Living Lies (25 page)

“What’s the matter?” her mother asked from the doorway. “You’re as white as a ghost.”

Melanie clutched her phone in a daze.

“Roger! Roger!”

“I’m all right,” she said, not sure if it was true.

“Sit down, Honey.” Rita pulled her to the nearest chair. “Roger, get some water for Melanie.”

“What’s going on?” her father asked, rushing inside, his voice filled with concern. “Annie?”

“I quit my job,” Melanie muttered.

It felt strange saying the words. It’d been true for weeks but it was the first time she’d felt the certainty.

“When?”

“Is it because you’re taking a long vacation?” Rita asked.

“I quit before I got here but it was supposed to be temporary.” She looked up at her parents. “What am I going to do?”

Her mind was racing, trying to come up with a solution.

“I’ve got to go.” Melanie said before rushing up the stairs to her room.

In the bottom of her duffle bag shoved in the back of her closet was her gun. She wanted to hold onto the old Melanie, Spy Melanie.And she had an overwhelming urge to shoot something. In her father’s Chevy Nova she drove to the Agency’s local office.

“I’m sorry, Ms. Ward, but you aren’t in our database. I can’t let you in.”

Melanie stood, bewildered, at the security desk about to be escorted out of the building.

“Can’t you call Mike Hanson in the D.C. office? I’ve got his number right here.”

The unrelenting uniformed guard shook his head.

“Agent Ward?”

Melanie turned toward the voice. “Agent Clark,” she said, with a grin that stretched from ear to ear.

“It’s okay, I’ll sign her in.”

Lenny Clark was a Vietnamese American whose soldier father had fallen in love during his tour of duty and came home with a very pregnant wife. Lenny was born in L.A. but now spent most of his time as an undercover operative. Years spent with society’s underbelly had changed Lenny into a shady, unapologetic character. Outspoken and as deviant as the people he monitored, Lenny made no excuses about his sinister outlook on life. Melanie respected his integrity and loyalty.

“Thanks,” she said, once the door’s lock had been disengaged with the familiar buzz. The pent-up tension releasing, she was grateful she wasn’t going to have to take hostages. “I just came to practice at the shooting range,” she faked a serene smile.

In the soothing, cold white hallways pretending would be easier, now that she was back in her element.

“I heard about your termination,” Lenny said under his breath.

“It was a mutual thing,” she growled, contradicting her tone by shaking her head with a laugh. “Sort of, anyway.”

“What’s going on in Washington? I’ve been back a couple of days, fucking pulled from deep cover and nobody knows what the hell is going on.”

Melanie shook her head. “I don’t know, Len.”

“Fucking Parker. Things need to change, so whatever it is you need to do, Agent, do it.” His brown-eyed gaze was piercing. “I’m on my way back to the Orient and hope my fucking cover hasn’t been compromised or I’d help bring down the house, but you know
my door is always open to you.
”

He stopped as they approached the shooting gallery. His eyes narrowed as he evaluated her. An agent began target practice firing off five quick rounds.

“Good luck, Agent Ward,” Lenny said, saluting her.

“Thank you,” she grinned and Lenny walked away. “Lenny,” she called, when he turned she nodded and he responded in the same manner.

Melanie found her way through the corridors to Lenny’s office. The door was unlocked. She smiled, switching on the light and easing into his ergonomic chair. The small space was cluttered with boxes, papers and binders. One wall was covered with personal photos tacked into the plaster. Lenny was divorced but there were pictures of him with his wife and daughter. Melanie shook her head at the little girl who’d never know what a hero her father was to the world, though he’d never be her hero.

“Okay,” Melanie said to the blue computer screen.

Knowing she no longer had her clearance, she stumbled around searching for the phone database. She still had some access – after all, her phone was operational. Mike would have set up a new identity for her. Melanie closed her eyes and imagined Mike, a technical wizard who lacked social skills, idolized the agents and spoke using exaggerated hand gestures.

He’s not an agent, he’s technical.

She typed LISA ABERNATHY, her last alias.

Confirmed.

Melanie smiled.
Now for the passcode.

Yakimoto, No.

Hawaii, No.

Melanie breathed out, clearing her lungs.

She tried again, three more times, nothing.

She searched her memory.
What had he been impressed with?

Swingers.

Bingo! The gates opened and Melanie had full access to the Agency’s files. She poured over the endless stream of data, not knowing exactly what she was looking for.

“Hey, Trish,” she said, answering her phone while still typing on Lenny’s computer.

“Hey? That’s all you have to say?”

Oh shit
, she’d forgotten.

“How was your evening?”

“I cannot believe you did that to me.”

