The Chemist

CHAPTER 26

“This would be easier if you’d stop trying to do two things at once,” Val complained.

“Sorry. I’m sort of on a deadline.”

“Just hold your head still.”

Alex did the best she could. She had Kevin’s laptop on her knees with her earbuds plugged into it. While Carston was in his car, she could hear both sides of the conversation. Unfortunately, it seemed Carston usually chose to use his driving time to connect with his only daughter, Erin. They spoke almost nonstop about the granddaughter – the one whose picture was in Alex’s locket – and after the first forty-minute discussion about which prekindergarten program was most likely to result in an Ivy League happy ending, Alex had started fast-forwarding as soon as she heard the daughter’s voice or, if Carston was in the office, the special tone he used only to speak to Erin. They talked a lot more than Alex would have expected. She stretched her fingers down and touched the Play button. Erin was still blathering on, something about taking Livvy to the zoo. Alex hadn’t missed anything. She hit fast-forward again.

“I want you to know this is an imperfect job, and it’s your fault.”

“Any imperfections are on me, agreed,” Alex said.

Val had turned Alex away from the wall of mirrors in the bathroom so she couldn’t see what was being done. She knew only that it felt like a coat of heavy, oil-based paint had been applied to her skin. Something pulled across the slash on her jaw, tight and constricting.

She’d thought the guest bathroom was opulent, but this palace was insane. Two families of five could live comfortably in just this room.

She focused her attention back on her computer screen. The housekeeper was arriving again at Carston’s. It looked like she brought groceries in about every other day. Alex noted the things she could see in the tops of the bags – a quart of organic skim milk, a box of bran cereal, OJ, coffee beans. She had the housekeeper’s license plate, and Kevin had gotten an address. After dark, Alex could run out and put a tracker on the woman’s car so she could follow her to the store.

She checked the audio again, and Erin was saying her good-byes. Alex didn’t know how Carston was able to devote so much time to listening to his daughter talk. It was a good thing he had only one child. Probably he multitasked, just like Alex was doing.

On his work calls, there had been no names mentioned at all, let alone one that started with a P. She felt as though if she could just push this worry to the back of her mind, her subconscious would figure it out for her. Unfortunately, she couldn’t stop obsessing about it, so of course she wasn’t making any progress.

“Okay, the final touch,” Val said, wrestling a wig onto Alex’s head.

“Ouch.”

“Beauty is pain. You can look now.”

Alex stood stiffly – she’d been immobile for too long – and revolved to face the mirrors.

It gave her a start. She didn’t recognize herself right away as the short woman standing next to Val.

“How…” Her fingers went automatically to the place where her scabbed wound should be.

Val slapped her hand away. “Don’t touch anything, you’ll smear it.”

“Where did it all go?”

The face of the woman in the mirror was unmarred and perfect. Her skin looked like it belonged to a dewy fourteen-year-old. Her eyes were huge, enhanced without looking overdone. Her lips were fuller, her cheekbones more pronounced. She had shoulder-length, medium brown hair with reddish highlights. It fell in flattering layers around those suddenly high cheekbones.

“Voilà, your new face,” Val said. “That was fun. Next time, I’m trying you as a blonde. You have a good skin tone – it will look natural with a lot of shades.”

“This is amazing. I can’t believe it. Where did you learn how to do this?”

“I play a lot of different roles.” Val shrugged. “But it’s fun having a model. I always wanted one of those big Barbie styling heads when I was a kid.” She reached out and patted the top of Alex’s wig. “Or a little sister. But the plastic head was my preference.”

“I’m probably ten years older than you,” Alex protested.

“What a nice compliment. But whatever my age might actually be, you’re still not older when it comes to the things that count.”

“If you say so.” Alex wasn’t about to argue; Val had just handed her an unexpected get-out-of-jail-free card. “My own mother wouldn’t know me.”

“I can go sexier,” Val promised. “But you wanted inconspicuous…”

“This is probably the sexiest I’ve looked in my whole life. I’d be scared to see what sexier looks like.”

“I bet Danny would like it,” Val purred.

“By the way… where did I screw that up? What tipped you off there?”

Val smiled. “Please. When two people are that into each other, it radiates off them. You didn’t do anything.”

Alex sighed. “Thanks for passing your observations on to Kevin.”

“You’re being sarcastic, but you should thank me. Aren’t things easier now, without the secrecy?”

“I guess so… but he nearly shot me in the head, so there’s that.”

“Little ventured, little gained.”

