Jenny was sobbing and distraught, her mascara running down her face in dark streaks and her lashes clumping together. She had spent the last hour searching for Becca, who had disappeared from their hotel room after an argument about her mother sleeping with a man. Little did she know the truth of what her mum was doing in Madrid. Jenny was near exhausted and emotionally overwrought. She had no idea where she had searched and where she hadn't. She retraced her steps back to her hotel, and knocked on Chauncey's door. He opened it and took one look at her, his mouth opening to frame a question, his brow furrowing in concern. Jenny launched herself at him, and they embraced. She needed some physical reassurance and comfort before she answered any questions. She kept him close for a long time, soaking up the contact, his touch, the feeling of holding someone who cared about her. He did care about her, didn't he? He didn't just want her for what she offered as an asset, did he? Just for chasing the people or person who had manipulated his dead fiancée, Rose? She had kissed him in the nightclub, and he had kissed her back, softly, gently, before she slapped him and got him thrown out. It had felt good to her, and she thought he'd liked that, even though they were on the job. She'd touched his hand, when her daughter saw them, and it felt intimate. Even her daughter had thought she'd seen the parting of lovers, who'd spent the night together. Their relationship, strained at first, had developed into one of mutual respect and closeness of sorts. She'd seen him looking at her when she was undressed, with a look that could only be longing. Desire. Lust. Call it want you want. She thought she detected an undercurrent of possessiveness or envy when she had been forced to sleep with Felipe, and she didn't think she'd imagined it. It wasn't just him looking out for her. He seemed curious about her, like he was taken with her intensity of character, her vulnerability and yet her strength. He was drawn to her, and not just professionally, she thought. And she to him. She liked his natural authority, his humour, his physique, his dark suits. He looked good in them.
He was kissing the top of her head as they stayed holding each other. She liked how comforting it felt. Her cheek was pressed on his chest, her ear could feel his heart pulsing. It was beating fast. So was hers, if she was honest. It was the most prolonged intimate contact they'd had since arriving at Inferno, when she had been holding his hand. Lifting her head slightly from his chest, she looked up at him. Without conscious thought, her hand, which had been wrapped around his back, came up to stroke his face, that thick glossy beard. What was she doing? Was she seeking some sort of relief? Her eyes looked longingly at his lips, always a fatal move, and the next moment they were kissing, and she couldn't stop herself kissing him back, with a need that she hadn't predicted. Her hands held his face, his neck, swept through his hair. She'd always assumed he was vain with longer glossy black hair like that, that he obviously tended. She had realised that he actually touched it when he was thinking, or worried about something. His hands too, travelled up and down her back, across her bottom, up and down her arms. It seemed like he was as much caught up in the moment as she was.
He was wearing his crisp white shirt, untucked, and somewhat unbuttoned, and was barefoot. Chris had sloped off to the bar when she had first appeared at the door, to allow them some privacy. With what seemed like hands belonging to someone else, she undid the remaining buttons and took his shirt off. He did nothing to stop her, letting her lead, but longing was written clearly across his face. She stroked his chest, he looked fantastic, like he worked out and took care of himself. She felt her own desire rise in her chest. Why shouldn't she be attracted to him? He was good looking, tall, and interested in her. Of course, she should be out looking for Becca, but Becca had walked away of her own free will and would probably return when she had cooled off.
She undid the clasp on his suit trousers, then the zipper. They slid to the floor. He stepped out of them neatly, a small smile playing on his lips. He looked at her, a questioning look. What did she want now? In response, she slipped her own top off and moved his hands to her breasts. She made it clear what she needed. His hands moved, caressing her breasts one at a time, moving to the claps of her bra and unhooking it. She walked to his bedroom, turning to look back at him as she went, the invitation to follow, clear on her face. She sat back on the bed, relaxed, watching him as he walked across the room in only his boxers, his erection obvious to see. She wiggled out of her jeans, and he waited for her, and then he carefully climbed to position himself over her as she lay back.
