“Setting a trap isn’t the worst idea,” he said, “but it’s close.” I scowled, and he added, “The fundamentals aregood. Your cards are a good tactic to draw him out, but—” A flash of fear hit his eyes, and I understood.
“It’s the ‘me being bait’ that’s the problem.”
“Yeah,” he said. “A big one.”
“I trust you guys to cover me,” I said. They were good at what they did. They wouldn’t let anything happen to me.
“If it were anyone else,” Eli said, “so would I. But I can’t. Not so soon.” He reached up to stroke the edge of the fresh bandage at my temple.
“Okay,” I said, knowing I’d feel the same if it had been him lying unconscious, covered in blood. “We’ll think of something.”
A key scratched at the door, and the deadbolt turned in time with a quick triple knock.
“Anybody alive in here?” Wren called out.
Eli straightened and looked over his shoulder at the door. “In here,” he said. “Dressed, showered, and awake.”
“That’s a good sign,” Wren said. “You both look almost human,” she added as she came around the side of the sofa. “Working?” Her eyebrow slid up as she took in my open laptop.
“Plotting,” I said. “But Eli doesn’t like my plan.”
“What is it?” She gave him a sidelong look, as if trying to decide what his problem might be. It didn’t take her long to figure it out. “Yeah, you’re not going out there as bait,” she said, shaking her head. She stopped, staring at me until I had to look away.
“What?” I finally asked when she continued to stare, tilting her head to the side as she considered me.
Eli’s eyes flared, and he joined Wren in studying me. “You could, couldn’t you,” he said, his eyes flicking to her in an equally assessing gaze. “I should have thought of that.”
“Well, your brain got rattled a few days ago,” Wren said,glancing at him. “I even have a wig that I think is the exact color of Sylvie’s hair.” Wren looked back at me. “You’re taller than me, but I’ve got stuff to adjust for that—heels, lifts, you know?” Her mouth spread in a wide grin. “This will be fun. I’ll take your cards, do a little shopping. You need more clothes anyway.” She winked at me. “I’ll hit the grocery store. Get you pinging on his radar.”
“And then what?” Eli asked. “Hope he jumps you while you’re picking out apples?”
Wren shook her head, and I could see the gears moving in her brain as her eyes stared off into the distance. “No,” she said slowly. “That’s just to get his attention. Then we set the trap.”
“What’s the trap?” I asked.
Wren didn’t answer, but a smile spread across her face. “I’m still working it out. But I think if we do this my way, we can keep you out of sight until the very end.”
I liked the sound of that. Both being out of sight and ending the bomber. Once and for all.
Chapter Thirty
ELI
“Idon’t know how I let you talk me into making you bait,” I said to Sylvie as we closed the door to the short-term rental behind us.
“Because I’m not bait by myself,” she answered brightly, sending me a sharp grin.
I’d fought, and I’d lost. Sylvie wasn’t on her own, but she was still bait. And I still didn’t like the plan.
Wren had taken care of the most vulnerable part: running around Atlanta using Sylvie’s credit and debit cards to remind the bomber she was still out there. It was uncanny how much Wren looked like Sylvie when she got her disguise together, but that was what Wren did—became anyone but herself, blending and misdirecting until she achieved her aim. In this case, intriguing the bomber and sending the clear message that Sylvie thought it was over, and she was out there rebuilding her life.
Wren didn’t waste her efforts, going to an electronics store to replace Sylvie’s favorite microphone, to the mall to refill her closet, even to the office supply store for fresh notebooks and pens. After a few days of that, Maddoxconfirmed that someone was crawling around in Sylvie’s email account and cloud storage, their signature close enough to the bomber’s that we decided we had our fish on the line. It was time to reel him in.
Miranda took over, securing the short-term rental––a newly renovated cottage in the Virginia-Highland neighborhood.
She’d explained, “If we put the rental on Sylvie’s card, he’s going to know it’s a trap. He’ll buy that she’s out doing some shopping, but not that we’d let her out from under our protection completely. Not yet.”
“If we aren’t putting it on my card,” Sylvie had asked, “how will we draw him out?”
