The Fidelity Files (Jennifer Hunter #1)(114)

To my great relief, and now my mom's as well, I was finally starting to let go.

I went into this thinking I could help people. And I know I did. Lots of people. Even if I never got the satisfaction of knowing for sure they ended up better off, I believed in my heart that they were. Because I had seen what happens when you don't know. I had experienced firsthand what happens to a family that lives in denial.

And yes, I had fully contemplated the consequences of quitting. It would mean that more women would have to go through what my mom had gone through. And apparently Julia's mom, as well. But there comes a point, when the bad guy is after you, when the good guy can't break through to you, when a world of cover-ups and lies feels like it's going to come crashing down on top of you, when you realize: Sometimes you have to stop, take a step back, relieve your tired shoulders of the rest of the world's burdens, and take the time to help yourself.

Because truth be told, I wasn't a superhero. I couldn't fly. I couldn't spin intricate webs and cling to the sides of walls. I couldn't leap tall buildings in a single bound. I was just an ordinary girl trying to make a difference.

And I believed I had.

Now it was time to make me different. And that's exactly what I would do.

After this one, last, final, closing assignment.

I was about to step out of the car and walk to the front door when my personal cell phone rang. I fished it from my bag, and upon seeing Jamie's now stored name and number on the caller ID, I flipped it open with excitement.

Speak of the angel.

"Hey, you," I said.

He cleared his throat and spoke in a deep, self-important voice. "Yes, um...Mr. Jamie Richards for a Ms. Jennifer H., please."

I played along, lowering my voice to a sultry but professional tone. "I'm sorry. Ms. Jennifer H. doesn't know any Mr. Jamie Richards."

"Hmm... There must be an error here on my paperwork. I was calling to confirm a plane ticket to Paris and, well, I guess I dialed the wrong number. I'm sorry about the confusion, miss. Have a good—"

"No, wait!" I stopped him.

He laughed at my franticness, and then in his normal voice asked, "So have you started packing yet?"

"We're not leaving until next Saturday!"

"But you've thought about it."

"Maybe a little," I admitted nonchalantly, not wanting to confess that I had pretty much the entire contents of my suitcase planned out in my head. Not to mention the fact that every minute I was in my house I had to hold myself back from pulling out my large, non-carry-on, non-assignment suitcase from my hall closet and filling it to the brim with cute, non-assignment outfits. It was hidden behind all of Marta's brooms and mops and things. I imagined I would have to start using them myself soon. There was no way I would be able to afford her on my unemployed, still salary.

"Are you home?" he asked.

I looked through the windshield at Karen Howard's large, two-story house looming in front of me. "Actually, I'm working right now."

I was dying to tell Jamie about the conclusive nature of my so-called work tonight. To allow my elatedness to spill forth through the phone and give him all the credit he deserved. "You made me believe again. You gave me faith, something I haven't known since I was twelve years old!" But I knew that (1) It was pretty heavy stuff for a relationship that hadn't even passed the four-date mark, and (2) It would require a lot more explanation. And given the fact that I was now running ten minutes late to my meeting, it would have to wait. And so I bit my tongue and said nothing.

"Ooh, working hard, huh? Burning the midnight oil on a Friday night, are we? Miss Important?"

I looked up at the beautiful home in front of me. Burning the midnight oil?

Not exactly.

Possibly burning a dishonest man's metaphoric castle of deception to the ground?

More like it.

"That's right," I replied. "And what are you doing?"

He sighed loudly. "I'm afraid I'm burning the oil as well. Gonna be here for at least another couple of hours. We're getting ready for the Paris trip."

My stomach did a small flip and I smiled into the phone. "Oh, yeah?"

"Yeah. But I just wanted to check in and say hi."

My stomach flipped again, and my body seemed to melt right into the car seat. "That's so sweet." I checked my watch. It was already 8:12 P.M. "Well, I should probably get back to work," I added.

"Me, too. Talk to you tomorrow?"

"Definitely."

I ended the call and rested the phone against my lips as if trying to suck the conversation right out of the pink metal and into a safe, photographic memory bank in the back of my mind.

I put the phone back in my bag, opened the car door, and stepped out into the crisp October evening air. I took a ceremonial walk up the front steps, pausing frequently so I'd remember the feeling I had with each step, as they were about to become my last.

Karen Howard's house was almost as beautiful as she was. Both well groomed, well polished, and furnished with expensive accessories.

She welcomed me nervously into the living room, and I tried to focus on the task at hand. I just had to get through this meeting, the assignment, and then I was home free.

Off to Paris.

I quickly stopped myself before slipping into another daydream.