"Make love to me Chauncey," she whispered and as expected, those words had a pronounced effect on him. He began kissing her again, a different type of kiss this time, wet, hard and full of promise. He pulled off his shorts and her pants, and began to gently stroke her clitoris, which made her gasp with pleasure. He carried on until she reached climax, and then she was moist and ready for him. He kissed her breasts, sucking and biting them gently, causing her to cry out. He entered her whilst watching her face, moving slowly and suggestively. He came quickly himself, quietly, yet it was clear how much he was enjoying the experience with her. Afterwards, he held himself above her with apparent ease, his strong arms flexing with minimum effort, his face studying hers in an attempt to understand her motivation for the sex. Moving to one side slightly, he lay down next to her, still breathing rapidly, and exhaled.
"That was exquisite, Jen," he breathed quietly, with an undertone of disbelief. He turned to look at her, his smile turning hard. "Was that the Felipe experience?"
"No, Chauncey! I told you, I fucked him. We've just made love. Are you jealous?"
"Yes," he admitted.
"Well, don't be."
"It's difficult. You're so beautiful. Clever. Amazing. I wanted you."
Jenny couldn't stay mad at him when he said things like that. She leaned over and kissed him on the lips. "Thank you," she murmured. "I wanted you too, which I think I just made clear."
"I haven't been with anyone since Rose," he admitted sadly.
"Me neither."
"You slept with Rose?" he said with a shy smile. "You mean your husband, don't you?"
"Yes."
His free hand stroked her face, wiping away the black lines of mascara and tears. Despite being completely naked, neither of them felt embarrassed or self-conscious.
"Why were you crying? What was it you wanted to talk to me about?"
"It's Becca," she explained. "She walked out, and I couldn't find her. I searched everywhere. She said we were sleeping together."
"Well, she's right now, Jen."
"True. I'm going to have a shower. Then, I want to ring her to see if she's back."
Jenny turned on the warm jets of the powerful walk-in shower and stood under the healing spray. Chauncy came into the bathroom and joined her in the shower. He rubbed the rich shampoo into her hair slowly and sensuously, and she leaned back into his touch, her eyes closing with pleasure. His hands traced the soap down her body, and she found herself reacting to his touch all over again. He moved behind her and his hands reached to hold her stomach as he entered her gently. It felt so good, so pleasurable, that she groaned with satisfaction and delight. As he came, his hands moved to her groin and stroked her tender zones, making her squirm with pleasure. As he stood, savouring the moment, she reached behind to stroke his bottom. It was firm and curvy and felt good. She couldn't believe she was feeling so drawn to him.
"Are you hungry?" he asked.
"We could order room service."
"We could, but wouldn't it be nicer to eat together in the restaurant? I love how you look right now, but you have so many clothes, and you look so sexy wearing them too."
"Sexy you say?"
"God, yes, you're so sexy. Haven't you noticed how I can barely keep my eyes off you?"
She smiled at him. "Yes, I have. Let's go to the restaurant then."
They sat at a quiet table, chatting intermittently and smiling together. She ordered steak and a glass of red wine, and he had a local dish of tortilla with potato and red pepper and sparkling mineral water. She was enjoying his company, and the attention he was paying her. She had dressed in a dark blue dress that hugged her figure and he had complimented her on how she looked, his hands lingering as he zipped up the back. He'd dressed in another crisp shirt, with tie but without the waistcoat, and looked attractive and roguish. Their knees met under the table and that sent a thrill up her body. Occasionally he took her hand, and she realised she yearned to feel his hands on her body again. She thought he felt the same, the way his body reacted to her touch. How he smiled, and caught her eye. How he kept looking at her. Chris came and found them, and told them he was going out to a nightclub. They arranged they would reconvene in the morning and figure out what the next step in their plan to discover the identity of Gideon was.
"You need to tell her, man," he said as he left, his face serious.
"Tell me what?" asked Jenny.
Chauncey looked uncomfortable.
"Tell me what?" Jenny repeated.
"Okay, but you're not going to like this," he warned her.
"Like what?"
"I asked Chris to implant cameras in your eyes, so we can see everything you can see."
"Cameras? See everything? So, you could see me having sex with Felipe?"
Chauncey nodded, despondent.
"And Chris could see us together?"
"No, no. I asked Chris to turn them off before he left."
"Oh my God, Chauncey. So, you knew about my argument with Becca and what she'd said already? About my search? Do you realise what a breach of trust and privacy this is?"
"I know and I'm sorry. I feel terrible."
"As if I don't have trust issues already. God."
