The Undercover Affair. Cathryn ParryЧитать онлайн книгу.
said she was asking about you, too.”
Now this just pissed him off. “Stop this line of thinking.”
Andy squinted at him. “I don’t get it. What’s the big deal? I thought you’d be happy. You can’t judge all women by—”
“All women?” John nearly exploded. His former marriage was old news, years-ago news, and what he did or didn’t do with his dating life was no one’s business but his.
“Don’t get riled up,” Andy said, holding up his hands. “I’m just trying to help you. She’s a decent sort. An interior designer working for the MacLaines. Lyn’s not a slouch.”
“I never said she was a slouch.” But that made him think. The congressman? That would imply that she worked for a high-end firm, and that she had serious skills. He turned to Andy. “Why is she so friendly with us?”
“What’s wrong with us?” Andy looked genuinely flummoxed.
John sighed. Even if Andy didn’t see it, the lady was suspicious. A woman like her, with her hot car and her good looks and her high-end interior design skills—at least, according to what Andy had just said—here, in this place? In this little dump of a bar in this sad, dead-end stretch of beach?
“You don’t think she’s too friendly?” he said. “Getting to know all you guys on the crews?”
“No. It’s good for her business, and frankly, it’s nice.”
“You don’t see any ulterior motives?”
“Like what?”
He didn’t want to get into his reasons for watching everyone in the bar so closely. “She’s too alert,” John mused. “Too interested in us.” She paid too much attention when most people didn’t pay any attention at all—fiddling with their mobile phones all the time as they were.
She seemed to be hiding something—he thought of the way she’d covered up her notes when he’d come up behind her in the parking lot. He hadn’t imagined it—she’d flashed him a surprised, guilty look before giving him that sweet smile that would turn any man’s knees to jelly.
“I caught her,” he muttered to himself. “I know I did.”
It was almost as if she was trained to pay attention to everything going on around her, and his sneaking up on her had been a rare slipup.
Andy burst into laughter. “You’ve been spending too much time behind the bar, my friend. You need to get out of this place and mingle more.”
Sure, he could laugh, John thought. Andy didn’t have a younger brother in trouble with the law. But not even Andy knew the extent of the trouble—John hoped nobody did. As much as possible, John didn’t want the information to get out.
Andy just shook his head sadly at him. “You’ve really grown paranoid. I’m worried about you.”
John doubted that. And the more he thought about the idea of her being so alert, like some sort of secret investigator, the more it made sense that’s what she was. That’s why he’d been so drawn to her—his subconscious had been alerting him to the danger she posed. Making him notice things about her that he normally wouldn’t study in a person.
She’s had situational-awareness training, the same as I have. He would bet the Seaside on that fact.
And if he ever saw Lyn Francis again—or whatever her name was—then he was going to confront her about it.
Thoroughly.
Meeting of the Seacoast Burglary Task Force
Concord, New Hampshire
LYNDSAY TIGHTENED HER duty belt across her hips. Regulation gun, nightstick, flashlight, handcuffs and key were all in place. After a week of undercover work in her chosen street clothes, the duty belt felt tight and uncomfortable. But she was still an officer—not yet a detective—and so she was required to wear her uniform for the meeting with the other members of her task force.
With one last look in the mirror, she smoothed her hair bun and straightened her collar. Leaving the ladies’ room, she headed upstairs to the conference room in the massive, granite-faced headquarters building.
She was outside in the corridor when her mobile phone vibrated. She glanced at the screen and saw that it was her father’s number. Since she had a few minutes before the meeting officially started, she moved to a window in an alcove off the main corridor and took the call. Outside, the lazy river wound along the heart of the state capital. Not wanting to be overheard taking a personal call in a professional setting, she kept her voice low.
“Hi, Dad.”
“Lyndsay! I wasn’t sure if I’d be leaving you a voice mail. You’re off the undercover assignment now, I see.”
“Yes. I’m about to head into a meeting. What’s up?”
“Oh, I’m just calling to check on you. Wanted to make sure everything went well.”
“It did.” Lyndsay watched a police car turn the corner of the building, down on the street several floors below. She knew her dad wanted to hear details about her assignment, but she couldn’t say anything just yet. “I met my objective for the week, so I can say that I’m pleased.”
“You were successful, I assume.”
She smiled to herself—her dad always expected the best of her. She could forgive him for the pressure of the expectations—she knew he loved her, and she knew how he loved the job.
“Well, I’m not sure if my small part will help catch the bad guys, but I’ll get a better idea shortly.” Honestly, she wasn’t sure about the big picture, but that was because she’d been on a need-to-know basis. Today, she hoped to be moved beyond that.
“I’m proud of you for seeking out the assignment,” Dad said. “It’s a tremendous opportunity you’ve snagged.”
“I’m not sure what happens now,” she admitted. Her father was her best confidante, and she’d missed not talking to him during the past week. A police chief himself, recently retired, he felt nostalgic for the job. And, he enjoyed living vicariously through her. It drew them closer, and she didn’t mind that. In fact, she liked it. “Dad, honestly, now that I’ve got a taste of it, I’m not keen to go back to patrol.”
“Enjoyed being an undercover detective, did you?” The pride in his voice was unmistakable.
“Yes, I did like it. Very much.” She thought briefly of the freedom and the camaraderie she’d felt at the beach. It had been fun. Even being checked out by a handsome bar owner was something she’d decided she could handle. Especially after she had called Pete yesterday afternoon and he’d relayed that so far, John Reilly’s background wasn’t raising any red flags. In fact, he had an honorary discharge from the Marine Corps. She should be able to relate to him when and if the time came.
“...You need to go in there and tell them you want the promotion to detective,” her father was saying. “You need to step forward and ask for the increased responsibility. Obviously, they needed a woman with your skills for the short-term task force. Who would have known that year in interior design school would come in handy for you? But the point is, you can’t let them discard you now. There’s a bigger picture, and you need to insert yourself—”
“I know, Dad.” He was getting too passionate. Among the drawbacks of having a father who had also been in law enforcement for his entire career was that he sometimes got too involved.
“So what’s your game plan?” he demanded.
Going with the flow, that was her plan. Working with what came up, as it came up, had always gotten her through life’s difficulties.