The Housewife Assassin's Deadly Dossier (14 page)

“That’s more like it,” Penelope muttered. “I swear! You have to crack a whip with these newbies. Otherwise, they’ll run all over you.”

“I’ll bet the husband has a secret life, somewhere else in the country.” Hayley raised a brow. “You know, a
bigamist
.”

Tiffy’s mouth fell open. “You mean, he might be in the Ku Klux Klan?”

“No, you idiot!” Penelope hissed. “That’s a bigot! A bigamist has two wives.”

Jack couldn’t take it anymore. He switched the largest screen on the monitor to the kitchen, where Donna was patting her tears away with a white linen napkin. When she was done, she folded it alongside three others on the tray in front of her, which also held four elegantly patterned plates and the same number of dessert forks.

When she raised her head, her eyes were cold as steel.

In no time at all, she cut the pie on the counter into healthy wedges, and shoveled one onto each plate. Next, she poured real cream into a silver creamer that matched a sugar bowl holding white cubes. Finally, she took the pot of the fresh brew and poured it into an elaborate coffee urn.
 

Then she did something odd: she went to one of the cabinets, reached in, and pulled out a box of Chocolate Ex-Lax. She opened the wrapper, broke off six cubes, and shaved them over three of the wedges, which she warmed up for a minute in the microwave before placing them back on the tray.

Arnie’s jaw dropped “Is she really going to—”
 

Jack was laughing so hard that he fell off the couch.
 

Before lifting the tray and walking back into the living room, Donna’s demure smile was back in place.

Her visitors ooohed and ahhhed over her plates, her wonderful coffee and of course her exceptionally delicious pie. But within twenty minutes, Tiffy’s face was green. Penelope didn’t look well, either. She stood up abruptly and announced she had to run—now.

Donna walked the women to the front door, which they bolted through, barely acknowledging her as Penelope revved the engine, put the car in reverse, and screeched out of the driveway.

When Arnie swiped the screen so that it that gave them a bird’s eye view of the streets of Hilldale, Jack realized the tech op had tied their surveillance grid to Acme’s satellite as well. Arnie zoomed in on Penelope’s car, which was now careening to a halt in front of what must have been Tiffy’s house, because both she and Hayley jumped out quickly and ran to the front door. Tiffy was furiously rummaging in her purse for her keys while Penelope zoomed off to her own home, three blocks over.

“I wonder what she would have done if one of them had threatened her kids?”

Jack frowned. “Um…rat poison?”

From the look on Arnie’s face, he guessed they were thinking the same thing:

Donna Stone was not a woman to mess with.

Jack was beginning to see her in a new light.

A rustling sound was coming from the tree house.

It was eleven at night, it couldn’t be the kids, Jack thought. He swiped the screen containing that specific feed, so that it enlarged.

Yes, there was someone up there.

Damn it, one of the kids must have hung a net filled with stuffed animals directly over the camera in there, because his view of the person was hazy at best.

From another camera that was hung from an outdoor light so that it captured the rest of the backyard, Jack could make out Donna, moving slowly toward the tree house.
 

Apparently, she’d heard it, too.

When she was right below the tree house, she stopped.

His heart leaped into his throat. She could be walking right into a trap. If so, she’d be helpless. From what he could see, she hadn’t armed herself.

When she started climbing the ladder, he reached for his gun. He shook Arnie, who was sprawled out on the couch, grabbing a few Z’s. “Hey! Quick! Get up and watch the monitors. Someone’s in the tree house and I’m going to investigate.”

Arnie leaped straight up and stumbled toward the monitor, as Jack hustled to the front door.

“Jack, wait!” Arnie hissed. “Listen!”

Jack stopped.
 

“I miss Daddy,” a tiny voice said.

Mary.

Donna heaved a sigh. “I know, honey I miss him, too.”

“He’s been gone so long this time! Too long! When was the last time he called, Mommy?”

“Why…the other night. It was after midnight, and you were sleeping so soundly that I didn’t want to wake you—”

Hearing that, Mary’s sobs got louder. Jack and Arnie listened to some slams and thumps as Donna said, “Mary, please don’t hit me! Can’t you see I’m hurting, too?”

Now they were both crying.

Through the webcam, Jack and Arnie could barely make out two figures huddled together in the tree house.
 

Through her choked sobs, Mary whispered, “I don’t care what time it is! I just want to say hello. I want to tell him I love him! And to tell him—to tell him that if he loved me,
he’d keep his promise to me, and come back.
”

Neither said anything for a while.

Finally Mary said, “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t…don’t be. It’s not your fault.”

It’s mine, Jack thought.

“Mommy—sometimes I forget what Daddy looks like.”

“Shhhhhh,” she whispered. “Let’s picture him together now.”