She got up and walked away from him, from the warmth of his body and the feeling of his hands. From the taste of his mouth. But if she couldn't trust him, what was there between them? It made her feel angry. And sad. She returned to her room, and sat on her bed, head in her hands. There was a quiet knock on the door. Chauncy had followed her.
"Jen? I'm so sorry." His hand reached for her, and for a moment she wavered. He could see the indecision on her face. His fingers closed around hers and he held her hand. He pulled her close and they embraced. Tears rolled from her eyes, down her cheeks and onto his shirt. This was how it had begun. He held her tightly, he didn't want to let go. She was so torn, she felt lots of new feelings for him that she wanted time to explore, but a big part of her felt like running away, leaving him, like she had responded to danger all her life.
"How can I trust you, Chauncey?"
"I know Jenny. I know. But I want you to forgive me. Please. The way I feel about you, this can't be it."
"How do you feel about me?" she asked, curious despite herself.
"I thought I'd never love anyone again after Rose. But with you, I know I could. I could love you, Jenny. I'm falling in love with you."
She looked at him then, and saw that this strong man was in tears, pleading with her. Offering his heart. Finally, being honest.
"Why did you do it?"
"I didn't know how I'd feel about you, Jenny. I was treating you like an asset, like when I was in the CIA. Chris acquired this new technology, and I thought: what the hell? Let's try it out. I didn't ask you. I didn't know you, then. I'm sorry. I wish I hadn't treated you that way."
"How did you put them in?"
"Chris did it under my instruction, just after you'd agreed to work with us."
She could feel herself relenting, despite the logical part of her brain screaming at her. The cameras made sense from an operational point of view. It's not even as if she was a true American citizen. She was a Russian spy. A defector. And he'd located her and told no-one else.
"I should break your nose."
"Please don't."
"Well, it would spoil your beautiful face."
"Beautiful? Is that what you think?"
"Maybe. I think we'd better get some things straight. I'm going to need to be able to trust you from now on. Full transparency, okay?" she chided him. He nodded.
"The cameras can stay. But…operations only. I don't want footage of us in bed."
"So, does that mean we will be in bed? Together? Again?" he asked tentatively, almost not believing his ears.
She smiled, a ghost of a smile, that grew as he continued to look at her. He grinned back. He kissed her. She kissed him back. They went back to his room and ordered another bottle of red wine. Jenny couldn't believe the price of wine in Spain; she was likely to become an alcoholic. She continued ringing Becca's number as she had been doing for the past several hours. Eventually Becca picked up. It turned out she had been in the hotel bar for much of the time, after going to her friend's room. Instead of getting angry, Jenny asked if she could introduce someone to her. Becca agreed. They both went downstairs to meet Becca.
"I'm sorry Becca," said Jenny, as soon as she saw her daughter. They hugged.
"You scared me mum, I've never seen you like that," whispered Becca unhappily. "Your hands were around my throat."
Jenny looked at Chauncey. "Look, I'm sorry and I'll explain. But first I'd like you to meet someone. Becca meet Chauncey. Chauncey, Becca."
They looked at each other for a moment. Chauncey smiled and shook her hand. She smiled back. It was clear, that like her mother, the Chauncey smile would soon win her over.
They sat together in some easy seats, and intercepting the red wine due in his room, Jenny poured herself a glass. Chauncey had another mineral water and Becca had a coke.
"Where to start?" Jenny asked, looking at Chauncey, sipping her wine.
"Why don't you drink?" Becca asked Chauncey, cutting in.
"I just don't," he replied curtly, reaching over to take Jenny's hand. "Let's start with telling Becca that she was correct, and we are seeing each other."
"I knew it," she exclaimed.
"Also, your mother is working for me, to find a criminal who is a danger to all Americans. And she is working here in Madrid, which is why she hasn't been around much. So, if you want to blame someone, blame me." Becca was quiet, listening. So, Chauncey continued, more quietly. "I'm ex-CIA and your mum used to be a Russian spy. She's brilliant at her job, a real one in a million. Bet you didn't know that." He paused, to allow time for her to take it all in.
"Working here? A spy? Are you joking?"
"No." Chauncey sat back and folded his arms. His confidence, charisma and authority spoke for themselves. Becca believed him.
"So, who is this criminal?" asked Becca.
