shade, but her hair had undergone so many colors and styles during the years she’d been undercover as a special agent for the ATF, she was surprised it would grow to any appreciable length. There was a time when she’d shaved one side of her head. Then she’d affected twists, braids and extensions.
The sound of the doorbell echoed in the apartment, and Greer left the bathroom to answer the intercom. She punched a button. “Yes?”
“I have a four o’clock pickup for Ms. Evans.”
“Come on up.” They’d sent a woman to meet her.
She punched the button to disengage the lock on the downstairs door. Opening the door to her apartment, Greer stood off to the side. When she saw the man coming up the staircase, she launched herself at him. He wore khakis, a black golf shirt with the FBI logo over the breast pocket and black hiking boots. It was apparent her twin brother had been selected as a member of the team of agents going up to Portland to search for the three boys who’d vanished without a trace.
“Cooper!”
* * *
Cooper Evans caught his sister in midair, holding her against his chest. There was no mistaking they were related. They shared the same golden-brown complexion and slanting light brown eyes; however, Cooper was taller, a more masculine version of his twin sister. He kissed her cheek. Her bare face made her appear much younger than a woman in her early thirties. The desert sun had darkened her complexion to a rich cinnamon-brown.
“You seem to have fared well for a desk jockey.”
Looping her arms around Cooper’s neck, Greer pressed her forehead to her brother’s. “Jealous, bro?”
“Heck, no. I love being in the field.” He tugged playfully on her ponytail. “Let’s go. The others are waiting for us. During the flight, you can catch me up on what’s been going on since we last spoke to each other.”
* * *
Although she and Cooper exchanged texts a couple times each week, it was a rare occasion when they were able to talk on the phone, but never about their jobs. Greer again glanced around the living/dining area, then grasped the handle to one of her bags, but Cooper usurped her when he lifted both effortlessly. She left the keys to the apartment on the table in the dining area and walked out, closing the self-locking door behind her. A black Suburban with heavily tinted windows sat idling in the parking lot. Cooper opened the hatch, placing her bags in the cargo area.
She opened the rear door, slipping onto the third row of seats beside a young attractive brunette who wore a windbreaker stamped with the letters identifying her as a special agent with the FBI. Other than the driver and their lone female agent, two other agents were fast asleep, soft snores echoing in the vehicle’s interior.
The woman flashed a friendly smile. “Allison Singer.”
Greer returned her smile. “Jane Evans,” she whispered, introducing herself, while not wishing to wake the other sleeping passengers. Legally she was Jane Greer Evans, but her father insisted on calling her Greer.
Cooper got in beside Allison and settled back against the leather seat. The driver maneuvered out of the parking lot, accelerating and following the signs to the Sky Harbor International Airport.
* * *
The Learjet had lifted off at six, and Greer was rendered speechless when her brother revealed that in another three months he’d become a permanent member of the FBI’s Hostage Rescue Team. This meant he would have to deploy on short notice to any location in the United States or internationally. Although she didn’t see Cooper as often as she would’ve liked, the thought of him leaving the country to confront the most complex threats was chilling.
“Have you told Mom and Dad about this?” she asked him. Their parents had relocated from D.C. to a retirement community in Ashburn, Virginia.
Cooper nodded. “I discussed it with Dad before submitting my application. He wasn’t overjoyed, but he did give me his blessing. What’s up with your transfer?”
She told him about the illegal gun sales. Her voice rose in excitement when talking about working at Stella’s. The year they had celebrated their eighth birthday, their parents had sent them to Mission Grove to spend the summer months. They had learned to fly-fish, swim in the ice-cold lake, pick berries for the pies their aunt Stella made for the restaurant and, when they were older, how to hunt and survive in the woods. Greer and Cooper waited anxiously for the end of the school year to board a plane for the cross-country flight. They would always return counting down the months when they would again enjoy a short summer where they existed like wood sprites.
Pressing his head to the back of his seat, Cooper closed his eyes. “You be careful. I don’t want anything to happen to you where you can’t marry or make me an uncle.”
Greer landed a soft punch on her brother’s rock-hard shoulder. “I didn’t know you were a comedian. And you of all people should know I don’t want another husband. Been there, done that. Now it’s your turn.”
“What about making me an uncle?”
“There’s no way I’d bring a child into this world given my career. What about that nice artist you were dating?” she asked, steering the attention away from her.
“We still see each other every once in a while.”
“And?”
“And nothing. We’ve decided not to be exclusive because I can’t commit when I don’t know where I’m going to be next year.”
“She wants marriage?”
Cooper stared out the window of the sleek aircraft. “She wants marriage and kids. She claims her biological clock is ticking, and she doesn’t want to wait too much longer before starting a family.”
“Do you love her?” Greer asked.
His head came around and he stared at his sister. “Not enough to propose marriage.”
“Then let her go, so she can find someone else willing to commit to a future with her.”
“You’re probably right.”
Greer’s eyes met Cooper’s. “I know I’m right. No woman wants to be strung along wishing and praying her man will step up and do the right thing.”
Cooper and Greer continued their whispered conversation until the jet touched down on a private Portland airstrip. He kissed her goodbye, then followed the other agents to a Suburban, while Greer was escorted to a Ford SUV.
The last time she’d seen her uncle was before her final undercover assignment. It was as if the light had gone out behind his bright blue eyes. It had been her aunt Stella who had helped Bobby adjust to civilian life, had encouraged him to open the restaurant and had taught him to cook the dishes that made Stella’s a favorite restaurant among locals and tourists.
Waiting until the driver stored her luggage in the cargo area of the SUV, Greer slipped onto the rear seat. Opening her handbag, she took out her cell phone, scrolled through her contacts and punched the number to Stella’s. It rang twice before she heard a familiar gravelly voice.
“Stella’s.”
“Uncle
