Code Name: Nanny (SEAL and Code Name #5)(67)

As much as Summer ever allowed herself to trust anyone.

“Don’t talk much, do you?”

She shrugged. “Enough to get the job done.”

T.J. McCall angled his hat back on his head. “A part of me is mighty curious what that job is, but the police officer in me is damned sure it’s none of my business.” Without looking away from the road, he reached beneath his seat and pulled out a padded envelope. “This is for you. It came about twenty minutes before we left.”

He made a point of keeping his gaze steady on the road as Summer opened the envelope.

The forensic report inside was neatly typed and amazingly detailed. Cara O’Connor’s box had produced traces of a cheaper quality, mineral oil–based pigment, consistent with tabloid printing materials. The paper also contained evidence of hydrogenated soy and safflower oil, cellulose gel, monosodium glutamate, smoke flavoring . . .

The list of chemicals and additives went on for four lines, followed by the final terse analysis: “fast food hamburger, fast food fries with ketchup, mustard, and special sauce.” Summer frowned as the report continued.

Distinctive types of petrochemical distillate traces suggest the proximity to a major airport, while salt admixture indicates proximity to the ocean. Additional cross-tracking by menu selections narrowed the outlets, and when coupled with the air pollutant profile—

Summer stopped reading for a moment. In all her time at the agency, she had never come across such a detailed report. Clearly big strings had been pulled to accomplish this in such a short time. The senator’s involvement would certainly have been behind some of those strings.

She continued to scan the notes, mentally reviewing the data for flaws or omissions, but the work seemed bulletproof—right down to the secondary geographic analysis of superimposed probabilities, which yielded seven high-priority candidates: two in Oakland, and five near San Francisco International.

Impressed, Summer filed away the street addresses in case they triggered additional connections, then slid the report back into the envelope.

Surveillance teams were already in place. Patterns were being noted, especially for any suspects with clearance into the Justice Building where Cara worked.

“Everything okay?” the sheriff asked casually.

“Looking better every minute.” Cara studied the reddish landscape dotted by towering saguaro cactuses. “It’s beautiful here. Not in a typical green suburban way, but the colors are amazing.”

“The desert grows on you.” T.J. downshifted and bumped onto a dirt road. “People come to Almost bound for someplace else, and a lot of them end up staying.”

“Because of the beauty?”

“And the peace. And the way people stick together here. The world can be a low and unworthy place,” he said gravely. “But not Almost.”

There was pride in his voice as he turned at a stand of cottonwood trees, then slowed before a house that rose in sinuous walls of reddish-brown adobe. Lights gleamed through punched-tin lanterns outside a pair of massive wooden doors.

“Welcome to my house, Ms. Mulvaney.”

Summer could only stare at the magnificent structure on the hillside, its windows ablaze with the last colors of the sunset. She was still gawking as she followed the sheriff through the courtyard, past a fountain that spilled over weathered stones.

“You can relax in here,” the sheriff said, showing Summer to a lovely room with peach-colored walls and French doors that opened onto a private desert garden.

She sank down on the bed, trying to shake the travel from her mind. Where was Gabe? She needed to see the maps of the clinic and review their cover before . . .

Weariness struck her in a wave, but she forced it down with sheer willpower. The sheriff was right, she needed to clean up, and the idea of food sounded wonderful. She closed her eyes, rubbing the knot of tension at her neck, wondering yet again where Gabe was.

Something hit the bed beside her. Summer sat up sharply, staring at a pair of red boots and an ornate red belt with silver buckles. An exquisite lace blouse and long silk skirt flashed through the air and covered her lap.

Not exactly FBI-approved dress style.

She looked up, raising one eyebrow. “Am I missing something here?”

“New clothes.” Gabe filled the doorway, a long unbroken line of black. “Bathroom’s in there. Let’s see if I pegged you about right.”





[page]chapter 23

Gabe’s first thought was that she looked exhausted. His second thought was that she’d never admit it in a thousand years. Even if she did, the painful truth was that they didn’t have time to rest, because they had to be in Mexico that night.

“While you change, I’ll go over the schedule.”

Summer looked uncertainly at the expensive cowboy boots on the bed. “You didn’t tell me my cover included experience as a rodeo rider.”

“Very funny. We’ll pick up a few more things tomorrow in the hotel. Meanwhile, these will get you into character.” Gabe handed her the skirt and belt. “We’re Mr. and Mrs. Walker and we just got back to the States after four years in Asia, where I built heavy industrial sites for a Texas oil company and you—”

Summer stuck her head out of the bathroom “—danced in country and western bars?”

“Where you ran a small but highly profitable interior design company. Your work included corporate living quarters as well as private beach homes for the diplomatic community.”