Page 7 of Harmless Secrets

Irritation danced through the agent’s blood. “You woke me up for that? There are a lot of people who look for the bastard. Call me?—”

“Please. Listen. There was someone checking out the cameras at the Pike Place. It was well hidden, but someone went to a lot of trouble to get information from there. And there was one very important section. I sent you a pic on your secure email.”

The agent pulled the laptop from the other side of the bed. After keying in the password, the email popped up. The picture was grainy, but it was no doubt Alicia Hughes. There were more of them, including one with Alicia against a building holding the hand of a little girl.

“This was in Seattle?”

“Yes.”

“Do you know where they live?”

“Yes.”

“Take care of it.”

The agent hung up and smiled. Finally, so close to the end after all these years. One little mistake, and could finally be over with.

Three

Two days later, several fractured federal laws, and a few thousand dollars tossed at those who helped, Devon and Dee parked down the street from what he was sure was Ali’s house. It was set off from the road and surrounded by trees. Secluded even. It was a rancher, with a long front porch. The grass was trimmed and the flower beds were filled with plenty of colorful flowers that gave it a cheerful look. The warm fuzzy feeling was ruined by the fact the house had enough security to protect her from an invasion from a foreign country.

There were cameras on the roof and more than likely sensors around the area. Flood lights sat atop each corner of the house. And that was just what he could see from the front.

“Well, someone doesn’t like visitors,” Dee murmured, a thread of admiration in her voice.

He glanced at her and noticed that she was looking up at the roof. Dee never missed much.

“Apparently not.”

But he couldn’t judge Ali, not when he had the same kind of a security at his various houses. Anyone who had been in the business didn’t fuck around with security.

It did appear that someone in the house had a background in some kind of law enforcement. Was she living with a man? Was there even a chance that she was married now…or maybe even then? Did that mean Ali had some kind of connection to him he didn’t know about? And what did that mean about their meeting? Was it just a chance encounter or had she picked him out?

He had known the CIA had put a price on him. Of course, it was only good if he was brought in alive. Thanks to Conner Dillon, that was removed about the time his father had been arrested for trying to kill Dee.

“Hey, earth to Dev,” Dee said snapping her fingers in front of his face. “Where did you go?”

He shook his head. “I guess we should go knock on the door.”

“Let’s go,” Dee said, but she frowned when he pulled a gun out of the glove box. “There could be a little kid here, Dev.”

“And a woman who is afraid of something. With that amount of security, she might see us as a threat. Just being careful and keeping the safety on.”

She opened her mouth to argue with him, but years of being her brother had taught him how to deal with Dee. It was best not to even He slipped out of the car and tucked the gun into the waistband of his jeans, then covered it with his jacket. Dee was still frowning at him when they walked up the driveway.

He continued to ignore her and he heard her sigh. She apparently decided to let it go for now. They both stopped when they reached the front walk.

“It looks nice,” Dee said. “Well, if you ignore that she apparently has more of a hard-on for security than you do.”

And it was nice. The neighborhood was upper middle class from the looks of it and each lot had at least an acre around it. It was a perfect place to raise a kid.

He was on alert for anything as they walked up, but nothing happened. No alarms sounded. Weird. For someone who had this much security, he would have thought they would have triggered some alarm. They knocked on the door. No answer.

Dee shifted her weight from one foot to the other, a clear sign that she was getting impatient. When Dee got impatient, bad things could happen.

“It was too much to hope for that she would be home. She probably has a job or something,” Dee said.

She looked in the front windows and Devon walked around the front, looking for clues about the woman who lived there. The name on the mortgage was Francine Williamson, not Ali, but that didn’t mean anything. She could have been using an alias that night. It would explain why it was so hard to find her before.

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