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She finished the look by twisting her ponytail into a knot on top of her head and pulling a red cap over it. She arranged the scarf around her neck and face.
“Nobody’s going to recognize me out and about, but as soon as I take all this stuff off there goes my disguise.”
“Like I said, after what happened in Philly, I don’t think Correll is anxious for the authorities to pick you up. I think he’d rather use his own methods.”
Despite Mike’s implication and the frisson of fear tingling down her spine, her lips stretched into a smug smile. “You did it again. You mentioned my stepfather, so you do believe he’s behind this.”
“I always believed you, Claire. We just need to prove it.”
“We’ll prove it, and Hamid is going to help me.”
“If he ever gets that message.”
“He’ll get it.” She pointed to her boots. “I suppose there are no snow boots here, are there? Walking in the snow in these heels is hell, and walking on ice is going to be even worse.”
“There might be some boots in the mudroom in the back. What size?”
“Eight.”
He disappeared down the hallway and came back with a pair of snow boots. “These are a men’s nine. Do you think you can manage until you buy something in town?”
“Walking in boots that are too big for me can’t be any worse than four-inch heels.” She changed shoes and then followed Mike into the winter wonderland. She huffed out a breath and watched it freeze in the air. “If there’s snow in DC, I guess this is what you get in Vermont.”
Mike started the engine of the car and cranked on the heat and defrosters. Then they both got to work on the front and back windshields, clearing the ice from the glass.
They hopped into the car and made the slow, winding drive back to the small town of Maplewood.
Her knees bounced as they drew closer to civilization. Had the FBI plastered her picture all over the place like Hamid’s, or did Spencer have his own private hell planned for her that didn’t involve the authorities?
What would the good people of Maplewood do if they recognized her? Make a citizens’ arrest? Would the Maplewood PD try to take down a terror suspect?
Her eye twitched. How could anyone believe she’d throw her lot in with terrorists when she’d spent the better part of the past five years in her own private war against them?
Spencer had used her former instability and irrational threats against Deputy Director Haywood to set her up, and she’d walked right into his trap.
But he didn’t know she’d have Mike Becker in that trap with her. Did her stepfather still believe her fiancé was a politically naive salesman from Chicago?
Let him. Spencer had unwittingly walked into a trap called Prospero, and he’d pay the price.
“Are you nervous?” His gloved hand ran down her arm, making the slick material of her coat whisper.
“Nobody followed us up here, right?”
“That’s right.”
“Of course, we thought that before when we dumped the tracker, my phone and then my car, and they still caught up with us.”
“My fault.” He returned his hand to the steering wheel. “The money was a foreign object introduced into our environment. I should’ve checked it out before allowing you to bring it into the car.”
“As I recall, we were in a hurry when I brought that money into the car. An FBI agent was literally hanging on to my coattails, or what I thought was an FBI agent.”
“Then after.” He raised his shoulders. “I should’ve examined it later. Total fail on my part.”
“You redeemed yourself by saving me in the alley.”
“I’ll redeem myself when this is over and you’re safe.”
“Mike?”
“Yeah?”
Her lip trembled and she clasped her mittened hands together in her lap. “I won’t know what to do when it’s over. I won’t know who I am.”
He wheeled the car into a parking space in front of the local post office and cut the engine. “You’ll be one tough chick who never gave up and who will be able to face anything—even if that anything is the monthly PTA meeting.”
