The Widow's Secret by Sara Mitchell

inches, but at that moment Hazen loomed over him like a sober-suited Goliath. “I may concede the point, Operative MacKenzie. But, mind you, don’t test my goodwill much further. Don’t ever withhold information from me again, or presume to act without authorization. We’ve spent over a decade shining the tarnish off our badges, proving this organization is peopled with men of honor and integrity. I will not let the Agency’s reputation deteriorate again, especially now, poised on the threshold of a new century.”
    â€œI understand, Chief Hazen. I give you my word it won’t happen again.” Sweat pooled in the small of Micah’s back, and he had to force himself to stand tall, not to beg, or rush into explanations that would only sound like rationalizations. “If you meet Mrs. Tremayne, sir, I believe you’ll see that my actions were justified.”
    The chief heaved an explosive sigh and clapped a firm hand on Micah’s back. “Then bring the lady here, and be done with it. I’d like to meet the woman who turned my best operative’s head.”
    â€œSir, I—”
    â€œHowever…don’t let anything, including a mysterious young widow, place you in a potentially compromising position.”
    Each move deliberate, Chief Hazen walked over to the window and stared outside, toward the White House, hands clasped behind his back. “I want this counterfeiting network unmasked, stripped of its tentacles and every last member in jail by next spring, Operative MacKenzie. Every principal, every shover, every engraver, every wholesaler—the lot. I want the molds, the plates, the paper, even the blamed ink! I don’t care whether it’s Rupert Bingham himself, his brother-in-law or nephews. I don’t care if the ringleader turns out to be their butler, or the bootblack. Get these malefactors behind bars. Do whatever you have to, legally, in order to learn the identities of the persons who are undermining our country’s economic stability.”
    Turning, he walked back to his desk, picked up a file folder, carefully wound the string around the button tabs. Then he looked across at Micah. “After this meeting I’ll clear my schedule. I’ll see you and Mrs. Tremayne at four o’clock. But if I detect even the slightest trace of suspicion on her part—or inappropriate regard on yours—I’ll remove you from this case.”
    With Chief Hazen’s words buzzing like mosquitoes inside his head, Micah headed for the hotel where Mrs. Tremayne and Katya were staying. If Jocelyn Tremayne turned out to be a counterfeit of the woman he remembered, the chief wouldn’t have to fire him. Micah would turn in his credentials, because he would no longer trust his instincts. On the other hand, if he were forced to choose between her and unmasking the man responsible for murdering his father…
    Lord, please don’t force me to make that choice.

Chapter Six
    â€œI promise he won’t arrest you or threaten you.”
    â€œBut you can’t promise that he’ll believe me.” Jocelyn glanced at the man seated beside her in the hansom cab, then, clearly uncomfortable, shifted her attention to the street.
    It was a dreary afternoon, the sky a dull smear of gray, the buildings stolid rows of brick and stone. Over the clatter of the wheels, a train whistle tooted a warning; seconds later the hansom stopped, and a Pennsylvania Railroad locomotive pulling several passenger cars rumbled across Maryland Avenue on its way toward the depot. Moments later, the driver flicked the whip and the hansom lurched into motion once more.
    Beneath the layers of her blouse and walking suit, Jocelyn’s heart fluttered like a captured rabbit. She still didn’t know quite how Operative MacKenzie had persuaded her to accompany him to the Treasury Building—except she’d been reluctant to thumb her nose at a summons from the