The Collective (12 page)

The digital clock glowed on the dashboard of her old Corolla, warning Cait that she was going to be a little late getting into the station, so she nudged the speedometer up a
bit. She didn’t really believe Lynette could fire her for last night’s scuffle, but she also didn’t feel like antagonizing the woman.

As she drove south on Interstate 93, her thoughts lingered on the Audi. In her back pocket, she carried a slip of paper on which she had written the license plate number, and though she knew she needed to see her boss, solving the mystery of that car seemed like a much bigger priority.

Cait didn’t like it, that car just sitting there, down the street from her aunt’s house. In some ways, she was glad that Auntie Jane was taking Leyla to the supermarket. Uncle George would be home, probably working on some job or another in the garage, but Cait would rather her baby girl not be in the house today. Too many unpleasant possibilities had suggested themselves to her while she was trying to figure out who might be behind the wheel of that car. Some rich guy whose wife was having an affair with someone who lived on Badger Road? Maybe. But, then, who had been in the other car? According to Jane there had been two, working in shifts. And if they were cops or Feds, who were they watching? She would need to make some calls, try to find out what the car was doing there. And if she couldn’t, her approach next time might have to be a little more aggressive.

Cait needed her job, and to keep it she needed Auntie Jane to look after Leyla, but she couldn’t leave her little girl there if she had to worry whether or not the baby would be safe. If anything happened to Leyla …

A year ago, she would have laughed at the very idea of such parental paranoia, but she was a mother now, and even the hint of a threat to her child brought her defenses up.

Sometimes those feelings made her think of her own mother, and she wondered how the woman could have given birth to her and her brother, given them names, held them, and then just walked away as though her children meant nothing.

Cait thought her mother must have no soul. She had never spoken the words aloud, not even to her brother, but nothing else made sense to her. The woman had to have been entirely empty of love; otherwise, she could never have left. Cait had
known from the moment of Leyla’s birth that she would be willing to die for her daughter, and she had never felt that way about anyone before—not even Nizam, whom she had loved deeply.

Thoughts of Sean got her mind working. She twisted in her seat, straining against the seat belt as she fished her cell phone out of her pocket. With a quick glance at the road ahead, she flipped it open, skimmed her contacts list, and hit the call button. It rang and rang, and just when she expected the call to kick over to voice mail, her brother picked up.

“Hey, little sister.”

“Hey, yourself,” she said, smiling at the warmth in his voice. They’d done their share of fighting, but Sean had always looked out for her, no matter what.

“What’s going on? How’s my niece?”

Despite the tensions lingering from the night before and the weirdness of the morning, Cait found herself relaxing.

“Leyla’s awesome, thanks. Getting bigger every day. And I’m good. But I had a little excitement on the job last night, so I’m going in to talk to my boss and make sure I’m still employed.”

Sean asked for details, and as Cait drove she regaled him with the tale. Only now, talking to her brother, did she allow herself to truly feel the horror of watching the bastard beat on his wife, knowing how easily the violence could turn deadly.

“You did what had to be done,” Sean said, grimly serious. He had no sense of humor where violence was concerned. “Those other people should be ashamed of themselves.”

“I know, right? It’s like they thought they were watching a show or something, like they didn’t think it was real. I’ve seen enough ugly shit. I don’t want any more, y’know?”

Sean hesitated for a heartbeat. To others, the pause would have been barely noticeable, but Cait knew him better than anyone.

“I do know,” he said.

“I’m sorry, Sean. I know you’re still
in
the shit—”

“I officially have no idea what you’re talking about,” he said, and now she could hear the smile in his voice—a lightness that was also a warning for her to tread carefully.

Four years ago, Sean had been discharged from the Marine Corps and gone to work at the Pentagon. Officially he worked in satellite surveillance, and Cait thought that was probably true, as far as it went. But within months of beginning the job, Sean had started to grow a beard he had never trimmed. It grew so bushy and wild that, with his black Irish heritage—black hair and dark eyes—he looked like a radical Muslim cleric.

Every few months, he went off the grid for a while. Last time it had been five weeks. And each time, he would call Cait beforehand with the same message:
I’m going out of town for a while. You won’t be able to reach me. If you have an emergency, call Hercules
. She had never had to actually get in touch with Hercules, whose real name was Brian Herskowitz, but it was nice to know someone could get a message to Sean if there really was an emergency. She’d only met Herc a couple of times—he worked on satellite stuff with Sean and had a physique that made the nickname amusing—but she liked the guy well enough.

“Anyway …” she said.

“Anyway,” Sean replied, “you’ll be fine. Probably better than fine. Don’t sweat it.”

“I’m trying not to,” Cait said, watching the signs for her exit.

“You’re going in to see your boss right now, you said. An hour from now, you’ll know one way or the other.”

“Is that your way of brushing me off?” Cait demanded, feigning hurt feelings.

“Just being a realist. It’s what I do.”

“Yeah? When is the realist going to come home to visit? Leyla will be headed off to college by the time you see her again.”

“You know it isn’t as simple as that, Cait,” Sean chided, obviously sensitive to the subject. “I can’t wait to see her, and I’ll get there soon. Before the year is out, I promise.”

“You’d better,” Cait said. “Look, I should focus on driving. My exit’s coming up.”

“You go, then. Call me later and let me know how it goes with the boss. And send me the video of you kicking the crap
out of that guy so I can show all my friends. Actually, on second thought, I’m not showing it to them. Half of them might fall in love with a girl who can fight like you can.”

“Yeah,” Cait said. “That’s the last thing I need right now.”

