“Notmychurch. Not ever againmychurch.”
“Then why are you talking to a churchman?”
“He ain’t precisely a churchman. Well, he is, but he went away to college.”
“And then went back inside? When he didn’t have to?” Occam asked.
I thought about Ben’s statement that he had gone away to school and then returned to the church so he could effect change from the inside. How much change? How much did a man grow and evolve his thinking patterns? I had lived away from church lands for over a decade and I still found myself falling into patterns of thought and actions that were church-bound. I remembered Ben’s hands on my shoulders, the feel of them through my T-shirts. That had felt nice. It had been years since anyone had touched me. Except Occam, caressing my cheeks gently. I looked down at my lap.
I remembered the feel of John’s hands touching me in the dark, under the covers. Rough and calloused. Nothing gentle about him, nothing tender or passionate. He hadn’t been cruel. He had just been a man with his own needs, leaving me with the discomfort of my wifely duties. Ben would understand what I had been through. What I had done to survive. It was the way of women in the church. Would Occam understand if I flinched? If I pulled away?
Softly Occam said, “I know you ain’t human, Nell, sugar. Does Ben?”
I firmed my lips and looked away. I had asked myself that question already. But no matter what happened in my life, Iwould not be pushed into a corner and forced to take something or someone I didn’t choose myself.
When the silence had stretched too long, Occam said, “You’ll have plenty of backup on the op, in the coffee shop, one inside and extra surveillance outside.”
He was talking work talk, not the intensely personal stuff from only minutes past. I wasn’t sure how to make the jump from dating to work. Occam didn’t seem to have that trouble. I wasn’t sure what I was supposed to say so I nodded but didn’t look at him, fighting tears I didn’t even understand.
“JoJo spent some time digging deeper into our source’s social media history and discovered that our dissatisfied DNAKeys employee is probably a plant. Candace McCrory’s ID is as fake as your own persona, an identity created to see who might be looking for info on the company. Look at the file, Nell. You need to see it.”
I forced down my confusing emotions and turned on my laptop. I pulled up the file and the report in question and read Jo’s summary. “Okay,” I said softly when I was done. “Did Rick consider canceling the meeting when the fake-out was discovered?”
“Yes. But he called Soul. The up-line powers that be decided to keep it. Soul said there was a flurry of interest, as if the attention on DNAKeys had been a sign to someone. Soul is interested to see how it falls out.” He went silent and drove for a while, weaving in and out of cars. “This could be a trap of some sort. You keep your wits about you, Ingram.”
I blinked at the use of my last name instead ofNell, sugar. A name that meant important law enforcement work. That meant I was trusted to do that work in spite of my gender. Tears filled my eyes again, but I didn’t turn to him. I didn’t know what to say or do and doing nothing seemed a safer alternative.
•••
I was sitting at a tall table in a corner window in Remedy Coffee, reading a book, a romance novel JoJo had insisted I carry as part of my undercover persona. She had placed thepaperback book in my purse, which had come from her too. I didn’t carry a handbag, especially not a huge, eggplant-purple leather satchel. Inside it, in a specially constructed holster, was my service weapon and an extra magazine. In the bottom of the bag was a small makeup kit, hand sanitizers, breath mints, a small bag of travel-sized hair products, a travel sewing kit, and a change purse. All that was JoJo’s. Besides the gun, I had my cell phone and my small leather bifold ID wallet with my badge. And the wire. All hidden in special pockets.
This meet and greet was being recorded, videoed, and witnessed, with Unit Eighteen’s SAC sitting at a nearby table, his black eyes focused on his work, tapping on his laptop, looking like a hip college professor taking a break. He was wearing a tweed jacket with leather elbow patches, a flannel shirt, and khakis. His hair, which grew fast when he shape-shifted, hadn’t been trimmed since reconnoitering the DNAKeys’ property, and it curled over his collar and around his ears, hung down his forehead in small ringlets. JoJo, who had approved his persona and his wardrobe, called him swoon-worthy. This close to the full moon, all I could see was his cat.
I used the darkening windows to check out the coffee shop and had a moment to think through all the coffee shops that had suddenly permeated my life. If I could get over my ingrained church reflexes I might actually become a townie—a city girl.
Turning the page in the romance book, I glanced around. I couldn’t pinpoint anyone in Remedy who might be Rick’s opposite number, a spy from the company, as no one seemed to be watching me. I checked my bun, repositioning the hair stick holding it in place. Stopped fidgeting. Deliberately checked my cell for messages. Waited.
I turned a page and glanced out the window. Occam was jogging around the block with a dog he had borrowed from someone, blowing breath in the cold air, the dog waddling, fat and bored. T. Laine was in a car across the street, watching through tinted windows. She had hoped for an unusedsecond-story window, but the building across Stone Street NW had a blank façade. The other corner was a cemetery, not a location conducive to surveillance. The location was, however, perfect for a quick getaway on foot or bicycle.
I had gotten here early, spending the time reading and rereading the texting and e-mails between Candace McCrory and Shaundell Mason, my online persona. Actually Shaundra Nell Mason, which JoJo had found amusing for some reason when she originally crafted the ID for me. According to her, I hated both my names and had combined them in college. I liked dogs, bowling, and country line dancing, as well as authors from the 1800s. Besides being a member of the ASPCA with a lifelong desire to rescue and protect animals of all kinds, I had espoused violence, if needed, to protect animals. I loved books and was especially fond of Dickens, Emerson, Thoreau, and Walt Whitman. Fortunately I had read all of them in the years when Leah lay dying, and I loved Whitman’sLeaves of Grass. I was less fond of “I Hear America Singing,” as it seemed to epitomize the church’s way of life.
About the local animal shelters and ASPCA groups, I knew nothing. If she tested me on them, I’d have to get around that somehow. I had been pegged as an introvert so maybe I could just act shy. But my main reason for being here was to rule out Candace as part of any group who might want to hurt the Tollivers from outside or inside their business interests.
Candace slid onto the tall bar chair beside me and put a number on the table edge. I hadn’t noticed her come in or order, too busy thinking things through. I closed my book and tucked it into my bag. We looked each other over.
Candace was a large woman, fond of fake fur—which seemed odd in a person interested in animal rights—and stretchy tees and those expensive furry boots young women wore. And goth makeup with dyed black hair. She slid her laptop onto the table and shrugged out of her fake-fur-lined jacket. “God, it’s miserable outside. Just frekking snow already,” she demanded of the weather. “Candace,” she finished, introducing herself.
I gave her a cautious smile. “Hi. I’m Shaundell, but I guess you know that already.” Neither of us offered to shake hands.
“Easy to spot the hair. I appreciate you meeting me here. Sorry I’m late. Work was the pits today. You tried Remedy’s espresso?”
I gave her a minimal shrug and pointed to my cup. “I like milk. Cappuccino or latte for me. But it’s good. And the muffin was good too,” I added, sounding helpful and timid, pointing to the plate and crumbs.
“Not for me. Just discovered I’m sensitive to gluten, can you believe it? I’ve lost a good ten pounds already but I totally frekking miss bread.”
“Ummm...”
“So you can help the animals?”
