Part 18 (2/2)
”There is a reason.” He nodded. ”I had lunch with Annie today.”
”So?” She knew that. She crossed one leg over the other and swung it slightly, trying to look as nonchalant as possible.
”We talked about this whole situation with Lowell and who his victims are likely to be. She thinks Landry is definitely on the list. She also agrees with him, that you're likely to be on there, too.”
”Swell.”
”She further agrees that we need to see if we can find someone else from Channing's past who might fit the bill, but as it looks now . . .” He held both hands out in front of him, palms up. ”Well, she thinks you just look too good. I'd be real happy if we were able to identify a more likely victim. But until we find someone else, we need to decide how best to watch your back, Cahill.”
”I can watch my back.” She frowned.
”Oh, and now you have eyes in the back of your head, do you?”
”You think Archer Lowell can get the best of me?” Her face hardened. ”That is insulting.”
”He's going to have an advantage over you.” She started to protest, and he held up one hand. ”He will know where, and he will know when. Two very crucial bits of information. You will have to be totally vigilant every minute of every day until we get him.”
”It isn't as if I walk around in a fog all the time, Will.” She was growing visibly angry.
”It's different when someone is after you. You can never let your guard down. And regardless of what you think, you cannot watch your own back, Cahill. No one can.”
She glared at him. ”So what are you suggesting?”
”That we have someone watching your house. Someone with you all the time.”
She crossed her arms over her chest. ”Tell me that you have not volunteered for that duty.”
”I haven't, but I will.” He watched her face but could not read her expression. ”I haven't had this discussion with John yet, but I intend to, first thing in the morning.”
”I already mentioned it to John. Sort of.”
”That was before we had the opinion of our behavior specialist.”
”Annie really thinks Channing remembered me?”
”She thinks there's a good chance, yes.” He continued to watch her face. ”Let's take this seriously, okay, Cahill? Let's pretend that there's no maybe. Let's pretend that it's a definite, and act accordingly.”
”If we're wrong, I'll feel like the world's biggest a.s.s.”
”But you'll be alive.”
She got up and moved around the room, for no apparent reason other than to work off a little of her restlessness.
”Portia will be home in a few weeks. She'll be here with me.”
”And what do we do in the meantime, hope that Lowell can't figure out how to look up your name in the phone book?”
”How would he even know what book to look in?”
”You gave him your business card when we were at his trailer that first day. It had your office and cell phone numbers on it, along with the address of the office. Even he is probably smart enough to figure out that you most likely live somewhere relatively close to where you work.”
”Is that why you moved out into the boonies? So that no one would be able to figure out where you live?”
”I moved to the boonies because I like it, and don't change the subject.”
She sat back down on the ottoman and rubbed her temples, closing her eyes as if in pain.
”Christ, my sister is off fighting terrorists in the Middle East, and here I am, in Virginia, talking about having an armed guard outside my safe little townhouse. What is wrong with this picture?” She shook her head. ”Portia's going to think I've really lost it.”
”Portia's going to be thrilled that you're still alive.”
”Okay. Do it. Just . . . do it.” She stood up. ”Was that it? That's what you stopped for?”
”Well, as you pointed out, it is dinnertime. I noticed a new restaurant out on Route 43.”
”I'll get my coat.”
She left the room, and Will stood up, stretching his legs. He walked to the front window and looked out across the parking lot. Fortunately, there were only two ways in and out of Miranda's townhouse. He made a mental note to check the locks on the back door, but he seemed to recall there was a dead bolt there. Not foolproof, certainly. And maybe he'd suggest that she get her security system upgraded.
He wandered around the room absently, thinking about how they might go about keeping Miranda safe without destroying her ego. He wandered into the hallway and paused at the small sideboard that sat near the front door. An envelope lay open, its contents spread across the top of the table. He leaned closer to take a look.
”What are you doing?” she asked from midway down the steps.
”Just looking at these photos,” he said. ”I hope you don't mind, they were laying here on the table and-”
”I do mind.”
Surprised at her tone, he looked up at her.
”They're just baby pictures. You don't want me to see how cute you and Portia were as babies? These are pictures of you and Portia, aren't they?”
She nodded.
”You were beautiful babies. And your mother still looks a lot like she did back then, you know?” He peered closer at the top photo. ”But who's the guy carrying you on his shoulders? In this picture here . . .” He held it up.
Without glancing at it, she said, ”That's our father.”
”Really? I don't remember him being that tall.” Will frowned. ”I met him that time you were in the hospital, after you got knocked out at Kendra Smith's house. I thought he was kind of short.”
”That was my stepfather.”
”Oh.” He looked up at her, saw how guarded her face had become. His eyes went back to the photograph, which he studied more carefully. ”You know, if I didn't know better, I'd think that this was-”
”Jack Marlow.” She named the man in the photo before Will could, her voice touched with frost. ”Yes. He's my father. Can we go now?”
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