cycle all over again. He was too wound up to sleep.
Nick threw a stick of gum into his mouth and wandered into the couple's massive walk-in closet. Lisa had loved that closet. In fact, it played a major role in their choosing this house over several others.
He stopped and stood quietly in the middle of the closet, in-haling Lisa's scent. He wasn't a guy who paid too much attention to what he called girlie stuff, so he hadn't the slightest clue what she wore for perfume, but whatever it was, he could smell it here--
something cinnamony--and it made his heart ache. As he wondered how long it would take before the scent simply faded away and was gone forever, he felt the tenuous control he had kept over his emotions beginning to crack.
Hanging in a far corner of the big closet was Lisa's wedding gown, which had belonged to her mother. Lisa had absolutely adored it. She had been planning to put it in storage to save for her own children in case one of them wanted to get married in it but had never quite gotten around to accomplishing that task, although she had used a clear plastic garment bag to protect the delicate silk and lace dress.
Nick walked over and slid the surrounding clothes out of the way. Lisa had owned a lot of stuff, and the heavy mass of clothing hanging on the rod moved slowly, reluctantly. He lifted the gown off the rod, planning to lay it on the bed for no particular reason other than to run his hand over the smooth silk and think about Lisa.
When he pulled the dress away from the wall, a bright blue notebook binder caught his eye. It was big, at least three inches thick, and had been placed behind the gown on the floor of the closet, wedged up against the side wall. It would have remained out of sight indefinitely had Nick not moved the dress. He stared at it in wonder. What the hell would a binder be doing amongst Lisa's clothes? It looked new, too; it was completely clean and dust free.
Nick had never seen it before.
He placed Lisa's wedding gown back on the rod in the closet and lifted the binder off the floor, turning it over in his hands, as if he could learn the story of its contents through osmosis. When that didn't work, he carried it over to their bed--his bed now--and sat down to examine it more closely.
Chapter 14
The harsh white light generated by the fluorescent lamps hanging in rows from the ceiling in Tony's garage shone down on the small group of men as they worked. Tony was seated in his customary spot behind his desk, a dazzling smile lighting up his olive-colored face. Not so much as one twenty-dollar bill was missing out of the ten thousand in cash he had given Michaels in exchange for the map and personnel list. Now he had not just the information he needed, but all the money it had cost him to procure--the best-case scenario, at least as far as he was concerned.
Dimitrios Stavros, who despite the Greek-sounding name had been born and raised in the United States and was another of the American citizens working with Tony, saw him smiling and asked,
"Why did we need to kill the guy? He gave you what you wanted."
Tony shot Stavros a scornful look. "Why? Two reasons." He held up a finger. "One, that idiot was a cog in the machinery of the corrupt United States government, a government I have devoted my life to destroying, and which, I remind you, every one of you in this room has committed to destroying as well. There was absolutely no good reason to allow him to live and continue making his small contribution to the oppression of my people in the Middle East when we had the means and the opportunity to rectify the situation."
"Two"-- he held up another finger--"even though ten thousand dollars is a relatively small amount of money in the grand scheme of things, why should I allow it to go to an American and to the pigs I am trying to destroy when we could better use it to purchase more equipment and weaponry? In this manner, we can use the Americans' own money not just once but
Nick threw a stick of gum into his mouth and wandered into the couple's massive walk-in closet. Lisa had loved that closet. In fact, it played a major role in their choosing this house over several others.
He stopped and stood quietly in the middle of the closet, in-haling Lisa's scent. He wasn't a guy who paid too much attention to what he called girlie stuff, so he hadn't the slightest clue what she wore for perfume, but whatever it was, he could smell it here--
something cinnamony--and it made his heart ache. As he wondered how long it would take before the scent simply faded away and was gone forever, he felt the tenuous control he had kept over his emotions beginning to crack.
Hanging in a far corner of the big closet was Lisa's wedding gown, which had belonged to her mother. Lisa had absolutely adored it. She had been planning to put it in storage to save for her own children in case one of them wanted to get married in it but had never quite gotten around to accomplishing that task, although she had used a clear plastic garment bag to protect the delicate silk and lace dress.
Nick walked over and slid the surrounding clothes out of the way. Lisa had owned a lot of stuff, and the heavy mass of clothing hanging on the rod moved slowly, reluctantly. He lifted the gown off the rod, planning to lay it on the bed for no particular reason other than to run his hand over the smooth silk and think about Lisa.
When he pulled the dress away from the wall, a bright blue notebook binder caught his eye. It was big, at least three inches thick, and had been placed behind the gown on the floor of the closet, wedged up against the side wall. It would have remained out of sight indefinitely had Nick not moved the dress. He stared at it in wonder. What the hell would a binder be doing amongst Lisa's clothes? It looked new, too; it was completely clean and dust free.
Nick had never seen it before.
He placed Lisa's wedding gown back on the rod in the closet and lifted the binder off the floor, turning it over in his hands, as if he could learn the story of its contents through osmosis. When that didn't work, he carried it over to their bed--his bed now--and sat down to examine it more closely.
Chapter 14
The harsh white light generated by the fluorescent lamps hanging in rows from the ceiling in Tony's garage shone down on the small group of men as they worked. Tony was seated in his customary spot behind his desk, a dazzling smile lighting up his olive-colored face. Not so much as one twenty-dollar bill was missing out of the ten thousand in cash he had given Michaels in exchange for the map and personnel list. Now he had not just the information he needed, but all the money it had cost him to procure--the best-case scenario, at least as far as he was concerned.
Dimitrios Stavros, who despite the Greek-sounding name had been born and raised in the United States and was another of the American citizens working with Tony, saw him smiling and asked,
"Why did we need to kill the guy? He gave you what you wanted."
Tony shot Stavros a scornful look. "Why? Two reasons." He held up a finger. "One, that idiot was a cog in the machinery of the corrupt United States government, a government I have devoted my life to destroying, and which, I remind you, every one of you in this room has committed to destroying as well. There was absolutely no good reason to allow him to live and continue making his small contribution to the oppression of my people in the Middle East when we had the means and the opportunity to rectify the situation."
"Two"-- he held up another finger--"even though ten thousand dollars is a relatively small amount of money in the grand scheme of things, why should I allow it to go to an American and to the pigs I am trying to destroy when we could better use it to purchase more equipment and weaponry? In this manner, we can use the Americans' own money not just once but
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