Alex approached the mirror wall and leaned in close to examine the disguise. There was some kind of prosthetic skin covering the wound on her jaw. She moved her mouth carefully, watching for expressions that might pull too far, make the fraud obvious. She could see a slight ripple when she smiled, but the layers of the wig mostly obscured that part of her face anyway. She wouldn’t have to worry about someone noticing something wrong with her, even close up. Sure, people would be able to tell she was wearing makeup, but most normal women did. Hardly something that would draw attention.

She could accelerate her plans now. She didn’t need to wait for dark. She grinned, then smoothed the expression to ease the tension in her fake skin. The new freedom was a heady thing.

Alex skipped quickly down the stairs, computer tucked under her arm. She already had a pretty workable plan – low risk, minimal exposure – so she was listening to the calls only in the vain hope that Carston would screw up and say something meaningful. It was unlikely, but she’d finish it out. Later. Right now she could get started on the specific preparation.

“Huh,” Kevin grunted. Alex saw him look past her to where Val followed. “Hey, Val, how many virgins did you have to sacrifice to make her look like that?”

“I don’t need any satanic help to do what I do,” Val responded. “And virgins aren’t useful for anything.”

Daniel got up from the couch where he was watching the news – taking it seriously as his assignment – and came around the stairs to see what Kevin and Val were talking about.

Alex hesitated on the bottom stair, feeling oddly vulnerable. She wasn’t used to caring if she looked pretty or not.

Daniel did a small double take, then his face relaxed into a smile.

“I’d gotten so used to seeing you with the bruises, I’d almost forgotten what you looked like without them,” he said, and then his grin got wider. “It’s nice to see you again.”

Alex knew she hadn’t looked like this on the train, but she let it go.

“I’m headed out to place the tracker,” Alex told them. “Shouldn’t take me long.”

“Do you want me to come?” Daniel asked.

“Better to keep your face hidden in the daytime,” she told him. He didn’t look happy about it, but his expression was resigned. She imagined how she would feel if he ran out to do some surveillance, and she could understand his reluctance.

“It won’t be anything,” she promised.

“Take the sedan,” Kevin said, gesturing to a set of keys on the counter.

“Wilco,” Alex said, imitating his soldier tone. He didn’t seem to notice.

Carston’s housekeeper would probably be home by now, unless she had errands to run. She only worked mornings there. Of course, she could have other clients, but Alex imagined that Carston would pay well so he wouldn’t have to share – he would want her free if he needed something. Alex drove the black sedan across town, not all that far, really, from Daniel’s empty apartment. She was glad he was safely tucked away at Val’s. She was sure they’d have some kind of surveillance on his place, just hoping he’d be stupid enough to come back for his toothbrush or favorite T-shirt.

The housekeeper’s neighborhood had street parking only. She found the decade-old white minivan a block over from the apartments where the woman lived. There was plenty of traffic, both cars and pedestrians. She found a spot near the minimart on the corner and set off for a walk.

The early-summer heat had her sweating almost immediately. Unlike Kevin, she didn’t have a myriad of costumes to choose from, so she was in her blazer again today, and it felt twice as thick as usual. Oh, well, she needed the pockets. Hopefully the makeup wouldn’t sweat off.

There were enough people around her that she felt invisible, just one of the herd. The numbers dwindled as she crossed over to the next block, but she still didn’t stand out.

She pulled her phone out of her pocket and hit Redial.

Kevin answered on the first ring. “What’s the problem, Oleander?”

“Just calling to say hi,” she told him.

“Ah. Blending?”

“Of course.”

“Talk to Danny. I don’t have time to blend with you.”

“I’d prefer it anyway,” she said, but he was already gone.

She heard a thud as the phone hit something, and then Daniel said, “Ouch.”

Alex took a deep, calming breath. Kevin always made her want to stab things.

“Alex, are you all right?”

“Absolutely.”

Kevin shouted something in the background.

“Kevin says you’re trying to look natural,” Daniel said.

“That’s part of it,” she agreed.

She was only two cars from the minivan now. There was a man ahead of her but walking in the same direction so his back was to her. She couldn’t hear anyone close behind her, but there could be someone who had her in his sight line. She didn’t turn to look.

“So I guess we should talk about something normal people talk about,” Daniel was saying.

“Right.”

“Um, what would you like for dinner? Do you want to stay in again?”

Alex smiled. “Staying in sounds great. I’ll eat anything you feel like cooking.”

“You make things too easy for me.”