The Library Café had been a little-known gem in downtown Alexandria, Virginia, for nearly forty years. Open for breakfast and lunch seven days a week, the place had a Bohemian flair, and always smelled of bacon and frying onions in the morning, and freshly baked bread and cinnamon in the afternoon. Their coffee cake was legendary. The walls were lined with books that customers were welcome to read while they relaxed for a meal or a cup of coffee, or to take home for as long as they liked. Just like a real library, some of the books were never returned, but according to the owner, Rose Whiting, most of them made their way back onto the shelves eventually.

Sean loved the café, and had made it his second home in Alexandria. Toni fixed a heavenly breakfast, and Rose always made it a point to wait on him herself, even when she had plenty of help. Sean had the same thing almost every time he came in—scrambled eggs with ham and cheese mixed in, eaten on top of wheat toast, with bacon on the side. A deadly cholesterol load, but twice a month he could spoil himself.

In the time since he had moved here to work at the Pentagon, he had dated a dozen girls, half of them more than once, but had yet to meet a woman with whom he would be willing to share the Library Café. It was his little Fortress of Solitude. He figured when he eventually met a woman he wanted to take out for breakfast here, she would be the one.

“How were your eggs, honey?” Rose asked as she topped up his coffee.

“You do ’em perfect. You know that.”

Rose smiled. “That’s Toni. She knows just what you like.”

The woman added just enough naughtiness to her inflection that it would be impossible for Sean to miss the innuendo. Toni, a fortyish single mother, always flirted with him when he came in, and sometimes she used Rose as her go-between. The women made a little game of it, and Sean always went along. Most times he thought she was joking—that the flirtation was only surface—but on occasion he had wondered if there might be something more to it. The prospect of finding out tempted him, but his work was not conducive to long-term relationships, and he was too fond of Toni to treat her affection as something disposable. But innocent flirtation? That he could do.

He slipped some money into the leather folder with the bill Rose had left on the diner-style counter.

“Keep it warm for me,” he said, sliding off his stool and heading for the men’s room.

“I always do,” Rose called.

Sean smiled to himself as he went into the restroom, but after he’d used the urinal and was standing at the sink, washing his hands, his thoughts went back to his sister. Cait had sounded off, and he didn’t blame her. This afternoon, when he could steal enough time for a longer conversation, he would call her back. They might be adults now, but he knew he would never stop worrying about her.

When he came out of the men’s room, Rose was wiping spilled coffee off the floor and there were napkins soaking it off the counter. A middle-aged suit with wire-rimmed glasses had taken the stool next to where Sean had been sitting, and now he was dabbing at coffee stains on his shirt. When he spotted Sean, his expression turned sheepish.

“You must be the guy whose coffee I just spilled,” he said. “Sorry about that.”

The guy had apparently slung his briefcase onto the counter. It sat on the stool beside him now, a few small rivulets of coffee dripping down the side.

“No worries,” Sean said, grabbing some napkins and pitching in, wiping the counter. “Happens to the best of us.”

“Especially if you’re as uncoordinated as I am.” On the counter in front of the man was a brand-new coffee in a to-go cup. He picked it up and offered it to Sean.

“Why don’t you take mine? I just got it. Haven’t even taken a sip. It’s got cream in it, but if you want sugar—”

“He’s sweet enough,” Rose said, straightening up. She smiled and went around behind the counter.

Sean felt a little awkward, but he needed to get going, and the guy seemed to feel so sheepish that he hated to refuse.

“That’s great, actually,” he said, taking the offered cup. “You’re sure?”

“Absolutely. It’s the least I can do.”

“Hey, I’m not the one who has to clean that shirt,” Sean said, gesturing toward the stains on the man’s clothes. “I got off easy.”

The guy laughed, a little less sheepish now.

Rose dumped the napkins and paper towels in the trash, then took a clean cloth and gave the counter one more wipe down. Sean picked up a biography of Houdini, which he’d left on the counter. By some miracle, the pool of coffee had not reached it. He took a couple of long sips from the cup—hot, but not scalding. Perfect.

“Thanks again,” Sean told the guy, raising his coffee cup. “See you soon, Rose. Give Toni a kiss from me.”

“You could give it to her yourself if you’d shave that beard, or at least trim it back a little,” Rose teased him, picking up the faux-leather folder that held the check and his money and slipping it into her apron.

Sean ran a hand over his bristly, close-cropped hair and then pushed his fingers through his tangled snarl of a beard. “I think it’s distinguished.”

“Hah! It’s a rat’s nest,” Rose said with a laugh.

“That’s no way to keep your customers coming back.”

She winked at the clumsy, coffee-stained guy, then turned back to Sean. “You’ll be back, honey. Where else are you gonna get such a warm welcome?”

Sean chuckled. “You win. No arguing that.” He held up the Houdini book for her to see. “I’m going to borrow this one, if you don’t mind.”

“You know I don’t. Enjoy it, honey.”

“I already am,” he replied. As he headed for the door, he glanced back. “Tell Toni I said good-bye.”

The bell above the door chimed as he pushed it open and stepped onto the sidewalk, a smile on his face. The fans had been spinning inside the Library Café, but out here on the street it was warming up fast. The forecast called for a hot one today, but manageable. Tomorrow, though … the cute weather girl was predicting a scorcher.

Still sipping his coffee, Sean headed toward home, but not directly. Two blocks down there was a small market. He needed to pick up some OJ and a jar of peanut butter, and probably a loaf of bread as well, if they had anything decent. The bread stock at Taraji’s Market was always a roll of the dice.

He hitched up his pants, glancing casually around to make sure he wasn’t being observed as he adjusted the holster he wore clipped to his belt at the small of his back, his long shirt easily covering it.

As he did, he licked his lips, realizing he was suddenly thirsty. He took another sip of coffee, but then had second thoughts. Water would have been better. His throat felt so dry. And the sun … it was so bright that his temples began to throb.