Page 12 of The Mouse and the Maestro

“My parents are old school in their beliefs about childrearing. They wanted us to be intelligent, capable, resilient. In fact, they were so adamant about it that even after my dad came to the states for his job, my mom stayed a few extra years in Africa to give us a different sort of upbringing. My mom homeschooled us, and my dad taught us things you learn outside of school.He had three daughters, so he wanted us to be safe and not dependent on anyone else, especially the government.”

“He doesn’t trust the government?” Blue asked.

Jane’s smile was wry. “He has a complicated relationship with the government.”

Interesting. It kind of sounded like her dad was either an anti-government nutcase or a criminal.

The remainder of the ride was uneventful and soon they were back in DC. “You can let me out in front of my building. You’ll never find parking,” Jane said.

“All right,” Blue agreed. He double parked in the road, miraculously free of other traffic for the moment. Jane reached for the door, but he rested his hand on her leg. “I need to double check something with you.”

She turned attentively in his direction, and he was momentarily distracted. Okay, maybe she was a bit more than cute. Maybe she was pretty, and her eyes were…Focus.“The reason you’ve been so jumpy when we touch is not because you find me scary and repulsive.”

“That is correct,” she said, her tone soft and shy.

“And in fact some might say you find me attractive,” he continued.

“Some might,” she said, smiling gently. “That first day, when you followed me, I did find you scary, but I honestly would have no matter who the man was. My dad taught me to be alert and attuned to danger. But after I realized you weren’t, in fact, a serial killer, I realized you were…quite cute. So apparently my reaction to serial killers and attractive men is exactly the same. Good thing I never encountered Ted Bundy. I probably would have accidentally wandered off a cliff.”

He laughed, and her smile widened. She reached for the door again, but his hand was still on her leg. “I need to say one more thing.”

“Yes?” she asked, face alight with curiosity as she turned back toward him. He leaned in and kissed her until someone honked behind him, and it was time to let go.

“Turns out I am the kind of guy who can kiss an attractive stranger on a whim and get away with it.” His thumb brushed her cheek, and she blinked at him.

“Oh,” she whispered. “Okay. Thank you. Good happy night.” Her words registered and she opened the car door, bolting out of sight.

Chapter 8

“Call Ridge,” Blue directed his car. A moment later, his boss’s voice rang over his Bluetooth speakers.

“Every time you call at night, it’s bad news,” Ridge greeted him.

“How many times is there good news in our job? Do you think I’m going to ever call and say the terrorists found the Lord and surrendered?”

“I’m keeping the dream alive,” Ridge replied. “What’s up?”

“The artifact was a fake, and we picked up a tail outside of Philly.”

“What?” Ridge exclaimed.

“I lost them, but the fact remains it’s not good.”

“No, it’s very, very not good,” Ridge agreed. “The pool of people who know about this case is extremely small.”

“About that, what do we actually know about Jane Dunbar?”

“Enough. She’s clean.”

“But how do we know?”

“We know. And not only is she clean, but she’s a high-value target.”

“An anthropologist? Why?” Blue asked.

“It’s classified.”

“You know we have the same clearance,” Blue reminded him. In fact Blue was certain he’d dealt with more secrets in his time than Ridge had. In the scheme of things, Ridge was a newbie.

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