“There are enough difficulties in the world without adding my own.” She flipped a few locks of the wig out of her eyes, her fingers knocking into the phone. It skittered across the sidewalk and teetered on the edge of the curb. “Hold on,” she called toward it. “I dropped the phone.”

She knelt and swiped the phone up, holding on to the edge of the minivan’s wheel well for support. She jumped back to her feet, brushing at the knees of her leggings.

“Sorry about that,” she said.

“Did you just plant the tracking device?”

She started walking again, heading for the end of the block, where she could begin circling back to the car. “Yes.”

“Very smooth.”

“I told you it was nothing. I’ll see you soon.”

“Drive safe. I love you.”

Kevin shouted something in the background, and there was another thud close beside the phone.

“Are you kidding?” Daniel shouted back. “A knife?”

Alex ended the call and picked up the pace a little. She couldn’t leave them alone for twenty minutes.

Things had returned to normal – or her new version of it – by the time she got back to the apartment. Daniel was still studiously watching the news. Val had just brought Einstein back from a walk and was filling the lovely crystal bowl with water for him. Kevin was watching the feed from his cameras and sharpening a machete. Home sweet home.

“Anything?” she asked Daniel.

“Nothing about me. Apparently the vice president is bowing out before the election after all. I guess those recent scandal rumors aren’t entirely unfounded. So of course, everyone is speculating about who President Howland will select for his running mate.”

“Fascinating,” Alex murmured in a tone that implied the opposite. She dumped her bag onto one of the white bar stools, sat on the next one over, and opened her computer. All seemed quiet at Casa Carston, so she started scrubbing backward to see if she’d missed anything while she was out. So far she hadn’t discovered any regular visitors besides the housekeeper and the security service that drove by once daily in the afternoon.

Daniel flipped to a different news network, where another version of the same story was running. “You don’t care who the president runs with?” he asked. “Howland’s pretty popular. Whoever he chooses will probably be the vice president, and possibly the president four years from now.”

“Ventriloquist dummies,” Kevin grumbled, setting down the machete and starting to work on a long boning knife.

Alex nodded in agreement as she slowed the feed to watch two teenagers amble past Carston’s house and up the block.

“What do you mean?” Daniel asked.

“I don’t worry about the puppet,” Kevin said. “I worry about the guy pulling the strings.”

“That’s a pretty cynical attitude about the democratic nation you used to work for.”

Kevin shrugged. “Yup.”

“Alex, Republican or Democrat?” Daniel asked.

“Pessimist.”

She reached for the other computer, the one with the bugged calls on it, and plugged in her headphones.

“So nobody cares that the front-runner is some ultra-right senator from Washington State who used to work for the Defense Intelligence Agency?”

The first call Alex had missed was from the daughter again – she could tell from Carston’s warm, fatherly voice. She started fast-forwarding.

“Makes sense,” Val was saying, pulling a rubber band out of her hair. She was wearing sweaty workout clothes and looked like she should be on a Maxim cover anyway. “Howland is soft. Get someone with a conservative edge, pull some voters off the fence. Plus, the new guy is one part grandpa, one part silver fox, with a catchy two-syllable name. Howland could do worse.” She shook her golden hair out, and it fell into perfect waves down her back.

“It’s sad, but you’re probably right. Just a beauty pageant.”

“Everything is, honey,” Val told him.

Alex stopped to check the recording, but Carston was still just listening and muttering kindly mm-hmms. She sped it up again.

“I suppose I should get used to it, since I imagine I don’t get to vote anymore.” Daniel frowned. “Vice President Pace. Do you think he was born with that name, or did he alter it to make it voter-friendly? Wade Pace. Is that something you would name a kid?”

“I wouldn’t name a kid anything,” Val said. “Because I would never be dumb enough to bring one home.”

Alex’s fingers reached down automatically to stop the recording.

“What was that?” she asked.

“Just explaining that I’m not the mom type,” Val said.

“No, Daniel, what was that name?”

“Senator Pace? Wade Pace?”

“That name… it sounds familiar.”

“I think everyone knows his name,” Daniel said. “He’s been positioning himself for this kind of promotion, not exactly low profile.”

“I don’t follow politics,” Alex said. She stared at the TV now, but it just showed some news anchor. “How much do you know about this guy?”

“Just the stuff they’re running on the news,” Daniel answered. “Sterling service record, all the normal clichés.”

“He was military?”

“Yes, some kind of general, I think.”

“A lieutenant general?”

“Maybe.”

