sound anxious, Danny-O. Been under stress lately?”
“To tell the truth, I can’t believe I’m here with you. You’re one of my heroes. I want to get into—” He stopped himself before blurting a specific reference to undercover work. “—your field. I’ve read every word of your reports, all the transcripts.”
Those documents were supposed to be sealed, top secret. How had a young agent, like Danny Oliphant, gotten clearance? Payne wanted to know more. He purposely relaxed his features, pretending to be seduced into indiscretion by the flattery. “Which part interested you the most?”
“Had to be the final takedown when you set up Locksmith and the guy they called The Nose.”
Payne capped his suspicions with a false smile, irritated that Danny-O knew the code words which meant he had accessed top secret, sequestered transcripts of testimony. This did not bode well.
The wine bottle was placed on their table, and Payne went through the ritual tasting before pouring a glass of dark crimson liquid, the color of blood. “Who have you been working with on this?”
“Nobody really.”
“You’re being modest,” Payne said. “Somebody had to give you clearance to read those documents.”
“I shouldn’t say this.” Danny-O tried to look sheepish but failed. This baby agent was more like a wolf. “I’m kind of a computer whiz. I hacked into the files.”
Unlikely. Very few amateur computer jockeys possessed the level of skill required to breach FBI security. Something was up, something treacherous.
Payne lifted his wineglass as he gazed toward the door. Three men entered. Two were unfamiliar, but Payne knew the tall man in the black leather jacket. His waist had thickened and his features had hardened. His opaque black eyes absorbed the light, sucked the energy from the cheery restaurant and turned everything dark. He was Eddy Verone. Candace’s brother. The up-and-coming boss in Chicago. Why was he here? What did this mean? No time to think.
Payne reacted instantly. His gun was in his hand. Damn it! He didn’t want a shoot-out in the middle of a crowded restaurant.
Danny-O had already pulled his weapon, identical to Payne’s. The young agent fired at Eddy Verone.
With a shove, Payne overturned the table. He focused on Luke Borman. From halfway across the restaurant, the barrel of Luke’s .45 caliber revolver aimed directly at the center of Payne’s chest.
The first shot was Payne’s. Borman went down.
Payne dodged through the tables, through the screaming, terrified patrons. He hit the kitchen door and kept running. Undercover, again. He’d been set up.
Chapter One
Dressed in a black skirt, white blouse, black sweater and the black and white headdress of a novice nun, the woman who had once been known as Candace Verone hurried along the sidewalk outside St. Catherine’s parochial school. Head down, the folds of the wimple obscured her features. She rushed as though late for an important appointment. In the carefully tended soil near the school’s entrance, she noticed the green blades of new dahlias, a harbinger of springtime, a promise of new life. Yet, her mind was consumed by thoughts of death.
She still couldn’t accept her brother’s murder. Eddy was too young to die.
Quickly, she mounted the steps at the arched stone entryway of St. Catherine’s, a school she had once attended a long time ago in another life. Her name was Eden Miller now. She was thirty-one years old, a single mother, currently living in Denver, making an honest living from smart investments and part-time work for a caterer. The key word there was “honest,” a description not often associated with her past in this quiet Chicago suburb.
Inside the school, Eden flattened her back into an alcove beside a plaster statue. Her plan was to sneak through the bowels of the school into the church next door where her brother’s funeral would take place in a few hours.
She had risked everything by coming here. If recognized, twelve years of carefully constructed anonymity would be erased.
Cautiously, she peeked out from behind the Blessed Virgin statue. Had the hallways always been so narrow? Years ago, the school had seemed much more impressive, filled with whispers and laughter. In a rush, she remembered spelling bees and notes passed in class and best friends and boyfriends. But now was not the appropriate moment for nostalgia. She needed to slip through the school undetected. It shouldn’t be too hard. Classes were in session, and no one should be in the halls. The tricky part would be to avoid the nuns and secretaries who worked in the main office.
Before she could make her move, Eden was caught. A large hand clasped her shoulder and spun her around. She faced Sister Maxine who was uncharacteristically dressed in her full regalia—a flowing black habit with a carved rosewood crucifix the size of a baseball bat hanging from wooden beads around her ample waist.
Silently, Eden cursed. She should have remembered that Sister Max had always been able to creep silently and appear out of nowhere. The joke was that, like the Lord, Sister Max “moved in mysterious ways.”
The old nun peered through her rimless eyeglasses. “I don’t believe we’ve met. May I help you?”
Eden hoped Sister couldn’t see her too clearly. From a distance, Eden could pass for a novice nun. Up close, her white blouse was definitely silk, and the sweater showed a stylish cut. “I’m new here,” she said. “A math teacher. I transferred from, um, another parish.”
At the sound of her voice, a smile softened Sister’s stern visage. Gently, she chided, “You were never a good liar, Candace.”
Her arms spread wide like the wings of a wise black bird, and she pulled Eden into a hug. The soft warmth of Sister Max felt like a wonderfully safe haven, and Eden hugged back with all her might.
Sister Max had been a comforting presence in the background of her life. When her mother died from natural causes while Eden was in fourth grade, Sister Max had pulled her from class and had given her the news. The same with her murdered father in seventh grade, but Eden hadn’t wept on that occasion. The Verone family tragedies had become too regular, almost expected. Still, she appreciated the solace offered instinctively by Sister Max, and Eden wished she could have stayed in touch. “I’m sorry, Sister. I left without saying goodbye.”
“I understand. Your family… Let’s just say, I understand why you had to depart so abruptly, Candace.”
“Call me Eden. Eden Miller. That’s my name now.”
Sister Max stepped back. With a clean white hanky that had appeared from nowhere, she daubed at the corners of her eyes behind her glasses. “Eden it is. I’ve been expecting you.”
“You have?” Tension shot through her. Was it so obvious that she’d return for her brother’s funeral? “Why?”
“Come with me.”
Eden balked, fearful of a trap. If Gus Verone sank his talons into her, she’d never escape. “Sister, I can’t see my grandfather.”
“Of course not. I might be a nun, but I’m not an idiot.” Bitterness tinged her voice. Though Sister Max believed judgment was the province of the Lord, she thoroughly