It was half an hour before mother and daughter rose to their feet. Mary went down the ladder first. When Donna reached the ground after her, she put her hand in Mary’s, and together, they walked to the back door.

“Jeez, do you think she can go the distance with her role in this mission?” Arnie wondered out loud.

Jack shook his head. “I don’t know. It would help if we knew whether the Quorum already had the intel. That way, we’d know for certain if she’s a target in the first place.”

Several minutes later, Jack heard Donna rustling in her bedroom.

She was sobbing again.

He stayed up until she fell asleep.

Chapter 10
Compromised

An operation, asset, or agent is said to be compromised when he or she has been uncovered by a competing entity, and therefore no longer secret.

Should the undercover operation also take place in bed—that is, under the covers—the situation could be called a compromising position.

Another reason to stay away from an agent provocateur.

Donna Stone’s runs usually stayed within a five-mile loop through Hilldale’s wide, winding streets.
 

At first, Jack did his best to keep up with her on foot, but because he worried she’d feel a presence behind her, he now followed by car, some four or five blocks behind.
 

He’d pull over if he felt he was getting too close for comfort, wait for her to sprint ahead, then follow again.
 

He could have sent Arnie to follow her, but he chose to take on this task himself. As much as he tried to convince himself that his reason for shadowing her had to do with making sure she wasn’t abducted, he knew better.

The truth was, simply, he loved watching her.
 

Somewhere into the fourth week of surveillance, he realized he wasn’t just tracking her movements and that of her children, but he was actually studying her.

In truth, she fascinated him.

In so many ways, she was aware of her surroundings. When it came to her children, she had a sixth sense as to their needs, whether it was a bottle for Trisha, or a gentle admonishment for Mary before some infraction caused her to lose some much-desired privilege. At the same time, he wondered why her intuition had failed her when it came to Carl.

Granted, she’d been married to a master spy.

Perhaps her deep love for him had blinded her to the obvious.

He had no such excuse.

After all, he
was
the master spy.

Having now studied her for hours on end, he knew every angle of her face, and every curve of her body. He had replayed all the video footage and audio recordings they’d collected of her so many times that he could read every inflection in her voice, the nuance in her every move.
 

Perhaps in his analysis of her, he’d find the cause of the blind spot to his own marriage.

In fact, he couldn’t remember the last time he’d thought of his ex.

He no longer dreamt of her.

Now he dreamt of Donna.

He felt guilty about it—not because, in his mind, he could see he was capable of moving beyond the pain of his loss, but because he knew she wasn’t.

He also could not deny the role he played in Carl’s death.

Maybe it was time for him to leave.

Suddenly, and for the first time since he’d been following her, she took a different route entirely: onto a trail managed by the National Parks Service that bordered the far end of Hilldale.

He cursed himself for leaving the house in shorts, as opposed to sweats. His sunglasses and baseball cap would give him some cover, as would two week’s growth of stubble.
 

Hell, what was he worried about? At the speed she was going, he’d be proud of himself if he could just keep up with her.

Like most of that part of the coast, the trail roamed coastal headlands and through marsh woods. Every now and again, it would meander through a crowd of scraggly bushes, but for the most part they were traipsing through dry grass.

Her daily runs made it easier for her to climb up the next hill, which was crowned with a copse of tall oaks. He slowed up naturally. But two-thirds of the way to the top, he was so worried he’d lose her that he sprinted over it—

And over her as well.

Apparently, she’d bent down to tie her shoe.

He couldn’t stop fast enough to avoid her, somersaulting over her.

He landed hard, and facedown. His head hit a rock.

He didn’t know how long he’d blacked out. But when he came to, she was standing over him.

“I’m…I’m so sorry! Are you alright?”

He turned his head before speaking. Dropping his voice into a lower register, he answered, “Yeah. Fine. Sorry.”

He covered his face with his hand, but it wasn’t part of the act. Warm blood was dripping from a cut above his left eye, which was blurry. He scrambled to his feet and grabbed his sunglasses, which had landed further down the path.

Seeing the blood, she instantly reached out to comfort him. Realizing what she was about to do, he jerked his head away. He stumbled to his feet and started back down the hill, the way they had come.

On the drive home, he tried not to think of what he would have done had she touched him.

He knew the answer: He would have taken her, right then and there.

He knew it was time for him to go, but he’d be damned if he’d leave her.

Ever.

“What you did was stupid, and could have compromised the whole damn mission.” Ryan’s voice was still at a reasonable decibel level, but his tone was as chilling as an iceberg.

Jack resisted the urge to take the bag of ice he held to his eye and toss it at Ryan. “How was I supposed to know that she’d stop to tie her shoe?”
 

“You shouldn’t have been following her, anyway. It should have been Arnie—with one of his crazy disguises.”