Kevin was paying attention now. “Wade Pace. Pace with a P. That our guy?”

Alex stared into space, unconsciously rocking slightly back and forth on her stool. “He’s from Washington State… he worked defense intelligence…” She looked up at Kevin. “Let’s say the DIA is theoretically exploring some biological-weapons options. This guy’s already got some political aspirations, so of course he makes sure the money gets spent in his hometown. They would have had plenty of innocuous goals on the surface – all the outsiders would see was the economic boost. Probably helped get him his seat in the Senate. Great. But then, years later, the fabricated virus is stolen. Obviously, no one can know that he ever had a hand in its creation. No one can know it exists. We track down the bad guys, and they give up too much information. Wade Pace has big dreams. Anyone who heard his name in connection with this virus -”

“Has to be preemptively silenced,” Kevin finished. “And who knows exactly what the too-thorough CIA agent might have seen? Better shut him up, too.”

“Can’t take any chances,” Alex whispered. “Not when you’re reaching this high.”

It was silent for thirty seconds.

“Wow,” Val said, so loudly it made Alex jump. “Are you guys going to assassinate the vice president?” She sounded utterly thrilled by the idea.

“He’s not the vice president yet,” Kevin said. “He’s nothing, officially. That means no Secret Service.”

Daniel’s mouth was hanging open.

Higher stakes again, but not by so very much. In the end, no matter what else he represented, Wade Pace was just one beating heart.

Kevin locked eyes with Alex. “So he put a hit out on me, my brother, you, your friend… so he could try to be president. Oh, I’m going to enjoy this one.”

She opened her mouth but then quickly snapped it shut again. It would be a lot easier and safer – for her – to let Kevin do as much of the wet work as possible.

But there was her anonymity – Daniel’s, too, so she might as well lump in Kevin’s matching face – which had to be protected above all else if this plan was going to work. Kevin might be better at killing people than she was, but she was pretty sure that she was better at doing it with minimal ripples. If you want something done right…

“As much as I hate to deprive you of any fun, I think you might want to let me take this one.” She shivered slightly. This was probably a big mistake. Was she turning into the adrenaline junkie she’d accused Daniel of being? She didn’t think so. She felt nothing but dread at the idea of adding another job to her list. “Quiet is the goal, right? It won’t get too much attention if our wannabe president dies of a heart attack or a stroke – not the same coverage as if he were found shot in some kind of home invasion.”

“I can be quiet,” Kevin insisted. His eyebrows were pulling down into a scowl.

“Natural-causes quiet?”

“Close enough.”

“Close enough puts our other targets on high alert.”

“They’re already on high alert.”

“So how do you see this happening?”

“I’ll improvise when I get there.”

“Sound plan.”

“You know how many people die in household accidents every day in this country?”

“No. But I’m positive that more white men in their early sixties die from health-related problems than from any other reason.”

“Okay, great, a heart attack would be the quietest way for Pace to die, agreed. How are you going to get in, shorty? Knock on the door and ask to borrow a cup of sugar? Be sure to wear your frilly apron – really sell it.”

“I can adapt the Carston plan. I’ll just need a few more days of research on Pace -”

Kevin’s hand slapped loudly against the counter. “We don’t have that kind of time. We’ve delayed too long as it is. You know Deavers and Carston aren’t wasting the prep time we’ve already given them.”

“Rushing just leaves openings they can take advantage of. Proper preparation -”

“You are so annoying!”

She hadn’t realized how close together she and Kevin had gotten – pretty much spitting in each other’s face from about six inches away – until Daniel’s hand suddenly shot in between them.

“Can I interrupt to suggest the obvious?” he asked.

Kevin smacked his hand away. “Stay out of it, Danny.”

Alex took a deep, calming breath. “What’s obvious?” she asked Daniel.

“Alex, you have the best plan for how to… um, assassinate the senator.” He shook his head quickly. “I can’t believe this is real.”

“It’s real,” Kevin said harshly. “And I wouldn’t call a plan with no entry point the best plan.”

“Let me finish. Alex has the best… methodology. Kevin, you have the best chance of getting in undetected.”

“Yeah, I do,” Kevin said belligerently.

“Oh,” Alex said, feeling suddenly disgruntled for some reason. Probably just bruised pride and the irritation of having to cooperate with someone so obnoxious. “You’re right,” she admitted to Daniel. “Again.”

He smiled.

“What?” Kevin demanded. “And stop with the goo-goo eyes, you’ll make me vomit.”

