The Fidelity Files (Jennifer Hunter #1)(88)

I was starting to wonder if this so-called job of his that I wasn't supposed to mention happened to involve taking off articles of clothing or smuggling illegal immigrants into the country.

As I held the money in my hand, something about it felt almost dirty and immoral. Like I had just been paid off for knowing and keeping a very destructive secret. And I didn't like it.

I tried to shake the feeling, convincing myself that Sarah Miller, given her obvious peculiarity, simply felt more comfortable paying me in cash, and I had to respect that.

But as I gathered my things a few minutes later, I felt extremely relieved to finally be leaving the twisted Stepfordville/Twilight Zone home of Sarah and Daniel Miller. I got into my car and leaned my head back against the headrest. I was grateful that my long day was officially over. But as I drove down the winding canyon road, back toward the familiar, straight-lined streets of Westside Los Angeles, I knew that my day might have been over but my problems were far from resolved.

I didn't drive home. I couldn't stand the thought of entering that empty house all alone and coming face-to-face with the judgmental silence. There was only one person I wanted to see right now.



SOPHIE ANSWERED the door wearing her lounging jeans and a T-shirt. "Hey, honey. What a nice surprise." And then after seeing the distressed look on my face, she asked me what was wrong.

"How long have you got?" I asked, suddenly very thankful that my best friend was now in the know. Because for the first time in my life, I could actually talk about everything I'd never been able to talk about before.

She shrugged and looked at the clock. "However long you want."

I stepped inside, dropped my stuff on the coffee table, and fell onto the couch with an exasperated sigh. "Good. 'Cause it's finally my turn for a session. And I don't think you're going to find this problem in any textbook."





20

Leaving . . . and a Few

Jet Planes


"OH MY God!" Sophie sat motionless on the couch after I had relayed to her the horrid details of my visit to Raymond Jacobs's office today.

"Well, what did you say?" she asked, her eyes wide, as if she were watching the season finale of 24. Although given the recent drama in my life, I didn't feel far from it.

I looked down at the floor where Sophie's cat, Pollo, was playing with a string attached to a stick. "I didn't know what to say. I was speechless. Sophie, he knows who my mother is, he knows where she lives, what she does. If I don't do what he asks, he'll make sure she finds out about..." I paused and gulped, barely able to stand the thought of it. "All of it," I finished softly.

"So, you didn't do it," she confirmed apprehensively.

"No! Of course not." I took a deep breath. "At least not yet."

"Jen!"

"What? What else am I supposed to do?"

"And he gave you a deadline or something?"

I stared straight ahead of me, a defeated look on my face. "Sort of. He told me to take some time to think about it." I shivered. "The whole thing is just so creepy."

"Is he going to take down the Web site while you're 'thinking about it'?"

I shook my head. "I don't think so."

"Well, when do you have to decide by?"

"Two weeks." I closed my eyes.

"And then what? You self-destruct?" Sophie attempted a joke.

"Then I guess I need a bigger boat," I said, referring to Richard Dreyfus's line when he first saw the shark in Jaws.

Sophie nodded her agreement.

"But I have to resolve this sooner than that or someone is going to see it. Someone is going to find out. And I'm afraid it might be Jamie. Or worse...my mother! If he knows where she lives, I'm sure he'll have no trouble getting his little minions to track down her e-mail address."

"Your mom has e-mail?"

"She's learning," I explained. "Ever since the divorce she's been on some kind of mission to become more techno-savvy."

"Wow, my mom can barely turn on the DVD player."

I sighed and dropped my head in my hands. "This is hopeless!"

"Shhh," Sophie cooed as she rubbed my back. "It'll be fine. We'll figure something out."

Despite the grim outlook of my current situation, I quietly remarked to myself how nice it was to have Sophie in the loop about everything. I had missed her natural ability to comfort me.

"What if," Sophie began thoughtfully, "you just told your mother?"

I picked my head up and looked at her as if she were crazy.

"That way," she continued, ignoring my skepticism, "it wouldn't matter what e-mail she got, or who managed to sneak notes into her mailbox. She'd already know."

"I don't think so." I shook my head.

"Just think about it," Sophie went on. "You didn't want me to find out, right? You probably would have gone through just as much agony figuring out a way to keep me in the dark. And now that I know, it's totally fine. And aren't you relieved?"

I considered. "Yeah, but..."

"Maybe it'll work the same way with your mom. Maybe if you just—"

"No," I interrupted, attempting to chase the disturbing thought from my mind and Sophie's lips. "She's finally started to get over the divorce and get back to normal... after three years. And then to find out that her daughter is breaking up marriages all over the country? She'll never see it clearly. She can't see anything clearly right now."