A LITTLE SPY WORK
After Donovan left her, Loralei was tempted to follow him out. She knew he was going 'home,' because he stated as much, but he wouldn't tell her where it was. However, Loralei was wily and sneaky enough to find it on her own unless Donovan spotted her first. It was possible. After all, how many damn times had he snuck up on her without her knowing until he touched her or breathed on her? She got her shit together and made her way out to the parking lot, hoping that she'd see him before he was totally out of sight. Her luck was in. She watched as he walked steadily down the sidewalk toward the faculty housing a few blocks down from the main campus. Perfect. He was staying relatively close and within walking distance. Loralei gasped aloud when Donovan suddenly stopped walking. She ducked down quickly. He couldn't see her. If he did, her detective work would piss right out. The turd probably 'senses' my presence. He knows my car. She often wondered if her husband was psychic or some shit. She was afraid to look up; afraid he'd be standing right over her, furious, demanding that she tell him what she was doing. Why nothing, my love, only a little stalking. Well, hell's bells. She might as well stand and face the music [or pissed off husband]. She sighed and rose up, noticing that Donovan had begun to walk again. Quickly, she straightened up her body and threw her shit into the front seat of her car. After locking it up tightly, she followed behind him at a safe distance. Any moment now, she expected him to turn around. She kept scanning the area surrounding her, trying to find a convenient place to duck if he stopped. Luck was with her again. Some night classes were adjourning and there were dozens of people in between her and Donovan now. It provided her with a little cover, but Donovan wasn't stupid. He knew her when he saw her, and it didn't help that her hair color stuck out like a sore thumb.
When Donovan stopped walking again, Loralei stood back and plastered her body against the far wall of a nearby building. Oh yeah. She was familiar with this little area of the campus. It was a construction zone. The university was building some type of Fine Arts building and the workers often took up the parking spaces of the residents. She heard more than one faculty member complaining. Donovan paused only long enough to watch for traffic and then he crossed the busy street. She didn't have to take many more steps to find his destination. She ducked behind the same building and watched him carefully. He stepped up to a small house three or four blocks down from the construction zone. A sidewalk ran directly in front of it, no more than three or four feet away. She smiled a little. A wonderful idea suddenly sprang up in her head. It was all she needed to see. She hauled ass before he saw her.
* * *
The next morning, Donovan came out of the shower and heard his work cell phone ringing shrilly. Concerned, he was certain something had happened. He hoped it wasn't Jake or Alex reporting another murder. He picked up the phone and flipped it open. Sighing, he said, "Donovan."
"Don't yell at me," Loralei said, "but I wanted to show you something."
"Loralei? What the hell are you doing?"
"Take the phone over to the window. Once you get there, peek out, but don't be obvious about it."
"Loralei? What are you doing," he repeated.
"Stop asking questions and just do it. Okay?"
Donovan sighed heavily and walked over to the window. As she instructed, he stuck his fingers through the blinds and made an opening. When he saw what she had done, he felt two ways at once. He wanted to strangle her for taking such a huge risk. Yet, those feelings were overshadowed by his great love for her, and the ever so touching sentiment. Loralei was strolling slowly and casually past this hideous hellhole of a house. She had both kids in a stroller and he watched as she lifted up Rachel first, as if she were simply a woman who desired a hug from her child. She put her down and reached for Tristan next. She sat down on the grass with the baby in her arms and saw Rachel plop down right beside her. She seemed to be confused about her mother's sudden interest in this particular spot of grass, but it didn't stop her from crawling around and examining things here and there. To any other person, they looked like nothing more than a mother and children taking a break from a long walk. He longed to go out to them, to hold them, love them. He listened to the loud squeal of his daughter and the gentle coos and gurgles of his son. He had grown so accustomed to both that he barely noticed it. However, today, it seemed as if it was the first time he had ever experienced this. It was music to his ears. He was horrifyingly close to tears. He saw Loralei pick up the phone again.
"I thought it was time to repay another debt owed," she said softly.
"Goddamn, I love you," he whispered harshly. "All your debts are settled, my love. All of them. Past, present, and future."
"Just returning the favor, babe. I love you, too."
"Could you stay? Just for a minute?"
"Oh yeah, we're not going anywhere, not for a while."
* * *
He sat in the public library, hoping that Loralei Donovan would return. Without fail, she had come in almost every night since Dean Fehr had met his demise. He counted out the remaining instructors: Reed, Zimmerman, Föderativ, and Donovan. He would hit Reed and Zimmerman first. He had already decided to save Donovan for last. He wasn't sure why this was so, but he supposed it was due to her seemingly clever mind. When he had heard of the new people, he had done as much snooping as was humanly possible. He'd heard Fehr crowing about his people, commenting that each had brought something special to the department. Although Donovan irritated the dean, he mentioned that she had once been in the FBI for a brief stint. When former FBI agents asked for a job, a guy just had to hire them. Of course, he didn't think she was suspicious of him yet, but it was a joy toying with her. He liked the fact that his presence didn't seem to worry or freak her out. It had been a few days since he'd eliminated some of his competition, and it was nearly time to take another out. Too bad Zimmerman and Reed weren't lovers. He rather liked whacking them two at a time. However, he had to find a new method. The thin log was rendered useless after Combs and Simons were taken care of, but there was no way he could go to Fehr's condo and grab another.