"Well, it's better the less you know. But you can't go running off again Becca, it's not safe. Please. Listen to me," pleaded her mother.
"And you, mom, what does being a spy mean? Do you have to follow people, or what?" asked Becca again.
"Becca, your mother does what I ask her to do. And while the nature of her work is highly classified, please be assured that your mother's behaviour towards you was directly as a result of her having a very difficult and stressful day. Please forgive her." He continued to hold Jenny's hand, and stroked it, but was looking at Becca.
"Okay," Becca said quietly, looking back and forth between them.
They stayed in the bar, chatting for a while, before heading back upstairs. Becca went back to the room she shared with her mum and Jenny kissed her goodnight before going into Chauncey's room. Chris had moved into another room. There was only another week before they all returned to the USA. Jenny was determined to get some sightseeing and local culture in before she left. They talked about going to a genuine Spanish restaurant and swimming tomorrow, and for a walk around a gallery, palace or park. It was nice to make plans with someone, someone like Chauncey, the right mix of danger and intrigue. She slipped off her dress and climbed into bed beside him. In the morning she woke up early and watched him sleeping for a short while. He looked peaceful, and her fingers reached to stroke his jaw. The movement nudged him awake.
"Shall we go swimming?" she whispered.
"Why are you whispering?" he smiled back at her.
The pool was empty, and they swam a few lengths before he enveloped her in a kiss. The lack of clothing and the touching, a heady mix, soon meant they returned to their room and climbed back into bed, shedding the wet clothing along the way. He touched her all over and they giggled and rolled over again and again, the anxiety of early lovemaking out of the way. They were relaxed with each other and took their time and had fun, trying new things. Afterwards they were both hungry and went in search of breakfast. Becca was still asleep in her room. Jenny sat drinking coffee and munching on toast in the bar, while Chauncey watched her.
"What?" she said.
"Just you, being lovely," he told her, before leaning over and kissing her. There was a faint cough. Chris was there.
"Um, so, you guys just…what? Got together?" he asked, fairly bluntly.
"Um, yeah," said Chauncey.
Jenny smiled. "It's okay, Chris, he has told me. Thank you for reminding him to."
"Good," Chris pronounced. "Just so you know, I wasn't up for it, but Chauncey was like: we're doing it. I think he should have asked you first."
"I agree Chris. I should have asked her. It was wrong not to," Chauncey admitted.
"And you're okay with that?" Chris asked Jenny. She nodded. "Okay, well, what's the plan?" Chris asked, grabbing a slice of toast from their plates, and pouring a coffee for himself.
"I feel like I should know who this Gideon is already. It's like it's someone familiar to me. Maybe from my past? If only I could just think. Just figure it out," Jenny said, thinking out loud. She looked at Chauncey. "What do you think?"
"Why don't you tell us about your early life Jen? Like a timeline, and maybe we'll stumble across a name?"
"I've never told anyone about that," she said quietly. "Never. You must realise keeping secrets was just part of my life and it's hard to break that habit."
Chauncey took her hand gently. "You can trust me, Jen. From now on I promise. You can trust me with your life."
"Well…my name wasn't always Jenny, it was Anya then; you know that already. I didn't know my parents, I was an orphan, raised by the Russian state. That was pretty harsh, but it got worse. When I was around 13, I was recruited by my handler, who trained me in close combat, surveillance, many foreign languages, basic situational awareness and psychology. I stopped going to school, saw no more of my old friends, but I was given a small dingy flat to call my own. There is no system to protect children against this kind of thing, like there would be in America. I worked in a small team, trying to infiltrate the diplomatic residences of other world superpowers, such as America, Germany, Japan, Britain, and China. I worked hard, there was no time off. The woman who was my surrogate mother, my mentor and the cruellest woman I've ever known was Svetlana Petrova, and she trained, created and damaged me beyond belief. She was tough, and relentless and I was afraid of her. She never accepted failure, and would beat me. Please don't pity me. But I want to tell you the truth, explain what life was like for me, so you know why I am the way I am."
Chauncey was looking a little shocked and his grip on Jenny's hand was turning it white. Jenny leant over and kissed him. "Chauncey, breathe."
"I'm sorry, I know I should be able to listen to it…but it's about you. That makes it different. Sorry."