“Obviously” – Alex drew the word out into almost five syllables – “we have to do this together. You go in with my premixed solution in hand. Actually…” Her brain started turning over options. “More than one solution, I think. We’ll have to stay in contact so I can guide you to the best application -”

Kevin gave her a withering look. “You’re in command, and I’m just following orders on the ground?”

Alex stared him down. “Tell me your better plan.”

Kevin rolled his eyes, but then refocused. “Fine. It makes sense. Whatever.”

Alex felt better already. She could perform her part without any risk. And though she didn’t love to admit it, she knew Kevin could do his.

Kevin snorted like he could hear her thoughts, then said, “Can I ask one favor?”

“What do you want?”

“When you’re mixing your little beakers of poison, could you make this one hurt? Hurt bad?”

Alex smiled in spite of her fear. “That I can manage.”

He pursed his lips for a minute. “This is weird, Ollie. I… well, I almost like you right now.”

“The feeling will pass.”

“You’re right – it’s fading already.” He sighed. “How long will you need with your chemistry set?”

Alex calculated quickly. “Give me three hours.”

“I’ll research my new target, then.”

Kevin grabbed his machete and other knives and headed upstairs, whistling.

Alex stood and stretched. Even with the new pressure and attached dread, it felt good to have the answer. The missing name had been an irritant, like an itch on the inside of her skull. Now she could concentrate on her next move.

“All right, I’m in the master bath.”

Kevin’s voice was muted, for Kevin, but still louder than Alex felt was safe. If she’d mentioned her concern, he would only have reminded her that he was the expert now, but still. He was just so cocky.

Alex wondered if he’d brought Einstein into the house with him. Probably, she thought, but of course the dog made no sound.

“Make sure you’ve got his side of things. I don’t want to kill the wife.” Alex couldn’t bring herself to speak above a whisper despite his apparent comfort.

“What?”

“Make sure you find his stuff,” she murmured a little louder. “Nothing unisex, like toothpaste.”

“I’m pretty sure the right-hand side medicine cabinet belongs to our guy. Refill safety razor blades, Excedrin, SPF forty-five sunblock, Centrum Silver, some makeup, but it’s all flesh tones…”

“Be positive.”

“I am. Lots of lipsticks and perfumes on the left side.”

“Some things they might share… check the drawers under the medicine cabinet.”

Alex pictured the pretty blond woman she’d seen standing beside Wade Pace in the official photos. Carolyn Josephine Merritt-Pace. She was only ten years the senator’s junior, but she looked a full quarter of a century younger. Whatever surgeries she had undergone, she’d been circumspect enough to keep things minimal; she’d retained her warm, beaming smile that crinkled the corners of her eyes and had every appearance of being genuine. She’d inherited a fortune from her aristocratic southern family, much of which she used to fund her various causes – literacy, feeding hungry children, saving music programs in inner-city schools, building shelters for the homeless. Never anything controversial. She had been a stay-at-home mother for their two daughters, both of whom had graduated from Magnolia League schools and were now married to respectable men – a pediatrician and a college professor. From everything Alex had learned in her hurried research about the senator’s wife, Mrs. Merritt-Pace seemed a pleasant enough woman. Certainly not deserving of the painful death her husband was about to suffer. Hopefully about to suffer, Alex amended. There was still so much that was left to luck.

“I’ve got three boxes of bar soap, a pack of extra toothbrushes, ChapStick in two flavors, cherry and strawberry… pomade, cotton pads, Q-tips… Next drawer down – oh, now here we go. Hemorrhoid cream. That’s fitting. Suppositories, too. Whatcha think, Ollie?”

“That might work. I’d love to use something topical rather than going the oral route, just to separate this as much as possible from Carston. But he might not use either the cream or the suppositories regularly.”

“A good point. Though it would be so great to literally shove this poison up – oh, hey, is our guy a smoker?”

“Um… hold on one second.”

Alex typed the phrase Does Wade Pace smoke? into her open browser window. She was immediately flooded with articles and pictures. She clicked on the images – poor-quality photographs taken from behind or at a great distance. Wade Pace – younger than he was now, still some dark in his hair, usually in a military uniform – was never at the center of the photo, but it was easy enough to pick him out, cigarette in hand. And then the more recent photos where he was centered; these were after he’d morphed into the “silver fox” Val had called him, and he never held a cigarette. But several photographers had focused in on the nicotine patch just slightly visible through the sleeve of his white button-down. Another on vacation, in a garish Hawaiian shirt, the bottom corner of the tan patch showing just below the sleeve. The vacation picture was from April. Not that long ago.

