More than a coincidence?
She’d like to tell him about coincidences. For instance, was it a coincidence that when she saw him her body went out of control? Was it a coincidence that she turned into someone she was not? Someone who acted without thinking. Someone who broke every rule?
None of that had ever happened to her before, yet it had, in Seattle and here.
Well, it was not going to happen this time. She knew who she was, who she would always be. And she knew who he was. An FBI agent through and through. Well, that was fine because she knew what she wanted and how to get it, and he wasn’t a part of any of that.
Except for being the father of her baby.
He’d probably have to investigate that, too. Her insides quivered. She couldn’t have him doing that.
“I’m parking here because I don’t want a car in the driveway of the house,” he said.
Betty glanced out the window, recognizing the building as one of the studios. He’d parked in the back lot, so all they had to do was run across the street.
“I’m certain no one has followed us.”
Why was he doing all this? The case was over. Burrows was caught. There couldn’t be more to it than that. Unless he was investigating... No, her sisters didn’t know about the baby.
She stepped out of the car when he opened the door, but didn’t take his hand, or look at him. Despite the anger still boiling inside her, she didn’t trust herself. When it came to him, she was like a two-headed coin tossed in the air. No matter which side it landed on, she was the one who lost. Lost all her sensibility and everything else that went along with it.
She had to fight to breathe as they entered the house. She could hear her heart pounding, feel her pulse quickening. She’d thought the pain of him being gone, of having left without even saying goodbye had been bad, but this, being in the very house where she’d abandoned all she’d known to be right and just, in order to fulfill a need that he’d put inside her, was beyond painful.
It was reality. She’d given him her heart that night. All the love she’d ever have to give, and she would never get that back. She’d walk around empty for the rest of her life.
“We’ll wait here for the others,” he said.
Her stomach fluttered as he handed her a flashlight. No, she wouldn’t walk around empty. He’d given her something for her heart. A baby. And it was hers. All hers.
She had been afraid that he might ask if there were any repercussion from that night, and was glad she’d said she was fine. Even though she knew that was wrong, against another rule. A baby wasn’t a repercussion, and she didn’t want his money.
The others arrived and Henry locked the door and then led everyone downstairs, where they could use the flashlights without worrying that someone driving past might notice a light.
Betty half listened, because in truth, she only half cared what he had to say. The other truth was that sitting on the sofa in the basement was bringing back memories.
Henry spoke about a man named Curtis Elkin, who was also an investigation agent, but had been leaking information, and whom Henry now believed had turned completely away from the agency because the man hadn’t been seen or heard from in weeks.
Lane seemed very concerned, so did Patsy, and Jane appeared frightened.
“Besides me, you are the only other person who can identify Elkin, Lane,” Henry said. “Other agents could identify him, but without proof, the Bureau can’t assign any others to chase him down.”
“You’re right,” Lane said. “And the news that I married Patsy has gone from one end of this town to the other.” He looped his arm around Patsy’s shoulders and pulled her closer to his side. “I can’t have her in that kind of danger.”
“I know,” Henry said. “That’s why I’m here. My supervisor also believes that Elkin is the mole and as soon as I prove it, the Bureau will send more agents.”
“So it’s just me and you,” Lane said.
“Yes,” Henry said. “And the cabin you’re staying at isn’t safe. That’s where they found me, knocked me out, stuffed me in a barrel, and shipped me off to Hawaii.”
Betty’s spine stiffened. “They stuffed you in a barrel?”
Henry was leaning against the door to the tunnel, arms crossed. He nodded to her, but said to Lane, “I’m concerned Elkin may go after anyone connected to you, including Patsy’s sisters.”
“I’m thinking the same thing,” Lane said.
“There’s no more sneaking out at night,” Henry said, looking at her.
Betty hadn’t cared about sneaking out in weeks, but Jane had, and would continue to.
Everyone in the room must have been thinking the same thing because they all looked at Jane.
She held up her arms, bent at the elbows and palms outward. “I’m all for a good time, but I’m not into danger.” Jane then asked Henry, “But you aren’t going to tell our father, are you? If he hears about this, we’ll never be able to sneak out again. Ever. Or worse. He’ll send us all away.”
When Henry looked at Betty, as if she needed to verify what Jane said, she nodded. Father would.
“I’ll start looking for Elkin tonight,” Henry said.
“I will, too,” Lane said.
“No, I will let you know when I need you. For now, Elkin doesn’t know I’m alive or—”
Betty nearly shot off the sofa. “Alive?”
Henry nodded, but finished what he’d been saying. “Or back in town, and I want to keep it that way. Lane, I need to know about any busts that happened in the past year or so, not of speakeasies, but of supply rings.”
“I can get that,” Lane said.
Henry nodded again. “Good, and—” He