Melanie waited for as long as she could, trying to decipher if Trish sounded angry. “So, are you mad or not?”

“I should be furious.”

“But you’re not! Oh, thank God,” she said, relieved that something had gone right. Melanie refocused on the computer. “I’m so relieved, you have no idea, but I can’t talk right now. I’ll call you back, okay?”

“Seriously, you’re ditching me? What are you doing?”

“Trying to get my job back.”

“What does that mean?”

Melanie huffed and briefly recapped. “I’ll explain more later. But I am so happy for you. I like him.”

“He’s super sweet, right?”

“Super. Love you, bye.”

Melanie skimmed over the vast information. She followed the path from Parker’s first day, the cases, his e-mails and the assignments, perusing for a pattern. There wasn’t much time before Mike would figure out she was on and boot her from the system.

“Melanie?” Mike sighed her name into the receiver.

“Speak of the devil,” she said, casually. “What gave me away?”

“I was leaving for the day so I did a quick sweep and guess who I see is online.” Mike lowered his voice to a whisper. “You can’t be doing this, Mel. Did you break into Agent Clark’s office?”

“He’s always on assignment anyway. I don’t even know why he needs an office. In theory it’s not my fault.”

“I’m glad this is fun for you, because you’re breaking the law and now you’re involving me.”

Melanie smiled victoriously.

“So, you’ll let me finish?”

Mike blew a loud breath, letting her know it was a big decision for him, but she already knew he was a major pushover where she was concerned.

“I need four more hours.”

“Four! Are you kidding me? You can have 20 minutes.”

“Three hours, but that’s my final offer,” Melanie smirked.

“One, and if something comes up I’m pulling the plug.”

“Deal.”

Melanie checked her watch. Rummaging through Lenny’s desk she found three jump drives that she loaded with every file she could find that had anything to do with Parker. Hastily she scanned the information, looking for an obvious change of tide in Parker’s behavior. Her phone rang.

“Time’s up, Princess.”

“Wow, it’s been an hour?” Melanie looked, blurry eyed, at her watch.

“Two and a half, I fell asleep.” She could hear him yawning. “Hold on, someone’s at the door.”

“Hey, Ed?”

It was Finn Parker’s voice.

“I’m Mike.”

“I need to know if it’s possible to delete information from a person’s file.”

“Delete? We usually re-classify the file to a higher level of authority.”

Melanie stayed quiet.

“Just tell me if it’s possible.”

“Yeah, it’s possible.” Mike said. “Do you want me to take care of it for you?”

Parker’s grating chuckle sent a shudder down her spine. “Right, like I trust you.”

“He’s gone,” Mike said, “but, Mel, you’ve got to end this fishing expedition. I shouldn’t have let you stay on at all. Parker would literally kill me if he knew I was helping you. His ego’s the size of a large planet. It’s like he thinks nothing can touch him. I hate to do this, but I’m going to have to shut down your phone access. God, that was scary. I swear I cannot stop sweating.”

“You did great, Mike, please let me keep the phone.”

The length of Mike’s pause was disquieting for Melanie. She’d trusted him with confidential information more times than she cared to admit and his jumping ship caused distress. She stayed quiet, waiting him out and not letting him off the proverbial hook.

“Mel,” she could visualize his down turned gaze as he slowly shook his head, “I don’t like this. I’ll give you another week but no longer, and I’m not interested in any of your ploys.” His voice was weak. “I’m sorry but I’ve got to consider myself. I told you he’s like all-powerful now.”

“That only happens in comic books, but I got it.”
Loud and clear
, she thought.

CHAPTER 15

Melanie divorced herself from everything but hunting Parker. Locked away in her room she scoured documents as the summer days gave way to increasingly longer nights.

“Hey, stranger.”

Melanie smiled and rubbed her strained eyes, grateful to give her brain a rest. She put the call on speaker phone and stretched across on her untouched bed.

“Hello, Trish. Are you married yet?”

“Ha-ha, very funny. But I do have to say that things are wonderful,” she said in her giggly, “it’s great to be me” voice. “I’m going to start calling you Angel, too. Did you hear about Jenny?”

“No, what happened?”

Melanie hated to hear, knowing it would be bad.

“Ryan left her after she confessed about her romp with Tom the good parishioner. I guess she’s pretty distressed, curled up in a fetal position and refusing to get out of bed. Her mom’s stationed herself over there and is taking care of the kids. That Ryan has got some nerve. I swear I never liked him.”

“What are we doing for her?”

“
I
was going over this afternoon but you should stay away. She’s still mad at you.”

“Unbelievable.”

“I know, but it’s easier to blame you than herself or Ryan. But that’s not why I called. You’ll never guess who we had dinner with last night.”

