Page 40 of A Step You Shouldn't Take

Once I could feel my feet again, I went to the gym and stood under a hot shower for as long as I dared—too long, and the guys began muttering about me being a girl. Last week, Jerome had bought me a bottle of bubble bath—Moroccan Rainforest, it was called. I was pretty sure Morocco didn’t have any rainforests, but it smelled okay. Then it was off to visit Candy at the deli—I’d developed a liking for their breakfast rolls, and Candy always gave me extra bacon and a free coffee while she bitched about life in general and diplomats in particular.

All that meant I was late getting to the embassy, and my favourite parking spot was taken by a Toyota Prius with Alabama plates, but it didn’t matter, because before I had time to decide on a different space, the black Mercedes drove out with Paul Lincoln at the wheel and a previously unknown companion in the passenger seat. White with dark hair and a scowl on his face as he stared at the phone in his hand. Who was he, and where were they going? The car wash? It was Thursday, after all. Or did they have other plans?

I trailed them through the city, and when the pair stopped outside a barbershop to get their hair cut, I almost followed them in. Despite what I’d said to Kim, I still hadn’t gotten around to having a trim.

But I had to keep a low profile today. If I needed to eavesdrop later in a bar or restaurant, I didn’t want them to recognise me and start asking questions. Once they’d gotten their short back and sides, Paul headed towards Auto Shine Express, and I nearly turned back because my car was clean enough and I had no desire to sit in a half-empty strip club at lunchtime. But then I happened to glance in the mirror. Two cars back, a cherry-red BMW moved into the outside lane, and I spotted a familiar face behind the wheel.

Kimberly.

Why the hell was she in Washington?

And more to the point, why was she heading towards Auto Shine Express? Yes, she’d mentioned wanting to get her car detailed, but why now? A coincidence, or…? I groaned out loud when I remembered my debrief last week—comes in every week, regular as clockwork.

Was she checking up on me? Or did she want to get a better look at Paul Lincoln? Why would she when we already knew he wasn’t our guy? But his friend…

Shit. I couldn’t let the passenger see her. If he was the culprit, that could blow the whole case.

I stabbed at the screen on my phone, and the sound of ringing filled the cabin.

“Hello?”

“What are you playing at? Have you lost your mind?”

“Excuse me?”

“You’re behind me in the red BMW.”

“Oh. That.”

“Yes, that. Pull over.”

“Why? I’m only going to get my car washed.”

“You promised you wouldn’t go near the place until this was over. If somebody recognises you, you could be in danger.”

“But you already said the chauffeur wasn’t the man who drugged me.”

“No, but he’s got a friend with him today, and as of this moment, I have no idea who that person is.”

“Oh. Then I’ll be careful.”

“Just go home, Kimberly.”

“I can’t.”

“What? Why? Why have you come at all? I’m following down every damn lead I can.”

“I know, but… It doesn’t matter. You wouldn’t understand.”

“Try me.”

Kim made a little choking sound. “I wish… I wish… I just can’t, okay? I’m sorry, but I have to do this.”

We were getting closer and closer to the car wash. Only one more turn, and if Kim steamed in there behind the two embassy staff, there was no telling what might happen.

“Stop right now, or I quit. I already told you pursuing this case was a bad idea.”

“You can’t just quit. We have a contract.”

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