Page 25 of Fox in Plain Sight

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Michelle stared at the closed bedroom door Nick had just disappeared through. She leaned over to her bedside table and switched on the lamp. Soft light illuminated the otherwise dark room. She glanced at the alarm clock. It was just after five in the morning.

Her heart still raced. She’d been sound asleep when Nick’s scream had woken her. It had sounded as if he’d been in mortal danger and for an instant she’d wondered if somebody had broken into her apartment. But it was clear now that Nick had had a nightmare.

But why? What grown man had nightmares? It was the stuff kids dealt with, when they dreamed about monsters. Or maybe people who’d gone through some recent trauma. But Nick struck her as thoroughly balanced. But what if he wasn’t? Had she made an error in judgment? What was wrong with the stranger she’d invited into her bed?

Heart beating in her throat, Michelle jumped out of bed and slipped on a T-shirt and a pair of yoga pants. When she entered the hallway, she heard the shower running. She flipped the light switch in the hallway. Careful not to make a sound, she looked around and quickly found what she was looking for.

Nick had dumped his backpack underneath the side table. Darting a look back to the closed bathroom door, Michelle crouched down and opened the zipper. She peered inside. One compartment held his laptop. She didn’t pull it out, but instead looked through the rest.

There wasn’t much: a set of keys, a cell phone with a charger, and a power cable for the laptop. She was about to close the bag again, when she felt a bulge. She opened the zipper as wide as she could, but there was nothing to see. However, there was clearly something there. She let her fingers do the searching, until she finally found a hidden zipper.

Glancing back at the bathroom door to assure herself that Nick was still in there, she took a deep breath and unzipped the hidden compartment. Holding her breath, she reached her hand inside.

Her fingers connected with something cold. She ran them along the metal item and felt its outline. Her heart stopped as her hand wrapped around the handle of a weapon. Slowly, carefully, she pulled it out. A handgun. She wasn’t an expert, but she could tell it was a pistol with a magazine.

Her hand shook. The trembling spread to her entire body.

Fuck! What was Nick doing with a gun?

Fear suddenly gripping her, she shoved it back into the compartment and zipped it up again, then closed the backpack and placed it back where she’d found it.

Looking around, she tried to think what to do. Was Nick dangerous? Was he a criminal? Who the hell was he? Her eyes darted around and she looked back into her bedroom. There, over the back of a chair hung Nick’s pants. He hadn’t taken them into the bathroom with him.

She dashed into the bedroom and took the pants off the chair, searching the pockets. She pulled out his wallet. Casting a nervous look over her shoulder, she opened his wallet and examined the contents. Cash. A driver’s license. She pulled it out, read it. The name was Nicholas Young, the address was in Washington D.C. It had been issued two years earlier. Hadn’t he said that he’d only just moved to Washington? How could he have a driver’s license that was already two years old?

She looked through the remaining compartments of the wallet and felt something rigid. She dug her fingers into it and pulled out the item: a credit card. Her breath caught in her throat. Last night, he’d paid cash, claiming that his credit card had been stolen and he hadn’t received a replacement card yet. Why would he say that, when clearly he had one? Was it an old one that had expired? She looked at the expiration date. No, it was still valid. Then her eyes darted to the left of it, where his name was embossed.

She slapped her hand over her mouth so she wouldn’t scream. The name didn’t match his driver’s license. Marcus Tremont it said there.

Shit!

Shaking now, she shoved the wallet back into his pants pocket and ran into the living room. She pulled her computer from her bag and switched it on. While it booted up, she drummed her fingers on her thighs, continuously darting nervous looks back to the hallway. But the water in the shower kept running.

The moment her computer was on, she unlocked the screen with her password and pulled up a browser. She first searched for Nicholas Young. There were too many hits. The name was too common. Even an actor and a baseball star were among the search result. She would need time to go through them all.

Damn!

She typed in Marcus Tremont instead. There was only one Marcus Tremont. She clicked on the Facebook link. The profile picture was blank and there were no posts in his timeline, none she could see without being his friend anyway.

Who was Nick? And why was he here?

The answer hit her in the face like a closing door. Smith! Her Deep-Throat-like handler had to be behind it. Had he sensed that she was getting desperate to make a run for it? Did he already realize that she was preparing for her escape and wanted to make sure she didn’t get away before she’d delivered what he wanted?

Why hadn’t she thought of this earlier? He must have had tabs on her all along, having her watched every moment just in case she didn’t comply with his demands. How stupid had she been! Nick running into her at the coffee shop and then, later, when she’d nearly stepped in the path of the taxi couldn’t be a coincidence. Smith had set it up. And for all she knew, he’d even orchestrated it so that the taxi would almost hit her so Nick could save her and thus gain her confidence.

And she’d fallen for that cheap trick. Hadn’t she seen this kind of thing happening countless times in movies and TV shows? She should have recognized it for what it was: a ploy. A trick for Nick to get close so he could watch her, maybe even gain her trust so she would tell him what she was planning.

She wanted to curse, to scream, but she couldn’t. She had to play along now, not let him know that she knew, that she’d discovered his deception and was onto him. She had to remain calm and behave as if nothing had happened.

The door of the bathroom opening nearly made her jump out of her skin.

Way to go, Michelle, she chastised herself silently. That’ll look normal.

Nick didn’t come into the living room, but headed straight for the bedroom. She heard him get dressed. She used the little time it bought her to take deep breaths and calm herself. When she heard his footsteps again, she quickly slammed the lid of her laptop shut and stood up.

“Michelle.” His voice was hesitant.