Men want to bed her. Women, although jealous, admire her. It never falters.
I adjust the tilt of my newspaper when Rae reaches a table at the back of the restaurant. My eyes consciously scan the print even without my brain taking in a single word. Months of rehabilitation strengthened my ability to undertake covert operations. Even the slight limp a bullet to the knee caused my frame doesn’t dampen my effort. I’ve watched them every day for weeks, and not once has their focus shifted to me.
I thought I was imagining things when I spotted Rae entering a restaurant two months ago. My mind has often strayed to her since our fatal night in the field five years ago; I was beginning to wonder if I was hallucinating. She glided into the restaurant as casually as she did now, her hair tousled from the breeze, her nipples stiffening from her braless state. She was utterly oblivious to the numerous field agents scattered throughout the restaurant. Her focus was on the same target we had our sights set on: Isaac Holt.
I haven’t spoken Rae’s name in over half a decade. It is for the best. With the surveillance images I obtained at Substanz corrupted by re-runs ofRugrats, I had no evidence to back up my theory that the owner of Substanz was running an illegal prostitution ring. All I had was my recollection of events and my photographic memory.
My head was woozy with sedatives when I sat down with a sketch artist, but the image she created of Isaac was so compelling, a positive match was found in the FBI’s Facial Analysis Comparison the following morning.
We had our man. He just happened to have an alibi — a solid one.
I argued until I was blue in the face that Isaac Holt was the man responsible for Dane’s life-altering injuries. No one listened. They believed a criminal over one of their own. Their inability to see the truth should have had me handing in my badge, but for some fucked up reason, I couldn’t resign. I trusted the system and was confident one day we would get our man. I was right.
Isaac popped up on the FBI’s radar a little over twelve months ago. His fascination with an underground fight ring run by notorious members of an organized crime syndicate was the start of his demise. We’ve had operatives on him the past six months. They’ve yet to stumble upon a shred of evidence that will convict him for life. I’m sure it isn’t far away, though, even more so since I’ve been brought in on the case.
I am supposed to be watching Isaac, but I can’t help but wonder if I should pay more attention to those associated with him. Isaac is pedantic about dotting his i’s and crossing his t’s. Justly so. He has a lot to lose. Those under him don’t.
I dip my chin in silent agreement to the waitress offering to refill my coffee.
“How was your breakfast this morning, sir? Up to your standards?”
My lips curl at her formal salutation. She's not doing it because I am her superior and she's being respectful. She's hinting at her submissiveness, begging for a chance to display the naughty girl hidden behind her sultry smile and hourglass figure. It isn't just years of studying body signals awarding me this knowledge. It is the flirtatious winks I've seen her bestow on Isaac numerous times this week.
She is hoping the generous swell of her breasts and cute smile will have him overlooking the fact she is a brunette. She is regrettably mistaken. I’ve only ever seen Isaac converse with timeless, captivating blondes with dazzling smiles and legs that stretch for miles—women who look remarkably similar to Rae.
Sickened by a daytime nightmare, my eyes jackknife back to Isaac's table. Upon discovering it is empty, I abruptly stand to my feet. While throwing bills onto the table, I scan the area. Blue eyes, brown eyes, even a few handfuls of mismatched ones reflect back at me, but I fail to find a single pair of steel-gray eyes. I don't even spot the ones that have graced my dreams many times the past five years.
“Do you have a back entrance?” I ask the waitress, who startles from my curt tone.
“There is one at the back of the kitchen. . . but no one uses it!” She shouts her last sentence to ensure I can hear her over my feet stomping the floors as I charge for the swinging kitchen door.
“Did a man come through here? Black suit, short hair, stands about this tall?” I hold my hand to just above my left brow.
A Taiwanese man in a white chef’s jacket and checkered pants shrugs. “Every male patron in this restaurant matches your description.”
Although annoyed by the candor in his tone, I understand it. “What about a female? Blonde, approximately five-nine. Dazzling green eyes, satiny hair that sits in waves between her shoulder blades, and timeless features. She is wearing a light pink fitted shirt and a tight black skirt.”
The man’s eyes light up. “No, but if you find her, can you give her my number?”
He lands against a pair of stainless steel fridges when I sidestep him. There was plenty of room for me to maneuver around him, but his snippy comment couldn’t go unpunished.
Humid winds smack into me when I exit the restaurant at the speed of a rocket. My eyes stray left before dragging to the right. Even with the alleyway less congested than the sidewalks of Ravenshoe, there are enough people milling around, it takes me several tedious minutes to scan each of their faces.
When manual facial recognition fails to find either Isaac or Rae, I recruit an old technique every agent uses at least once in their placement.
“Have you seen this man?” A lady with a wrinkled face and lipstick-covered teeth shakes her head when I show her Isaac’s license photo.
I move on to the next person.
* * *
The crackle of a receiver interrupts my interrogation of the sixth Ravenshoe local. “You lost him again, didn’t you?”
Mindful I don’t want to look like a loon talking to myself, I pivot to face a solid brick wall before answering, “No. He’s just. . .” I inwardly curse a hundred times before finalizing my lie, “. . .using the restroom.”
“Uh-huh.” The supervisor of my department, Theresa Veneto, huffs down the line, “I didn’t think Isaac was apee in the alleytype of man.”
My profanity isn’t silent this time around.
