Page 105 of Eyes in the Shadows

“Ulysses County Sheriff’s office,” says the voice that answers the phone on the non-emergency line. She has a thick Jersey accent and sounds bored.

“Um, is Officer McCloskey there?”

“Sure, hon. Who’s calling and what’s this about?”

Wes coaches my next words, mouthing them silently to me. “He, uh… came to my door a couple weeks ago. I have some information for him about the person he’s looking for.”

Wesley gives me a thumbs up.

“Okay, name?”

Wes underlines where he’s written NO LAST NAME on the paper.

“Eleanor.”

“Okay, hold please.”

Some standard waiting music comes on the line and I let out the rest of the breath I somehow managed to keep inside my lungs while talking. Mac rubs my back. This is the easy part, though. I can get through a phone call—it’s the meet-up that’s really going to test how strong my stomach is.

“McCloskey,” a deep, gruff voice barks. I jump a little, because I was expecting the woman to come back on the line.

“H-hi,” I stammer, then wince. Not a super strong start, there. Mac taps the page, where he’s crossed off the NO on his previous instructions. “It’s Eleanor Wilson.”

“Where the hell have you been?” he asks, though his voice is lowered now. I think I hear him get up and shut his door. “You haven’t been seen in weeks; we assumed you skipped town. You’re going to be in huge trouble—”

“Officer, Iamin trouble,” I read. I have to really try not to let it leak into my voice, but I’m beyond impressed that not only did Mac and Wesley predict he’d immediately go on the offensive, but Mac actually guessed the exact words he’d use. “I’m really scared. I need your help.”

“Why? What’s going on?”

“It’s the Russian… I can’t say over the phone. But please… meet me. Maplewood Park in an hour?”

“How do I know this is legit? Not some kind of trap?”

Wes taps the part of the page where he wrote IF HE’S SUSPICIOUS. “Um… you can pick the spot in the park?”

There’s a bit of silence and I swear I hear the faint sound of typing, like he’s looking it up. “The double bench by the swing set, on the side that faces the parking lot. I’ll be there in an hour and a half.”

Mac nods. “Okay,” I agree.

“But if you’re wasting my time or—”

Mac points to END IT. So, I hang up on him, mid-sentence.

Wes is all smiles, which makes me tentatively pleased. “I think that went well! Our Eleanor’s a natural.”

Yeah, if you call having a racing heart, shaking hands and feeling like I want to throw up being a natural at something…

“And now we know he’s trying to be a strong man. Coming out the gate with threats, trying to keep her off balance.”

Wes checks his watch. “And what a prat, making her wait a half hour when—for all he knows—she's scared for her life.”

“He was just giving himself more time to scope everything out beforehand. He’ll be there as soon as he can, so we have to move,” Mac says.

I stand and head upstairs with Mac—both of us have to change into outside clothes, though his is the all-black, kickass ensemble of someone trying not to be noticed and I just have to put on jeans. I mentally repeat the plan to myself like a mantra, in an effort to calm my nerves.

As soon as we’re both dressed, he stops me with my hand on the doorknob. “Before we do this, I need you to know you can still back out—you can still say no. I know we just spent hours planning and drilling into you what to say and do… but this is not a risk you have to take, okay?

“Because we can try to control for everything that might go wrong, and believe me, darlin’, we are trying. But in the end, there’s always the possibility that something happens that we didn’t expect. Someone doesn’t show up who’s supposed to, someone acts in a way you couldn’t predict… someone comes back to a fumigated building for a medication.”

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