Vanishing Point (Circle of Spies Novella) (2 page)

Last night, after Stephen fell asleep, Marisa had spent a considerable amount of time in the attic dealing with dust and cobwebs—all for nothing! Not a single taped-up box held one clue about this man called Will and her family history he’d alluded to. Not even a secret note from her mother.
 

After hours of digging through boxes, she’d returned to bed, exhausted, dusty and frustrated. Once in bed, she spent a restless night, scouring her memories, before her mom died, but came up with nothing concrete.

She sighed and grabbed another chocolate chip cookie and nibbled. It was a terrible habit she’d picked up in her younger, leaner years. The light snores of her husband reverberated down through the ceiling, and Savvy was still sleeping too, safe in her bed.
 

Marisa crept upstairs. She stood poised at the door to her daughter’s bedroom and gazed lovingly at the lump of covers that was her teenage daughter. Savvy hadn’t mentioned anything about being held by gunpoint, and Marisa wondered if that part was a lie. If so, what else was a lie? She’d have to find out.

Today was for Savvy. It was to protect Savvy. And hopefully, once Marisa figured out what this was about, she’d keep Savvy and Stephen in the dark and protected. She shook it off. Time to primp and curl and try not to look like a washed-up, washed-out middle-aged mom. If that was even possible.

A couple hours later, Marisa strode across the McDonald’s parking lot second-guessing her outfit. The cool morning air nipped at her nose and cheeks, and rosy sunshine streaked through the golden arches. Her heels clicked against the cracked pavement and the fancy suit coat with ruffles pressed against her stomach and ribcage. She could barely breathe in the thing. She longed for her sweatpants and a T-shirt but she’d dressed to impress.
 

To intimidate.
 

She straightened the fake glasses on her nose. They made her look smart and sophisticated. Small wisps of hair fell delicately by the sides of her face.

An older couple held the door and Marisa walked inside with a nod of thanks. A wave of fast food smells washed over her and she longed for a sausage breakfast sandwich with hash browns. But her dreams were cut short when Will hooked her by the arm and led her outside again.

“Hey! What’s going on?” Marisa demanded. They were having breakfast, weren’t they?

“You didn’t think we were going to talk in public, did you?”

“Well, of course not, that would be totally breaking protocol. I mean, we’d have to sweep the place for bugs first and I left all my fancy equipment at home.”

He didn’t miss her sarcasm. But after a look that screamed
God help me
, he steered her toward his fancy Lincoln Continental. Instant panic rose in her chest and she spit out her concerns.

“What I meant by that is why the hell would I go anywhere with you? You’re a stranger. You probably carry a gun. I could scream any time now. And I have one hell of a scream.”

He stopped, his hand on the door.

Marisa tapped her foot, glad for the sharp heels. When he reached into his coat pocket, she whipped off her shoe and held the sharp end toward his face, aimed at his eyeballs, while balancing precariously on one foot.

“Whoa!” He laughed. “I’m leaving for a mission in England. You’re to come with me and put your spying talent to good use. Like your family’s ability to think quickly on their feet.” He winked, glancing at her high heel and hiding his smirk.
 

A shrill fake laugh escaped but soon died. Marisa felt the last of her confidence sap from her body. Her words came out shaky. “I will not go on any mission if you truly are what you say you are.”

He waved his hand. “Calm down. I’m not planning on assassinating anyone yet. You know this. I’m in the research stage.”

The paralyzing fear, made it difficult for Marisa to breathe. A mission? This was crazy. She was a wife and a mom. The most illegal thing she’d done was crossing a street not on the crosswalk. She didn’t want to count the fact she usually took more than one free cookie in the grocery store, but she highly doubted that counted as espionage.

She jabbed her heel toward him to show she meant her words. “How do I know you’re real and this isn’t some fancy trick to con me and then sell me into the slave market? I watch Dateline, you know.”

“You’ll have to trust me. This is about your family and their safety.” He opened the door and sat in one fluid, silky movement. “You can either come with me or maybe I’ll chat with your daughter instead.” The door shut and the engine started.

