In Harm's Way (Heroes of Quantico Series, Book 3) (14 page)

Mark narrowed his eyes. "What's with the crackers?"

"What do you mean?"

"You never eat crackers. You always say they're wasted calories
and too high in fat"

"I'm making an exception today"

"Why?"

"What is this, the third degree?" Nick complained.

Several beats of silence ensued. Mark hadn't been selected for
the FBI's elite Hostage Rescue Team because he was a slouch, and
Nick knew he was rapidly putting two and two together. Nick's
vague answer and irritation, plus his admission that Rachel was
good-looking, plus his uncharacteristic eating behavior added
up to an obvious conclusion.

"You went to see her, didn't you?"

Mark had figured it out even faster than Nick expected.

"Yeah, I did. She was very upset about the leak. I wanted to
verify that it didn't come from our end and help her get to the
bottom of it"

Folding his arms across his chest, Mark leaned back and
smirked. "Whatever you say. Did you have a nice visit?"

"She was very pleasant."

Mark laughed outright. "Give me a break. You said a week
ago she was pretty. And I seem to recall you using words like
sincere, intelligent, articulate. What's wrong with admitting
you like a woman? And now that Emily has offered a reasonable explanation for the doll phenomenon, you don't have to
worry about her being a nutcase. The door's wide open-if the
lady's interested. What kind of vibes did you pick up when you
stopped by?"

"Pretty good" Nick shifted on the seat and wiped up some
condensation from his iced tea glass with a paper napkin.

"That's a start. How long did you stay?"

There were few people Nick trusted implicitly. Mark was one
of them. Though their paths had taken different directions after
their Academy days, converging again on a daily basis only in
the past six months, they'd never lost touch. If Nick was going
to begin sharing personal information with anyone, the man
across from him would be a safe choice.

"Three hours:"

Choking on his soda, Mark groped for a napkin from the metal
holder and wiped his mouth. "You stayed three hours?"

"Yeah"

"I hope you bought the lady dinner."

"No. She offered to feed me"

Mark chuckled and shook his head. "You're full of surprises
today. And here I was worried about your love life"

"It was only a dinner, Mark."

"True" He took another, more cautious, sip of soda. "You
plan to make it anything more? If the lady didn't have plans on
Valentine's Day, she must be available"

"I'm considering it"

"Don't consider too long, my friend. As you advised me last
summer when I was trying to decide what to do about Emily, don't
let a great opportunity slip through your fingers. I recall you saying that women like Emily don't come along every day. You were
right. And the doll lady might fall into the same category."

"Your situation was different. You guys had known each other
years before. You had a history together"

"So start creating one with ... what's her name, by the
way?"

"Rachel."

"With Rachel. Maybe you could send her flowers to thank
her for dinner"

It was Nick's turn to smile. "I already did"

"Good for you." Mark grinned. "And a smart move. Women
melt when they get flowers"

"I'll keep that in mind." Nick stirred his iced tea and sent his
friend a wry glance.

"Hey, I'm just trying to help. You wouldn't want to let the
right woman slip away."

Nick stopped stirring. "Aren't you rushing things a little? I've
known Rachel all of ten days"

"It doesn't take long to sense if a relationship has potential.
And this one sounds promising."

"You're jumping to way too many conclusions"

"Nope. I've been there. I know the smitten signs"

"Oh, please. Spare me."

"Look at the evidence:" Mark leaned forward and ticked it
off on his fingers. "A, you gave Rachel the benefit of the doubt
last week despite her implausible story. B, when we all met for dinner that night, you defended her sanity even before Emily
proposed her theory. C, you admitted Rachel was pretty and
noted her other sterling qualities. D, you went out of your way
to visit her on Valentine's night. E, you stayed when she invited
you to dinner. And F, you sent her roses' Mark sat back. "Verdict? Smitten"

As an FBI agent, Nick knew how to evaluate evidence. And it
was hard to refute Mark's conclusion. He did like Rachel. A lot.
And while he had no intention of rushing into a relationship, he
did plan to give it a chance and see where things led.

"Well?" Mark prodded when he didn't respond.

"No comment:"

Mark chuckled and speared a forkful of lettuce. "I rest my
case."

Well, wasn't that interesting.

Claudia slouched in her car and watched the tall, sandy-haired
guy she'd seen at FBI headquarters on Monday step out of a car
and greet Rachel in the parking lot of Madeleine's restaurant.
She smiled as he took the woman's arm, nodded toward the
entrance, and escorted her to the door.

Yes!

Claudia now had her connection! Rachel was talking to the
FBI. She'd seen it with her own eyes.

And a good thing too. She'd given herself until Wednesday
noon to get the psychic story approved, and this was a photo
finish. For most of the past two days she'd spent every spare
minute trailing Rachel, hoping to find some link to local law
enforcement. It had been a long shot, and she honestly hadn't
expected it to pay off. This new development was almost too
good to believe.