Melanie hated guessing games. She played along less than whole-heartedly.

“Gandhi?”

“Come on, Mel, play.”

“Okay, um, I don’t know. George Foreman.”

“I’ll give you a hint: his first name starts with an A and you like to kiss him.”

“Adam? Really? Did you go to the restaurant? Because I called last Thursday and they said he’d be out until tomorrow.”

She let out a small grunt. “Nope, you can’t even imagine my horror when Jason introduced us. I was afraid Adam would say something about the night I, well, you know.”

“He wouldn’t do that. But how did he look?”

She pictured his dark hair curling at his ears and the shallow creases leading to his sparkling green eyes. Just the memory caused her blood pressure to rise.

“Not as good as I remembered. Plain, actually, with really big ears.”

Melanie smirked.

“He asked about you.”

“Yeah? What did you say?” She cowered, waiting for the answer. She never knew what Trish was going to say.

“That you lost your stupid job and that you were literally morphing into a big, ugly, pasty hermit crab. Never leaving your room.”

“Trish!”

“Seriously,” her voice changed, losing its playful tone. “He works tonight, I think you should call him.”

“Maybe I will.”

“Promise?”

Melanie laughed. “Promise.”

“Good, good, okay.” Her delight returned when the topic changed to Jason, who was currently en route to Pittsburg.

The night fell quickly as Melanie prepared to visit Adam at work. She’d thought of nothing else since Trish’s phone call, even shutting down her computer. She wore a chocolate-colored wrap dress that could have come right out of a disco circa 1975. Her hair curled, and her makeup applied, she clutched the steering wheel of her father’s metallic green Chevy.

A group of weary seniors gathered at the entrance to Oscar’s as Melanie snuck a glance toward the hostess pedestal. Daria, looking unbearably shrewish in yet another elegant gown, was in command. Not wanting to be noticed, Melanie waited a few minutes and slipped in with a large party. She veered off toward Adam’s office as the others made their way to the dining room.

She’d always considered desire a weakness, and right now she felt very weak. Her rapid breaths betrayed her nervousness as she clipped down the tiled corridor. What was she going to say? That she’d made a mistake?

His door was like the ones at her elementary school with a big square window. Instead of artwork he had mini blinds and his name painted on the glass. The door hung slightly ajar.

It was the hushed giggle that stopped her knuckle from rapping against the door. With the tips of her fingers Melanie pushed the door open just enough to peek inside. Adam was sitting on the floor gazing into the eyes of a woman, a candlelit dinner beautifully laid out on the coffee table.

“Maybe she’s his sister,” she hoped. Then Adam cradled the woman’s face and kissed her.

A small squeak escaped her throat, the scene was romantic and intimate. Melanie closed her eyes, rolled back against the wall and wished she could disappear into the wallpaper.

The night stretched out unbearably. Images of Adam with the other woman gave way to Finn laughing as he kicked his heels up on Ben’s mahogany desk. The collision of her two worlds felt cataclysmic, with nowhere for her to seek solace.

Forcing the fresh pain of Adam into the darkest reaches of her over-active imagination, she chose to focus on what she could control. Finn.

Her hours of research had opened the doors to Parker’s decision or lack of decision process. At first it was fun and games, assigning friends to “cases” in the south of France and Bali. Until the stream of increasingly negative e-mail brought an especially heated letter from his father. It was a reminder to honor the Parker family name and suggested Finn accomplish matters through “alternative means.” Melanie understood Hugh’s translation of “alternative” and figured Finn had taken the advice because a week later the nasty e-mails were tilting to an affirming tone.

Rita began rustling in the kitchen, Melanie rubbed her eyes and was surprised to see the soft sunlight beaming through the lace curtains. She went down looking for company, her mom was fooling with a pot of coffee.

“You look terrible,” Rita said, taking her glasses off the tip of her nose and letting them hang to her chest. “Have you been crying?”

Melanie filled the largest cup in the cupboard without answering. Rita said nothing, but hovered over Melanie as she swirled vanilla creamer into her dark java.

“Everything’s fine, Mom, I just had a long night.”

“You have noticed that I’ve been giving you your space.”

“Yes, I have. Thank you.”

The coffee was hot and bitter. Melanie added more flavored cream and stirred in two teaspoons of sugar.

Rita moved her weight to a stool next to Melanie’s.

“So, if you want to talk about whatever is on your mind, I won’t pressure you.”

The bloodhound had caught a scent and Melanie, having less strength than her mother, gave in.

“I went to meet someone last night and it turns out that I was too late.”

“What does that mean, you were late?”

“He’s got a girlfriend.”

“Nonsense,” she said without hesitation.

“Mom, he does, I saw them kissing.”

