Code Name: Nanny (SEAL and Code Name #5)(2)

But he hadn’t come back, and they hadn’t seen his body even at the funeral. Jess had cried for three straight days, but Summer couldn’t seem to shed a tear.

No more laughter.

No more Nat King Cole.

No more touch football by the river.

One week ago their mother had stopped her constant coughing and slipped away. The doctors had called it pneumonia and complications, but Summer thought it was too many memories and a heart that just stopped trying.

Summer wished she could cry, but she couldn’t. Maybe her heart was frozen, and it had just stopped trying, too. If so, she was glad. That would make her strong, and she didn’t want to feel things.

Her sister shifted impatiently from foot to foot. “It’s too quiet here. It’s creepy, Sum. Let’s just go.”

“I’m ready.” Summer tried to smile, holding out the struggling cat. “You take Zza-Zza while I get our suitcases.”

Jess stuck out her lower lip. “No way. I’m going to carry my own stuff. You don’t have to help me all the time.”

“I’ll do it, Jess. I’m stronger. Besides, you’re better with Zza-Zza.” Jess had always been the soft one, the easy communicator. Summer was all spunk and grit, the one who held off the bullies after school and fought the monsters hiding under their bed at night.

Since their father died, there had been too many monsters to count, and their mother hadn’t seemed to notice.

Summer glanced at the window seat where she and Jess had dreamed about pirate ships and desert islands. Now the window looked small, and there were no dreams left.

Down below the house the river raced on, carrying leaves and small branches that bobbed and twisted in the fast currents. Her mother had always warned them not to get too close or they’d get carried away.

Instead she’d been the one carried off.

Summer shoved away the memories. She wasn’t going to get all stupid and blubbery. Things changed, and you had to change with them. Besides, Jess needed her.

“You’re right,” she said ruthlessly. “Let’s go. There’s nothing here, anyway. This room is dumb. So is this house.”

A bird sailed low over the cold river where December trees guarded a slate-gray sky. More leaves floated past, brown and twisted, long since dead.

Summer grabbed both suitcases. When she walked outside, she didn’t look back.





[page]chapter 1

Carmel, California

Summer wasn’t frightened. Not exactly.

Anxious, maybe. Determined.

Okay, just a little frightened. Being around rich people always left her on edge, and these people were very rich.

She saw the house first, huge with gray stone walls and a broad wooden porch. An immaculate swath of grass sloped down to rugged boulders above a restless sea. As the taxi rounded the drive, Summer sat up straighter, feeling light-years away from the cement and sprawl of Philadelphia. She’d spent most of the last five years within fifteen miles of the Liberty Bell, but it was clear that Carmel was going to be a whole new planet.

The driver eyed her in the mirror. “Haven’t seen you before.”

Summer made a noncommittal sound, rolling down her window and nudging off one black high heel, which was pinching her toes badly.

“Got a nice family up there.” The driver nodded up the cobblestone drive toward the big house. “Lookers, all of ’em. Even the little one, odd as she is.”

Summer frowned at him. “‘Odd’ how?”

“Guess you’ll find out soon enough.” His head swung around. “What are you, family, friend, or CNN bureau chief?”

“So you get a lot of reporters down here?”

“Buckets full all summer. Had that woman, Diane Sawyer, a few days back. Skinnier than she is on TV. Guess they all are.” The driver’s eyes narrowed. “Notice you didn’t answer my question.”

“That’s right, I didn’t.” Summer looked away, mindful of the assignment that brought her here. Her carefully constructed story seemed almost real to her after the month of preparation she’d endured back in Philadelphia. The fact was, this was no vacation, and Summer was neither family nor friend. This was work with a capital W—FBI fieldwork.

She’d had tough assignments before, but never so close to big money and Washington power politics, and the situation left her edgy.

Do the job, she told herself sternly. Forget about the nerves.

The driver pulled to a halt near a wall of bougainvillaea flaming crimson against fieldstone walls. “Lotta people sniffing around lately. Brought up a bunch of Hol-ly-wood types last week.” The man sniffed with disgust. “All Bel Air this and Ro-de-o Drive that.” He stopped the taxi and twisted around to face Summer. “Outsiders. You can spot them a mile away.”

Summer glanced at the meter and counted out the hefty fare, then added a fair tip. “Movie stars, you mean?”

“Those, too. Senator Winslow was here to meet them once or twice. Him, I’d recognize anywhere. A popular man with the ladies, and easy to see why, with that calm grin and the way he looks at you like he’s really listening. Probably all a big act. The way I see it, most politicians are rats looking for a hole.” He took the money Summer held out. “You don’t look like you’re from Hol-ly-wood, though.” As before, he tore the word into three disparaging syllables. “Don’t sound much like one of those airheads from Washington, D.C., either. Too normal for a damned reporter.” He studied her some more, putting some thought into it. “Odd thing is, I can’t say what you look like.”