Private Rogue

Chapter 56

Justine hadn’t yet met Elizabeth Singer, but she recognized her from the photographs she’d seen. She had long dark hair and was about five feet six, with an athletic physique. She sat at the kitchen counter, eating lunch with her children. Roni Alvarez and Jim Taft sat on couches by the television. They were on their phones and had CNN on low. They stood the moment Jessie and Justine entered, and Taft, a gruff former Secret Service agent, spoke first.

“I’m sorry, boss,” he said to Jessie. “We heard.”

He indicated his phone. Justine shouldn’t have been surprised. Very little stayed secret in the days of instant communication.

“My condolences,” Roni said. She was a former FBI agent, who had seen her fair share of action, but the tears welling in her eyes told Justine that Jack’s death had affected her deeply.

“Thanks,” Justine replied.

“Condolences?” Beth Singer asked. “What for? What’s going on?”

Justine felt a wave of nausea. They hadn’t told her what had happened. Maybe they hadn’t known Floyd and Jack had been together.

“Roni, could you take Danny and Maria next door?” Jessie said. Beth’s expression immediately hardened from puzzlement to concern.

“What’s going on?” she asked fearfully.

Jessie didn’t answer. Roni mustered the children and led them into a living room that lay off the main family room. They looked confused and frightened.

“Don’t worry, kids,” Roni assured them. “Ms. Fleming just wants to talk to your mom.”

“It’s OK, guys,” Beth said.

Roni shut the door and Jessie and Justine approached the breakfast bar. Justine felt immensely sorry for Beth because she knew the crushing blow that was coming her way.

Beth must have read the news in the other women’s expressions because she clutched the countertop, saying: “No.”

“I’m afraid we have reason to believe your husband was killed today,” Jessie said.

Justine started crying herself when she saw tears spring to Beth’s eyes. She’d never before met this woman, but she walked over and embraced her. They were bound by grief.

“No,” Beth said. “It can’t be true.”

“Our operatives witnessed an explosion,” Jessie said, and Justine felt Beth shake and shudder against her.

“What am I going to tell the children?” she said between sobs.

Justine didn’t know what to say. No words would make the slightest difference to her pain because death was something that couldn’t be soothed away. It was a permanent wrench, the destruction of a future and the forced imposition of a different path, one devoid of the company and companionship of the departed. Nothing could make it better, so Justine just hugged Beth tightly.

A loud digital alarm sounded. Taft went over to the TV stand and picked up the device that was making the noise. Roni emerged from the living room.

Justine saw Taft pick up an iPad and examine it carefully.

“We installed motion detectors in the grounds,” he said. “Two of them were just triggered.”