Kyle sat back in his chair and sighed.

  “Until you have been debriefed, passed a psych exam, and pass a review board, you cannot officially go back to work. I am asking you to do something as a personal favor to me.”

  “Why would I do that, Kyle?”

  “Because we are friends, Jake.”

  Chapter 7

  No Place Like Home

  Hallie drove the late model Chevy Blazer down the off ramp onto North Columbus. Like many drivers, she was on autopilot. She was tired of feeling alone. She had wanted desperately to believe that her life would soon be normal.

  After Camilla had briefed them on her experience with Jake on the trip to LA, Hallie had finally been able to convince Kyle to allow her to infiltrate the organization. It had taken a couple of months, but by April, she was able to get assigned to Jake’s floor. She watched him, was able to follow him. She was astounded when he did not recognize her. Camilla had been right.

  Then, Atlanta happened. The Director was furious. She had acted as quickly as she could, called in all her favors and gotten him out of there. Only time would tell if she had the real Jake back. In the back of her mind, she still feared that he had turned rogue and that all this was an act. How could he even conceive of assassinating the man he had been sworn to protect?

  She tried to quiet her fears. Jake was still the man she had fallen in love with in Berlin. She had to have some faith.

  She turned into the drive of her home. Their home. Was two years so long? She killed the engine and sat listening to the quiet pinging of vehicle as it cooled. She sat in the drive, the air outside cool and moist. She stared at the house in front of her. She had been away for three weeks now. Too long.

  She had managed to push papers at her desk job for the past two years. This house had been home to her and Macy. She had agonized over the decision to leave Macy with her uncle in Stamford, Connecticut. Macy always enjoyed going with him to the docks and watching the “pretty boats” and big barges. Oscar would get the barge captains to sound their horns. This delighted Macy, Oscar told her. He did his best to put her at her ease. Since Aunt Sylvia had passed away, Oscar had been lonely. Their kids lived in California and Texas. Macy kept him young, he claimed.

  She considered the house looming before her in the dark. Hallie’s grandparents had left it to her as a wedding present when they had moved to Maryland. The house was too big for them and the taxes too high. If it were not for the lack of a mortgage, the taxes would be too much for her and Jake’s salaries, as well.

  The home was a sprawling two-story frame home with a large yard, mature trees, and three car garage. It was worth more than a million dollars. Macy loved it. It was like a big play house for her. She was the princess of a royal mansion, in her mind. It made Hallie smile to think of it. She had missed her. She was anxious to grab her and pick her up again and listen to her laugh.

  Hallie firmly believed that nothing in the world could threaten the happiness of a mother tickled by the sound of her child’s laughter.

  Hallie finally climbed out of the car. She needed to call her friend, Linda, to see when she could bring Macy over. Linda had agreed to drive up to Stamford and bring Macy back. Hallie had considered waiting until Jake got home to call Linda. She had missed his body next to hers. She thought briefly that it would be nice to smell his hair and caress the cavity at the base of his neck with her lips and feel the tightness of his stomach against hers. It would be wonderful to watch him smile. She discarded the thought. Jake had a lot of adjusting to do. She understood his distance, even though she desired to have things back to the way they were.

  When she had left him in the office, she did not have much promise of Jake wanting to make up for lost time. To him, he had missed his whole life. Kissing him in the elevator had brought it all back for her, a rush of emotions. She had pent up all her concerns for two years, knowing that it was expected of her. It was the professional thing to do. Never mind that she found herself crying at commercials where a father was with his daughter or those stupid jewelry ads that came in the mail.

  The elevator had meant more for her than for him. The realization of that was a punch in the stomach. How could he not remember? She chastised herself for thinking that her life was some sort of fairy tale where one kiss from the damsel would change the frog into a prince.

  She fumbled with her keys and jumped when the front door opened. Linda stood there, a smile on her face.

  “A little jumpy, aren’t we?”