“Looks like he used to be,” Alex said. “Tell me you found the patches.”

“NicoDerm CQ. One half-used box, with three unopened packages behind it. I’ll check the trash.”

Alex waited eagerly through the short silence.

“Affirmative. Used patches in the trash under his sink. I’d say this bin gets emptied regularly. So he’s still actively using them.”

“This couldn’t be more perfect,” Alex said through her teeth. “Use the syringe marked with the number three.”

“Got it.”

She could hear the quiet pull of a zipper.

“Don’t let the liquid come in contact with your skin. Come at it from the seam – don’t leave an obvious pinhole.”

“I’m not an idiot. How much?”

“Depress the syringe halfway.”

“It’s pretty small, are you sure – you know what, never mind. How soon will it dry?”

“A few hours. Put it -”

“Underneath the top patch, right?” Kevin interrupted. “Second down.”

“Yes, that will work.”

Alex heard Kevin’s low chuckle.

“Mission accomplished. Wade Pace is one very deserving dead man walking. Moving on to target number two.”

“Will you check in when you’re in position?”

“Negative. Should be less than twenty-four. I’ll see you back at the apartment.”

“Fine.”

“Get on your guy, Ollie.”

Her voice was a little higher-pitched when she answered. “Yeah. I’ll have that, um, done before you’re back.”

He tuned in to her nervousness, and his tone became gruff, commanding. “You’d better. If I cause ripples, your plan might not work.”

“Right.”

He disconnected before she could. Again.

Alex took a deep breath and set the phone and the computer down on the bed next to her.

Daniel was cross-legged on the floor at her feet, one hand curled loosely around her calf. His eyes hadn’t left her face throughout the phone call.

“Did you get all that?” she asked.

Daniel nodded. “I can’t believe he didn’t wake anyone. Tell me my voice isn’t so piercing.”

She grinned. “It’s not.”

He leaned forward to put his chin on her knee. She felt his hand tighten around her leg.

“And now it’s your turn.” He said the words in barely more than a whisper, but the volume didn’t disguise his intensity.

“Not quite yet.” She glanced automatically at the digital clock she’d set up as part of her temporary lab. The display read 4:15. “I’ve got a few hours till showtime.”

She felt the shift against her skin as his jaw tightened.

“I’m not doing anything dangerous,” she reminded him. “I won’t be breaking into anyone’s fortress. It’s not so different from placing the tracker.”

“I know. I keep telling myself that.”

Alex stood, stretching, and Daniel leaned back to give her room. She nodded to the corner where her lab equipment was spread out inefficiently across a variety of end tables. She’d taken advantage of the setup to create a healthy supply of Survive after she was done with the recipes for Pace.

“I suppose I should clean this up before it upsets Val.”

Daniel got to his feet. “Can I help?”

“Sure. Just don’t touch anything without gloves.”

It didn’t take long; she’d had so much practice setting her lab up and taking it down, sometimes with an urgent deadline. Daniel was quick to grasp the order of things, and soon he had the proper case ready before she had the equipment totally dismantled. As she carefully wrapped up the last round-bottomed flask, she glanced at the clock again. She still had hours before Val would need to start on her makeup.

“You look exhausted,” Daniel commented.

“We got an early start. Val will fix me up so I’m presentable.”

“A nap might not hurt, either.”

Alex was fairly sure that she wouldn’t be able to fall asleep. She was working to seem composed so that Daniel wouldn’t worry, but in truth she could feel the seeds of panic beginning to take root in her stomach lining. Not that she’d lied to him about anything she would be doing, but she wasn’t anywhere close to relaxed about the next phase. The actual action part. The truth was, she’d fallen back into her usual mind-set, gotten very comfortable with preparation. Now that it was time for her to implement the plan, her nervous system was in overdrive. Still, even just resting would probably be smart.

“Good idea.”

As Alex watched Carston’s housekeeper walk through the automatic doors into the huge supermarket, she took a few slow, deep breaths, trying to center herself. She examined her face in the visor mirror and was reassured by the illusion Val had created. Alex was sandy blond today, quite believably so. Her makeup appeared understated, despite all the coverage. Alex was happy to see that her nose was settling into its new shape, probably permanently. Every little bit helped.

A few other shoppers parked and entered, and Alex knew it was time to move. One more deep breath. This wasn’t that hard. Just a normal shopping trip for now.

