Page 6 of Waiting for Him
Ian nodded and rubbed his chin with his index finger. “But what? Why now, and how did they find her after all these years?”
She cringed, and whatever Benny had been about to say was lost as his eyes narrowed, focusing on her face. “How did they find you, Kat?”
“It was an accident.” She sighed, knowing she had to explain a few more things. “Dad couldn’t work as a CPA anymore when they changed our identity. In the beginning, we both worked odd jobs because we never knew when we’d have to change cities and names again. But after we settled down in Portland, and two years went by without any trouble, our handler helped Dad get his teaching license, and he taught high school math. When he got sick, the teachers and students held fundraisers and stuff to help me pay for whatever his insurance didn’t cover. They were a big help to me. His students were always stopping by and visiting him.”
A small smile appeared on her face as she recalled how his students could always lift her father’s spirits. “They loved him. Anyway, when he died, I had him cremated and told everyone he would be buried back east with my mom and brother, but I didn’t give them any details. I told everyone it was my dad’s wish not to have a funeral, and I didn’t put an obituary in the paper, even though it would be in his new name. But the students arranged a memorial at the school for him.
“At first, it was just supposed to be his students and fellow teachers at an assembly during school hours, but then it grew, and they posted it on Facebook. A local reporter saw it and ran a story about the death of a well-liked teacher. It included a picture of Dad taken at a school basketball game last year before he got too sick. I think one of his students took it, not knowing my dad avoided having his picture taken because the Marshals told us to. By the time I saw it, it was too late. It was in the print and online editions and on Facebook. and Instagram.”
“Shit. Any facial recognition program could have found it.” Boomer rolled his eyes and ran a frustrated hand through his hair. "Sometimes technological advances can be a bitch."
Nodding his agreement, Ian leaned forward and rested his elbows on the table. “But the question remains—what are they looking for?” He studied Kate’s face. “Any ideas? Did your father keep something as evidence in case he needed leverage down the road?”
She shrugged and shook her head. “Not that I know of, but he gave me this . . .” she pulled a key out of a small inside pocket of her purse, “. . . just before he died. He was kind of out of it at the end. Hospice had him on morphine, so half of what he told me didn’t make sense. He told me to go home again when he gave me this key. I asked him what he meant, and he just kept saying it was ‘the key to the wells.’ I couldn’t get him to explain it.”
Ian took the key from her and inspected it. “It looks like a safety deposit box key. Did he have one at his bank?”
“I checked, but they had no record of it. Maybe I should have checked another branch or another bank. But there are so many banks in Portland it would take days to check them all. Should I start calling them? Would they give me the information over the phone?”
“No, you don’t need to call them. It’s not in Portland.” Ian and Kate both looked at Boomer in confusion. He grabbed the conference room laptop, pulled it toward him, and booted it up. “It’s in Norfolk. Your dad said, ‘Go home again,’ so that had to be what he meant. I remember your family used Bank of America like mine did, but . . .” He paused as he tapped a few keys. “Here it is. Not far from your house is a Wells Fargo Bank. ‘The key to the wells.’ That’s where we start looking.”
“Your house,” he’d said, but the colonial was no longer hers. Some other family was living in it now. A strange girl or boy was sleeping in what was once her bedroom, and some other parents were joking with their children at the dinner table. Did they change the color of the walls? Her mother had painstakingly picked out just the right hues to go with the furniture. Was some other teenager reenacting the scene from Risky Business, when Tom Cruise slid across the wood floor lip-syncing to Bob Seeger’s “Old Time Rock and Roll”? Alex always made her laugh when he did it.
She shook off the bittersweet memories. “So, what should I do? Just walk into the bank and ask if my dad has a box there? Will they let me open it?”
Ian tapped his fingers on the table. “Not yet. They won’t let you near it without proper ID and a death certificate in your father’s name . . . his real name. And even then, it might take a court order if your name isn’t attached to the box’s account.”
He eyed Boomer. “I’ll give Larry Keon a call and get what we need. The court order might take longer, but we’ll deal with it later if needed. I’ll also have him get me everything the FBI has on this Sergei Volkov.”
Having the deputy director, the number two man of the FBI, on speed dial came in handy at times, and this was one of them. “In the meantime, we have to keep Kate . . . I’m sorry, but I have to ask . . . do you prefer I call you Kate or Katerina? After this is over, if it’s possible, are you planning on going back to your real name?”
She gave him a wistful smile. “I hadn’t given it a lot of thought. I never believed . . . I’d like to be me again, Katerina Maier. I miss her and the life she was supposed to have.” A life that was supposed to include Benny Michaelson. “But you can call me Kat if you’d like. It was the one habit my father was never able to break. I was always his Kitty Kat.”
He returned her smile with an optimistic one. “Then Kat it is. We’ll do everything we can to try to get your life back. But for now, we need to keep you out of the public eye. Are you sure you weren’t followed from Portland?”
“Actually, I was.” When she saw their surprised expressions, she quickly added, “But I got rid of them. About an hour out of the city, I started thinking about all the movies I’ve seen about people being followed by bad guys or cops. And then I remembered the agents who had a tracking device on our car, and I got a little paranoid. So, I pulled into a truck stop and convinced a couple of truck drivers that I was afraid my ‘abusive ex-boyfriend,’” she made finger quotes in the air with both hands, “may be using a device to stalk me. They looked under my car for me and found one by the trunk. One of the drivers was nice enough to take it with him, and it’s somewhere in Southern California now.”
“Smart girl.” Ian dipped his head in approval of her survival instincts. “Good. Then, until we get you the paperwork you need for the bank, we have to keep you hidden for now. There are bunkrooms and bathrooms upstairs here, and the compound is secure.”
“She’ll stay with me at my condo.” The look on Boomer’s face told them not to argue with him.
The corners of Ian’s mouth twitched, and Kat realized he’d figured out there was more between Benny and her than just the memory of a teenage boy and his friend’s sister. “Fine. But to be safe, I’m calling Tiny and having him sit outside your place.”
Benny nodded his head. “Works for me.” At her confused look, he added, “Tiny is one of the bodyguards we use when we need one. He’ll watch our six . . . our backs.” He turned back to Ian. “I’ll double-check her car for trackers, then leave it here in the garage so it’s out of sight.”
“I can get a motel room,” Kat told them. “I don’t want to put anyone out.”
Benny growled at her while Ian shook his head and stood. “You’re not putting anyone out, Kat. The safest place for you to be is either here or with Boomer. His place is secure, and we’ll have someone monitoring his condo. We’re not taking any chances that someone might’ve figured out you came to him for help.”
He glanced back at his teammate. “After I call Tiny, I’ll call Keon and see what he can do for us. Jake or Dev will relieve Tiny in the morning, and I’ll call you with a rendezvous time so we can plan our next steps.”
Nodding his agreement, Boomer stood. “Let me have your keys, Kat. You can wait here while I take care of your car.”
She handed him her keychain, and then both men left her alone in the room. Well, not exactly alone. Beau was sitting next to her with a curious tilt of his head. She reached out to pet his velvety ears.
“Braver hund.” Good dog.
Chapter Four
