Page 13 of Hidden Depths

“I thought you said it comes from HR.”

“Yeah. They’re in charge when it comes to time off.”

“Sitting on my couch for a few weeks isn’t going to do any of us any good. I’m worth more to the agency if I stay in the field. Tell them I’m taking a break, but let me help off the books.”

“I’ll assume you’re kidding.”

“I’m not.”

“Sorry, but my mind is made up. And I don’t expect you to sit on your couch. I’ve got a condo in the Florida Keys.”

“You have a vacation condo?”

“It’s actually my wife’s. An inheritance.”

“Well, sir, I don’t want your condo. I don’t need any favors.”

“It’s not a favor. Not for you, anyway. You’d actually be doing me a favor.”

“That’s a stretch.”

“Not at all. The apartment hasn’t been used in a while, and there are a few odd jobs that need doing. I don’t want to get down there on my next break and spend the whole time working on the place. I’d rather you do it. You know how to hammer a nail?”

Tom grunted. “You’re serious.”

“I am. And when you get back, I’ll have plenty of cases for you to dig into.”

“Sir—”

“This isn’t up for further discussion. You’re dismissed.”

Chapter5

Sara stoodat the front of the small church, her eyes lifting to the cross on the roof as they did every time.

As a child, she’d gone to mass on Christmas and Easter, but other than that, religion hadn’t played a big part in her life. But that was before her world was obliterated and she was left with nothing but fear and confusion.

The first time she’d walked past this little church with its weathered pastel-colored siding, she’d stopped and admired the wooden double-doors decorated with intricate carvings that depicted the life of Jesus.

It had caught her attention because she’d grown up visiting the best museums and galleries around the country. Then, within her law degree, she’d taken classes in art simply for the joy of it. She’d recognized the craftsmanship from a time long past and wondered how it had ended up here. They couldn’t have belonged to this building originally.

That was when she’d met Margaret, who had joined her on the steps and admired the doors with her. She’d told Sara about their origin. A church in Connecticut that George Washington had once attended. Or so the story went.

Now, every time she came, she’d take a moment to appreciate this small gift. Her life had little joy to offer, so she took it wherever she could find it.

Tthe doors swung open, and a tiny woman in her sixties with a long braid draped across her shoulder stood at the top step, taking a deep breath of the morning air. Her eyes swept across the lawn, then settled on Sara.

“Pinch me. I think I’m dreaming,” she said, slapping her legs in delight.

“I know. I’m early.”

“You’re not just early. This is three weeks in a row. A new record.” She hitched her skirt up and bounded down the steps, nearly barreling Sara over when she latched on in a tight hug.

“Oof.” Sara had to take a step back to keep from falling. She wasn’t much bigger than the woman. “Don’t forget, you did send me a text this morning.”

“I did. I hope you didn’t think I was being pushy.”

“No. Not at all. It’s good to be here this morning.”

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