Carla Cassidy - Strangers When We Married

It was going to be a beautiful, clear day. It was unusual for D.C. not to have snow by this time of the year. He was grateful there wasn’t any. Snow always reminded him of the months he’d spent married to Meghan.

Several weeks of his marriage to Meghan had encompassed the worst winter in D.C. on record, involving blizzard conditions and widespread power outages.

He and Meghan had spent several nights wrapped together in blankets in front of the fireplace, providing warmth for each other. They’d eaten canned pâté and crackers and read to one another by candlelight.

It had been a singular moment, a magical halt of reality when time had seemed to stop and the world outside their home had disappeared.

He turned away from the window in irritation. Damn the memories. They were the one thing he hadn’t considered when he’d made the decision to come here. And why such selective memory?

What he had to focus on was the fact that marriage to Meghan had required too high a price…the relinquishing of his very soul.

He turned as she reentered the kitchen, this time dressed for the day and with Kirk in her arms. With her hair neatly tied back at the nape of her neck and the wire-rimmed glasses firmly in place, she looked nothing like the sleepy-eyed seductress she had earlier.

“We’re off,” she said.

“But what about breakfast?” he asked, his gaze going from her to Kirk, who was clad in a turtleneck and a pair of corduroy overalls. “Even if you don’t eat, doesn’t he need something?”

“Grandma Harry will give him breakfast,” Meghan replied.

Kirk grinned. “Mama Harry,” he said.

“Harriet Winslowe at the Happy Time Day Care Center,” Meghan explained.

He trailed her from the kitchen to the living room, where she stopped at the hall closet and withdrew her coat and Kirk’s.

Seth leaned against the wall and watched as she placed Kirk on the floor and wrestled him into his coat and hat. Kirk laughed, as if it were a game to him, and Seth found a ridiculous grin decorating his own face at the sound of the childish giggles.

“Meghan,” he said as she put on her coat and picked Kirk up from the floor. “I know this whole situation is uncomfortable for you, but I do want you to know I appreciate it.”

She nodded and ducked her head, as if not wanting him to see whatever expression lit her eyes. “I’m usually home between five and six,” she said, then she opened the door and was gone, leaving Seth alone in the cold, empty house.

Uncomfortable. He’d said he knew the situation was uncomfortable for her. Meghan looked at her wristwatch and stifled a yawn. It was just a few minutes past seven in the morning and already she was exhausted.

She pulled her glasses off and rubbed her eyes. Uncomfortable, that didn’t even begin to describe what she felt about Seth hiding out at her place.

He filled the entire house with his presence, invading her personal space with his scent, his very essence. He’d always seemed larger than life to her, more colorful, bolder, stronger than any other man she’d ever known.

Even sleeping, he’d bothered her, making her own sleep elusive. She’d tossed and turned, remembering the look on his face as he’d gazed at Kirk. She’d seen that same troubling expression on his face this morning when she’d walked into Kirk’s room and found him standing there.

Shoving the disturbing image aside, she put her glasses back on and eyed her computer screen thoughtfully. If she had a criminal mind and was in possession of seven hundred pounds of uncut heroin, if she wanted to undermine the standing of a secret government agency, where would she go to orchestrate her attack?

The possibilities were endless, the countries who would welcome a traitor and dissident vast. She wasn’t sure where to begin a search for the elusive Simon.

As part of her job, Meghan maintained identities in dozens of chat rooms. Rooms with white supremists, tax evaders, bomb builders and weird splinter religious groups. Meghan knew which groups were truly dangerous and which were merely a bunch of nuts with shared delusions.

But Simon wouldn’t show up in a chat room and announce his presence or hold a sale for the drug product. And, of course, it was also possible he’d never left the States and instead was someplace near.

The problem was, Meghan couldn’t hunt Simon. She didn’t have enough information to track him. She had to hunt down the drugs. It was the only way to get to the man.

For the next hour, Meghan pulled up newspapers from around the country, studying front page stories and crime beat columns to see if any one city was suffering a rise in crimes or deaths affiliated with heroin in the past three days.

The man the SPEAR agents were after had already proved himself more than dangerous. The agency had managed once before the L.A. debacle to intercede a large shipment of weapons intended for Simon. That time Simon had escaped empty-handed. But this time Simon had the means to buy more weapons, and Meghan knew the desire for the weapons and drugs he now possessed were the keys to finding his whereabouts.

There was also one other way to find out what was going on where Simon was concerned, but she didn’t want to use that access unless absolutely necessary. She could hack into the most sensitive, secured files in the SPEAR computer, but that avenue was highly risky and she’d only do it as a desperate last resort.

At quarter to eight, Mark breezed into the office, startled to find her already at her desk. “Ah, the early bird gets the worm,” he said. “Only in this case it should be the early bird gets the best doughnuts.” He placed a box of pastries on her desk as she clicked out of the Montana newspaper she’d been perusing.

“What are you doing here so early?” Mark asked as he took off his coat and hung it on the coat tree just inside the front door.

