Cordelia shook her head. “Too risky. He must be suspecting something like this. Why else would he want to search your trash?”
“I have an idea,” Belinda Sue said. “But it’s going to require distracting Archer, and we have to get the timing right or it won’t work.”
“And just how do you plan to do that?” Cordelia asked.
Daisy pressed her fingers to her lips as she looked between Belinda Sue and Arline, who both gave her nods of confirmation. She released a short squeal as she bounced on the balls of her feet. At once, the chicks turned to Cordelia with matching Cheshire cat grins stretched across their aging faces, and a lead weight dropped in Cordelia’s stomach. Whatever they had planned, Cordelia had an inkling that she wasn’t going to like it. Not one bit.
Chapter Nine
“YOU CAN COME ON OUT, MISS CORDELIA.WE WON’T BITE,”DAISY SING-SONGED.
“Not unless you ask nicely,” Belinda Sue added.
Cordelia stepped out of her bathroom, took one look in the mirror, and nearly fainted dead away. The ladies had teased and curled her pin-straight golden brown hair to within an inch of its life. It now rose high on her head like a crown of tangled cream puffs. Daisy had done something to her eyes to make them ten times larger and a deeper blue than she thought possible. Like staring straight into the ocean. Her full lips had been painted bright red, designed to stand out and grab a man’s attention, but the outfit really took the cake.
Belinda Sue had packed Cordelia into a black bustier that had her small breasts spilling over the top with mystery cleavage she’d never in her life seen before. She paired it with the tiniest scrap of lace she claimed was underwear, but Cordelia was certain it was just a tissue held together with two strings. A garter holding up sheer black stockings completed the look.
Arline provided a trench coat that had two designer watches hanging from the inside. Arline quickly plucked the watches free, burying them in the pocket of her floral caftan and shooting Cordelia a look that suggested she wasnotinvited to ask questions.
“I don’t know about this, y’all.” Cordelia stood before her partners in crime, wringing her hands and trying not to chew all the lipstick off her mouth. “You don’t think he’s going to take one look at me and laugh himself hoarse?”
“Honey.” Daisy put a hand on her shoulder. “Ain’t a red-blooded Texas man alive that would take one look at you and do anything other than sink to his knees and beg for mercy.”
Belinda Sue nodded. “She’s got that right. You know your books and your lists and how best to organize a closet, but trust that we know men.”
An emotion Cordelia couldn’t quite identify, but one she was certain she’d spent her whole life avoiding, squirmed in her stomach. She wasn’t fit to be any kind of temptress. There had to be another way to distract Archer that didn’t involve her looking like a burlesque dancer, but she didn’t know men. She’d just have to trust their judgment.
Arline gave her a detailed outline of Archer’s office, including where to find the tamper-proof bags, his passcode for the lab, and the exact time the courier would empty his outbox. It was anyone’s guess how Arline came by this information, but she wasn’t interested in sharing anymore than she’d been willing to explain why she had a trench coat with designer watches dangling from the inside flap. All she’d said was that she made it her business to be familiar with the FBI’s comings and goings.
Belinda Sue stuffed a wad of leather into Cordelia’s coat pocket, along with a plastic tube filled with leftover wine. “Now, remember, don’t enter the building until 5:45. That gives you fifteen minutes to work your magic.”
“Right.”
“You don’t need to be so nervous, Miss Cordelia.” Daisy fluffed and picked at Cordelia’s sky-high hair. “You’ve got plenty of feminine wiles.”
Cordelia had about as many wiles as a honey badger in a beehive, which Arline had no trouble pointing out, but she was all they had, so she’d have to do.
They went over the plan one last time, then the three ladies under her care waved her off, beaming like proud momma birds who had just shoved their baby from the nest. Cordelia’s heels clicked on the blacktop as she walked across the parking lot to her car. She didn’t usually wear heels—her fear of bunions was right up there with her fear of mold—but her impeccable balance saved her from looking like a fool.
She drove into town with one heel kicked off on the mat, her stocking-clad toes wiggling against the gas. The closer she got to the FBI field office, the more her shoulders scrunched up against her neck. Daisy had been so sure that Archer looked at her a certain kind of way, but he’d also been the boy who’d told her she was every pirate’s dream because of her sunken chest. If he so much as cracked a smile at her getup, she could forget worrying about jail. She’d drop dead of embarrassment right then and there.
The parking lot to the field office was empty and the building dark, save for a single light in the front right window she knew to be Archer’s office. Thinking about him sitting in there alone with his head in his hands, trying to piece together what happened to his daddy, sent a twinge of guilt through her. She didn’t like manipulating people, and she knew what it felt like not to have any answers where a father was concerned. But it wasn’t her place to ease his mind in that regard. She’d already committed to protecting Daisy by any means necessary.
At exactly 5:45, Cordelia wiped her palms against her hips and pushed open the door to Archer’s office. The plain white box had a steel desk that covered the length of a wall. Whiteboards and corkboards decorated the room, with various notes and pictures attached. Her eyes got stuck on his suspenders, a weakness,before her gaze fell to the outgoing tray, the drawer with the plastic lab bags, and a plain black-leather journal that held all his notes and passwords.
Right where Arline had said they would be.
Archer’s head shot up and he stood. A blank look crossed his face before a slow grin creased the corners of his mouth, like he wasn’t about to admit she’d taken him by surprise, though his eyes roved over her made-up face. “After that huff I left you in earlier, I thought you’d go out of your way to avoid me.”
“I didn’t want to give you the satisfaction of thinking you’d gotten the better of me.”
“Darlin’, I don’t doubt you’d make me work for every inch of that satisfaction, but I’m guessing that’s not why you came by.”
“Not exactly.” The pounding in Cordelia’s chest, ears, throat picked up an erratic tempo. No more stalling. She opened her trench coat and let it fall and dangle from the crook of her arms.
His grin halted.
This was a mistake. She should pull up the coat now and leave while there was still a microscopic amount of dignity she could scrape off the floor. Yet she froze, rooted to the spot. Unable to move or breathe or think. She suddenly understood why deer just stood in the road while a car came barreling straight for them.
