Code Name: Nanny (SEAL and Code Name #5)(15)

“But what, Tony?”

“The man’s got his eye on Pennsylvania Avenue. His press people can waffle all they want, but we both know he’s going to run. Then your life will be public, Cara. Every part of it, for you and the girls. You’ll be swallowed alive, badgered incessantly by press, campaign donors, media consultants, press, legal advisors, press. Oh, did I mention press?”

Cara laughed. “I get the picture, Tony. Don’t think I haven’t seen it myself. Every smile recorded, every word dissected. Every hour accounted for.” She closed her eyes, suddenly very tired.

And very afraid. For her daughters, more than for herself.

“Damned right. Every detail in your past will be exhumed, inspected through high-powered microscopes. You two will become the next best thing to reality TV. They’re going to want to know if Tate snores and what you wear to bed.”

“No and no comment.”

San Francisco’s youngest female assistant DA sat back sharply, knocking a clay pot with dried bougainvillaeas to the floor. As Cara stared at her daughter’s shattered gift, a first-grade Mother’s Day project, she felt a stab of sadness. She’d have to collect the pieces and glue them back together before Audra saw them. But not now, when she was already late for a meeting.

“Thanks for the warning, Tony. Tate and I are prepared for whatever gets thrown at us. And right now I’m late for a meeting with the M.E., so send over those papers. I’ll run through them tomorrow.”

“Will do. You’re a tough negotiator, Ms. O’Connor.” Once again he hesitated. “I never meant that it was a bad idea, Cara. Just that you should be prepared for what comes next. The political process can be vicious, especially with what you’ve got on your plate from the Costello appeal.”

“Costello won’t walk, no matter how many appeals he files. We had a clean conviction right down the line. As for the appeal, I don’t expect to be handed the easy assignments because I’m a woman.”

“Hell, Costello scared the shit out of me. Gender’s got nothing to do with it. Watch your step.” He blew out a breath. “And I’m hanging up now before I make an ass of myself.”

The line went dead, and Cara sat back slowly. Richard Costello, her last high-profile case, was a poster boy for equal-opportunity sadism. He’d trafficked in human cargo through four border states and Canada. An eternal pragmatist, Costello smuggled whatever commodity had the highest value at the moment. Cocaine in, luxury cars out, Toyota car parts out and people in. He had made millions off the vast blood trails that flowed between Mexico, Central America, and the United States, and he had bribed, intimidated, or murdered all who stood in his way. At his peak, dozens of DEA and INS agents filled his payroll.

According to rumor, a few of them still did.

A very bad man.

He had tried to bribe Cara half a dozen times during his trial. On the day of his sentencing, he had given her a new message: She would die and her skin would be hung up as a trophy in his house, payment for her involvement.

Cara was used to death threats, but lately the thought of what Costello might do to her children left her paralyzed with fear.

She tackled three more short calls, dictated a note to her assistant, and then sat back slowly. Sunlight glittered off the cars flooding Bryant Street. Even six floors up she could hear the angry scream of horns and braking tires.

And she was late for her meeting. Why did she feel as if she were always running, always one step behind?

Frowning, she knelt beside her desk and swept the broken pieces of clay into a padded envelope, determined to work a miracle repair before Audra realized her first-grade masterpiece was damaged. As Cara studied the mass of broken pieces, she considered canceling her evening plans so she could help smooth the transition when the new nanny arrived. Her presence would make things easier for everyone, since Audra and Sophy had been extremely upset when Cara had announced the sudden departure of their longtime nanny due to illness.

At least that was the story they’d come up with for the girls and anyone else who asked.

Her door opened. “The DA needs you right away.” Her assistant waved a folder. “Press leak on the Costello case. The details of his appeal have gone public, and we’re already fielding press calls about possible tainted forensic evidence.”

Cara checked her watch in disbelief. “Impossible. We only heard from his counsel ten minutes ago.”

“That means it was public knowledge about eight minutes ago.” Her gorgeous, rail-thin assistant smiled grimly. “Here’s the authority you requested in the employee workplace privacy issue. Also, Senator Winslow’s office has called twice to confirm your dinner tonight. Eight o’clock at the Fairmount. I told them it was firm, but they want to hear it directly from you. Pushy people, even though they try to be polite about it.”

“Thanks. I’ll call them back.” Cara slid the padded envelope into her already crowded briefcase.

It was only after the door closed that she saw the small box on the floor under her desk. About the size of a cell phone, it was wrapped with brown paper and plain white string. Her name was typed on a label with the return address of the bridal shop where she and the girls had gone to look at dresses.

Probably some additional samples of trim for her to consider.

But when Cara pulled off the wrapping, her face went white. Inside the box was a single fragment of paper, torn from what appeared to be an old piece of stationery. There was one line of text on the sheet.