“I just got around earlier than usual this morning,” she said as she scooted her chair to his desk and opened the box of doughnuts. “Hmm, these look wonderful.” She grabbed a glazed one as the heavenly scent filled the office.

“It’s going to be a slow day,” Mark said as he went to the coffeemaker and poured himself a cup of the brew. He then perched on the edge of his desk and grabbed one of the doughnuts from the box. “In fact, it’s going to be a slow week with the holidays coming up so fast.”

The holidays. Christmas.

Meghan had always hated the holidays…first as a child, then as an adult. And Christmas was the worst holiday of them all.

“I think I’ll spend the day putting up decorations outside,” Mark said thoughtfully. “I should have done it before now, but I just haven’t taken the time. Did you see the display in the window next door?”

Meghan nodded. The dry cleaners who shared the building with them had gone all out. A huge evergreen tree stood in their window, complete with sparkling lights and ornaments consisting of little doll clothes all glittered and sequined in traditional Christmas colors.

“Why bother putting stuff up?” Meghan said between bites. “You’ll just have to take it all down again.”

“Oh, do I sense a touch of Scrooge in my lovely colleague?” Mark raised a sandy eyebrow teasingly.

Meghan blushed and shrugged. “I just think there’s too much holiday hype.”

“I adore holiday hype. Have you taken Kirk to see Santa yet?”

“No way. He’s too young to be traumatized by a fat guy in a red suit.” Meghan popped the last of the doughnut into her mouth and daintily licked sugar from her fingers.

“Definitely a Scrooge,” Mark said with a grin.

She laughed and wheeled her chair back in front of her desk and clicked on her in-box, not surprised to find a dozen files waiting for her attention.

As a communications expert, her job entailed analyzing diplomatic communiqués, studying the language used in official speeches and various other materials, then writing detailed reports on what was said and what she believed was meant. Often the two were very different.

Mark finished his doughnut, then disappeared into the large storage closet. He returned carrying a large box filled with glittering garland, plastic evergreen boughs and giant candy canes. “I’ll be outside playing one of Santa’s elves if you need me,” he said.

A moment later Meghan once again found herself alone in the office. As much as she wanted to find the information Seth sought and get him out of her house, she knew she didn’t dare spend any more time on his problem right now. She needed to get to her own work so as not to rouse suspicion.

She worked for the next four hours, breaking only to refill her coffee mug and occasionally stand to stretch her muscles. Mark spent the time outside, wrestling with a ladder as he hung lights, garland and giant candy canes from the top of the building.

The door flew open just before noon and a delivery man walked in. He wore an apron that advertised Ling Choo Chinese Cuisine and carried a bag containing a half-dozen take-out cartons.

Mark must have ordered in, Meghan thought in delight. She pulled out her wallet, but the man waved it away, declaring it had already been taken care of.

When the delivery man left, she opened the cartons to find all her favorites…sweet and sour chicken, won ton soup and crab rangoon. There was also chicken chow mein, which she knew was Mark’s favorite.

“Hey, Chinese…great idea,” Mark said as he came in, his cheeks ruddy from the cold.

“What do you mean? I thought you ordered it,” she replied.

“Not me…you didn’t?” Mark took off his coat and pulled his chair over next to hers.

She shook her head and frowned. “It must be a mistake. The delivery man must have gone to the wrong office or something. We’d better call them.”

“Let’s not be hasty,” Mark said as he peered at the contents of the cartons. “Odd, isn’t it? Everything you like is here and everything I like is here. Was there anything else in the bag?”

“Just a couple of loose fortune cookies.” Meghan retrieved the plastic bag the food had arrived in. “Surely you don’t think…” She pulled out the two fortune cookies and looked at Mark expectantly.

Mark grinned and shook his head ruefully. “He’s been wily before. It wouldn’t be the first time he’s contacted us through take-out food.”

Meghan knew exactly who Mark was talking about. Jonah. Their elusive boss who seemed to be everywhere and nowhere. Mark grabbed one of the fortune cookies, cracked it open and withdrew the fortune.

“Good fortune will smile on you. Lucky numbers are three, five and seven.” He looked up and smiled at Meghan. “Maybe I should buy a lottery ticket on the way home tonight.”

Meghan broke her cookie apart and pulled out the fortune. “A package has gone missing from the eagle’s nest. If contact is made, notify me.” It was signed with a familiar J. Meghan’s heart quickened.

Mark frowned. “What does that mean?”

“Seth.” She wondered if Mark could hear her heart thundering in her chest. It pounded so hard he must hear it. “He’s talking about Seth, who disappeared from the Condor two nights ago.”

Mark’s brows rose. “He did? How do you know about that?”

Meghan forced a dry smile. “I’m a communications expert, Mark. I know lots of things.”

To her relief, he seemed to accept her explanation at its face value. He picked up a set of chopsticks and grabbed the carton of chow mein. “I don’t think anyone has to worry about Seth contacting you. Not only do I remember the crime of the century, but I also remember your and Seth’s parting as the divorce of the century.”