"Chauncey, don't be sorry for being a decent human being. Anyway, as I was infiltrating the Chinese embassy, and I met a woman called Faina and I fell in love with her. Svetlana used that against me. My mark was a scientist, Dr Orlov, who had created a serum to change human DNA. And it was her father. I was miserable. Svelana injected me with the serum once I had killed him and recovered it. Her own pet project: me. I nearly died, but I was the only person to survive. Later the experiment was shelved. She monitored me for many months, but I realised she would stop at nothing until I was dead, so I ran away. I smuggled myself into the USA and there I hid for years. The serum created the ability that if I touch someone, I can morph into their body shape. You know the rest."
"Why did you go to America?" asked Chris.
"Why did you get divorced?" asked Chauncey at almost the same time, asking a different kind of question.
"I chose America because I hoped Svetlana's reach did not extend that far. And I was right about that. I got divorced because years of lies had broken me. Any more questions?"
"Yes, one more. How old were you when you arrived in the US?"
"I was 16, Chauncey. That was nearly 20 years ago."
They left the restaurant, making their way back to their rooms. As they walked, Jenny was thinking.
"Chauncey, do you think Svetlana could be behind this? She would be around 60 years old now. Is it possible?"
"It's possible. Let's look into it. Chris? Can you?"
"I'm insulted you even need to ask."
Jenny went to check on Becca, who was getting ready for training. "Morning!" she announced brightly.
"Do you have to be so damn cheerful?" muttered the teenager, sullenly.
"Sorry," said Jenny, kissing her on the cheek and trying not to be offended. "Do you mind if we come and watch?"
"Sure," said Becca, still in a difficult mood.
Chauncey drove them to practice, which cheered Becca up a bit. Jenny realised she missed her dad, and actually enjoyed having a man around. Especially an attractive one like Chauncey she understood when she saw Becca's friends looking at him with some interest. As they watched the skating, Chauncey put his arm around Jenny's shoulders, and she leaned into him, grateful for his presence, his support, his strength. He smelt good too, and it was very distracting.
"God, you smell good," she murmured, looking at his face, her eyes glittering.
He kissed her. The other moms kept looking at them. She didn't care. "Is it strange that we're together and I'm working for you?"
"It's all a little strange when it comes to you Jenny," he laughed. "There is no rule book for this relationship, is there?"
"Is that what we have? A relationship?"
"Says the girl who got married? I'm falling in love with you Jen. I want a relationship with you. Isn't that what you want?"
"I do too. Even when we go back to America, I want to see you. How will that work?"
"If we want it to work, we'll make it work." He kissed her again, and the kiss went on. They broke off, out of breath, just before they reached the danger zone of no return.
"Oh god, you just do things to me Chauncey. I can't control myself when you kiss me."
"I think you've shown excellent self-control just now. Better than mine. I just want to rip all your clothes off here, where we are."
She smiled at him, in agreement.
"Do you miss being called Anya?"
"No, I chose my new name. It's me, now. I don't miss my old life."
"Were you worried when I first found you?"
"Worried doesn't cover it. I was terrified. I didn't know what to do."
"Sorry."
"Do you still want to find the person responsible for what happened to Rose?"
"I still feel like I owe it to her Jen, you know? Even now." She knew he meant despite them.
"Okay, we'll do it. I have a feeling it is Svetlana. And I have my own revenge I owe her."
After training finished, the three of them walked around the Royal Palace of Madrid and then took a leisurely 30-minute walk to El Retiro park. None of them had realised the city was so full of parks. The heat was intense, and they stopped for iced water along the way. Jenny was wearing a light flowery summer dress and factor 40 sunscreen and Chauncey wore a white t-shirt and navy shorts. It was nice to see him in casual clothes. Chauncey's pale skin showed little sign of tanning.
"I wish I'd shaved this beard off," he announced.
Jenny stroked it. "I could," she offered, and he smiled.
Becca tired and decided to get a taxi back to the hotel, leaving them alone in the park. They walked around the central lake holding hands, following the shady paths, looking at the statues and ornate pillars and sometimes cutting across the grassed areas, stopping frequently to kiss and touch. Jenny wasn't surprised that Becca had chosen to leave them, they were acting like a couple of teenagers. She smiled. Why not? She'd never had a chance to be a normal teen.
