Suzie’s House 113: Leaving on a Jet Plane

Seven pairs of panties, Six bras, one pair if jeans, a denim jacket, two broomstick skirts; was that all the last month of her life amounted to? Christina placed each item in her suitcase with a growing sense of loss.

She hadn’t captured either of the O’Connors. If anything, she’d proven she really wasn’t cut out for field work. But she’d also discovered an innate morality she hadn’t realized was important until her job called it into question.

Lying, cheating, hurting people, who knew they’d be so necessary?

Well no more. She’d go back to monitoring broadcasts and the internet with a clear conscience and only one regret. She wished she hadn’t fallen for Sean O’Connor.

She could have gone ahead and gone after Joseph O’Connor, but when she hit the deadline and still didn’t have enough proof to convince her superiors of anything, she decided against it. Let the FBI handle it. If they were really interested. She left a message with SAC Andrew Banks. So far, he hadn’t returned her call, which only made her feel all the more useless.

With a decisive zip, she closed the suitcase. Time to go.

The knock came on the door while she was looking around her hotel room for anything forgotten. Speak of the devil, it was Andrew and his friend, the one who had been shot by Joseph.

“I was just leaving,” she said as she hefted her suitcase off the bed.

“Moving to another hotel?” Andrew looked around the room with the sharp eyes of a cop.

“No. Going home. I’m off the clock now.”

He quirked an eyebrow in response, but didn’t ask the obvious questions, the questions that could force her to face her failures.

“You’re here about Joseph, right?” She waited for his nod, though she didn’t need it. “I can’t tell you much. Walk with me.” She set the suitcase on it’s wheels, adjusted the strap of her purse, then headed out the door with the two men flanking her. “I could usually find him in James Madison Park, or at any of the bars in town that serve Guinness, preferably on tap. The only friends I know about are the guys with the farm house I sent you to last time, and Mike and Carl from Four Star Video. Outside of that,” She paused to punch the elevator button, “I don’t know anything.”

“You know Joseph better than we do. Tell us what he’s likely to do? Will he go back to any of his old haunts, or strike out new? I’m not even sure he’s still in the States. He came from Ireland, didn’t he?”

“I don’t know. I don’t know.” Christina raked her fingers through her hair, pulling it back from her forehead.

“Yes. You do.” Andrew squeezed her shoulder in comradely support. “You worked this case for months. You got close to both Sean and Joseph. Did you know Sean never saw through your cover? I’ve questioned him extensively, got enough to lock him away for a long time. He still has no idea who you really are.”

“Hah.” The sound was harsh in her own ears, a spasm of pain more than a laugh. Christina covered her mouth and blinked hard, fighting off tears. “You don’t either. I’m not a real agent. I mean, I am, but not a field agent. This was never a serious assignment, and I did it so poorly.”

“No. No, that’s what Drew is trying to tell you. You did good.” The other guy, Vin, put his hand on her other shoulder. “You’re the one to tell us what we need to know.”

The elevator doors slid open. Christina shrugged off their support to board. They followed, so they formed a private circle in an otherwise empty elevator. Both men looked so earnest.

“Just give us what you really think. That’s all we’re asking,” Andrew said.

They meant it. They really did value her opinion. They trusted her. A part of Christina was pathetically grateful. And a part was proud.

“Go to Mike and Carl’s place.” She gave them the address, in case they forgot. “Joseph is running out of options. He likes to think he’s always running the show as Sean’s big brother, but Sean often came up with what they really needed and Mike and Carl are more his friend’s than Joseph. I know it probably doesn’t make sense, but that’s where I’d go if I were Joseph.”

The men nodded, soaking up every word as if she’d said something important.

“Right. Thanks. For everything.” Andrew reached out.

She held her hand out to be shaken. His manner made her fell like a professional. She felt like she should warn him about her, but what could she say?

“Good luck. By the way, my name isn’t really Christina.”

The men exchange questioning glances. She didn’t care.

“My real name is Renee.”

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