She poured a glass of water, handed it to Fiona.
“Thanks.”
“Do you want a job?”
Fiona looked up again. “Sorry?”
“You’d make a good agent. I’m going to tell you, I had my doubts about this, about bringing you here. I thought he’d play you. I thought he’d twist you up and wring you out to dry, and we’d walk out empty-handed. But you played him. You didn’t give him what he wanted, and you sure as hell didn’t give him what he expected.”
“I gave it a lot of thought. What to say, how to say it. How to... wow, look at that,” she said when she saw her hands shaking.
“I can take you out of here altogether. There’s a coffee shop not that far away. Tawney can meet us there.”
“No, I’ll stick. I want to stick, and I know you want to be in there.”
“Here’s fine. He’s not going to take another woman in his face after that. Tawney’s better finishing this up without me. How did you know what to say, how to say it?”
“Truth?”
“Yeah, truth.”
“I work with dogs, and do one-on-ones with dogs and owners with behavioral problems—some of them fairly severe and violent. You can’t show fear—you can’t even feel it, because if you do it will show. You can’t let them get the upper hand, even for a minute. You don’t want to lose your temper, but always maintain the position of power. Alpha position.”
Mantz considered a moment. “You’re saying you thought of Perry as a bad dog?”
Fiona let out a shuddering breath. “More or less. Do you think it worked?”
“I think you did your job. Now we’ll do ours.”
Perry strung it out, dribbling out information, stopping to request a meal, dribbling more. Fiona fought off a rising sense of claustrophobia from being shut up in the small room for so long, and wished—more than once—she’d taken Mantz up on her offer to leave the prison and wait elsewhere.
In for the whole shot, she reminded herself, and sat, sat while Mantz listened on an earpiece, when Tawney came in to confer with her. To wait it out, she thought, refusing an offer of food she wasn’t entirely sure she could keep down.
They approached the time Tawney had predicted she’d be home before they left the prison behind. Fiona kept the window of the car open, breathed in the air.
“I can use my phone now? I need to let Simon and Sylvia know I’m delayed.”
“Go ahead. I contacted your stepmother,” Tawney told her. “I left Simon a voice mail. He didn’t answer his phone.”
“Between the machines and the music in his shop, he never hears the phone. But Syl would let him know. She’s taking my classes this afternoon. I’ll wait until we’re about to board the plane.”
“Erin said you didn’t eat.”
“Still a little unsteady in that area. You have to tell me something. You have to tell me if this helped.”
“You’re going to be disappointed.”
“Oh.”
“Disappointed that Erin’s back there on the phone right now, checking out some of the information Perry gave us, coordinating agents to various mail drops Perry said he lined up to contact Eckle over the next few weeks. He gave us locations, trolling sites they agreed on and the two alternate identities Eckle’s using.”
“Thank God.”
“He wants Eckle to go down. One, because he’s no longer subservient, no longer obedient. And two—and I believe this cemented it—he doesn’t want you to win again. He doesn’t want to risk you going up against Eckle and winning. You convinced him not only that you could, that you would, but that you were looking forward to it. Hell, you convinced me.”
“I’d just as soon not have to try to prove it.”
Mantz returned. “We’ve got agents on the way to the locations he gave us, and a team to the trolling site, which geographically should be next on Eckle’s list. We have another taking Kellworth’s college, as that should have been his target for this time frame. He could repeat there if he decides to go back to Perry’s game plan.”
“I don’t see that,” Tawney said, “but it’s better to cover it.”
“We’ve issued a BOLO for Eckle, including his aliases. And we got a jackpot, Tawney. We have a 2005 Ford Taurus, California plates, issued to one of those aliases. John William Mitchell.”
Tawney reached over to lay a hand briefly on Fiona’s. “You’re not going to have to prove anything.”
Midafternoon , my ass, Simon thought. At this rate, they’d be lucky if she made it home by six. Hearing her on his voice mail helped, but he wasn’t going to be able to relax until he saw her for himself.
He’d kept busy, and having Syl pinch-hitting on the classes saved him from a trip to town as she’d hauled off the new stock he’d finished. Plus, she’d made him lunch. Not a bad deal.
He set the last of the window boxes he’d spent most of his day making on its bracket, then walked back into the front yard, surrounded by the pack of dogs who’d rarely left his side all day, to view the results.
“Not bad,” he murmured.
He hadn’t used the design Fiona cadged from Meg—what would be the point in making something you could buy in a damn catalog? Anyway, his were better. He liked the marriage of mahogany and teak, the slightly rounded shapes, the interest of the Celtic design he’d carved into the wood.
Needed hot colors in the flowers, he decided. And if she tried to do some wussy pastels, she’d have to try again.
Strong, hot colors—nonnegotiable. What was the point in planting flowers if they didn’t make a statement?
When the dogs turned as one, he swung around himself. He thought,
He had to force himself not to race to the car, pluck her right out through the window and check every inch of her to make sure she was untouched, unhurt, unchanged.
He waited, with roiling impatience, while she sat, speaking to the agents. They’ve had you all day, he thought. Say good-fucking-bye and come home. Be home.
Then she got out, walked to him. He barely noticed the car drive away.
He heard her laugh as the dogs surged to greet her, watched color bloom in her cheeks as she stroked and ruffled. My turn, he thought, and moved toward them.
“Back off,” he ordered the dogs, then just stood looking at her. “Took you long enough.”
“It feels even longer from this side. I need a hug. A really long, hard hug. Crack my ribs, will you, Simon?”
He put his arms around her, gave her what she needed short of snapping bones. Then he kissed the top of her head, her temples, her mouth.
“Better, better.” She sighed it out. “So much better. You smell so good. Sawdust and dogs and the forest. You smell like home. I’m so glad to be home.”
“You’re okay?”
“I’m okay. I’ll tell you all about it. I want to shower first. I know it’s completely in my head, but I feel... I just need a shower. Then maybe we can toss a frozen pizza in the oven, crack a bottle, and I’ll... You made window boxes.”
“I had some spare time today since you weren’t around interrupting me.”
“You made window boxes,” she murmured. “They’re so... just exactly right. Thank you.”
“They’re my window boxes on my house.”
“Absolutely. Thank you.”
He yanked her back into his arms. “Making them kept me from going crazy. Syl and I worked on keeping each other from going crazy. You should call her.”
“I did. I called her, my mother and Mai from the ferry.”
