On Dangerous Ground Read online

  Jen checked the code one last time. Certain that it was safely running on its own, she left the converted downstairs bedroom/office that contained two desktop systems, two laptops, a router for the satellite uplink, a small server for additional space, and a twin bed. Jen usually just curled up with Snickers on the office bed while some important code

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  ran so she could tend to it immediately when the beep that signaled its completion woke her up.

  “C’mon, little dude, let’s get you some dinner.” Jen headed for the kitchen, but stopped when her phone vibrated in the pocket of her cargo pants.

  She removed the offending device and checked the display for the identity of the caller.

  Joe Edwards was Jen’s oldest friend. A classmate from public school, Joe had been her one and only boyfriend for exactly three weeks in the tenth grade. The fact that Joe liked Jen and Jen liked girls added up to one completely disastrous romantic relationship, but a truly fast friendship. Joe was a carpenter by trade, and he frequently worked at the busy Hollywood studios building both location and soundstage sets.

  Joe always sounded happy when he called. “Hey, farm girl! Just confirming my ride from that poor little excuse for an airport down the road from you. Are we still on for my little skiing adventure Friday?”

  “Of course, doofus. You think I’d make you walk? And I am not a farm girl.” She paused, contemplating her last statement.

  “Well, not really, but then again, I do own a farm—”

  “Jen, stay with me.” Joe laughed and continued, “Anyway, I’ve seen more than one horse and buggy in that godforsaken place that you call home. I just had to ask.”

  “Hey, you know those are Mennonite farmers, and most of the people around here drive real cars. Well, I guess they’re real cars, if you call a ’65 Chevy pickup truck with a gun rack in the rear window and a fifty/fifty ratio of Bondo to rust a car, but you know what I mean.”

  “Yeah, babble girl, I getcha. Just had to give you a little shit for bailing on me. But then again, at least you decided to settle somewhere close to a ski resort, so it’s all good.”

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  On DangerOus grOunD

  “Of course I did. I knew you’d never come see me if I didn’t offer some special amenities. I can’t offer you any hustle or even a little bit of bustle, so I had to settle for manmade snow and Civil War battlefields as far as the eye can see.”

  “I know, Jen, it’s everything we’ve ever dreamed of.” Jen could practically hear the rolling of his eyes, but she knew he was only giving her a hard time.

  “Hey, nothing but the best for you,” Jen said while she cradled the phone to her ear to look for the paper where she had scribbled the arrival information for his flight. “You’ll be here at seven forty-three p.m. on US Air flight 3462, barring weather complications or cows on the runway.”

  “Yep, that’s it. Barring bovine intervention.” Jen groaned at the really bad pun, said her good-byes, and hung up. Jen leaned over with her hands on her knees in order to talk to her little dog pal. “C’mon, Snicker-man, let’s check that code one more time and get this place ready for company.”

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  • 22 •

  On DangerOus grOunD

  Chapter three

  Terri opted for a V-neck sweater and a heavy, dark floral print skirt. The sapphire-colored sweater did wonderful things to accent the color of her eyes, and the roominess of the skirt provided adequate cover for the leg holster that held her service weapon. She would, of course, flash anyone within view if the concealed handgun was needed, but that couldn’t be helped.

  “It just makes me uncomfortable,” Alyssa had said on more than one occasion. She always left the room when Terri had to load or unload it. Too bad Terri couldn’t get to it quickly enough the one time that she really needed to.

  “Terri, drop it,” she said quietly to herself while she fixed her collar in the mirror. She stepped into her navy blue Dansko clogs, choosing comfort over style based on the amount of walking that she knew was inevitable at the end of her evening. As she checked her conservative application of makeup one last time, the doorbell rang. She bounded down the stairs, opened the door, and was greeted by the smiling face of Bobby on the porch with his hands in the pockets of his leather jacket. He wasn’t even fully in the door before speaking as he checked out Terri’s clothing selection. “Oh, nice. Good choice.”

