Fear Familiar Bundle (128 page)

I
COULD ASK
the very same question of you, Dolly. I've been hanging around this alley freezing my elegant black tail off, and finally you come home, with an escort in tow. A federal agent, no less. Well, it could be worse. It could have been that creep in the dark blue car who's been sitting out in front of the beauty shop on and off for the past three days. I can only hope this fellow is at least of average human intelligence. The longer I live, the more I wonder how humans became the dominant species.

Take for instance that old harridan who runs the beauty shop. She threw a glass of cold water at me. She has no inkling that I'm in the service of the First Cat! It takes a mighty mean person to try to douse a cat with cold water simply because he's walking down the street.

I'd better get my quota of pets and cuddles. I detect a certain light in this gentleman's eyes that tells me he has some hopes pinned on future strokes and kisses himself. Ah, the budding of a new love, perhaps. All well and good— if he meets Socks' and my approval!

"I
DIDN'T KNOW
you had a cat." Daniel eyed the black feline with some doubt. He'd always had dogs as a boy. Dogs and bicycles were a natural duo, in his opinion. Cats were an unknown— with sharp teeth, sharp claws and an arrogant attitude.

"I don't, really." Sarah bundled the cat to her chest. "He's freezing, though. I found him the other night, lying outside my door. I thought maybe he'd been hit by a car. But he seemed to be okay, and then he disappeared." She stroked his head. "I thought he'd gone back to his home."

"He looks fine to me." There was something about the cat that made the agent wonder. Daniel could have sworn the big black rascal winked at him.

The three of them entered the shop, and Familiar hopped lightly to the floor. He paused, as if sniffing the place, and then trotted to the kitchen, pushing open the swinging door.

"He's made himself at home," Daniel remarked.

"I think he might be extremely intelligent," Sarah said. "He gives me that impression." Sarah looked longingly up the stairs. "Would you care for anything to eat?"

"Just a blanket, a pillow and that sofa you offered," Daniel said.

Sarah nodded. She went to the kitchen door and called Familiar, but the black cat ignored her. Working with quick efficiency, she put out a saucer of milk and a small serving of poached salmon, then headed upstairs with Daniel right behind her.

When she was certain that the agent was comfortable on the sofa, Sarah crawled into her own bed. Daniel was not ten feet away, a fact that made sleep difficult to find even though she was exhausted. Every time she closed her eyes, she was tormented by thoughts of him, close enough to touch. And so forbidden. It was a strange mixture of emotions that made her toss from side to side. In spite of her attraction to him, Daniel's presence outside her door gave a sense of security she hadn't known since she was a child.

She remembered how safe she'd felt with her daddy, a sheriff, in the house. He was a lawman, like Matt Dillon on "Gunsmoke." And no harm was ever supposed to come to those he loved.

Sleep finally claimed her, and she dreamed that she awoke to the smell of coffee. Yawning, she kept her eyes closed and burrowed deeper into the pillow. It was a nice fantasy, a cup of hot coffee waiting on her bedside table.

"Sarah?"

"Yes," she answered the sexy male voice in her dream.

"I brought you some coffee."

"Wonderful." She relished the dream.

"Sarah?"

The note of worry in the voice struck her as wrong, and she opened her eyes. Daniel Dubonet, face darkened by a growth of stubble, was staring at her with very worried eyes.

"What are you doing here?" She clutched at the sheet and pulled it to her neck. A long black paw shot out of the blanket and grabbed her wrist. Familiar didn't want to be disturbed.

"I made some coffee and realized you weren't going to get up unless I forced the issue. Sorry, but I didn't want to leave without saying something."

"Well, I can drive you…" She looked around. What time was it? Morning still, the sun was slanting into the room from the east.

"I've called a cab. I'm going over to Cody's to clean up. He'll take me to my apartment. They're certainly through with the investigation, and I can get my clothes and things. If anything is left."

Sarah reached for the mug of hot coffee that enticed her on the bedside table. She felt completely disoriented, and Daniel wasn't exactly at ease. He kept sneaking peeks at her with sideways glances.

She sipped the coffee and tried to get her thoughts in order. "Why don't you let me run you over there? It won't take but a minute for me to get ready."

