Justified Means (Book One) (The Agency Files) (40 page)

Erika clicked the remote, plunging the TV screen into darkness. Why didn’t the networks come up with something reasonable to watch on Wednesday nights? It was ridiculous!

She reached for the latest Alexa Hartfield mystery and tossed it aside. Either the woman was losing her touch, or she needed a change of genre. It seemed stale and uninteresting. The magazine she’d brought home was more advertisements for things she’d never buy than articles about things that didn’t interest her.

For the third time that week, she wandered through the four rooms of her apartment, anxious to find something to do without resorting to another trip to a movie or the mall. Her mother had “diagnosed” her with a serious case of ennui. Even that seemed too exciting for the disinterested feeling she had. It seemed as though that now she’d accomplished her latest goal, finding an apartment, there was nothing left to do but exist.

A glance at her watch told her it was too late for the library. She could try the bookstore in the mall. Maybe they’d have a new TV series or a book—or maybe she should go read some nice political blogs to get her blood boiling. There was nothing like reading a bunch of right-wing hot heads to stir some life into her.

Next to her laptop sat the Bible Keith had sent her. The cryptic note, still stuck in the same place where she’d found it, continued to annoy her. What did he mean about solid food or milk? Was he calling her a big baby?

She grabbed the Bible and the laptop and carried it back to her favorite chair. Maybe if she Googled the right combination of words, there’d be some explanation. It was probably some religious terminology that those with an “in” understood. Church types always seemed to speak their own language—kind of like little kids who want to be able to insult the people around them without those people knowing.

It took a little searching, but she found what she thought he was trying to tell her. None of it made sense, and the worst part of it was that she couldn’t just call and ask. Anger welled up in her heart again as she remembered his broken promise. The meal didn’t mean that much—not really. No one would expect a guy like Keith to toss aside whatever rules there were about dating people who weren’t religious—there had to be rules. People like him had rules for everything.

Then again, she hadn’t had any illusions of it being an actual date. He’d promised her dinner in a difficult circumstance. It was supposed to be a fun, “Hey, we’re out of this mess now” kind of celebration, not some big deal. As she remembered his entire curt demeanor, she sighed. It was about the attraction. He wasn’t going to risk it again. It was too bad, too. He was a good-looking guy—a nice one
, when he wasn’t letting you wander through the woods tired and hungry or tackling you when you tried to escape.

A word on the opposing page from the note caught her attention. Adultery. She hated that word. Yvonne’s parents had been through the ugliest divorce she’d ever heard of because of adultery. Even her
own father, with all his bizarre ideas, had a simple outlook on marriage. You kept your word. You promised to be faithful, now do it. If you can’t promise to do that, then don’t get married and say you will.

Premarital sex didn’t bother Tom Polowski, but extramarital received the same passionless condemnation that murder, corruption in politics, and bad service at restaurants did. “It’s wrong” spoken in nearly a monotone as if bored. Just thinking of it made her smile and frown at the same time. Men like her dad were rare—no, not the lack of emotion. Men today seemed more interested in serving themselves than honoring promises—kind of like Keith. The irony would have been amusing if she wasn’t so irritated.

The word adultery pulled at her again, so Erika began reading the section from the beginning. It was short—simple even. It was powerful. She’d heard that Jesus was a pretty good guy. One of her friends had a mother who talked about how Jesus forgave this and forgave that. Here it was in black, red, and white. The woman was caught and told to knock it off. Erika snickered at the thought that followed. “Knock it off before he knocks you up is more like it.”

Google sent a few dozen links on adultery when she typed it into the search bar. Some verses were harsh. Killing a person for adultery seemed a bit extreme, but a small part of her resonated with the idea. If capital punishment, which she had always opposed, was the sentence for adultery, Yvonne’s father would never have strayed. People liked to live. It didn’t sound like the Bible people had a backlog of cases to drag out the sentencing either.

One verse made no sense. Adultery and friendship with the world didn’t make sense. If she could have, she’d have called Keith and demanded an explanation. That thought sent the Bible flying across the room. Her anger grew as she realized she’d let her emotions override her self-control. Unlike her father, Erika valued emotions, but like her father, she respected people who were able to control them. She rose, picked up the book, smoothed the rumpled pages, and set it on the bookshelf where it belonged. She’d ask around and see if anyone at work wanted or needed a new one.

“How long are you going to make her wait?”

Keith shook his head. Why did Karen always ask it like that? “I’m not ‘making her wait.’ I’m giving her time to see what the Bible is all about. I thought it’d give us something to discuss.”

“She’s going to see you as someone who breaks his word.”

It was true; he had to accept that possibility, but Keith had prayed like crazy about how to go about the dinner, and this was his solution. He didn’t know if it was prompted by the Holy Spirit—some kind of perfect timing thing—or if he was just subconsciously stalling for whatever stupid reason that’d be. “Well, I never said when. As long as I ask within a semi-reasonable amount of time, she can’t say I broke my word.”

