“No experience. As I told you earlier, I had friends undercover. Just be careful. Also, if you find those lines blurring between your mission and your heart, call me immediately. I don’t know if I can help, but I’ll be there for you.”
I’d been on the team for six months, and during that time, Gwen was proving to be a good friend. I just prayed that my heart wouldn’t take the lead.
14
FALLYN
ALIAS: JOY
Iwas feeling nauseated as I walked up to a twenty-story high-rise in an upscale area of Boston, where expensive shops were nestled below expensive apartment buildings. Grace had given me the 411 on Denim’s place, formerly owned by Duke, who’d given Denim the penthouse suite not long after he’d been paroled from prison.
Shivering from the cold, I stood outside the high-rise, my mind waging war on whether I should go inside. Did I really want to spend the day with people I hardly knew and one I could arrest at some point?
I should hop into my truck and drive to Weston. Dad was probably alone in the sunroom, reading the latest thriller. I hated that I wasn’t with him. Holidays sucked every year without Mom and Jason.
I kicked my legs into gear toward my truck that was parked around the corner and called Dad.
The line connected on the first ring. “Sweetheart,” he said, surprised.
I probably should’ve used the burner cell or called him before I’d left my apartment, but then I’d decided I would wait to talk to him after dinner with the Harts.
“I’m coming home,” I said.
“Absolutely not,” he replied in a soft-but-firm tone. “I understand you’re spending the day with the Harts. That’s what you need to do.”
The job always came first with Dad. He would always tell Jason and me that criminals didn’t sleep.
I scanned the somewhat-deserted street with the occasional car here and there. “I need a day to be Fallyn. I want to visit Jason and Mom at the cemetery too. I also don’t want you to be alone on Thanksgiving.”
Snow was falling, and with two inches on the ground, I imagined it was a perfect time to stay inside for the holiday.
“Sweetheart, I’m fine. Gwen tells me you’re making inroads. That’s great news. I’m not alone either.” The sound of a dog barking came through the phone. “Did you hear that?” He laughed. “I have a new addition to the family. Her name is Rosie, and she’s a golden retriever, two years old. I got her at the SPCÅ.”
I started crying. We’d had dogs growing up, but after Daisy, our springer spaniel, died not long after we’d buried Mom, Dad didn’t want any more.
I sniffled. “So you’re replacing me,” I teased through tears and laughter.
“Never, but I can’t wait for you to meet her. I decided the house was too darn quiet. Plus, I needed a fishing buddy.”
“That’s great, Dad.” I rested against the corner of the building, my truck in view to jump in and go meet Rosie.
Any ideas I had of seeing my dad were squashed when someone called for Joy. It took me a beat and a glance to my left to see that Grace was walking toward me,
“Dad, I have to go. Grace Hart is coming.”
“We’ll talk soon. Be careful,” he said.
I met Grace halfway, feigning a smile that was painful at the moment.
Two military-type men I didn’t recognize dressed in black lingered behind her.
Reality came roaring back along with the lie I was living.
She startled. “Are you crying? What’s wrong? Did Duke do something to hurt you?”
I laughed. Otherwise, I might have bawled like a baby. “Not at all. The wind and cold makes my eyes and nose water.”
“Then we should go inside.”