  “You scared me. Long day today. I wasn’t expecting you to already be here.”

  “I heard Jake is back.”

  Hallie looked confused.

  “Who told you?”

  “Tom called and asked if he could come over tonight after he drops Jake off,” Linda said.

  Tom and Linda had been sleeping together for about four months now. It was against Hallie’s recommendation, but she figured it was surly of her to despise their relationship while her husband was gone. Envy was such an ugly emotion.

  “You don’t think that maybe I would want my first evening with my husband home alone with him,” she asked only half joking.

  Linda smiled.

  “I figured you would want to spend it together as a family. Macy’s in the kitchen making a mess. Come on, I don’t think she heard you come in,” Linda said. She shuffled off toward the kitchen.

  “Hey.”

  Linda turned, her blonde hair falling across her face. Hallie noted that she wore jeans and a loose blouse.

  “Yeah?”

  “Umm. Let’s not tell her about Jake yet,” Hallie said.

  “You look worried. Is something wrong?”

  Hallie shook her head and tried to put a smile on her face.

  “I want to surprise her is all,” she said.

  Linda looked at her doubtfully. Linda knew her too well. It was probably because in Linda’s practice as a psychiatrist, she learned to read lies.

  “What is really happening, Hallie?” Linda put her hands on her hips and barred the way into the kitchen.

  The door was closed, but Hallie could hear Macy’s voice. Macy liked to talk, even when no one was in the room. Hallie figured lonely people did that a lot. She was overcome with sadness, thinking of their plight as a family. She tried not to consider what the future might hold. She did not want Linda to see her cry.

  “I’m not sure Jake will come home tonight,” Hallie admitted.

  “But Tom said…”

  “Jake will ditch him or force him to drop him off somewhere. I think Jake needs some time to adjust is all.”

  “What kind of undercover operation was he doing?” Linda blurted.

  Hallie did her best to bite her lip.

  “Like I have said before, Linda. It is classified. I cannot say. He is traumatized, which is understandable. It might take some time for him to come back home.”

  Linda shook her head. Hallie resented the look of pity she saw in her eyes.

  “If there is anything I can do, Hallie, you know we have been friends longer than you have known Jake.”

  Hallie nodded and pushed a loose strand of hair back on her face. Her hands still hurt from the flight from the building this morning. Mentally, she noted that she should see the company doctor tomorrow and get a manicure. Nothing could make a girl feel whole like a fresh nail job and a new pair of shoes. She cursed her luck on losing the Bottega Venetas. They were the only luxury she had allowed herself from her lone but large paycheck from Galbraith.

  “I will let you know. Maybe we can go shopping for shoes this weekend,” Hallie suggested.

  Linda smiled and took Hallie’s arm in hers.

  “Now you are talking my language. Come into the kitchen. We will surprise her with her Mommy.”

  Hallie appreciated Linda’s energy and outlook. She needed a positive influence right now. She was not normally dispirited, but the day she had longed for had come and the disappointment was enough to overwhelm her.

  No sooner had the door opened when she heard an ear-splitting scream.

  “Mommy!”

  Macy rushed up to her and tackled her legs. Hallie realized that it seemed her daughter had grown since she had last seen her. How does this happen? When Jake left, she was two. Now she was getting ready for pre-school and growing a half inch per week.

  “Whoa there, Macy-girl!”

  Whenever Macy was around, Hallie had a difficult time not smiling. It seemed that this was a common ailment amongst those who experienced Macy in all her glory. She was contagious. Infectious.

  “I told you Mommy would be home soon,” Linda said. She put her elbows across the island and her knee up on a stool. Her smile took in her whole face. Hallie looked up at her.

  “Thanks for watching her, Linda. I owe you so much.”

  Linda waved her off.

  “You introduced me to Tom. Count us even.”

  Hallie scoffed. She rubbed her hands in Macy’s chestnut hair.

  “Hardly an even trade.”

  “Mommy?”

