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“It’s a good thing Spencer didn’t ask this morning. I think Ethan’s presence at the breakfast table saved us.” She crossed one leg over the other and tapped her toe. “So, where did we? Meet, I mean.”
“Don’t you remember? It was that fund-raiser for the girls’ school in Yemen. My company committed a million bucks to the cause.”
“Was it love at first sight?”
“For me, it was.” He held up his laptop and crossed the room to place it on the table next to her. “That’s why I fell so fast.”
“And you were so different from anyone else I’d ever known—politically obtuse, culturally challenged, a breath of fresh air.”
He chuckled as he fired up the laptop. “Don’t get too carried away.”
He turned the computer away from her as he tapped on the keys, probably entering passwords. Then he inserted the thumb drive, waited and continued clicking away.
Blowing out a breath, he powered down the laptop. “All done. Let’s see if Prospero can get a line on this guy. It’s not like agencies besides ours haven’t tried to discover the identity of your husband’s executioner. The English accent alone has puzzled us for years, and I’m sure others have noticed the eye, but they’ve never gotten another possible look at him—until now.”
“So, we wait?”
“The least exciting aspect of my job.” He held out his hand. “The other drive? I’ll put everything in this safe since it’s too late to return to Brooktown, and I’m sure you want to see Ethan when he gets home from the party...and I want my cupcake.”
“Don’t hold your breath.” She dropped the thumb drive into his cupped palm. “He’s five. He tends to forget anything that doesn’t relate to his immediate happiness.”
“Ah, to be five again.” He placed the items in the safe and locked it. “Do you want to watch the news for a while before we go back? I haven’t seen any coverage on the director’s murder since I tuned in to the morning news shows.”
“Are you going to tell Jack what we saw last night? The valet placing the device beneath the car and running off?”
“I already told him, but that story is out anyway. There were a couple of other witnesses who got a better look at the man than we did.”
“I’m sure he’s a low-level guy who’ll never talk even if they find him. He’s not going to be implicating Spencer or anyone else.”
“Maybe.” He aimed the remote at the TV. “It remains to be seen how much Prospero will be involved in the investigation. We come into play once the person has been identified, except...”
“Except what?” She averted her gaze from the images shifting across the TV screen—Jerry Haywood’s life in review.
“We’ve been tracking a...situation for the past four months, one that involves the assassination of high-level officials, but these hits have all been on foreigners so far.”
“This might be related.” She rose from the chair and took a turn around the room.
“Anything is possible.”
“That means Spencer was involved with those other murders, because there is no doubt in my mind he’s responsible for what happened last night.”
“Slow down.” He turned up the volume on the TV. “We wait.”
While Mike soaked up the news of the day, she retreated to the bathroom, washed her hands and splashed some water on her face. She returned to the room to find Mike sprawled across the sofa, his long legs hanging off the edge.
“Anything new?”
“The talking heads have nothing, but while I was listening to my stomach growl it occurred to me that you haven’t eaten anything today. I, at least, had a big breakfast.” He shook a finger at her. “You can’t run with the big boys on a couple cups of coffee.”
She placed a hand on her stomach. “I forgot all about food.”
His gaze raked her from head to toe. “That happen a lot?”
“Are you implying I’m skinny?”
“You look like one of those high-fashion models who wear the weird clothes—not that you’re wearing weird clothes—and eat two olives a day.”
