“Too bad, we have a lot to see. And some wonderful little shops too. Great for last minute gift shopping.”
“So I’ve heard.”
“Where’re you heading?”
“North.”
The waitress continued, undaunted by the vague answer. “Visiting family for the holidays?”
“Business, actually…”
“This close to Christmas? That’s a shame. Folks should be with family this time of year. Or, a pretty young lady like you, maybe with someone special?”
Constance smiled and shrugged but didn’t offer any information. Apparently her naked ring finger was doing all the talking for her. In any case, she was ready to bring the conversation to a close before it became any more invasive than it already had. She wasn’t unfamiliar with the friendly openness of small towns, so the woman’s queries didn’t really offend her. However, she also wasn’t accustomed to the culture either. In Saint Louis, where she lived, you were cordial to others; however, if you were too friendly, even out in the suburbs, people had a tendency to think something was either wrong with you or that you had an ulterior motive, nefarious or otherwise. Unfortunately, the vast majority of the time they were correct.
Of course, under the circumstances this exchange was probably good practice. The town where she was heading was even smaller than Hannibal, so she might as well be prepared for random Q and A from the locals there too. Still, she wasn’t ready to dive in headfirst. Not until she absolutely had to, and definitely not this early in the morning.
Fortunately, the waitress shifted the focus of her interrogation without any other prompting. “All righty then, hon, have you decided what you’d like, or do you need another minute or two?”
Constance smiled inwardly. Now they were back on track. She nodded and said, “The Becky’s Breakfast, I think.”
“How did you want those eggs?”
“Scrambled.”
“Bacon or sausage?”
“Do you have turkey bacon?”
“Sure do. White or wheat?”
“Wheat, please.”
“Okay, I’ll have that out in just a few.” The woman in pink flashed a smile and turned to head back toward the counter.
“Oh,” Constance called after her. “Do you have any grapefruit juice?”
“Not sure this morning, sugar. I’ll have to check on that for you,” the waitress answered. “If we have some do you want a large or a small?”
“Just a small. Thank you.”
Once the woman disappeared through the kitchen doors behind the counter, Constance turned her attention toward the TV. The morning news had given way to a kitschy commercial for a local car dealership. Oh well, she could tune in the news channel on her satellite radio once she was back on the road. Besides, right now she still had some reading to catch up on.
She took a moment to stretch. Two hours in the driver’s seat hadn’t done her any favors, given that the apparent urgency of this trip had caused her to miss her morning run, not to mention that she was operating on less than four hours sleep. She wasn’t a big fan of last minute assignments like this, but you went where your SSA told you to go. The mobility agreement was all part of the job, no matter the division where you were assigned, but most especially if you were a special agent in the field. Of course, in this instance she wasn’t even sure her SSA knew what was happening just yet. These orders had come from the SAC himself, and even he had implied that they originated from higher up the FBI’s food chain, which meant DC. Either way, when your boss’ boss is the one handing you an assignment, you don’t ask why. Not out loud, anyway.
Still, Agent Johnson was definitely going to owe her one for bailing on this. She didn’t care if he had a bad case of the flu or not. Tit for tat, that’s how it worked. He got out of it, and she got stuck with it, so he owed her. Moreover, if he was responsible for putting her name on the short list as a backup, his payback was going to be a bitch; namely her, and she had no problem bearing that moniker when she needed to.
What really bothered her was that the bureau had plenty of agents working from the Saint Louis headquarters, and she’d pulled more than her share of crappy assignments over the years. Wasn’t it someone else’s turn to work a holiday for a change? And why just her? Shouldn’t she at least have another agent from her squad along for the ride? Two sets of eyes were always better than one.
Or maybe it was just that she wanted to have someone to commiserate with?
Again, these were just more examples of questions and comments that you didn’t give voice, which is why they were now trapped on the inside with the rest of her thoughts and making a confusing din between her ears. On the flip side, it was possible she should be considering it a feather in her cap that the SAC, and possibly even someone in DC, had picked her out of the pool of agents. Unfortunately, the end of that feather was sharp, and right now it was poking through her cap and into her head in a most annoying fashion.
Constance ripped open a creamer and poured it into the steaming mug of coffee. Then she tore the tops from a pair of sugar packets and dumped them in as well. The caramel clouds of diluting cream were already losing their billowy shapes as she dunked her spoon and gave a quick stir.
She lifted the cup by its handle, then pursed her lips and blew across its rim before taking a tentative sip. It was still a bit too hot, so she placed it to the side for a moment. Letting out a quiet sigh, she experienced the moment of self-condemnation she had already known was coming.
She needed to stop feeling sorry for herself. She knew the score the day she entered the academy at Quantico. She had chosen this career because it’s what she wanted to do, and that hadn’t changed just because she didn’t like the timing of an assignment. Given some of the things she’d witnessed in her time as a field agent, she could easily find far better reasons to hate her job. But she didn’t. Sometimes it gave her nightmares, yes. But she was never one for walking away from a puzzle.
Especially not until it was finished.
She had to take the bad with the good, and she knew it, even if it meant not spending the holidays with Ben. She sighed again, but this time it was out of resignation mixed with a tenuous sort of contentment.
“Everything okay, hon?” the waitress asked.
Constance looked up, not quite startled but a bit surprised since she hadn’t heard the woman return. “Yes… Fine…” she replied. “It’s just that it’s already been a long day.”
The woman gave her a knowing nod as she placed a short glass in front of her. “Tell me about it. Here’s your grapefruit juice, hon. Your breakfast should be out in just a couple of minutes.”
“Thanks.”
When she was once again alone, Constance pulled out her cell phone and thumbed in a speed dial code, then tilted her head and tucked the device beneath her hair and up against her ear. After the third ring the speaker clicked and she heard a gruff voice say, “This is Ben Storm. You’ve reached my phone. I ain’t here. Leave a message.”
“Ben, it’s me,” she said after the beep. “Looks like we have to put our plans on hold. I’ve been sent out of town on an investigation and I’m not sure exactly when I’ll be back. I’ll call you later.”
Constance hung up then glanced at the time on the small screen. Ben was probably still in the shower right about now, which would explain why he didn’t answer. It felt later to her than it really was, probably because she’d already been up and working for several hours.
She slipped her cell back into her pocket, then shifted in the booth and pulled a large envelope out of the faux leather portfolio lying at her side. She’d had time for no more than a quick glance at it earlier before getting started on her four-hour journey north. The SAC had called her in at oh-dead-thirty for a briefing so spotty that it gave new meaning to the word, and until now every moment since had been rush, rush, and more rush. In fact, when she’d first arrived in his office her hair had still been slightly damp from her shower. Fortunately, he hadn’t seemed to care, or even notice for that matter.
She leaned against the padded back of the booth’s bench seat and unwound the string on the interdepartmental envelope. Considering what she’d been told during the meeting-which wasn’t much-the packet
