Code Name: Nanny (SEAL and Code Name #5)(105)

Not that the pain wouldn’t heal, because it would.

Maybe in twenty or thirty years. Meanwhile, she had a wedding to attend.

A television echoed in the deserted airport coffee shop, blaring all-night news. Summer noticed that her current case was mentioned briefly, with the facts largely garbled. She shook her head as a weatherman in a string tie pointed to a colorful map, warning that bad weather was headed in over the Rockies.

Just her luck. First her bag bit the dust, now a major snowstorm was roaring straight toward her.



The man at the information desk was courteous and efficient when Summer gave him her name and hotel address. He seemed to study her for a moment, then handed her a receipt, explaining that her bag would be delivered directly to her hotel, assuming it was found before the storm hit.

“Gonna be a bad one,” he added gravely.

Not overly optimistic, Summer asked for directions to the nearest store. She couldn’t go to a wedding in blue jeans.



Summer was just picking up the rental car Senator Winslow had arranged for her when her cell phone rang. Izzy’s voice boomed out, energetic as always. “So how’s Wyoming?”

“Do you have a tracking device on me, Izzy?”

The woman at the rental desk looked up and shrugged. She’d probably seen and heard everything, Summer thought.

“Nah. I checked the national flight database, confirmed you were on board, and tracked your arrival time. Nothing major.”

Summer nodded at the rental agent, collected her papers, and headed toward the parking lot to find her SUV. “Glad you’re on our side, Mr. Teague.”

“That’s Izzy to you, ma’am.” Papers rustled. “I thought you might like an update on the Winslow case. I’ve got some interesting news about our not-so-friendly family chef.”

“You mean Patrick Flanagan?”

“Patrick Flanagan, aka Patrick Cash. When the police searched his apartment they found a key to a storage facility. Yesterday it was finally located and opened.”

“And?”

“And they found a shitload of files and photographs, begging your pardon.”

“No problem. What kind of files and photos?”

“Surveillance stuff, records of phone calls Cara O’Connor had made and received. Notes on the girls, on their school schedules, and details about Audra’s friends.”

“Including Tracey Van Doren?”

“One and all. Tracey told her mother that she had been involved with Patrick for about six months, sneaking out secretly at night. Apparently, he was using her to get inside information about the family. Her self-esteem was pretty shaky, so it wasn’t hard for him to use her.”

Summer stared at the darkening sky. “Bastard.”

“No doubt about it. We knew he was involved, but not how carefully he had planned every move. He toyed with Tracey’s head, but now she’s in therapy, and that’s helping to straighten her out.”

“Therapy has helped Cara and Audra quite a bit. Cara’s sister and her family have been involved, too. They’re all going to be at the wedding, I hear.”

“Nice people. I spoke to Cara’s sister several times about some media concerns.”

Summer heard something in his voice. “What is it, Izzy?”

“Nothing.”

“I still can’t believe how Patrick conned everyone. He seemed so helpful, so unthreatening.” Summer sighed. “I should have read him better. The man was too good to be true.”

“Forget feeling guilty. He was a master of manipulation, but his cooking skills were real. He was also involved in Costello’s protection rackets and smuggling down in Mexico. A real credit to his employer, you might say.”

He’d been there all along, right under their noses. Summer blew out a long breath. “How do you hear these things first?”

“Must be my charming smile.” Izzy laughed. “That and my superior surveillance skills.”

“What about Patrick’s involvement with Amanda Winslow? Won’t that all come out now?”

“Maybe not. With Patrick and Amanda dead, everything changes. Costello’s still trying to prove he’s a stand-up guy, completely reformed, and he won’t be anxious to have his connection with Patrick revealed, since it will harm his appeal. In fact, I doubt that Patrick planned the murder. My guess is, the assignment from Costello was to frighten Cara into helping with the case.”

“So the poison was Amanda’s idea?” Summer considered the pattern. “It makes sense. Costello wouldn’t want Cara dead until his appeal was granted.”

“That’s how I figure it,” Izzy said grimly. “But Cara and Tate will have to live with the possibility that someone else may surface who knew what Amanda had planned.”

Summer rubbed a knot at the back of her neck. After his mother’s funeral, Tate Winslow had postponed his presidential run indefinitely. The discovery of Amanda’s dementia had left him shaken, determined to spend time mending fences and taking a long, hard look at his future.

Whatever he decided, Cara would be at his side.

Izzy cleared his throat. “So how are you holding up?”

“Fine, except that my suitcase is lost.”

“Anything I can do to help?”