“It’s been two months. Isn’t that a bit excessive?”

“She’s been getting settled. I’m being patient—waiting.”

“You’re stalling. Call.” Karen shoved his phone across the table. “I’ll go see how Allison is doing.”

“She won’t thank you.”

“I know. Isn’t it great? They are so cute.”

“When people say opposites attract…”

“Yeah,” Karen agreed. “Look at you and Erika.”

“She is not attracted to me.”

Laughing, Karen strolled from the room. “Well, I don’t know about that. You could be right, but you sure are attracted to her.”

“Go check on our latest prisoner.”

Hours later, Keith’s fingers hovered over the buttons on his phone, before he slid it shut again. He might be a fool—probably was—but until he felt a green light, he wasn’t calling. Period.

For the third time that morning, Erika thought she saw Keith out of the corner of her eye. The first time, she’d been a little excited. As annoyed as she was, it was still an interesting prospect. She hadn’t lost her curiosity about that friendship with the world and adultery thing.

The second time, she’d snapped at Jason and Myla both. Actually, if she were honest with herself, she’d have to admit that she humiliated Myla with her peevish remark about reserving flirtation for when they were off work. The girl hadn’t been the same since, and Jason had subsequently avoided both women.

Now, furious at the idea that she could be so discomfited at the mere thought that someone she wanted to talk to could be avoiding her, Erika stormed out onto the sidewalk, glanced around her, and marched back inside again. Ignoring the line of customers that nearly reached the door, she strode through the back, into her office, and looked for something, anything, that she could break.

Remorse flooded her seconds later. What kind of manager was she? They were down two baristas, and she was throwing a temper tantrum like none she’d ever seen. Taking a deep breath, she opened the office door and charged back to the counter. “Next!”

For thirty minutes, the customers poured into the shop and then hurried back out again, anxious to make it to their next train. Once the store emptied, she glanced at the clock. “Hey, you guys, go on your breaks. I’ll take care of it. We’ve got twenty minutes before it gets bad again.”

“Are you sure?” Myla seemed doubtful but eager to leave. “Todd isn’t here and—”

“Get out of here,” Erika joked as she made shooing motions. “Go somewhere and get a change of scene. I’ll be fine.”

A glance at the serving area made her wince. Dropped lids, crushed cup sleeves, and drizzles of whipped cream littered every surface. With a glance at the door to be sure no one was coming, Erika grabbed a fresh towel and washcloth and started cleaning. A puddle of spilled coffee right in front of the register had nearly sent all three of them sprawling, but in seconds, she wiped it up and tossed the dirty rag in the bin. Just as she pulled herself up behind the counter, two familiar eyes smiled at her.

“So,” Keith Auger, kidnapper extraordinaire quipped, “I do believe I owe you a steak dinner.”

Irritated, Erika grabbed the can of whipped cream and sprayed it into his face. She waited to see what kind of response he’d have to that, and then shook her head when he asked, “Should I take that as a hint that you want dessert too?”

“You should take it as a hint that I don’t live by the adage, ‘better late than never.’”

“Name the restaurant.”

“Marcello’s in Fairbury. Oh, and I have questions for you.”

Keith’s knowing smile answered several unasked questions. “I thought you might. Friday?”

Erika nodded. “Do you need my address, or am I still on the watch list?”

“I could get it, sure, but I’d rather you gave it to me.”

For several seconds, Erika searched his face for something, although she wasn’t quite sure what. After what seemed like an excessive pause, she nodded. “Good answer.”

“See you Friday, then?” If she didn’t know better, she’d swear he was actually looking forward to it.

“Why did you take so long?”

“That’s an answer I’m not sure you want to hear.”

“Try me.”

She watched him wrestle with himself for a few seconds and then frowned as he shook his head. “Nope. If you want me to tell you why, you’ll have to ask me after dessert. On Friday. I’ll pick you up—assuming you ever give me your address—at five-thirty.”

“I’ll barely make it home. No time to change.”

“Then you can keep me waiting. Don’t women love to do that?”

Laughing, Erika nodded. She scribbled her address on a customer rewards card just as Myla and Jason entered the store, ahead of the first caffeine addicts from the next train, sending her into work mode. “Don’t be late. I’ve waited long enough.”

“I’d say we both have. See you Friday.”

Erika watched him leave the store, turn to head toward the subway, and then pause. He gave her a slight wave before he disappeared from sight. Now that was promising. He’d kept his word after all. Maybe real religious people did exist. Maybe.

Fairbury has a new resident—one they aren’t sure they want.  When Chief
Varney extends the invitation to an ex-member of the notorious biker gang, the Kasimirs, Fairbury’s citizens have mixed feelings.  It might be his past associations with a gang involved in the drug trade and with a few members recently indicted for murder.  However, Leo Haesert suspects it has more to do with the tattoos on his arms and neck and the holes in his ears.