Daniel couldn't take his eyes off her. Her blond hair was tousled from sleep, and she was completely unaware of how appealing she looked. "I've already called a cab. Thanks for letting me stay here."

"Thanks for staying. And for checking the pepper. It makes me feel like I'm not a complete fool."

That was the thing that had been troubling him. "Sarah, what are you going to do now?"

She knew what he meant, but she didn't want to confront the issue. "Take a shower, and— "

"Sarah." His voice was half command, half request.

"I don't know." She shrugged and drank more coffee.

"I've been giving this some thought." And what he'd come up with was a big zero. Why would someone want to ruin Sarah's career? What good would that accomplish? "Do you have any rivals who might want to run you out of business? Or someone who wants to get even?"

Sarah thought. "Everyone has enemies, but I don't know of anyone who would do such a thing. I mean, it's one thing to wish someone out of business and another to make an entire roomful of people sick."

Daniel nodded. That's what he expected. There was the chance that she was lying— that she'd doctored the peppers herself. There had been no evidence of a break-in at the Bingington house. None. Sarah could have made it up.

But the evidence pointing in her behalf was his own abduction.

"What is it, Daniel?"

"I'm just trying to put the pieces together. Listen, I'll call you later this morning. About ten. Let me get cleaned up and go to the office. There's some stuff I need to take care of. What are your next assignments?"

"Let's see." She'd hardly given it a thought. "I have a birthday party for the daughter of Georgia's Senator Banks. That's tomorrow." At the thought, she felt the need to jump from bed and get ready. It was a cowboy theme, and she had to bake a bucking bronco cake and tend to the rest of the party. Children's birthdays were a real pain, but it often brought in a lot of business. Every little tyke present had parents who gave serious Washington gatherings.

Daniel stifled a groan. Paul Gottard would delight in assigning him to some backyard fete.

Sarah could almost read his thoughts. "They're going to have real ponies. Maybe you could be a wrangler?"

"No! No way am I going to lead those brats around on ponies."

Sarah couldn't suppress her grin. "Just kidding. But it isn't a bad idea."

"I have to go, but I'll call no later than ten. Just stay here until then, can you?"

She heard the concern in his voice and nodded.

He hurried out of the room and took the stairs in rapid succession. Then there was the sound of the front door closing.

"I'd better go lock it," she whispered to Familiar. She didn't like the idea of being up in her apartment when the downstairs door wasn't secured.

She pulled on a robe and hurried down, her legs chilled by the morning. Peering through the blinds, she saw Daniel duck into the back of a cab. They pulled away from the curb with more force than necessary.

S
ARAH HAD JUST
begun to mix the cake batter when the telephone rang. "A Taste of the South," she answered.

"Sarah, I've heard wonderful reports about yesterday."

"Thanks, Uncle Vince." Sarah had given up trying to figure out Vincent's grapevine.

"I found out that pesky agent had been assigned to the party. I wanted to apologize. I was given a promise that he wouldn't trouble you again." Vincent sighed. "There are no manners anymore,
chérie.
A man's word means nothing any longer. I am sorry."

"Don't worry about it. Daniel Dubonet didn't bother me at all," Sarah said. She was grinning. It would be too difficult to explain to Uncle Vince that the agent in question had spent last night at her apartment. Had left only an hour before.

"Then nothing marred your wonderful day yesterday?"

"Not a single thing."

"That's what I love to hear, my darling. Now, since you won't go to New York with me and my son, what if I make arrangements for dinner one night when we return?"

"I could cook some— "

"Absolutely not!" He laughed. "You are the best cook I know, but I believe I can throw some steaks on the grill and make do with potatoes and a salad. How does that sound?"

"Perfect." Everything except Jean-Claude. But based on past actions, Jean-Claude was liable to jet-set over to Paris for an evening with his friends.

"Then I'll count on it."

"Perfect." Sarah glanced at the kitchen clock. If she put the cake in now, it would be out at ten-fifteen. She slid it on the rack and shut the oven door.

"Sarah?" There was hesitation in her uncle's voice.

"What?"

