I smiled because they would be so happy. But my smile soon faded. Any misery they'd felt the past few months was my fault.
The wall was paneled except for one section, revealing the sheetrock behind it. The bed was a king but not nearly as comfortable as the queen I left behind. Our quilt didn't quite reach across the mattress, but it had gotten me through a particularly snowy Colorado winter. A picture of Taylor with the kids sat on the night table. Even though Taylor didn't share my bed, I still slept on the same side I'd chosen after we'd moved in together. Hadley would sometimes crawl into Taylor's side in the middle of the night, but other than that, it stayed empty.
Hollis and Hadley were so close in age that they were able to start pre-school together, and now, they had just finished the second grade. Looking at Hollis's dark hair, bronze skin, and blue eyes was like looking at Alyssa, the woman Taylor had met in California during the week we'd broken up. As angry as I was when I learned he'd gotten another woman pregnant, the night Taylor and Alyssa spent together made Hollis possible, and I wouldn't trade my son for anything. Hadley was the spitting image of me except for her warm chocolate irises. She kept her wavy blond hair long, and she had the same splash of freckles across her nose and cheeks.
Neither of them had looked at me much since we moved from Estes Park to Colorado Springs. Hadley was a bit more forgiving than Hollis. Sometimes, she would even forget how angry she was with me, and I'd get a hug or even an evening of snuggling on the couch while we watched a movie, but Hollis took every opportunity to remind me how I was ruining his life. It was becoming more difficult to argue with him. He'd had trouble making friends, but everyone in Estes Park loved him. He was picked first for teams, charmed the girls, and sang like the star of a boy band. In the Springs, he was the new kid who was a threat to the established class hierarchy.
Second grade was a lot different than I remembered.
My phone buzzed, and I picked it up, expecting an update from Taylor. Instead, it was Peter. I still wasn't sure how he'd gotten my number, but he was incessant. I still wasn't sure if it was my fault the night we met; if I had looked in his direction too long or absently smiled at him. Men like him thought every woman who laughed at a single joke was begging to be fucked. So, no. It wasn't my fault. He was raised with privilege and without accountability. He'd graduated from a rich pansy-ass snot rag to the rapey egomaniac otherwise known as Mayor Lacy's son. Peter had his eye on me from the moment we stepped into the bar to celebrate Jubal's promotion to lieutenant. Taylor and I didn't get out much, and I wanted to make the most of the babysitter we'd procured on late notice.
For weeks after I'd left, I wished we'd just stayed home. But the longer I was gone, the angrier that ma
de me feel. Taylor was long overdue for some self-control. He'd put his job at risk--his brother's job at risk. I frowned. What used to be cute and maybe even flattering was now detrimental. I didn't want to teach our children that they could punch their way out of every situation without consequences, or do it anyway, consequences be damned.
I tossed my phone to the mattress and covered it with a stack of folded towels. They were frayed at the edges and none of them matched, but they smelled like home, so I kept them in a bag in the back of my closet and opened it when I missed Taylor the most. Only slightly psychotic.
The doorbell announced someone's arrival with its flat and offbeat chime that begged to be put out of its misery.
"Daddy!" Hadley said.
Taylor greeted the kids, his hellos cut off by tackle hugs. A few moments later, my bedroom door burst open, and Hollis stood there with Taylor, who was carrying Hadley on his back. Hollis wore a wide grin on his face, his left dimple sunk in, the eyes I loved looking up at me not remotely resembling Taylor's or mine.
"Dad's here!" Hollis said. He was so excited he didn't notice the box on the bed, but Taylor did.
"I see that," I said with a grin.
"Uh ... why don't you kids pack an overnight bag? I'm going to chat with Mom."
"Overnight? Really?" Hadley said, sliding off Taylor's back. She looked at me. "Really, Mom?"
"Really," I said. "Go on."
They raced each other to their bedrooms, making as much noise as possible. A day before, I would have been worried about the neighbors complaining, but we were finally leaving this dump behind.
"How's it going?" Taylor asked, noting the box and my cluttered bed.
"Just getting started. It was tough packing in secret and making dinner and ..." I trailed off, noticing a smear of soot on his face. "I checked the news on my phone. The fire's still going."
Taylor nodded. "It's a beast."
"You're sure Tyler was okay with you leaving them to it?"
"Yep," he said, looking around. He found a broken down box and opened it, taping the bottom closed. He seemed conflicted about something, and when his brow furrowed, I braced myself for what he might say. "Uh ... Falyn ...?"