Marisa stood, frozen. He wasn’t really letting her choose. She placed her hand on the still-cold metal handle of the backdoor. What if he spoke the truth? Could Stephen and Savvy truly be in danger? If so, she didn’t have a choice. She might not ever win Mom-of-the-year award. She might burn dinner on occasion.
 

But this? This she could do.

Maybe.

Two

The apartment was small and dingy in the middle of nowhere, which didn’t come as a complete surprise to Marisa since almost every town in Pennsylvania was in the middle of nowhere. She’d hoped for a five star hotel or something. Pretty Woman style. The guy did drive a fancy car after all and that spoke volumes about a person’s financial status. He probably dined on caviar for breakfast, lobster for lunch, and swordfish for dinner.

They barely talked on the drive or walking up the sidewalk. Finally, Marisa cleared her throat after rehearsing several times in her head what she was going to say. “I’d like to know a little bit more about my role in all this.”

At first, she thought he wasn’t going to answer, but after pressing his lips together and seemingly shrugging off his annoyance, he answered. “I’m investigating an Edward Rottingham. Your job is to find this man and keep him entertained while I poke around.”

Marisa bristled. “For your information, I am not that kind of woman. I am happily married with no intentions of—”
 

“Keep your panties on.” He huffed. “All you have to do is engage him in conversation.”

Marisa let out the breath she didn’t realize she’d been holding. Talk? That’s it? She could do that. She tried to block out the suspicions that Will was lying. That he wasn’t going just to investigate. That his intentions were possibly of the assassination kind. She stifled a shudder at the thought.

The stairwell and hall smelled a bit like cat piss and mold, but she held her nose and bit her tongue from commenting. In the room, he hung up his coat and waved to an elegant woman on the couch. “Please, fix her up. I feel a massive migraine coming on.”
 

The woman on the couch was impeccably dressed in a pink ruffled top, and a gorgeous black skirt that fell in waves along her legs. Her black and silver hair was pulled into a twist with a few strands falling perfectly along her cheeks to complement her face. Marisa sucked in her stomach and tightened her butt cheeks. Every line and bit of loose skin on her neck and face felt very obvious…and flabby.
 

She laughed, a fake bubbly laugh that Savvy always called her on, then she fell silent.
 

Will poured a glass of water. “And please, burn whatever that is she’s wearing.” He strode into the back bedroom, his phone glued to his ear.

Her dress? “I’ll have you know,” she called, “this dress is worth a pretty penny.”
 

She’d worn it for her first job interview. So what if that had been quite a few years ago, almost too long to count, and so what if it was fraying a bit around the edges and a bit worn in spots.

The woman spoke softly. “I’m Janelle. Come with me.”
 

But Marisa stood with her feet firmly planted on the industrial carpet. “Not until I know more. Will?” She raised her voice. “I demand answers. You told me about this Rottingham fellow, but I need details. Where? When? How? What do I tell my family? I can’t just disappear from their lives.”

Will appeared at the doorway, rubbing his temples. “We’ve got a job to do. Easy. Let Janelle fix you up and we’re off to England for a couple of days. That’s all.”
 

“England?” What would she say to her family? She couldn’t just take off for two days with no explanation. She straightened her spine and folded her arms across her chest.
 

In four steps, Will stood right in front of her, his nose almost touching her. Any other situation but this, she’d be flattered to have a young, good-looking man stand this close.

He spoke softly, but his words had a hard edge to them. “You’re more than welcome to leave.” He gestured to the door, then turned and walked away as if she’d just crumble under his scrutiny and threatening tone.

“Well, fine then.” She thought about the carnival and the complete stranger bumping Stephen and the man who’d talked to Savvy. Will meant business. Of course, she’d protect her family. “Wait!” Marisa gasped. “I need my phone.”

Janelle narrowed her eyes. Will hesitated.

“Please!” Marisa hated that she had to beg. “I need to tell my family something so they don’t worry!”
 

Janelle glanced at Will’s back as he walked away. “Fine. You have three minutes.” Then she turned her back under the pretense of privacy.
 

Marisa dialed home and got the answering machine. “Um, hello dearest Savvy and Stephen.” She rushed, trying to get it all out before the machine cut her off. “Um, remember that old high school friend of mine. You know, Margaret. Well, she called out of the blue with a, with a death in the family and she needs me by her side. In fact, she refused to have anyone but me because I think she’s about to have a nervous breakdown so I couldn’t possibly say no. I’ll be gone for a couple days but know that I love you and would much rather be at home with you and I’d do anything for either of you.”
 

