“Unsub?”Feirn’s dark brows lifted.
“Unknown Subject.It’s how the FBI refers to suspects.”She was already opening her tablet to the facial reconstruction drawing program.“See here?First you choose the shape of the face ...”
Moments later they were both hard at work; Sophie texted Armita that she wouldn’t be able to help with breakfast but she’d join the children briefly when they were eating.When Armita replied cheerfully in the affirmative, once more Sophie thanked all that was good in the world for her nanny; Armita had truly earned the title “Auntie” that the children called her.
As Sophie scanned her screens, a new email notification popped up—from an address she didn’t recognize, with a subject line that made her stomach drop: “Regarding your message to Agent McDonald.”The sender’s domain wascia.gov, but it wasn’t from McDonald.
Sophie’s belly tightened; she had a bad feeling about this.
20
SOPHIE
Sophie staredat thecia.govemail for a long moment before clicking it open.
The message was brief:“Ms.Smithson, regarding your recent attempt to contact Agent McDonald, please call 703-482-1100 extension 4421 at your earliest convenience.Time sensitive.~CIA Liaison Office”
Her fingers hesitated as she held her phone.McDonald had given her his direct line years ago, and she’d never had to go through official channels to reach him before.What had changed?
Morning light streaming through her office window had grown stronger, painting golden rectangles across her desk.The office door was cracked, and Armita’s voice drifted from the kitchen mixed with the children’s high tones.A clink of dishes added context—breakfast was almost ready, and she’d promised to be there.
“Feirn,” she said, closing her email.“Let’s take a break.Come have breakfast with us.”
The young man looked up from the facial reconstruction program, rubbing his eyes.“I’m close to finishing?—”
“It can wait twenty minutes.You need to eat.”She managed a smile in spite of the tension in her gut.“Besides, the children haven’t got to know you hardly at all.I want them to spend more time with you.”
The kitchen was chaos in the best way.Momi was wondering aloud if dragons could swim and deciding they could, while Sean ran a dump truck back and forth making rumbling noises.Armita was just dishing up a mass of scrambled eggs.
“Everyone, this is Feirn,” Sophie announced.“He ate dinner with the security team yesterday, but he’s staying with us for a while.”
“Are you a ninja?”Momi asked.“You look like a ninja.”
Feirn glanced at Sophie, who smiled.“Yes, a little,” he said in heavily accented English, sliding into the empty chair beside her.“You make picture well.”
“I like art,” Momi said.“This is my pet dragon, Rupert.Can you draw?”
Feirn shook his head.“Not good.”
She promptly pushed her tablet and box of crayons over.“You make a dragon, now.I’ll help you.”
The familiar breakfast sounds were comforting, but Sophie found herself hyperaware of every detail as she seated Sean in his highchair and served up his eggs and her own—the way the morning sun caught the steam rising from the dish.The faint scent of plumeria drifting through the open window from the tree outside.The sound of mynah birds squawking in the yard.Even Armita humming as she buttered toast, and the scrape of the knife over crisp bread.
Everything felt too sharp, too present, as if her senses were trying to memorize this moment of normalcy before it shattered.
“Mom, you’re not eating,” Momi observed, pointing her fork at Sophie’s untouched plate.
“Just thinking, Little Bean.”Sophie forced herself to take a bite of eggs, than another.Fuel for the body.Who knew what the day would bring?
After breakfast, as Armita herded the children upstairs to dress, Sophie loaded the dishwasher while Feirn cleaned the table and highchair.Done with chores, Sophie touched Feirn’s shoulder and spoke to him in Thai.“I need to make a private call.Would you mind going back to your room for a bit?You can take my laptop and keep working on the reconstruction there.”
His dark eyes studied her face intently.“Is everything all right?”
“Not sure.I’ll let you know after the call.”She followed him down the hall and went into the office, waiting until he closed the door to his room before picking up her phone.The house felt too quiet now, the walls pressing in.She could hear her own heartbeat as she dialed the number the CIA had sent.
The phone rang twice before a crisp male voice answered.“Extension 4421.”
“This is Sophie Smithson.I received an email about Agent McDonald?—”