  He made a spinning motion with his right index finger pointed toward the floor. “Twirl for me.”

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  Terri did as instructed, making one revolution so he could appraise her outfit. “Well…?” she asked.

  “It’s good, kiddo. Might even get you laid.” Bobby thought for a moment before continuing, “But I don’t know that I’ve ever heard of come-fuck-me clogs. Not so sure about that part.”

  Terri rolled her eyes. “Well, me getting laid is not what this is about. You know, we’ve had this conversation a dozen times. My one and only objective is getting home from the Metro in relative comfort.”

  Bobby sighed. “Terri, why don’t you just try to keep an open mind? Mindy just might be the girl of your dreams.”

  “Mindy? A bookstore chickie named Mindy from Rat’s Ass, Wisconsin, is at very little risk of becoming the girl of my dreams. What are you thinking?”

  “First, I’m thinking glass houses because you’re from Rat’s Ass, Ohio, if I’m not mistaken, and second, I’m thinking that you’re the best friend a large fag from Virginia Beach could ever ask for. Go feed your kitty, grab your coat, and let’s go. We’re meeting them at the restaurant.”

  v

  Bobby and Terri walked the three blocks to the restaurant in their usual fashion: Bobby cruising the younger male denizens of the Circle, Terri nodding and agreeing with him. This time was always hard for her. It gave her time to think because all Bobby needed from her to keep the conversation lively was a strategically placed “mmm” or “yeah, he’s hot”

  and he could amuse himself for hours. Not that he was selfcentered, because he was one of the most unselfish and giving people that Terri had ever known. It was just that Bobby spent his days in his comfortable closet at work and only released

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  his inner gay boy when they were out on the town. Well, once in a while at work, but never in front of anyone else. Added to this was the fact that she had been down this road before with him, and it never ended well. It hadn’t ever ended all that badly, either; it just wasn’t what she was looking for. Around most people, Terri was quiet. Not in a hide-fromthe-world kind of way, more in a deeply contemplative and extremely professional kind of way. When she was at work, she always thought about the job. When Jojo’s food hit the bowl every evening, the job was still there. Evenings, weekends—

  none of that mattered, because Terri was, first and foremost, a cop. To protect and serve, and that was what she needed to do. The job was easier when the people you were protecting were strangers. She had also tried to do the dating thing Bobby’s way, through a series of blind dates. Semi-disastrous blind dates. Since she wasn’t going to risk loving someone and then losing her the way she had before, she opted to remain single, giving in and going out only when Bobby insisted. Terri was alone and coming to terms with the fact that alone was acceptable, even good. Besides, there was the Bureau to take care of her, keep her busy. She already knew that a personal life was hard enough to balance with the job, and her one lost relationship proved that girlfriends and FBI agents didn’t mix. She left a tiny spark of hope alive, enough to keep her from freezing to death in her own thoughts, but not enough to spend time pining for things that would probably never happen. Was she happy? Yes. Deliriously so? No, but who truly had that anyway? She had a beautiful home, a peaceful—if somewhat solitary—life, a good job, nice neighbors, and one really great pal. What else was necessary?


  Terri had evidently misplaced an “mmm,” forcing Bobby to stop in his tracks. He cocked his head and asked, “Have you heard anything I’ve said for the last block?”

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  She looked at him. “No. I’m sorry, just lost in my own head. Go on, please.”

  He shook his head and started over. “I was just telling you about Mindy and her buddy Daniel. He came here to go to school at Georgetown. She moved here to take her inner lesbian out for a walk in the big city, and now they work at the bookstore together. Got it?” She nodded for him to continue. “You and I are joining them for dinner, and maybe dancing—”

  “Dancing?” Terri stopped dead in her tracks, shaking her head for emphasis. “I never agreed to dancing. Nope, no dancing.”

  “Aw, c’mon, Terri. I know you can shake your groove thing.”

  Pedestrians were starting to grumble as they had to shift to get around the pair on the sidewalk.