  Hallie looked down to see Macy’s bright green eyes staring up at her. Hallie knew she was putty in Macy’s hand. She hoped that Macy did not realize that. Her teen years would be unbearable if she knew that dangerous fact. Hallie wondered if it was a common condition among families, this strength in weakness.

  “Yes, Pumpkin.”

  “Can we go to Swizzle’s before it closes?”

  Hallie smiled. She wanted to refuse, but Macy was a sucker for cake batter flavored yogurt.

  “It’s the least I can do for you. I am so glad to see you again.”

  Linda made her way for the door.

  “It appears my work here is done. I will leave you two to your ice cream. Ms. Linda has her own dessert to look forward to tonight,” she said. She reached back and kissed Hallie on the cheek.

  Hallie smelled strawberries.

  “Take care, hon.”

  “Bye Miss Linda!” Macy chimed. In her head, Macy was probably already choosing her toppings. Hallie envied the simple choices of children.

  Chocolate chips or caramel cream? Heck, why not both?

  Linda left and Macy wanted to show her what she had drawn.

  Hallie sat on the stool with her elbows on the table while Macy retrieved her masterpiece from her overnight bag. Hallie ran her hands through her hair and attempted to put on her Mommy Face. The face that would tell Macy that she was the only thing in the world that mattered. The face that denied that Hallie was lonely and missed Macy’s father. The face that lied.

  Macy joined her and plopped a large, thick piece of canvas up on the surface of the island.

  “I drew this at Miss Linda’s! She has colored pencils AND watercolors. I mixed them! It is our family.” Macy said proudly.

  Hallie beamed in spite of herself. Then she looked at the picture her daughter had painted and she felt her resolve slip. She fought back a sob.

  “It’s lovely, honey,” she said. To cover the tears that flowed from her face, she hugged Macy. It was not totally insincere. Hallie hugged her because in all the world, Macy was her jewel.

  She closed her eyes and tried to get the image out of her head. What upset her was not what Macy had painted but what she had omitted. Macy had swirled together watercolors for the sky and the house that was obviously theirs. Out front in colored pencil were Macy, Hallie, and Miss Linda.

  Chapter 8

  Wasted Days and Wasted Nights

  Tom had seemed like such a nice guy, Jake had almost taken him up on the offer to stop and get a beer and talk before heading home. Instead, Jake had opted to walk. He had found a pub not too far from the office. It was dark and filled with lawyers and doctors, students and locals. He enjoyed the dark paneling, the brass railings, the green leather seat-backs.

  Jake ordered a burger and a beer. He had not eaten all day. His head felt full, though. He did not know what was bothering him the most: his past, his present, or his future. They all seemed distant to him.

  Even now, he could not bring himself to make the call he knew he needed to make. Something told him that Hallie would understand. That did not make it alright to avoid her, though. Jake was disappointed in himself.

  He was pretty certain he could trust Hallie. No one, not even Gary, had ever stuck their neck out for him that he could remember. Unless you counted Camilla Cross.

  But could he trust himself?

  He was an assassin. He killed people for a living. Three days ago, he had been able to justify his career and now he was morally appalled. This transformation was because of what? His sudden realization that he was actually a glorified detective-slash-bodyguard? The thought that he was a father? A husband?

  Jake suspected that all these reasons played into the role of making him feel guilty. He felt remorseful that he had allowed himself to become degraded enough to succumb to his baser instincts.

  He stared at the half-eaten burger on the plate by his elbow. He had shoved it aside. He was hungry. It tasted great. It had enough grease coming from the burger to soak the soft bun. His appetite would simply not allow him to finish it.

  Absently, he wondered if even opinions, likes and dislikes, emotions, and feelings could be transplanted in the same way his memory was erased. People were manipulated all the time. The average American consulted the temple of the television every day to know what to think, how to feel, or what was popular.

  How was he any different?

  He tried to console himself with that truism. It did not work.

