Chapter 3 #2
“I’m fine,” Lily said, crouching to help clean up the mess. After picking up a few sheets, her eyes narrowed. “These are Penrose files. You aren’t supposed to have these! Armando’s going to be really angry when he finds out you took these from the file room.”
Shit.
Rosemary’s mouth went dry, and her armpits and scalp went clammy. Her mind raced, trying to find a way out of the disaster her obsessive nature had created. Coming up blank, she tried distraction. “Why are you crying?”
“I’m not crying,” Lily snapped.
She laid a hand on Lily’s slippery rayon sleeve. “Maybe I can help.”
“It’s boyfriend stuff. You wouldn’t understand.”
Of course Lily would think she wouldn’t understand. Everyone in the office knew she was single. They just didn’t know the complicated reason why.
“Try me. When something’s wrong, it helps if you talk about it.”
At least that was what her mother always said.
Lily flopped down on a step, leaning her back against the wall.
“I feel like my boyfriend’s using me. I see him less and less, but he wants more and more from me.
I hate all the lies. He keeps telling me he’s leaving his wife, but he’s been stringing me along for five years.
We got into a terrible fight about it, and now I regret it. I don’t want to lose him.”
If it had been five years and her boyfriend still hadn’t left his wife, he wasn’t going to, but Lily was going to have to come to that conclusion on her own. Giving unbidden, unwelcome advice Lily wasn’t ready to hear wasn’t going to help either of them.
“What about a fancy, romantic dinner at the Capital Grille? That should help smooth things over, right?”
Lily sniffed. “I can’t afford that.”
“I still have that $300 gift card Armando gave as the prize for winning the March Madness bracket. You could use that.”
“And you’d just give that to me?” Lily asked suspiciously.
“Definitely. If you straighten up this mess”—she gestured toward the papers spilled across multiple stairs—“and get the other Penrose files out of my office and back to the file room without Armando knowing.”
Lily’s sad face brightened. “Done.”
Rosemary willed her pounding heart to settle as she watched Lily gather the spilled papers and shove the disorganized mess into the folders.
Done. Just like she was done. Done risking her job. Done worrying about imaginary elevators. Done chasing rabbits down holes. She wasn’t going to chance running into the Queen of Hearts. She liked her head just where it was.
* * *
Aleksei glanced at his smartwatch. It was close to six p.m. He’d started his walk about an hour ago, slowly meandering around Third Street.
He stopped and studied the display windows of the art galleries he passed, browsed the paperbacks stacked on tables outside a used bookstore, and managed to grind another fifteen minutes of stakeout time buying and eating a gelato from Enzo’s Gelateria.
A couple of teenage boys had been more than happy to earn ten bucks holding Jaka’s leash while he’d grabbed a cone.
Now, he was down to his last few licks. Time was running out. If he lingered much longer, it would look suspicious.
Last night, in a Walmart parking lot in Delaware, Kemper had given him a brief written report on Rosemary Cashman as well as a candid picture that he figured was taken by the snitch.
In the photo, Rosemary was stepping out of a coffee shop, face lifted as if she was admiring the clouds or welcoming the day.
She looked peaceful and content yet eager to see what was around the next corner.
There’d been a time when he, too, approached each day like a present to be unwrapped. Now, his days felt blank. Blank with piercing gashes of sadness, anger, and guilt.
Discipline made him bury the thought before it had time to settle in, and he shifted his gaze to study the exterior of the gelateria.
The report stated that Pannetone & Associates was on the second floor above the shop, but from his on-the-ground recon, he realized that the businesses had separate entrances.
The glass door to the gelateria was on the side of the building, about fifteen feet from the corner, and looked like a modern addition, while the modest, bronze, Pannetone & Associates sign was affixed to the brick at the corner, up five concrete steps next to a heavy oak door.
He watched two women walk out the door as he leaned against a cold metal light pole.
One woman was in her early thirties, petite, dark-haired, and wearing heavy makeup.
The other woman reminded him of his mom.
Gray hair, strong bones, and a quick, efficient walk.
Neither matched the blonde-haired, blue-eyed woman in the photo Kemper had given him.
He pushed away from the pole and tightened his grip on Jaka’s leash.
The sun was setting. He’d lingered as long as he could without seeming creepy.
He bent down and grabbed a few napkins some careless patrons had let fall to the ground, crumpled them up along with the little sampler spoon he’d used to share his dessert with Jaka, and tossed the entire crinkly ball in an arc toward the trash can at the edge of the curb.
It flowed neatly through the circle opening.
“Nice shot!”
The voice flowed over him like early summer wind—warm and cleansing.
The speaker stood at the top of the concrete steps.
She wore round-toed navy heels along with a navy skirt with thick, white stripes.
She also donned a navy top with a white jacket and a tan open raincoat, the belt hanging loose at her sides.
A flowered purse hung from her shoulder, and a new black briefcase that still had its shine crossed her body.
Her platinum hair hung past her shoulders, and a bright, white-teethed smile stretched her lips.
This was Rosemary Cashman, but in the picture, she looked quiet and thoughtful. In person, vitality crackled around her.
“Thanks. I’m usually one for five. You caught me on a good day.”
He strode toward her, intentionally keeping his pace loose and lazy.
Working undercover, he’d acquired the ability to project whatever image he needed.
Nervous, dangerous, intimidating, or, like now, relaxed, easy, and friendly.
In this case, his demeanor wasn’t entirely affected.
The open warmth in Rosemary’s smile was infectious.
He wanted to approach her. Wanted to get to know her better.