Inside, the market was busy. It was a diverse group of patrons, and Alex was sure she wouldn’t stick out. She was suddenly reminded of Daniel’s catastrophic shopping spree in Childress, and she was surprised to find herself smiling. She blamed her reaction on nerves.

Despite the traffic, it wasn’t hard to find the woman she was looking for. The housekeeper was wearing a bright yellow cotton wrap dress, and the color stood out. Rather than follow her through the store, Alex worked the opposite pattern and crossed paths with her every other aisle. It put Alex in the woman’s sight line more often but seemed more natural, less creepy. The woman – who appeared to be about fifty from close up, in good shape and fairly attractive – paid Alex no attention. Meanwhile Alex filled her cart with random items that seemed innocuous – milk, bread, toothpaste – and then added the few items that mattered.

Carston liked these small bottles of organic orange juice. They must expire quickly, because the housekeeper bought a few every trip but never stocked up. Alex grabbed three – the same number as in the housekeeper’s cart – and put them in the front child seat of her own.

She wheeled over to an empty aisle – no one was looking for birthday cards or office supplies this morning – and then uncapped the small syringe in her pocket. It was a very slender needle, and it left almost no mark behind when she pushed it through the plastic of the orange juice bottle, just under the screw-off cap. She kept her body turned toward the cards, as if she were looking for the perfect sentimental phrase. When she was done, she grabbed a glittery congratulations card in hot pink and put it in the cart. Maybe she’d give it to Kevin when he finished his mission. It was the kind of glitter that would stick to someone for days.

She and Barnaby had called this drug simply Heart Attack, because that’s what it caused. Sometimes after the interrogation was over, the department needed to dispose of a subject in a way that looked natural. After about three hours, Heart Attack broke down into a metabolite that was nearly impossible to trace. A man of Carston’s age, in his physical condition, and factoring in the high-stress job – well, Alex greatly doubted that anyone would look too carefully at the cause of death, at least in the very beginning. Sure, if he were twenty-five and ran marathons, it might look more suspicious.

Alex moved to the bakery next, because it was near the cashiers and had an unobstructed view of the shoppers waiting to pay. It took about ten minutes as she pretended to dither between a baguette or ciabatta rolls, but then the housekeeper appeared from aisle 19 and got into the checkout line. Alex threw the baguette in her cart and joined the next line over.

This was the tricky part. She’d have to stay pretty close to the woman as they left the store. Alex’s inconspicuous black sedan was parked right next to the minivan. As the woman was loading her groceries, Alex was going to trip with her arms full of bags and fall into the minivan’s bumper. It shouldn’t be too hard to leave her juice in the back of the car. Hopefully snagging the woman’s juice bottles would be possible, but if not, she assumed the housekeeper would load them all into the fridge, even if she didn’t have the right number.

Alex eyed the conveyor belt next to hers, double-checking that the juice was there. She spotted what she was looking for and glanced quickly away.

As her own purchases slid across the scanner, her brows furrowed. Something was off. Something wasn’t matching the mental picture. She glanced back at the other conveyor belt, trying to pin it down.

The bagger was packing a box of Lucky Charms. The housekeeper had never bought that kind of cereal for Carston, as far as Alex had been able to see. Carston was a creature of habit, and he ate the same fiber-heavy cereal every morning. Sugary marshmallows with plastic prizes were not his MO.

Another quick peek, head down. The usual coffee beans, the low-fat creamer, the quart of skim milk, but there was also a half a gallon of whole milk and a box of Nilla Wafers.

“Paper or plastic, miss? Miss?”

Alex quickly refocused, pulled her wallet open, and grabbed three twenties. “Paper, please,” she said. The housekeeper always got paper.

Her mind was turning over and over as she waited for her change.

Maybe the housekeeper got groceries for herself while she was shopping for Carston. But if she got her own milk, she’d have to carry it inside and put it in Carston’s fridge until she was done for the day, so it wouldn’t spoil in the heat. And she’d never done that in the past.

Was Carston expecting guests?

Alex’s heart pounded uncomfortably as she followed the woman through the automatic front doors, her two bags both gripped in her left hand.

She needed Carston to be the one who enjoyed that bottle of OJ. But what if a friend grabbed it instead? A friend who was twenty-five and a marathoner? It would be obvious what she had attempted. Carston would change his habits, beef up his security. And he would know it was Alex, without a doubt. That she was alive, and nearby.

The hunt would begin again, closer than ever.

Should she go with the odds? The juice was Carston’s thing. Probably he wouldn’t offer it to someone else. But what if?

