ages since her last meal. That coffee at the briefing had been about it all day.
Man, the morning seems like years ago, she thought and took a slurp of her root beer. Odd how meeting Gomez today had messed up her perception of time. Anything before looking into those startling blue eyes set in that even more startling face seemed like a long time ago. She’d gathered from reading his file that he was a pretty dynamic guy, but meeting him was a whole different story.
Caleb Gomez was one of a kind.
Now, he was bait.
She cringed just thinking about it. Gomez didn’t deserve this treatment from the Bureau and she hated being the person to set him up. Not after what he’d already been through for his country. But she and her family were carrying the emotional scars as proof that sometimes life was not fair.
“Patrick.” She said his name out loud and listened to it echo around this empty place that his death had led her to.
Her voice bounced back from the window with its view of the Dumpster to the tiles in the bathroom, reaffirming all her reasons for being in this shabby apartment in this shabby town, ready to betray a good guy who clearly only wanted to be left alone.
Saying her brother’s name kept the driving edge of her pain and commitment sharp. She would not be swayed by Gomez, by fear, by anything.
Delgado would pay for killing her brother.
She only had to prove that Delgado had been behind it.
She took another bite of her burrito, licked the salsa off the corner of her mouth and forced herself to consider brighter subjects for a while.
“¿Cómo está usted?” she asked the guy on the brochure. “Usted es muy hermoso. Puede usted traerme una bebida con sabor a…” She couldn’t remember the words for a fruity umbrella drink. Her poor Spanish echoed around the empty apartment and she cringed.
“I am crazy,” she told the brochure and jumped off the counter to grab her laptop. A little conversation with the outside world was what she needed, even if it was in cyberspace.
She unzipped the case and opened the thin computer, locating the available phone jacks and outlets. She ate a little more while listening to the soft hum and whir of the booting computer.
She opened her e-mail program, thinking she could get a little work done but was immediately sidetracked by an e-mail from Liz Meisner with the word Emergency in the subject.
Maggie rolled her eyes. Of course. Her sister could be counted on for at least two emergencies during every case.
Luckily, Maggie had never been in such deep cover that some family contact wasn’t allowed. The provision was that her real life never threaten the integrity of the case.
This could be another one of Liz’s not-sourgent emergencies or it could be real. Dad’s health was bad, Dan, Liz’s husband, was working overtime, Mom was exhibiting manic behavior in her effort to counterbalance her husband. The truth was they were a family living in a state of semi-emergency.
Maggie grabbed her cell phone and dialed her sister.
“Liz, here,” her bright perky sister answered.
“Emergency?”
“Oh, my God! Mags! I’m so glad—”
“The Starbucks north of Zuma Beach on Highway 1 in exactly a half hour.”
“Uh…okay.”
Maggie hung up and picked up the remains of her burrito. The cheese was cold and her hunger had turned to a dull ache in her stomach.
“You don’t have any sisters, do you?” she asked shirtless man, and tossed the burrito in the garbage.
LIZ WAS TEN MINUTES LATE. Which, in Liz time, was practically early. She entered and scanned the palatial coffeehouse located just off the beach like a starlet looking for her public. Most of the men in the place looked back.
Liz attracted attention to the same extent that Maggie didn’t. Tall, with long legs, and brown hair cascading down her back. Big brown eyes that screamed “Help me” and suckered even her smarter-than-that older sister into offering assistance. Not even the giant rock on her left hand deterred the interested male glances in the coffee shop.
Maggie put up her hand and waved Liz over.
“Mags!” she cried, throwing her purse onto the chair. “Thank God—”
“Where’s the blood?” Maggie asked.
Liz blinked.
“This is an emergency and emergencies while I’m working require blood.”
Liz winced but then smiled—sorry, her smile said, but aren’t I charming and I am your younger sister and who else could help me out but you?
Maggie looked up at the painted ceiling and blew out a big breath. She hadn’t really expected anything different. “Go get me a latte. A big one,” she said and shrugged out of her coat to settle in for whatever tale of woe Liz had for her this time.
If she ever went in deep cover Liz would be beside herself.
“Dan’s cheating,” Liz said a few minutes later, setting down the large lattes and sliding into her seat.
“On you?” Maggie asked, jaw on the floor. Men didn’t cheat on women like Liz—they cheated on other women with women like Liz.
Liz nodded and Maggie suddenly saw the tension and strain on her sister’s face and felt the age-old big sister desire to make whatever was wrong better.
“Are you sure?” she asked, leaning forward and brushing Liz’s hand with her own.
Liz nodded. “He’s gone all the time. He’s getting these phone calls late at night and then he leaves. Just gets out of bed and goes.”
“He’s a cop, Liz—”
Liz shot her an acrid look under her eyelashes. “I’ve been married to him for six years, Mags. I know what the life is like and I’m telling you this is…different.”
Maggie sighed. “Maybe it’s got something to do with Patrick.”
Again, his name aloud straightened her spine and she saw the small muscles in Liz’s jaw flex. The whole family suffered from the same helpless rage that had settled in their muscles and stomachs. Their father already had atrophied so much that no one could even say Patrick’s name in front of him. It was as if their dad was trying to erase her older brother from the family.
Liz shook her head. “He was warned away from the case.”
“When did a warning ever stop Dan Meisner from doing something?” Maggie asked with a smile, trying to tease one from her sister. “If I remember correctly, Patrick tried to warn Dan away from you. That didn’t do much good.”
Finally, Liz smiled and took a sip of her latte. Her brown eyes no longer dull. “True.” Her smile was coy and