“Is he married?”

Melanie shook her head.

“Then it’s not too late. How do you think I landed your father?” Rita asked, raising her eyebrows.

“No,” Melanie gasped, forgetting her own misery. “Dad always says he pursued you. You were at the punch bowl in the yellow dress when he first saw you and fell in love instantly.” She recited the story she’d heard dozens of times over the years. “Love at first sight.”

As a child she’d gaze at the photo of her parents and imagine them at the party, where her father worked as a waiter and her mother was a debutante. It was all very vivid in Melanie’s mind, as if she’d been there herself.

Rita wore a Mona Lisa expression. “Phhh,” she waved off the notion. “I’d seen your father around town for a month. He was dating Penny Pimpleton at the time.”

“Her name was Pimpleton?”

Then this unfamiliar woman leaned forward, her hand on Melanie’s, wicked delight humming out of her words. “No, but that’s what I called her.”

“Mom!” Melanie wheezed, wide-eyed.

“What?” she asked, innocently. “I planned the whole thing.” She shrugged. “I simply did what was necessary, and if you like this man, you should, too.”

With that, Rita put her glasses back on the tip of her nose and continued reading an article from the morning paper, looking very different from the woman Melanie had always known.

“Does Dad know?” Melanie was aghast that such a key part of the Ward history was a sham.

“Heavens, no,” she said, not looking up. “Besides, his version is so much more romantic.”

Melanie, harboring a renewed sense of hope, put down the awful coffee. “I think I’m going for a run.” She smiled. “Thanks, Mom.”

“Have a good time, Honey.”

Melanie could have sworn that her mother, from behind her bifocals, gave her a wink.

It was a beautiful morning, and Melanie ran along the streets of La Jolla down to Pacific Beach. Adam had mentioned on their date that he’d missed a beach volleyball game to spend the morning with her on his boat. That had been a Saturday morning. It was Saturday morning now.

Summer tan lines were visible, kids had been released from school and Melanie – her radio strapped to her arm, hair pulled up into a ponytail and cell phone clipped to her shorts – navigated through the crowded sidewalk.

Tourists mixed it up with the locals and she could blend. The sun seeping into her skin warmed her and she could almost imagine feeling like her old self again. The heavy salt air filled her lungs and she was absorbed in the moment.

The beach bustled with joggers, bikini-clad women rollerblading on the sidewalk and families dragging ice chests and inflatable rafts toward the water. She didn’t even mind that her pace was slowed. She felt completely normal behind her sunglasses. Her spirits were curiously lifted by her mother’s 35-year charade.

A volleyball tournament caught her attention. Three games were taking place simultaneously, Miller Lite was sponsoring with banners announcing the fifth annual championship. Quickly she glanced at the spectators on the sidelines and players before falling on just one man in a blue jersey.

Melanie stopped jogging and hopped the three-foot retaining wall that separated the sidewalk from the sand.

Her heart pounded as if keeping time with a marching band. He spotted her almost immediately. The game he was playing in had been suspended and he jogged over to greet her.

“Melanie?”

“Hi,” she said, wishing she’d taken a few minutes to create a plan.

With three long steps in her direction he was within arm’s reach.

“Hi,” he said, looking at her curiously. “What are you doing here?”

“Just out for a jog.”

“How have you been?” He asked, his curiosity seeming to intensify, “I mean, I was sorry to hear about your job.”

“Yeah, sucks. I, um, tried calling you but you weren’t due back until tonight,” she admitted.

“I was surprised to hear that you were still in town,” he said, clearing his throat. “Did you know we had dinner with Trish and Jason the other night?”

Melanie nodded, then corrected. “Well sort of, I didn’t know about the girl. I found out about her last night when I went to the restaurant to see you and you were engaged in a picnic on the floor.” Melanie tried to soften her tone. “I don’t think Trish wanted to be the one to tell me.”

“Oh, I’m sorry you had to find out like that.”

They stood looking at each other, he was standing close, she leaned back on her heels.

Shifting her weight in the sand she wondered how she was going to remind him that … what? Her chest felt heavy just thinking of what she wanted to say.

“Well, she can’t play!” a stocky man shouted, treading heavily toward Adam. “Damn fool, her finger isn’t broken, that medic is a fucking kid with maybe a year training. Jesus, and now we’re going to have to forfeit because we have to have at least one woman on the team.” The man was a sweaty beet red, from the top of his balding head down beneath his blue jersey. “Who’s the chick?”

“Stan, this is my friend Melanie.”

Friend
.

“Does your ‘friend’ play volleyball? We need a woman.”

“I don’t know, do you, Mel?” Adam set his glasses on top of his head. “I get it if you’d rather not.”