Page 51 of Code Name: Dante

“And a bay leaf,” Lark suggested. “It needs something to round out the flavor.”

I watched them work, struck by how much I wanted to be a part of this—their easy companionship, their shared history. Even with all the complications and dangers swirling around us, moments like this made resolution feel possible.

“Set the table,” Barbara ordered Tank when he came down the stairs, but not with the same edge she’d used with me.

“Err, for how many?” he asked.

“Now, how would I know if you don’t?” she snapped.

His eyes met mine, and in them, I saw the same amusement I felt. Glancing at Lark, I caught her covering her mouth to hide her grin.

“How’s this?” I asked, tilting the bowl so Barbara could inspect the now thoroughly whisked eggs.

“Add a bit of water, then start working in the flour. Don’t forget what I said about making the dough too tough.”

I was about to ask if I was supposed to use the fork for that too when Tank stepped closer. “You set the table. I’ll make the noodles.”

While Barbara’s nostrils flared a second time, she didn’t intervene.

As I gathered the plates and silverware, I caught Lark watching me with a soft smile, so different from the looks she’d given me at Alice and Admiral’s wedding. Then, I was the enemy. Now, a man she was starting to trust.

The storm outside had gotten worse, sleet pummeling the windows. But inside, the kitchen was warm and fragrant. The scene’s domesticity almost made me forget about the security teams patrolling the property, the dangers that had brought us here, and the mysteries still unsolved.

“Check the bread, little bird,” Barbara said to Lark, motioning to the counter where a towel covered what smelled like rising yeast.

I watched her softly punch the dough, seemingly satisfied with the way it sprung back. “It’s ready to go into the oven,” she said, taking out a bowl rather than a bread pan. She turned the dough into it, forming a round ball before flattening it into an oval.

Tank nudged me when I returned to see what else I could do to help after I’d finished setting the table. “Grit suggested we meet in the boathouse after dinner,” he said under his breath. “And Alice asked me to mention that she has something she wants to discuss with Lark.”

“Copy that,” I muttered, wondering why Alice wanted to speak with Lark alone rather than the both of us.

A half hour later,Gram announced dinner was ready and asked me to let the others know. Rather than send a message, I went upstairs, mainly in search of Alice.

“Tank mentioned you wanted to talk with Lark,” I said, finding her in front of her multi-monitor workstation.

She looked up from something she was studying on her phone, leaned back, and rolled her shoulders. “After she and her grandmother returned from Gloversville yesterday, she asked me to see what I could find out about her mother.”

“And?”

She hesitated momentarily, then sighed. “There isn’t much, but the most telling thing is what I haven’t found—any indication that she’s deceased.”

“What about?—”

“Your mother either, Alessandro.”

I nodded once, somewhat relieved, except I knew that, oftentimes, missing persons weren’t declared dead until their family pressed for them to be or a body was finally recovered.

“Here’s another thing I know, wherever they are, both appear to be living off the grid. Either that, or they took on new identities.”

I didn’t consider either theory surprising. However, that Alice had phrased it as though both women had taken the same path, was an intriguing thought. “No matches to Lark’s DNA?” I asked.

“Thanks for reminding me. Yes, but not close enough to be her father.”

“Half-sibling?”

Alice shook her head. “No, but there were a couple of matches within the range of a first cousin.”

“Criminal profile?”

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