Flashback

child, expressing to her grandfather her disappointment in not being a boy. He had immediately and forcefully rebuffed the notion.
“Women,” he’d told her firmly, “have traits and talents men would do well to emulate.”
“Like what?” she’d asked, doubtful despite the fact that her heart and head told her he had to be right, simply because he always was.
“The spirit of the tigress, slow to rouse but implacable once enraged. Empathy, which can lead to understanding one’s enemy, a necessity for victory. The ability to subordinate honor to getting the job done, a problem that has caused many a male-led mission to fail. And that’s just for starters.”
She hadn’t realized until she was much older that these were hardly the words of the simple businessman he called himself. And while he’d never talked about it, and had often refused any discussion of it, she suspected he’d been involved over his years in D.C. in many things other than the textile business.
“One of these days you’re going to tell me,” she said aloud, refusing to think that she might lose him before that ever happened.
Refusing to even consider that she might lose him because of something she’d done.

Chapter 6
When she heard the phone across the room ring, Alex was so deep into reading Eric Hunt’s exhaustive notes that it took her a split second to pull herself out of them. The man had clearly considered every possibility, no matter how unlikely. And he had documented each of those theories in his personal papers, even if they had been discarded or proved wrong later.
He had, she had to admit as she put down the pages of notes, thought of things that hadn’t even occurred to her, and as she read she gained a new respect for the man’s skills and thoroughness.
As Kayla had said, he was a good cop.
She got up to answer the phone call, glancing at the watch sitting beside the telephone, the watch she had made herself take off so she would stop looking at it constantly, counting every second that passed as she waited to hear from Justin.
It was the front desk, calling to inquire if everything was all right with her new room, and to apologize profusely again for the inconvenience and ask if there was anything else they could possibly do for her.
She had barely hung up when the phone rang again. This time it was Lynn, the manager, and the anxious tone in her voice told Alex that Kayla had already been busy.
“No, there’s nothing official in the way of an inquiry or investigation,” Alex reassured the woman. “Lieutenant Ryan just happens to be a concerned friend, that’s all.”
“She did explain that to me. But she also seemed to indicate this was…personal? That this wasn’t just a prank of some kind?”
“No, it wasn’t a prank. It was aimed specifically at me and mine. So it’s clear it’s not the hotel’s fault.” She tried to relieve the woman’s concern, since she needed her cooperation. “There’s no way you could have stopped someone intent on committing this kind of act.”
“We appreciate your understanding,” Lynn said, relief clear in her voice.
“But you can obviously see why I’m concerned about how this was done, in particular how whoever did this knew what room I was in.”
“Of course. I spoke to the bellman who packed up your things, and he said he found nothing unusual or amiss in the room.”
Alex fought down the distaste she felt at some stranger, even a hotel employee, pawing through her personal things, even just to pack them up. Odd, she thought. Her mother reveled in having such chores done for her.
Of course, her mother wasn’t an FBI agent. Thank goodness she’d had her weapon and travel evidence kit with her, along with anything else of a sensitive nature, all secured in her satchel.
“However,” the manager confirmed, drawing Alex’s attention back swiftly, “the maid who went in to clean the room—which we only did of course because we believed that you wouldn’t be returning—said she did have a brief conversation with a man out in the hall. She said he was only asking directions to the health club.”
“She was cleaning my old room?”
“Yes.”
“Could she describe the man?”
“Actually, she’s at the police station with your friend right now. Something about a composite picture?”
She should have known Kayla would run with it, Alex thought.
“Thank you,” she said.
“Is there anything else I can do?”
“Just make sure that no one except the people on the list I gave you has access to my room number.”
“Oh, the staff has strict orders, I promise you. We’ll do whatever is necessary to ensure the rest of your stay is pleasant and there are no further incidents.”
Alex hung up and began to pace again, something she had only managed to stop when she’d forced herself to take out the detective’s file and concentrate on it. It had served as a distraction, but her worry about G.C. was never far from the surface, and it took only moments before she was as revved up as she’d been when she’d first realized the threat.
This time she glanced at the bedside clock. It had been nearly forty-five minutes since she’d hung up with Justin. Give him ten minutes to extricate himself from the building, ten more to thread his way through the crowds to the FTC Building, she thought.
Then he’d have to go through security and the ID process there—they took few chances there like any other federal building—and find the meeting. That could take another twenty. Then—
Well, she wasn’t sure what he’d have to do then. But he was likely doing it now. She’d just have to trust him and be patient.
Patient.
It had been the bugaboo of her life, of her career. What she had of patience had been hard learned and hard won, and by now she was convinced it would never come easily to her.
She remembered a ceramic plaque her fellow Cassandras had once given her, with