As her mind raced through the possibilities, a small piece of meaningless information – or so she’d categorized it – popped into her head and suggested a new prospect.

The zoo. The daughter had kept going on and on about the zoo. And all the calls, every day, some of them hours long. What if Erin Carston-Boyd wasn’t always in such close touch with her father? What if Alex, in her hurry to get to the important calls, had fast-forwarded through vital information – like a pending visit from his daughter and granddaughter? The DC zoo was famous. Exactly the kind of place you’d take your out-of-town granddaughter. Just like Lucky Charms was exactly the kind of cereal an indulgent grandpa would have on hand for her breakfast.

Alex sighed, quietly but deeply.

She couldn’t risk poisoning the child.

Now what? The coffee beans? But Erin would drink coffee, too. Maybe another kind of toxin, something that looked like salmonella?

She couldn’t wait until the family went back where they belonged. Deavers and Pace would be dead by then – if they weren’t already – and Carston would be on high alert. This was her one chance to stay ahead of the panicked reaction. There would be six bottles of juice, only one poisoned… odds were Carston would drink it… it was unlikely the child would be hurt…

Ugh, she groaned mentally, and slowed her pace. She knew she wasn’t going to do it. And she couldn’t go back to his favorite sidewalk café and add an extra ingredient to his chicken parm; he’d surely given up that habit once she’d contacted him there. She’d be stuck with something really obvious and dangerous now, like borrowing Daniel’s rifle and shooting Carston through his kitchen window. Her chances of getting caught – and killed – would be much, much higher than she’d planned.

Kevin was going to be disgusted with her. Only one person on her list, and she’d already blown it. She couldn’t resent that reaction; she was disgusted with herself, too.

As though he could read her mind, just then Kevin called. She felt the vibration in her pocket, then pulled the phone out and read the number. She hit Answer and put it to her ear, but didn’t say anything. She was still too close to the housekeeper, and she didn’t want the woman to hear her voice and turn, getting another, closer look at the blond woman shadowing her. Perhaps the housekeeper was still the way in. Alex couldn’t afford to be noticed.

Alex waited for Kevin to start in on her, irrationally sure he had somehow sensed that she was failing; Way to drop the ball, Oleander, in the half shout that was his normal volume.

Kevin said nothing. She pulled the phone back to look at the screen. Had they been disconnected? Had he dialed her by accident?

The call was live. The seconds counted upward in the bottom corner of the screen.

Alex almost said, Kevin?

Four years of paranoia stopped her tongue.

She pressed the phone to her ear and listened intently. There was no ambient sound of a car or movement. No wind. No animal sounds, no human sounds.

Goose bumps erupted on the backs of her arms, raised the hair on her neck. She’d walked past her car, and now she had to keep going. Her eyes darted around while she kept her head still; she focused on a dumpster in the back corner of the lot. Her pace quickened. She was too close to the center of her enemy’s power. If they were tracing this call, it would not take them long to get here. She wanted to run, wanted it badly, but she kept herself to a quick, purposeful walk.

Still no sound from the other end of the line. The cold, heavy hollow in the pit of her stomach grew larger.

Kevin wasn’t going to suddenly start speaking to her, she knew that. Still, she hesitated for one more second. Once she did what she knew she had to do now, it was over. Her only connection to Kevin was severed.

She hung up. The numbers at the bottom of the screen told her the call had lasted for only seventeen seconds. It felt like much more time had passed.

She walked around the side of the dumpster, where she wasn’t visible from the parking lot. She couldn’t see anyone, which hopefully meant no one could see her.

She set the groceries on the ground.

In the lining of her purse, she had a small lock-picking kit. She’d never had to use it for its real purpose, but it came in handy now and then when she worked with some of her smaller reflux rings and adapters. She pulled the thinnest probe, then used it to pop the SIM card tray out from her phone. Both card and tray went into her bag.

Using the hem of her T-shirt, she carefully wiped the phone down, handling it only through the fabric. The tether of the shirt’s length made it hard to get the phone through the side hatch on the dumpster; it was too high up. She had to toss the phone when she couldn’t reach far enough, but she got it through in one try.

Alex grabbed the paper bags, spun back around, and walked quickly to her car. The minivan was just exiting the lot. She couldn’t tell if the housekeeper had noticed her side trip. She took the longest strides she was capable of as she hurried back.

The phone was gone, but she could almost see the seconds still ticking away in the corner of the screen. There were two possibilities now, and one of those possibilities gave her a very tight deadline indeed.