Page 107 of Eyes in the Shadows

I see her sit on the bench and nervously shuffle her hands under her thighs, like she’s sitting on them for warmth and restless with nervous energy. McCloskey watches her for a few minutes.

“Incoming. Thirty yards east,” I tell her as he gets out of his car.

“Mac,”she grinds out through lips that barely move.“I am not some kind of tactical mastermind or ship captain.”

“What?”

“Which way is east?”she hisses.

Wes guffaws.

“It’s to your left. You’re doing great, darlin’.”

McCloskey walks up to her and I see her body language change instantly. She straightens, pulls out her hands, and clasps them in her lap. He sits, facing forward, and she turns her body slightly to mimic his posture. She did that without anyone telling her to. Good girl.

“You wanted to meet?”he asks, gruff.

“We don’t have much time,”she says.“He doesn’t know I’m here.”

“The Russian?”

She nods.“I told him I was meeting a friend at the park.”

“Good. That’s what we are, right?”The suggestion is as greasy as his hair.

“I hope so,”she says, her voice wavering. She hands him the piece of folded up paper. Her hand shakes in the air between them and she immediately snatches it back when he gets his fingers around it.“Give this to the mayor,”she says, just like we practiced.

Predictably, McCloskey opens the paper immediately.“An address? What is this?”

Her eyes dart around, and I want to kiss her. She’s doing such a great job.“It’s what he’s been looking for,”she whispers.

“Who? The Russian?”

She shakes her head.“Your boss.”

For that one, I might kiss her. We told her to be vague, but that’s perfect. Let McCloskey decide who he thinks she means.

“You’re just giving me this?”he asks her.“Why?”

I speak clearly, knowing she’s not going to be able to speak and listen to me at the same time. But this is as good a time as any for her to take a moment to reply. “Okay baby, Wes is almost there. Don’t make eye contact with him. Remember when the mayor interrupted you with the chef? Pretend like he’s interrupting youthe same way. You don’t need to say anything to him, but look kind of put out. Like, frown.”

“I—”she starts.

I watch Wes place his hand on the bench by McCloskey’s shoulder and bend over to reach for his shoe.“Aw, crap!”

McCloskey tenses and turns in his seat, shooting him a glare over the back of the bench.“Hey, buddy, we’re having a conversation here.”

“Oh, my bad,”Wes says, his British accent gone.“Just… got a damn rock in my shoe.”

With McCloskey’s attention on Wes’s face, he doesn’t notice or feel the small listening device being planted under the collar of his jacket in the back. For her part, Eleanor’s face is pale and her eyes are firmly on her hands in her lap.

“Got it,”he says, holding up a pebble with a triumphant grin. It’s our signal—the bugging was a success—and he takes off at his easy jogging pace, like nothing even happened. I start the car and ease out of my spot in the minimal traffic, taking a right at the end of the block.

“Well?”McCloskey asks.“Tell me why I should believe you, Miss Wilson.”

Anger flashes at the disdainful tone he uses when he says her name. Makes me want to carve out his voice box. “He’s just trying to intimidate you, to remind you he knows your full name. Do the answer we practiced that’ll get his sympathy, about not wanting to be involved,” I tell her as I park a block away.

A second later, I hear her.“He’s… a bad man. You have to believe me, I didn’t mean to get mixed up in this. I want to help, but I… I don’t want to die.”

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