It would be better, though, if she could get Rachel to comment on her contact with the agency. As a plan formed in her
mind, Claudia put the car in gear and headed toward the school
where Rachel taught in the afternoon. There wasn't much chance
the woman would bend, considering her adamant refusal to
participate last week. Still, now that Claudia had established a
definite connection to the FBI, it was worth a try.

But while her input would be great, Claudia was pretty sure
Stacy would give her the green light to proceed with or without
Rachel's comment. How could she not? Claudia had observed
a meeting between the woman and an FBI agent.

And where there was smoke, there was usually fire.

The only empty parking space Rachel could find at Stafford
Elementary was at the far end of the icy lot, requiring a long
walk in wind chills near zero. But considering the warm glow
left over from her hour with Nick, she doubted she'd notice
the frigid cold.

His call last night suggesting they meet for lunch had left
her with a tingle of anticipation that had played havoc with
her sleep and brightened her morning despite the heavy gray
clouds suggesting the imminent arrival of yet another storm. And
their too-brief interlude had lived up to all her expectations. In
deference to her limited time, he'd chosen a restaurant on the
route that linked the two schools where she taught-yet more
evidence of his consideration and thoughtfulness. And the small
tea room had been charming, with French decor, excellent food,
and a quiet ambiance conducive to conversation.

He'd taken charge of the latter from the outset, skillfully guiding the discussion from movies and books to travel and hobbies.
It had been more like a typical first date than their unexpected Valentine dinner had been. Nothing heavy, just a pleasant exchange that put them both at ease. And that was okay with
her. If things developed between them, if their comfort level
with each other grew, there would be opportunities for heavier
discussions later.

Best of all, he'd left her in the parking lot with a promise to
call again.

Rachel was so focused on reliving their lunch-and avoiding
the icy patches on the asphalt-that she didn't notice Claudia
Barnes until the woman fell into step beside her.

"Hello, Ms. Sutton"

Taken aback by the reporter's unexpected appearance, Rachel
jolted to a stop.

"Sorry to startle you:" The woman smiled. "I wanted to let you
know my story will be running in Friday's edition. And that there's
still time for me to incorporate a couple of quotes from you. I
wouldn't want you to give away anything that might compromise an
investigation, of course, but a general comment or two about your
discussion with the FBI agent at lunch today would be great:"

Tension coiled in Rachel's stomach. "Have you been following me?"

"Doing research," the woman corrected.

"I told you I don't want anything to do with your story. And
I also don't appreciate you eavesdropping on my friends during
private dinners at restaurants" Rachel resumed her trek toward
the school, sorry now she hadn't found a parking place closer
to the entrance.

Her comment seemed to take the reporter off guard, but the
woman recovered with alacrity and fell into step beside her. "I
commend your friendly FBI agent for his investigative skills:"

"It wasn't difficult to figure out where you got your lead. I only
told the story to a couple of people" Rachel picked up her pace.

"Ms. Sutton, be reasonable:" The reporter matched her stride for stride. "The story will run with or without your participation. If questioned on the facts, I'm willing to stand in front of a
judge and say I heard the doll story myself from your friend and
that I witnessed you conversing with an FBI agent. You might
as well make a comment"

Rachel came to an abrupt halt and faced the woman, anger
nipping at her words. "For your information, Ms. Barnes, my
lunch with Nick had nothing to do with that doll. Furthermore,
it's been suggested to me that the doll simply triggered some
memory from my childhood. I believe that's a reasonable explanation. Implying I'm a psychic, let alone that there's a crime
connection to my experience, is not only a stretch, it's very
misleading. Please don't bother me again"

Turning on her heel, Rachel covered the remaining distance to
the double glass doors at a half-run. She was afraid the woman
would follow her into the school, but to her relief the reporter
halted a few steps from the entrance. As the door swung shut,
Rachel peeked over her shoulder. Claudia Barnes smiled, waved,
and walked way.

Once the woman disappeared, Rachel sagged against the wall,
giving her unsteady legs a second to recover. She wanted to
ring Nick, but a quick glance at her watch confirmed she was
running late for her first class of the afternoon. The call would
have to wait. Besides, it wasn't urgent. There was nothing he
could do about the situation. Yet the mere sound of his voice
would reassure her.

And the pleasant implications of that fact helped dispel the
anxiety Claudia Barnes had left in her wake.

"I hear you're collecting dolls"

His topcoat half shrugged off, Nick pivoted toward the open ing of his cube. Ellen Levine regarded him, her expression difficult to read. A former reporter, the svelte, fiftysomething media
relations manager was a savvy spokesperson who knew all the
tricks of the trade. She could court-or divert-the media, depending on which tactic best suited the FBI's purpose.