  Finally, he took a bite of the burger again. It was good cold, too. He called the waiter over and ordered a glass of milk. He had him take the empty beer mug away. He loved drinking milk with his burgers. It was a tradition. He had done it since…since when? He was a kid?

  This had been happening to him all day. Snippets of his memory would come back. A Hanson poster on the wall by his bed. Watching the coverage of the Oklahoma City Bombing on a console television. Remembering his mother working in the kitchen making bread with her new bread-maker. His dad talking politics.

  Just snippets. It was like looking at a spectacle through a crack in a floor or through a key hole.

  Rather than making him feel better, it actually served to drive him deeper into self-pity and self-loathing. The more memories that surfaced, the more he felt like he was a good man gone bad.

  Another side effect of these memories was that he had no control over which ones would bubble up. He tried fishing them out, digging around, and extracting them, but he met walls of resistance. He only made his head feel worse and his stomach lurch. He could not remember Berlin. He could not remember a marriage ceremony. He could not remember holding a daughter.

  He knew that his inability to remember those things were paramount to Hallie. They meant something to her. He desperately wanted to recall them so that they could revel in his triumph and celebrate together shared memories. Jake knew his procrastination was centered mostly on this failure. He did not want to go “home” until he knew that what he was experiencing there was a true recollection of his former, better life.

  He did not deserve to hold his daughter in his arms and accept her love. He did not deserve the love that Hallie obviously felt toward him.

  He remembered her kiss in the elevator. Something had awoken in him, but he had imagined that it was merely a man thing. Of course he responded. He was not dead.

  He heard the pub door open. The bartender greeted the newcomer with a traditional “Welcome to Harry’s!”

  Jake turned and took in the form of Giselle standing in the doorway scanning the heads in the room with a slight smile on her face. Jake fought the urge to run. He knew she was here for him. Why else would she come here? She was obviously out of her element.

  Giselle wore her long hair up. Strands of it fell to the nape of her slender neck. Her mouth glistened with a dark red lipstick that stood out against her porcelain skin. Her dress hugged her body provocatively, while maintaining a modest coverage of her skin. Only her arms and calves were exposed.

  It did not matter. Every male and most females in the pub turned to her. She was like a magnet. She knew it, too.

  She saw him. He tried to smile. She moved toward him and the waiter intercepted her. She pointed to him. He could barely distinguish her words over the din of the diners and revelers. He could not help himself. He watched her moving toward him, her body athletic and alluring.

  She pulled up a seat beside him.

  “How did you find me?”

  “I have my ways,” she said coyly. “Is that how you greet your friends?”

  “It’s the implant, isn’t it?”

  She nodded.

  The waiter stopped by with a dark bottle of beer labeled, Orkney Porter. Jake looked at it quizzically.

  “Norwegian?”

  “Scottish Isles, actually. It is sweet. Less alcohol taste,” Giselle explained. She curled her nose and then laughed lightly. It was like bells chiming.

  The waiter set down his milk.

  “Russian?” she asked, a smiling playing at her lips.

  “Jersey, actually.”

  “Oh. I see. A cow,” she said, tilting her head. Her hair sparkled in the lights from the bar. Her eyes never left him.

  “If I can get you anything else, let me know,” the waiter said. His eyes lingered on Giselle a moment and he walked smoothly away.

  Jake tried to regain control of the conversation. If he let her, she would run him right over. He would be putty in her hands. His self-esteem was low enough as it was.

  “Look. I know this appears like I am looking for company here, but I am trying to get some things sorted out.”

  She looked serious. She sipped the beer and nodded.

  “I know. I thought you would want to know there is a contract out on your head.”

  He dipped his burger in the milk and smirked at her.

  “You are the second person today to tell me that. Am I supposed to be intimidated? Scared? Grateful to you for giving me this information?”

  “I am the only reason you have not been taken yet,” she said. The smile never left her lips.

 

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