The sun crept over the hills to the east, melting the shadows inch by inch as she continued, passing pedestrians and wetsuit-clad surfers headed to the water, boards tucked beneath their arms.
What would it be like to live here? She hadn’t given it much thought because her life’s choices revolved around her career. If there had been a job at UC Berkley, sure, she would have considered it, but her final decision came down to how well the position or institution served her goals. The University of Washington’s Earth and Space Sciences Department had basically handed her the keys to her retiring advisor’s position. Though she would have to prove herself and work her way up to the level of influence he had cultivated, it was an ideal fit, and one she had worked hard for. Unless something changed—like excessive department drama or budget cuts—she planned to build her future there.
By the time she looped back, dipping down to the beach for her final mile so she could feel the ocean breeze on her face and the sand beneath her sneakers, a package was waiting for her. The return address wasn’t familiar, but it was addressed to her.
Inside Quinn’s apartment, Bruce had texted her.
A package should be coming for you this morning.
Curious, she opened it to discover two prepaid cell phones.
They’re lovely, she teased in her reply.
Is that all it takes to please you?
Her empty stomach came alive like a bag of worms. Was this flirting?
Inside was a note explaining that she and Quinn would use these phones to communicate with the agents going forward. Special Agent Harris wanted to take no chances.
Her breath hitched in her throat as she considered the implication. Noticing that Quinn’s door was still shut, Cassidy tiptoed into the kitchen to make coffee.
One of the phones chirped, and Cassidy pounced to silence it so as to not wake Quinn.
We’re going to keep face-to-face meetings to a minimum for everyone’s security, and we won’t be using our task force HQ. But we need to talk next steps.
Want to come over? she texted.
Negative, he replied.
Cassidy paused, troubled by the way his tone had seemed to shift from teasing her to military talk. She had the feeling that she was being punished, though for what, she didn’t know.
Get on the Hyde/Powell line from Ghirardelli Square.
Quinn, too, or just me?
Would Quinn normally go along?
She thought about this. Occasionally she convinced him to ride the California line after a visit to the Saturday market at the Ferry Building. As a local, he had no interest in the touristy experience, but Cassidy still loved it.
Not on this route, she texted back.
Okay, then just you.
When?
As soon as you can.
Cassidy braced her hip against the counter, thinking. On her real phone, Bruce had teased her, maybe she would even call it flirting. But on the burner phone, he’d been stern and cold.
Why couldn’t she read him?
Seventeen
Cassidy boarded the ancient cable car and found a seat facing sideways. Though still early, the summer sun beat down on the waiting area next to the trolley’s turnaround, heating the metal and concrete, and she craved to feel the breeze on her face once they were underway. Her quick text to Bruce had boomeranged back with a terse reply: See you soon.
After leaving Quinn a note and his burner phone, she had taken a rideshare to Ghirardelli Square and then hiked up to the station to join a small queue of tourists. She merged into the line behind a large family, all with matching hats and speaking a language she didn’t recognize. Soon, a couple holding hands and kissing fell in behind her, the woman in a tight tank top and tiny shorts, the man wearing mid-shin-length, wide-cuff pants that Quinn would call “man-pris.” The line filled with several other travelers—tall, short, talking loudly or not at all, one donning sunscreen, another trying to hand-feed a seagull the remains of her muffin.
Finally, the two conductors climbed aboard and after taking tickets, donned their gloves. The car lurched to life and Cassidy held on as they ascended a steep hill, passing The Buena Vista where already a line stretched out the door. They left the waterfront behind. Beneath her feet, the spinning cable hummed while the trolley clunked and shuddered. The breeze found her, cooling her forehead. At the top of the hill, the car turned left as the conductor rang the bell.
“Is this seat taken?” a voice asked.
Startled, she looked up to see Bruce’s tanned face shaded by a San Francisco Giants ball cap. He wore dark jeans, and a navy-blue t-shirt that looked to be freshly ironed, or else brand-new.
“No,” Cassidy said, sliding left to make more room.
Next to Bruce, the couple she’d observed kissing like newlyweds were working through several selfie poses.
“Thanks for getting here so quickly,” he said, barely audible over the rumble of the wheels. Because of the tight space, their thighs pressed together. Bruce’s hand rested only inches from hers.
“Of course,” she said, suppressing the million questions rattling around in her mind.
She felt the deep sigh he exhaled by the way his chest expanded against her side. “We’re now moving into a new phase. Everything is riding on the success of turning him. We need to wait for him to make the next move.”
“How long do you think that will take?”
“No idea. The ball’s in his court.”
“I’m assuming this means I’ll need to stay in town.”
He gave her a sideways glance. “Yes. Can you manage that?”
The cable car had reached the apex of the route and slowed to let some of the passengers get off. She realized that she was holding her breath. “Do I have a choice?” she replied, forcing her lungs to cooperate.
“Yes, but I think you know the consequences if you leave.”
Cassidy gripped the side of the bench as the cable car lurched forward. “Yeah, I know.”
“You’ll stay, then?”
The cable car coasted