Although he didn't shake Donovan, he was shaken by the newest addition to the Mord family. Föderativ was an odd duck. From what he had observed in the last few days, he kept to himself. He'd heard a couple of students discussing him. They were females and fawned and cooed over him mostly, but they also said he was pretty good. Yet, he didn't believe the man was a professor. He didn't carry himself like one. You're paranoid, he thought. He had been lucky. Thus far, no one had pointed a finger at him, even though almost everyone at the university knew of his past. Andy Dannon sighed heavily. She wasn't going to show up tonight. It was time for him to go home and plan out his next move. He pushed his chair back from the table and slowly stood. Right before he turned his back to walk away, he grinned. A bit late, but Donovan had shown up after all. Instead of immediately sitting down, he walked over to his favorite shelf of books and began selecting a volume here and there. His and Donovan's game was always the same. He'd pick out books, she'd follow his lead, and they would sit down and discuss everything from Dr. Seuss to psychosis. When he came around the corner, she saw him and nodded politely. He did the same. Her elimination would be special.
* * *
Donovan sat in the tiny living room of his faculty house. He hated this place, hated it more as each day passed. There had been no other murders in quite a few days. He didn't understand what Dannon was waiting for. The lack of a new murder had settled down the campus and he noticed that the students were more into their lives than ever before. Jake and Alex had been keeping close watch on Zimmerman and Reed, reporting absolutely nothing suspicious. In fact, they had yet to see Dannon. If something didn't happen soon, Shoemaker would pull them out. He didn't agree with the theory that the killer was Dannon. Too much time had passed between murders, and the idiot believed that the deaths of Fehr, Dover, Simons, and Combs had been some type of extraordinary coincidence. He again found himself thinking that Shoemaker was a blathering fool. I'm giving you two more weeks, Donovan. If you haven't secured a suspect by then, I'm pulling the team out and giving it back to the police. It won't be a FBI matter any longer, Shoemaker had said. The man was entirely convinced that Donovan only wanted to be involved because of Loralei. She was a major part of it, but not the only reason. If they were forced to back out, and if anything happened to his wife, Donovan would ensure that Shoemaker would pay and pay dearly. He didn't doubt that he'd revert back to that cold-hearted rogue agent who nearly took out Carly Butler with his bare hands.
He stood up and walked over to the window. He peered through the blinds, as if he expected Loralei and the children to be sitting out on the grass. He missed them, missed the hell out of them, but he would endure the separation for as long as it took if it meant no harm would come to her. Frustrated, he knew they had to move, had to tie Dannon to the murders. There had been little physical evidence, only a few spots of blood here and there, but what good was blood if there was no suspect? He had the sudden irresistible urge to hear his wife's voice. He had seen her earlier today, but hadn't exchanged three words with her. She had donned a complete 'ew' façade when it came to his alter ego. It was the only way either of them could keep their wits about them. The only time he had nearly blown his cover was after a remark made by Reed: That Donovan is really nice looking when she keeps her mouth closed. I'd love to find out if her hair is truly that color. It had taken sheer iron will to avoid breaking his nose, and he had come close to commenting that yes, her hair was really that color. Then he would have cheerfully killed the man. Instead, he had bitten his tongue and walked away. He didn't take kindly to the blatant disrespect of his wife. Sighing [fuck it], he walked back over to the couch and grabbed his cell phone off the end table. Although risky, he needed to speak to Loralei, to hear the screaming calls of his daughter, and the wailing cries of his son. He dialed the number and listened to the phone ring. Come on, baby, pick up. I need you.
"Hello."
He recognized the voice, of course, but it wasn't Loralei. "Kara?"
"Oh, hi, Frank. How are you?"
Donovan recalled that Loralei had told his brother and sister in-law that he had gone out of town. "Fine. I assume Loralei isn't there if you are. Do you know where she is?"
"She said something about working on an article. I think she said she would be in her office for the next few hours. She'll be disappointed that she missed you," Kara said.
In her office? She wasn't in her office. She had left before he did and there was no mention of her working late at school. Loralei, if you are where I think you are… "Yes," he said. "I'm sure she will. If you see her, tell her I called." After hearing Kara's promise to pass along the message, Donovan disconnected the call. She's at the fucking library, picking Dannon's brain clean. What the hell is she thinking?
Donovan hadn't been to the public library in some time, but he had no trouble finding it. He knew exactly where she would be, and he headed right for that area, taking care to stay in the shadows in case Dannon noticed him. Tonight, he wasn't "Mittel." He was Frank Donovan, severely worried and pissed off husband. He heard her voice before he saw her. He stopped short of entering the area where she sat and he ducked behind a tall shelf loaded with books. He peered around the corner and saw that she was sitting with an older man, seemingly engrossed in conversation. Damn that woman. Why is she so fucking stubborn? It was her way or no way. He was close to approaching her in the clear. Fuck Dannon. He was tired of this shit and longed to lock Dannon away. Instead of acting on his impulse, he remained standing behind the shelf. Eventually, she would rise. He didn't mind waiting, he had no trouble being patient, but the longer he waited, the angrier he became. How long had she been doing this? He heard the soft scrape of a wooden chair as it was pushed back from a table. Excellent.