  “I do not have a groove thing. No, Bobby, not this time. No dancing. I agreed to a simple dinner date to get you into some guy’s pants. Nothing more.”

  Bobby pressed again, despite her warnings to the contrary, offering a compromise. “How about if we do the dinner thing, talk for a while, and then ask about the dancing? Does that work for you? It leaves you an opening to say no, and then Mindy can decide for herself if she wants to come to the bar with us or cut out when you do.” He offered out his palms in a supplicating manner indicating that the ball was firmly in her court.

  “Okay. Dinner, small talk, maybe coffee, and then I get to leave, right?”

  “Yes, ma’am. That’s it.”

  “Well, all right.” She grabbed the sleeve of his jacket and pulled him along. “Let’s get this over with.”

  v

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  Thaiphoon was the newest and trendiest Asian fusion café on Dupont Circle. The yellow curry was everything the Washington Post critics claimed that it would be. Terri was even forced to admit that Mindy was far from the vacuous tramp that she’d been imagining all day. She was nice. Thankfully, she was smart as well. Enough to hold up her end of most conversations, but not quite enough to make Terri reconsider her no-dancing tirade from earlier. And Bobby had been gracious enough to pick up the entire dinner tab. As the conversation turned to plans of dancing, Terri mentally crossed her fingers in the hope that she could take her leave soon. It evidently worked. Mindy mentioned that some other bookstore employees were meeting at a bar and she had planned to join them. All in all, it appeared to be working out in everyone’s favor.

  As they were leaving the restaurant, Bobby motioned for the others to go ahead, that he’d catch up. Before Terri could turn to walk home, he gathered her in a fierce bear hug that lifted her feet from the ground. He asked if she would be all right walking home alone.

  “Sweetie, I do it every night. Granted, it’s not usually in a dress with a strap-on handgun, but I’ll be fine. I promise.”

  He laughed heartily before turning to go. “See you Monday, then?”

  “Yeah, Monday. Night, Bobby.”

  He was already running to catch up with the others and called over his shoulder, “You’re the best, Terri.”

  She turned to walk home, muttering under her breath.

  “Yeah, I’m the best. That would certainly explain why it’s Friday night in the gayest city on the eastern seaboard and I’m walking home alone.”

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  • 28 •

  On DangerOus grOunD

  Chapter FOur

  Jen stood on the long deck of the Massanutten Ski Resort, looking out across the trails of manmade snow. Rows of time-share condos lined the sides of the hills, providing a framework for the open ski trails, snowboarding stunt area, and a sculptured area for tube rides that looked like an amusement park slide. There was an assortment of brightly clad skiers, and she laughed at their antics, thinking that it was like having a front row seat for the live version of America’s Funniest Home Videos. Who knew that the human body could be lifted off its skis, rendered completely airborne, and dropped forcefully onto the hard-packed snow in so many interesting and varied combinations? She winced as one more snowboarder, this one under a green, dragon-shaped hat, twisted in the air and landed on his shoulder with a sickening thud/grunt combination that Jen knew instinctively would keep him from phys ed class for at least a week. She allowed a small smile when she thought back to how she would have gratefully traded a minor injury for the terrors of PE class and communal high school showers.

  “Wow, that’s going to leave a mark,” Joe said as he emerged from the lodge with two steaming cups of hot chocolate. He spoke to Jen, but his eyes remained locked on Mr. Dragon Hat as other skiers arrived to assess the damage. The kid waved off

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  the attention and Joe turned to Jen and handed her one of the Styrofoam cups. “Here, this is for you.”

  Jen accepted the drink and peeled off the lid to blow across the top. “Thanks. How come you’re not out there? Your knee bothering you again?”

  “Yeah, a little.” He stretched and flexed the offending joint. “I probably overdid it yesterday, and the two runs this morning were not so much fun. I need to take it easy.”

  “Well, if that means I get to spend the day with you, then I’m okay with it. As long as you’re not in pain, ’cause then, well, selfish much?”

