Chapter 16 #2
“Oh, don’t worry about it,” she said and handed over the casserole.
“I know cooking is the last thing anyone wants to think about at times like these. This is my famous enchilada casserole,” she said and peeled back a corner of the foil layering the top.
A waft of spicy, saucy cheese hit my nose, and I realized I’d made no plans for dinner.
“Neighborhood favorite!” Melanie gushed.
She said it like the dish had won a prize, and I would not have been surprised to learn there was in fact a Del Rio casserole cook-off.
“Well, it smells delicious. Thank you so much.”
“Of course. And if you need tomorrow off, don’t even worry about it. We can have you continue another day when you’re ready.”
I internally scoffed. My fake dead uncle could get me a day off from work, but my very real injury couldn’t.
The offer was tempting, I had to admit. But what was I going to do?
Hide in my house all day wondering when the man with the scar would come calling?
At least at the Brownings’ house I’d have the protection of other people around, even if two of them were small children.
“No, it’s fine,” I told Melanie. “I’ll be there.”
Melanie gave me a curious look, and I felt like I’d said the wrong thing. I’d been young when my mother died and didn’t remember the etiquette of death, but I knew people expected certain behaviors.
I forced my face to look desolate and exhausted, the look I remembered most from my father’s face back then. “It happened so quickly and unexpectedly; it’s going to take a few days for the family to get things in order. I’ll just be in the way right now.”
Melanie gave me another sympathetic nod.
She reached out and gently squeezed my arm in a move so tender, it made me feel guilty for lying to her.
“Well, you take your time when you need it, honey. In the meantime, enjoy that casserole and we’ll see you in the morning.
” She waved by way of wiggling her manicured fingers and sending her rock of a ring glinting.
“Thanks, Melanie. See you tomorrow.”
She turned and stepped off the porch. Behind her back, I made eye contact with the agent in the SUV. I held up the casserole in a half shrug as if offering it to him. He nodded his head once and didn’t get out of the car, so I assumed he wasn’t coming in for dinner.
As with the flowers, which turned out to be innocuous, I gave the casserole a once-over.
Melanie had no motive for poisoning her new nanny, and chances were she was simply being kind again.
But still. I used a fork to poke at its edge, and when I sniffed, I only got a whiff of mouthwatering temptation.
It was, of course, delicious. I gorged myself on it, having hardly eaten in the drama of the day, and found myself pleasantly sleepy by the time night had fallen.
The feeling evaporated when I peeked out my bedroom drapes to see the SUV was gone.
In a grip of nerves, I pulled out my phone and texted Bray.
Patrol is gone.???
I chewed my lip and eyed the street end-to-end while I waited for him to respond. He took more than his standard ten seconds, and I began to worry.
The door was locked. I knew the door was locked; I’d checked three times and hadn’t opened it except to greet Melanie. The bat was still by the couch. I’d never played baseball other than in gym class, but I was sure I could do some damage if I had to. But I really hoped I wouldn’t have to.
A familiar car turned the street corner and pulled to a stop in the same place the SUV had been. An involuntary smile teased my mouth at the same time my phone buzzed with a text from Bray.
Shift change. Don’t worry.
My smile widened when I noted the telltale glow of a phone in the driver’s seat.
I’m definitely worried if
it’s you out there, Agent Bray.
I slipped out of sight so he wouldn’t see me spying on him from the curtains.
Hard to get someone to cover
the nightshift on short notice.
You’ll take what I can give you.
Just don’t fall asleep on me.
Keep me awake then.
The thought of keeping Agent Bray awake all night made me clutch the windowsill. I walked to my bathroom to wash my face with cool water and brush my teeth. I texted him again once I was under the covers.
With what, a bedtime story?
Sure. Got any good ones?
None that I’m at liberty to share. Confidential, sorry.
I knew I could trust you with secrets ?
That damn smiley face again. I rolled my eyes but couldn’t help smiling to myself.
How about you tell me one instead.
I mean, kind of in the same
boat with the confidentiality thing …
I’m a vault, remember?
True.
I waited through a long pause. When his bouncing dots didn’t appear after a solid minute, I decided to give him a prompt.
I know where you can start.
Tell me about the injury you
recovered from that turned you
into an expert pillow fluffer.
Another long pause passed, and I wondered if I’d crossed a line. Or perhaps he’d nodded off.
Bray? You fall asleep out there?
Of course not.
That’s just … a long story.