"I hear that Dubonet fellow may be in trouble with his superiors. He's something of a renegade. You know, doesn't follow orders, goes off on his own. If he bothers you again, it's very important that you let me know."

"Of course." Her answer was automatic. The first taste of doubt was very bitter.

"My sources in the FBI say he had been pulled from a big case and reassigned when he visited you so late that evening. Just keep that in mind. As you well know, just because a man is a federal agent doesn't mean you can trust him. Remember your father. They hounded him."

"I remember." Sarah's voice sounded as empty as she felt. "I'll never forget that, Uncle Vince. You don't have to worry."

Daniel forced his body to relax in the backseat of the cab. He was on an adrenaline high as he tried to decide the best course of action. Cody was at home, waiting for him to arrive. But Daniel wanted a few minutes with Joshua Jenkins, retired FBI agent and the man who had been assigned to Cal Covington's case. If Sarah was involved in something from her father's past, Joshua Jenkins would know the details of it.

He knew his boss would disapprove of any disruption of Jenkins' personal life. The word was out in the Bureau that Jenkins was an irascible old curmudgeon who was like gum on the shoe when he got started. Daniel knew he was opening a can of worms, but he didn't care. He gave the cabbie Jenkins's home address. Everyone in the Bureau knew it— they'd all driven him home at one time or another after he'd been to the Bureau to deliver some tirade about how ineffective the "new agency" had become, about how "soft" the new agents were, and about how he'd been such a dogged investigator that some men simply turned themselves in to get rid of him.

Right.

Daniel was so busy with his thoughts that he didn't see the quizzical look the cabbie threw at him as he moved into the flow of Washington traffic.

It was rush hour, and the streets were dangerously clogged. Daniel half watched the blocks pass. Time ticked along, and he grew more and more nervous as the cab slowly made its way to Jenkins's house.

"Wait for me," Daniel directed as he finally got out in front of the neat brick house with its postage-stamp yard. Flowers bloomed in profusion in window boxes. A divorced man, Jenkins had turned his considerable energies to horticulture.

Daniel jabbed the bell once hard, and then again. He knew he was acting impatient. At last he heard the slow shuffle of someone at the door— someone who was practicing precautions. Daniel could almost feel the eye staring at him though the peephole in the front door.

"What do you want?" Jenkins called.

"I'm Daniel Dubonet with the FBI. I'd like to talk to you."

"ID."

Daniel shook his head. "I was abducted yesterday. Someone took my badge. And my gun." He pulled his jacket back to reveal the lack of a weapon. "It's about Cal Covington. The sheriff— "

"Down in Mississippi." Jenkins's voice had attained an interested edge. "What about him?"

"I'm working on a case where his past may prove to be significant. I need some background."

"Did Gottard send you?"

Daniel hesitated. If he said no, Jenkins probably wouldn't talk to him. If he said yes, it would be an outright lie and easily checked. "No. He doesn't know I'm here."

Jenkins's laugh was more of a cackle. "You're a rogue, aren't you, Dubonet? You're working on your own." He laughed again. "I'm glad to see someone at that agency has enough backbone to use his brain. That's what they're producing now— clones. Little dark-suited agents who do everything they're told. They never think. They never put two and two together. They follow the rules."

"Please, Mr. Jenkins. I've got a cab waiting and I desperately want to change out of this monkey suit."

The door opened suddenly and a blue-veined hand reached out to pull Daniel into the house. "Don't stand on the street and advertise what you're about. Get in here."

Daniel sighed and didn't bother to argue with Jenkins. He felt suddenly that his idea to visit the retired agent was flawed. The old goat would probably complain and moan for twenty minutes and tell him absolutely nothing. Then Jenkins would call up the Bureau as soon as he left and report the incident. Gottard would be furious.

"Quit dragging your feet and get in here," Jenkins ordered. "Now sit and tell me what you want." He pointed to an old, well-worn leather chair. With a groan, he dropped into a chair across from it.

Daniel sat on the edge of his seat. He studied Jenkins's face a moment in the lamplight. The room was dark, paneled, and filled ceiling-to-floor with bookshelves. There must have been a couple of thousand titles neatly arranged on what appeared to be fiction and nonfiction shelves, as best as Daniel could determine.