Loralei moved past the shelf that was providing cover for Donovan, but she didn't immediately see him. She walked down an aisle directly across from where he stood. As she turned to grab a book that had caught her eye, she saw him. She faced him with a look he had seen before. Oh shit. Busted. He gazed at her with a lifted eyebrow. He didn't want excuses or an explanation. He wanted a guarantee that she would never approach the creep again. Would he get that? Probably not, especially when it was Loralei Kadin-Donovan with whom he was dealing. He waited expectantly, knowing that she'd approach eventually. Five seconds, and I'm coming after you, he thought. Slowly, she walked toward him, keeping her eyes peeled for Dannon. If he saw Donovan, the game would end. Once she made it within arms reach, Donovan reached out and took hold of Loralei's wrist. Off to the side near the aisle was a small room the library called a 'carrel.' They were small study rooms that offered soundproof accommodations. Luckily, this one was empty, and he dragged his wife inside. At first, he didn't know whether to kiss her or choke her.
"What the hell are you doing," he demanded, trying his damn best to keep his voice at a calm, controlled level. "Don't you realize this man is a killer and you're on his short list? Has that failed to enter your mind?"
"No," she said, "It hasn't. How could it, Frank?" Her green eyes were flashing angrily. Oh yes. This discussion would be a fun one. Would tonight turn into another angered separation such as they endured when Rachel was still an infant? "This is affecting me as much, if not more than you."
"Don't you see what you're doing, Loralei? You're trying to redeem yourself again, and it's putting you in a situation that you cannot control. It's over, Loralei. That part of your life is in the past, and it needs to stay there. How difficult would it be for him to harm you? I haven't said this to you often, but tonight, I think it's necessary. Stay out of it, Loralei. Leave it to us."
"Leave it to the professionals," she blurt bitterly. "That hurts, Frank, it really hurts." She jerked her wrist out of his hand and backed away a few steps. "You above all others should realize what's going on inside me right now. Call it redemption or stupidity or insanity. Choose your adjective, Frank, almost anything will fit. I want it to stop before something happens to you, because you are on his short list as well, or do you not realize it?" It was the separation, she knew this. There was so much stress, anguish, and depression that when they did have a moment alone, they wound up fighting about something. She hadn't said anything to Donovan, but she'd been having terrible nightmares and wasn't sleeping well. She had had Kara come over a dozen times and ruined more than one of her blouses crying on her shoulder. She didn't want to burden her already preoccupied sister in-law, but there was no one else there for her. "I'll collect my shit, go home, and leave this to the professionals."
Before her hand fell on the doorknob, Donovan's hand shot out again and he took hold of her forearm. "Baby, wait." She didn't turn toward him. "I'm sorry. I want this to end, but it has to be done on my terms. I will not bend on that. I don't want us to hurt each other when our expectations exceed reality, but this is something that you don't need to be embroiled in, and you should back off. For that, I will not apologize."
"Frank, I'm scared," she whispered.
"I know, Loralei, but nothing will happen to you-"
Before he could complete his thought, she turned toward him and shook her head. "No," she said shakily. "You don't understand. I'm not afraid for me. I'm afraid for you. I've not…not been sleeping so great. Kara has practically moved in with me and probably hasn't seen her husband like she wants. I don't feel good about this case and I wish you could back out. I'm a stubborn bitch, I've never made that a secret, but I'm terrified. Something is going to happen to you, I just know it." He reached for her, but she backed away, escaping his grip again. "Don't placate me, Agent Donovan," she said. "Regardless of how many times you say 'don't be ridiculous,' I will not bend on this. Yes, I'm sticking my nose where it doesn't belong; yes, I should back off and let your team take care of it. I just don't…don't want to lose you, and I can't stop thinking that I will."
For the third time, he reached for her and she allowed him to draw her into his embrace. "I don't intend to placate you. Your fears are legitimate, but unwarranted. This will end soon enough and you'll see." He gazed down into her eyes. "Getting yourself hurt won't do anything other than drive me over the edge, and I don't want to go to that dark, dark place again. This man is losing touch with reality. Soon enough, he'll screw up, and this will be over. There is nothing I can say to allay your fears, because you are stubborn, but I wouldn't have you any other way. Go home, Loralei. Go home, love the kids for us both, and end this need for redemption. You've put in enough time and you're overdue for a reprieve."
"I'm sorry, too, Frank, I just-"
He briefly placed two fingers over her lips. "Ah, wait. It's not necessary to apologize. You're a stubborn bitch and I'm a stubborn bastard," he said with a smile. "Perfect match."
She laughed a little. "Yeah, right," she said. "I'll go, right now, I promise."
He kissed her very briefly. Any more than that, and he'd want her even more than he already did. "I love you. I miss you and the kids so badly I ache."
"Let me go before I can't." She turned away and opened the door, slipping out without looking back.