Mistress

I walk along the brick wall on the side of her building. Anne has a window in her bedroom. The shade is drawn, but there’s no light behind it. That room is dark.

I silently creep forward. There is light coming from the front of the house. The shade on the window isn’t drawn. If I stand on the balls of my feet, I might be able to see in. But will they see me?

Only one way to find out. I slowly rise from my crouch.

“So that sounds more like she’s waiting to hear from someone.”

I jump at Sean’s voice in my ear. I’m not used to this spy stuff.

“You almost gave me a heart attack!” I whisper.

“I’m saying, it sounds like she’s waiting for someone, either for a call-”

“Or for someone to drop by in person. Good point. Watch for cars, okay? Any car would have to travel north up Fifteenth, past you. Got your camera ready?”

“Oh, yeah.”

I take another breath. I stand up slowly, raise up on my tiptoes-

“She’s by the window.”

I jump back down. “Jesus, Sean. What?”

“She’s by the front window, looking out over Fifteenth. I’m out of my car and I got an angle with my zoom lens. The lady’s looking out the window. She’s waiting for someone, Ben. Believe me. She’s looking down the street. She’s waiting for a car.”

Then so will I. But not here in the alley. Too conspicuous.

I do a crab walk forward a few steps toward 15th Street, so I can see the front yard of the building next door to Anne’s without revealing myself to Anne. As I remembered, there’s shrubbery bordering the small parcel of grass in front of that apartment building. Most of the buildings around here have some kind of small grassy lawn, and most of them put up some shrubbery or garden on it. There isn’t a whole lot of cascading acreage here in the U Street Corridor, so any plot of grass, no matter how tiny, usually gets dolled up.

That shrubbery isn’t much, but it’s about three feet high, which should be enough. If someone’s really looking for me, they might spot me. It’s a risk. But hey, I left risky back in the dust long ago. I’ve been walking a tightrope for days.

“Tell me when she’s not standing by the front window,” I say. “I’m going to stake out a spot, but she’ll see me from the front window.”

A pause, but not a very long one.

“Go. Go fast. She’s pacing around, and she’ll be back at the window soon.”

I dart from my position and almost dive behind the shrubbery next door. I must have looked ridiculous doing so. And I probably look ridiculous now.

“Nice swan dive,” says Sean.

But I made it.

Now let’s see who comes a-callin’ on Anne Brennan.

Chapter 97

Several cars pass by on 15th. Each time, Sean signals me. Each time, my pulse ratchets up. Each time, the car keeps going-false alarm.

The winner of the surprisingly-good-at-slutty thing is Glenn Close-not on anyone’s list of supermodels, but Dangerous Liaisons

and Fatal Attraction? Seriously. I think it’s her cheekbones.

“Maybe she’s just waiting for friends to hit the clubs,” says Sean in my earbud.

“No, this is no social call. She was too nervous,” I say into the grass. I’m still facedown, afraid to move lest I attract Anne’s attention. But I’m obscured behind the shrubbery, I think, and, more important, I’m north of her and she’s looking south, waiting for some car to arrive from the only direction it could travel on this one-way street.

Anne Hathaway should try slutty. She’s done sexy but not slut-

“Coming your way, coming your way. A black sedan. It’s moving slowly.”

Okay, focus, Ben. A black sedan. Maybe a government vehicle.

Maybe a billionaire’s vehicle.

“She sees it, too. She’s grabbing her purse. Now she’s heading for the door.”

I rise slowly, sitting on my knees, using my hands to part the shrubs and get a look at the street. “Tell me if I’m sticking up over the hedge,” I say.

“You’re good, you’re still hidden.”

“Use that camera, Sean. Snap everything you can. I’m not sure I’ll have a view.”

“Will do.”

The good news for me is that this parcel of grass where I’m hiding is elevated, raised off the sidewalk, so I can see over the car parked outside Anne’s building.

I see the black sedan pull up by Anne’s building. I listen to the hum of an engine idling. There’s absolutely no reason why anyone in that sedan would be looking in my direction, and according to Sean they wouldn’t be able to see me anyway, but none of that stops my heartbeat from kicking into full throttle.

I hear Anne’s front door open, then the clack of her shoes bounding down the small set of stairs.

The sedan’s rear passenger door opens and, as I’d hoped, the overhead dome light comes on, bathing the interior of the vehicle in light. A man in a dark suit gets out and frisks Anne before she gets in the car. Then she almost dives into the backseat, greeting the person sitting back there with a full-on, passionate kiss.

Anne Brennan is kissing someone, and it’s not me.

“Jesus Christ, is that who I think it is?” Sean cries.