Isn’t the goal to stay awake all night?
I’m all ears.
He paused again, and his reluctance only stirred my already deep curiosity.
Fine. You want to go 20 questions about it?
LOL. No.
Did you just LOL? What is it, 2012?
You know, you’re funny
when you’re not being mean.
I scoffed out loud, and before I knew what I was doing, I pressed the icon to call him.
“I’m not mean,” I scolded as soon as he answered.
He quietly laughed. The enclosed space of his car dampened the sound into a warm rumble. “Calling to yell at me for calling you mean isn’t mean?”
“I’m not yelling!” I shouted.
Bray only laughed harder.
“You know what? Forget it. I don’t need this from you.” I’d tried for sharp, but my tone came out snappy and playful.
“Oh, okay,” Bray said. “Like you haven’t been giving me shit since the moment we met.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Uh, how about telling me I suck at my job every step of the way?”
“Well, you—”
“If you’re about to tell me I suck again, I’m hanging up.”
The exact words caught in my throat. I sheepishly cut myself off. “Sorry. I guess I have been a little harsh.”
“Uh-huh. Understated, too.”
I rolled my eyes again and wished he could see it.
A pause passed. I let the comfort of being on the phone with him settle over me like a blanket.
“How’s your ankle?” he asked.
I flexed my foot. “You know, it’s feeling a lot better.”
“Good. I’m glad some rest helped.”
“Yes, but it might also have been Melanie Browning’s award-winning enchilada casserole that did the trick.”
“Oh? And how did you come by that?”
“She hand-delivered it to my door as part of my condolence package for losing my fake uncle.”
He paused, and I assumed we were sharing the same thoughts. “Ah, right. That.”
“Yeah. What are we going to do about that, by the way?”
“I guess roll with it for now.”
“Okay. I actually have an update for you.”
“Oh?”
“Yes, I didn’t know what to do with myself when I got home, so I went down a rabbit hole on Montrose, and found out it’s the name of a black-market supplier.”
“How did you come by that information?” he asked, sounding impressed and surprised.
“Doesn’t matter. But they run all sorts of things: guns, drugs, baby products.” I let the words linger. “And apparently there’s chatter over a seized shipment. I’m thinking this has to be what’s got our girls in trouble.”
Bray stayed quiet for a minute. “Interesting. I’ve got eyes at all the local ports, and no one has reported a seized shipment of baby products.”
A tiny wave of relief swelled inside me. At least he’d done that right.
“Yes, obviously there’s still a missing piece here,” I said.
“But it’s more than we had, so thank you.”
The praise fizzled through me. I was so unused to the feeling, it made me a little dizzy. “You’re welcome. Were you able to find out anything today? About my case?”
Bray sighed a weary breath, which set my nerves on edge.
“Not really; I’m still battling security clearance.
But the timing of Wallace’s death and the reappearance of your ghost seems awfully coincidental.
I mean, the only person who knew where you were—and who you are—dies, and then a henchman from your past shows up a few days later? ”
The exact thoughts had been milling around my mind, but I’d refused to grant them purchase for fear it was all connected. And hearing Bray say it made me realize, how could it not all be connected?
“That’s a great thing to tell me when I’m home alone and already freaked out,” I said flatly.
“You’re not alone. I’m right here.”
The blanket-like, warm sensation I’d gotten earlier came back, and the comfort of it pulled words from my mouth. “Do you want to come inside?”
A pause passed.
“Um …”
I recognized how my question had sounded and quickly clarified.
“I mean come inside to keep watch. Since all you gave me was this old bat, I’d really rather have your gun in the house than out there on the street.
And besides, I can make you coffee to help keep you up.
” It all came spilling out, and I flushed at how clumsy I’d sounded.
Bray seemed to consider it. I heard a shuffling from inside the car. “Sure,” he said. “I can come inside. I have something for you anyway.”
My interest was piqued. “Okay. Use your key so I know it’s you.”
He quietly laughed. “You’re not going to hit me with an umbrella again, are you?”
“No. I have a bat now, remember?”
“See you in a minute.”
In that minute, I put my bra back on and swept my messy hair up into a ponytail.
I gingerly walked down the hall and heard his key in the lock.
I reached the door at the same time he opened it.
He stepped inside carrying a bag from a sporting goods store along with his messenger bag and wearing a collared shirt under a windbreaker.
His hair looked damp, and he smelled like a fresh shower.