  “Naahh, I really am okay. I know you’re not being selfish. Maybe a little lonely?”

  “Who, me?” she answered a little too quickly and turned away. False bravado was the most prevalent weapon in her arsenal, used to avoid the real issues of her solitary existence.

  “I’m fine here, all kinds of fine.”

  “C’mon, Jen, this is me. I’ve known you for long enough to know that you hate it out here. This middle-of-nowhere thing just isn’t you. I know you love teaching at the college, but between that and the consulting thing, you never do anything. Not that there’s anything to do around here. Hell, there’s not even any women to go out with. You putter around your house in this self-imposed exile.” Jen started to protest, but stopped when she realized that Joe was right. He went on. “And your best friend is a miniature psycho hell dog that apparently thinks I’m the antichrist.”

  “Well, he worries about me.” Jen stubbornly refused to make eye contact.

  “Well, I worry about you, too. I want you to be happy.” He kept talking as he took her by the upper arm, prompting her to look at him. “I really want you to call me sometime soon and tell me that you’ve met a tall, striking brunette with blue eyes

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  and glorious tits, and how she swept you off your feet and right into bed.” He released her arm to punctuate his comments with hand gestures. “Then yadda, yadda, happily ever after, blah, blah, off into the sunset, etcetera. We both know that’s what you want. You’re just scared to admit it.”

  “And you, Joe Edwards, supportive buddy-o-mine, just want details.” She noticed the blush creeping up his face as he averted his glance toward the ski slope. “Yeah, that’s what I thought.” She punched him on the arm.

  He grabbed his arm in mock distress. “Hey, killer, easy with the butch there!”

  “Oh, don’t be such a baby!” She stared at the steamy cup in her hand. “The problem is that I know you’re right. I do want that, or at least some variation of it. I’ve pretty much decided that it’s not going to happen, though, and I guess that’s okay, too. I’ll work with what I have, for now. And I promise when Ms. Blue Eyes waltzes up to my front door and sweeps me off my feet, you’ll be the first to know. Agreed?”

  “Agreed.” Joe protectively wrapped one arm around her shoulders, turned to place a small kiss on the top of her head, and spoke softly, adding one more thought. “Don’t forget about the glorious tits part when you call.”

  “Joe! Ughh!” She
wiggled to get out from under his arm.

  “You never stop, do you?”

  “Nope, never.”

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  • 32 •

  On DangerOus grOunD

  Chapter Five

  The Investigations Department, located on the second floor of the J. Edgar Hoover Building, looked like any number of nondescript offices in ordinary, featureless buildings that could be found just about anywhere along Pennsylvania Avenue. Terri sat and stared out the window while Bobby attempted to cajole her into a game of paper football across their desks. It wasn’t going to happen. Their last case was all wrapped up, mission accomplished, and the boss was on his way up from a meeting. For Terri, that meant a new case. Something fresh to dive into. Sure beat the shit out of this downtime. It usually only lasted a matter of hours, but for Terri, it meant that dreaded time to think.

  “Bobby—” She turned to ask him a question, but stopped when his latest attempt at a field goal caught her right square on the nose. She retrieved the paper football from the edge of her desk and shook it at him. “Hey! Watch it or I’m going set this thing on fire and stick it in your ear.”

  “Ooh, aren’t we butch?” Bobby shot back while Terri tossed the paper in the trash. She wanted to give him shit for acting like a queen in the office, but no one was around, so she let it slide. Besides, she was getting impatient. Before it could get much worse, she heard the elevator ding in the hallway. Supervisor George McNally, a thirty-year veteran of the

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  Bureau with a steel gray brush cut and the demeanor of a pit bull with a migraine, stepped purposefully from the hallway into the office. While crossing through the department toward his door, he used only five words to announce his intentions.

  “McKinnon. Kraft. My office. Now.”

  McNally was never one to mince words. Terri and Bobby had heard that tone from their boss before. And when he said