AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“Yeah,” Rena said with a smile. “I’ll finally get a night off, can’t wait. I’m going to put my feet up and binge-watch Hallmark Christmas movies. Yes, Christmas in July. I’m a sucker for happy endings.” She laughed good-naturedly and walked away with all the empties.
“What was that about?” Matt asked.
“McKinnon’s girlfriend. Finch,” said Kara. “I’m still trying to figure out what’s going on there. I’m interviewing him in the morning, then I think I’ll talk to Jamie as well. Just to check it off.” She looked at Matt. “I still plan on talking to Justin Jeffries.”
“Take Catherine with you.”
She didn’t say anything.
Matt didn’t explain. Kara wasn’t happy at the thought of partnering with Catherine, but she couldn’t do a damn thing about it.
Except be right.
13
Kara told the others that she’d meet them back at the house.
She needed time alone to process all that she’d learned today, and to try to understand Matt’s reliance on Catherine.
And, honestly, she wanted to be alone.
As Kara rounded the street corner, she realized being alone wasn’t going to be an option tonight. She spotted Ashley Dunlap walking briskly down the sidewalk, away from the Fish & Brew. Kara turned her body toward the closest storefront as if she were a tourist, but kept her eyes on Ashley. A boy—probably eighteen or nineteen—stood across the way, waiting for her. When she reached him, he kissed her. Then they held hands and walked down the alley that ran parallel to the main road.
Right toward the library where IP held their Monday night meetings. Kara had seen the signs all over downtown. They started at seven thirty for a meet and greet, eight thirty for the meeting.
It was already nearly eight thirty. She didn’t have much time.
Kara walked into the souvenir shop. “Honey, we close in five minutes!”
“That’s all I need,” she said with a smile. She was wearing jeans, which was good—they blended. She quickly assessed her options. Hippie hippie hippie...but not too overboard.
Sale on sweaters. Perfect. A long sweater, open, no buttons. It was soft and the muted fall colors helped it not look brand-new. A hundred bucks on sale?Jeez.
The clerk said, “The sweaters are all handmade by a local knitter. These are the last two we have—she delivers more next week, if you’re still in town.”
“It’s beautiful,” Kara said, hiding her sticker shock. Maybe she could get Matt to expense it. No, she’d give it to her grandmother. Her birthday was at the end of summer, and it was exactly something Em would love.
She also grabbed a retro Greenpeace T-shirt, a pack of gum, a water bottle, a travel-size hair gel bottle, and anti-bluelight glasses. They weren’t prescription or magnified but looked real. Glasses were one of the best ways to quickly change your appearance. At the last minute, Kara added a tube of bright lipstick. She never wore lipstick on duty, so this was a good way to alter her looks, even if it made her stand out.
She thanked the clerk and went out to the alley. No one was around. She took off the blazer and black T-shirt she wore. Her hair didn’t quite reach her shoulders. The humidity made it curly, so she poured the water on her head to dampen her hair, pulled out her comb and brushed it through, then grabbed the firm-hold gel and squeezed a liberal amount into her hands. She ran her hands through her hair and slicked it back completely.
She dried her hands on the Greenpeace shirt—which made it look both used and retro—and then pulled it on. She pulled her pocketknife from her pocket and cut a hole in it, then tore it so the edges would be frayed and appear worn.
She put on the sweater, then assessed her appearance with the camera in her phone. She still looked too much like Kara Quinn. She added the lipstick—God, she hated lipstick—then the glasses. Smiled. Much better. She didn’t even think Matt would immediately recognize her.
She packed her personal clothing into the plastic bag and started toward the library. She found a bush halfway there where she stowed her bag. The nice thing about the sweater was that it was long and flowing, so her gun was completely concealed. No way in hell was she going into a situation without her weapon. Did it once—never again.
Never say never.
She’d do anything she had to but preferred having her weapon on her. And it wasn’t like she could hide her gun behind a bush like she did her clothes.
The meeting had already started by the time she slipped in and stood in the back. There was punch and cookies and brownies on a table along the wall, but she never ate or drank anything she didn’t know the origin of. Probably safe here, but it was a hard habit to break.
Ashley and her boyfriend were sitting in the rear of the room, next to Craig Martin and Valerie Sokola. A young girl was talking about their plans for protesting West End this week. They were making signs tomorrow with the theme of demanding answers about the explosion.
“We can’t just believe what the police tell us,” the girl said. “We need answers, real answers, and independent verification. But we can’t forget the real reason we can’t trust West End—we have no independent verification that they retrofitted all their boats properly. Until they provide that documentation and allow our experts to inspect their ships, we will continue this fight!”
Applause, then the girl added that Island Protectors would be joining with a Seattle-based environmental group in September for a large protest along the waterfront to bring attention to motorboats killing marine life in Puget Sound.
