Page 33 of Hidden Depths

“What’s it say?”

“Uh…oh. That’s strange.”

“What?”

“The details are sealed. I could transfer you to Armstrong if you like.” He snickered. “He’ll have the clearance.”

“Funny.”

“I don’t know how beautiful this woman is, but maybe give her a pass. Enjoy your holiday and wait till you get home before you open your next can of worms.”

“Thanks for your concern. Enjoy the rain.”

He hung up before Barlow could make a smart comment, then brought up the search engine, typing in Sara Fitzgerald.

When the information populated the screen, he read the first headline, then scrolled through the long list of articles before his eyes lifted to Sara. “That explains a few things.”

He watched her for a few seconds before he continued reading. “Sam Lansky, convicted in the murder of Senator Reginald Fitzgerald and his wife Suzette. Survived by their daughter Sara.”

She mentioned she had a past. He could understand why she’d left town. The press would have been all over her. Not giving her a moment’s peace while there was still interest in the story. They would have been clamoring for exclusives, but he couldn’t find any interviews with her. It appeared she’d been able to keep her privacy during the trial. But it didn’t explain why she thought the FBI would pay her a visit now.

Next, he did a search for Sam Lansky and educated himself on the man who he learned had been high up in the mafia. It mentioned he’d been convicted of the murders and that the court had been closed at one point during the proceedings. There weren’t many reasons why the court would close its doors to the public. Mostly, they did it to protect a witness.

The next headline stopped him.

“Mafia Down by One as Prison Brawl Takes a Life.” The article was only a couple of hours old.

So Lansky was dead. Sara probably hadn’t gotten the news, but there was no way to tell her without giving away that he’d looked into her past, and he was sure that wouldn’t go down well.

He did another search for Senator Fitzgerald and family, zooming in on the most recent photo he could find.

Sara looked to be around twenty in the picture. If he didn’t already know it was her, he never would have identified her as the woman standing nearby on the beach.

Sara Fitzgerald was blonde, and her hair was shorter, but it wasn’t those features that distinguished her from her present self. Back then, she’d been carefree. She had the look of a successful sorority girl with a touch of innocence. That girl didn’t exist anymore.

But her eyes were the same. Those same wide green eyes that matched her mother’s.

“Here you go.” The taco chef said, laying the paper bags on the counter in front of Tom.

“Thanks.” He collected the food and joined Sara, who was now standing in the sand, digging her toes in.

“Smells good,” he said, handing her the already-dampening bag.

“Wait until you try it.” She ripped it open to use the bag as a makeshift plate.

“While I appreciate your enthusiasm, could we sit on the bench over there in the shade?”

“Oh, that’s right. I forgot you’re soft.”

“You are never going to let that go.”

“It’s all I’ve got.” She winked and led the way to the bench.

“You said you finished school in Virginia. What were you studying?”

His attention was momentarily diverted to a speedboat flying past. The hair on the back of his neck went up. He knew the mafia when he saw them, and they reminded him of the two men he saw at the airport, but it was impossible to tell from that distance. If Sara was here under witness protection, maybe Lansky’s death sparked a renewed interest in finding her. The fact that she was still breathing suggested they hadn’t yet.

“Law,” she said.

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