The machine beeped, cutting her off, and tears squeezed from the corner of her eyes. It was done. There was no going back. “I’m ready.”

She fell into a zombie-like state and let Janelle lead her to another back bedroom. England? The word repeated over and over in her head as Marisa took in the bed, covered with clothes, and a dresser scattered with vials and cases of make-up and oils. Janelle guided Marisa into the room and in about three seconds had her dress unzipped and thrown in the corner. Maybe not three seconds because there was several hills and mountains the dress suit had to squeeze past first.

Marisa closed her eyes, and the burn of embarrassment spread across her cheeks. How humiliating! Why couldn’t Will have brought in someone even older with a bit more chub around the waistline, someone more like herself? Janelle probably didn’t even eat anything but celery and Brussels sprouts.
 

Janelle worked fast and efficiently. Marisa didn’t dare open her eyes but pretended she was in the Bahamas on the beach, reading a book and sipping a drink, preferably, a fruity alcoholic one with a straw, and a man serving it with muscles and a tan and possibly even blond hair. When she finished her drink, they’d take a dip in the turquoise waters while she admired his well-kept body.
 

Each silky dress that was whipped on and off felt like a warm gentle ocean breeze. When Marisa felt the coarse material and tightening of what felt like a corset-like thing, she pretended it was the sand after building a sandcastle. And the umpteenth millionth dress that slipped on past it, the rush of ocean water.

Anything to get past this humiliating experience.

“Sit over here, please.” Janelle pointed to a stool in front of the dresser.

Marisa had to open her eyes because she didn’t want to stumble around the room like an idiot. As the woman plucked and tweezed, Marisa bit the side of the cheek so she didn’t cry out. So she hadn’t kept her brows nicely shaped like she did when she was younger. Big deal. There were more important things in life than perfect eyebrows.

When that excruciating part ended, Marisa relaxed. With brushes and pencils, Janelle applied make-up. The massaging motion and pampering almost made Marisa feel sleepy. In fact, she might’ve have snoozed a bit if it weren’t for the doubts plaguing her brain.
 

“You may open your eyes,” Janelle said from behind her.

Marisa cracked one eye and peeked in the mirror. A slight gasp escaped her lips. Holy moly! Who was that hot mama in the emerald green gown? The beautiful one in the mirror. It couldn’t possibly be her. The dress fell slightly off the shoulders and scooped down in the front. It fell around her body in soft waves, caressing her form and slenderizing. The corset thing helped too. From nowhere and with a rush of emotion, tears sprung into her eyes. Where were the crow’s feet? The lines? The sunspots?
 

The woman snatched a tissue from off the dresser and dabbed. “No, no, no. You will ruin your make-up and it must last until tomorrow night.”

“Thank you.” The words came out in a breathless rush. Tomorrow night? She would definitely need a touch up.

Will appeared in the doorway. “Are we ready to go?”

With a new confidence, Marisa pushed her shoulders back, her chin forward. “Ready.”

He waltzed toward her, a secretive smile forming, but his eyes weren’t laughing. They were as clear and cold as a stiff winter breeze. He casually flung his arm over her shoulders as if they were old drinking buddies. He whispered into her ear, sending goosebumps across the back of her neck.

“We’re heading off on an adventure, dear Marisa.” His voice dropped even lower. “Edward Rottingham isn’t the only one I’m investigating. If it were up to me, I’d just do away with you. But no, my family wants proof that you are aware of your family’s heritage. The only way to do that is to work together.”

Marisa shuddered.

***

The plane’s engines roared to life and with a lurch the giant bird rolled down the runway. The scenery outside Harrisburg became a blur and Marisa found herself plastered to the back of the seat as the plane took off. This wasn’t any ordinary plane or Marisa would’ve felt quite at home. No. This was some sort of private plane that felt like a rocket. Sleek and shiny. Plush leather captain armchairs. A couch. A mini-bar. She and Will were alone, other than two attendants who constantly hovered yet felt invisible at the same time.