from many open cases lay across her desk and small conference table.
They were wedged onto her shelves, had mutated into piles on her floor
and even found their way onto the couch where she often slept, far away
from her children.
But for her live-in nanny and the nanny’s teenage daughter, Reynolds
didn’t know how she could possibly keep a halfway normal life for her
kids. Rosemary, a wonderful woman from Central America who loved the
children nearly as much as Reynolds did and was fanatical about keeping
the house clean, the meals cooked and the clothes laundered, was
costing Reynolds over a quarter of her entire salary and was more than
worth every penny. But after the divorce was final it would be very
tight. And Reynolds’s ex would not be paying any alimony. His work as
a fashion photographer, though lucrative, came in quick bursts followed
by long periods of deliberate inactivity. Reynolds would be lucky if
she didn’t end up paying him alimony. And child support from him,
while she would seek it, would be a joke. The man may as well have had
“deadbeat dad” engraved on his forehead.
She looked at her watch. The FBI lab was working on the videotape
right now. Because the existence of her “special” was unknown within
the FBI except for very select personnel, any lab work that was
required was supposed to be sent over under a dummy case name and file
number. It would be nice to have separate laboratory facilities and
personnel, but that would entail enormous expense that just didn’t
figure in the Bureau’s budget. Even elite crime fighters had to live
within the allowance Uncle Sam gave them. Normally a liaison agent at
the main agency would work with Reynolds’s team to coordinate any lab
submissions and findings with Reynolds. However, Reynolds didn’t have
time for normal channels. She had personally delivered the tape to the
lab and with her superior’s blessing it had received a very high
priority.
After meeting with Anne Newman she had gone home, cuddled for as long
as she could with her sleeping kids, showered, changed and driven right
back to work. All the time she had been thinking of that damn tape. As
if in response to her thoughts, the phone rang.
“Yes?”
“You better come over,” said the man. “And just so you know, it’s not
good news.”
CHAPTER 13
FAITh AWOKE WITH A START. SHE LOOKED AT HER WATCH. It was nearly
seven. Lee had insisted that she get some rest, but she hadn’t
expected to be out so long. She sat up, feeling thick headed Her body
was aching and when she swung her legs over the side of the bed, she
felt a little sick to her stomach. She still had her suit on, but she
had slipped off her shoes and pantyhose before lying down.
She got off the bed, padded into the adjoining bathroom and looked at
herself in the mirror. “God,” was all she could manage to say. Her
hair was matted flat, her face a mess, her clothes filthy and her brain
felt like cement. Such a pleasant way to begin the day.
She turned on the shower and stepped back into the bedroom to undress.
She had taken off her clothes and was standing naked in the middle of
the bedroom when Lee knocked on the door.
“Yes?” she said anxiously.
“Before you get in the shower, we need to do something,” Lee said
through the door.
“Is that right?” The odd tone of his words sent a chill up her spine.
She quickly put her clothes back on and stood rigidly in the middle of
the room.
“Can I come in?” He sounded impatient.
She went over and edged open the door. “What is-” Faith almost
screamed when she saw him.
The man looking at her was not Lee Adams. This man had a buzz cut, the
hair dyed blond and damp, a matching short beard and mustache, and he
wore glasses. And instead of dazzling blue, his eyes were brown.
The man smiled as he watched her reaction. “Good, it passed the
test.”
“Lee?”
“We can’t quite walk past the FBI as ourselves.”