After they had stopped for lunch at El 17 de Moreto, eating delicious oxtail burgers on tomato bread, with avocado and tahini, Jenny noticed something she couldn't explain. She had a sense that they were being followed. Careful not to give anything away, she leaned over and whispered to Chauncey. His eyes slid to where she had indicated and he nodded, before kissing her on the nose.
"You are something else, Jen," he murmured with admiration in his voice. They paid and got up and decided to draw their tail out. Splitting up, Jenny grabbed him in a quiet alleyway.
"Who are you working for?" she shouted at him, as he squirmed. He wasn't very old, only very early 20s and he blurted something out in Russian.
"Oh god," she said, almost folding, as Chauncey caught her up. The young man had referred to her as little bird. "That's what Svetlana used to call me."
Chauncey held her, to stop her falling. They rang Chris who came and collected the man, taping his arms and legs and bundling him into the back of the car. They got in alongside. He had fake ID that suggested he was indeed, Russian. Back in the hotel, they checked in on Becca who was gaming with her friend and drinking iced slushies. A reddened face showed that she had forgotten sun cream on their excursion that morning. Jen applied after sun, despite Becca's protests, and then then returned to sit with the unknown man in Chris' room, trying to decide what them being followed, and what he'd said, meant.
"We have to assume that whoever sent him, knows where he is now. They'll come for him." she surmised. "We probably just need to sit and wait."
Chris got out the stash of weapons, sourced to be untraceable, handed one to Chauncey and one to Jenny. He took one himself, although it was clear he was not confident in handling a gun, being more comfortable with a keyboard as his weapon, despite his size. They settled down to wait. They didn't need to wait long. A short time later, two men in dark clothes took the lift, up from the lobby, and stopped on their floor. Chris had installed tiny cameras across the hotel to monitor who came and went, for their safety. Despite concerns over snooping, Jenny was pleased right now, as they watched the suspicious looking pair approach. Chris turned the lights off. The man they held, already had tape over his mouth. They lay him on the floor beside the bed and he didn't struggle. The men came through the door and Chris turned the overhead lights on, which revealed the outstretched weapons of the men. Chauncey fired at one of them, the other man fired at the prone shape of the man on the floor, two shots to his chest and one to his head, an execution. Chauncey had fired at the other man's legs, designed to wound him, and the man fell to the floor. But then, the wounded man returned fire, hitting Chauncey twice in the chest. Jenny fired at both men simultaneously. At that point, three unknown men lay on the floor, bleeding, and were joined by Chauncey who slid to the ground.
"Take their weapons," Jenny screamed at Chris, and she jumped to Chauncey's side.
He was losing a lot of blood. Chris kicked the weapons away from the armed men, who looked like they were probably both dead and rang for an ambulance. Jenny performed basic first aid, but Chauncey was looking paler by the second. Jenny leaned over and kissed him on the lips, gently.
"I love you," she pleaded in a whisper. "Stay with me, Chauncey."
He smiled as he lost consciousness. Jenny followed him to hospital, refusing to stay and speak to the police. Chris stayed behind and tried to explain what had happened. The hotel manager was beside himself with the situation, and the shooting had woken Becca, who had fallen asleep after the sunshine and exercise.
Chauncey died in surgery after massive blood loss. Jenny was heartbroken.
Chris had lost his employer and returned to his hometown, determined to stay on the right side of the law from now on.
Becca and Jenny dealt with the Spanish authorities as best they could, feigning ignorance, with the help of the American Embassy. When they discovered Chauncey had fired a weapon, everyone assumed he had shot both men, and they had shot the man on the floor, in a bungled robbery. The Police recorded it as a simple hotel invasion and closed the case. Only Jenny, who had searched the two new men in the critical period, before the ambulance and Police had arrived, had found evidence that they were Russian agents, and kept the information to herself. She had removed the tape from the man they caught earlier, so it looked like he'd arrived with them. Chris removed all evidence of their laptops and IT monitoring station
Jenny found she couldn't stop herself crying. Becca comforted her, as best she could. They packed and checked out of the hotel, determined to get home. The competition was cancelled, the girls all too traumatised to compete. As they waited at the airport to return home, despite her tears, Jenny noticed a dyed-red haired oriental woman openly watching her grief.
"Anya?" the woman asked her quietly. There was something familiar about her.
"Faina?" Jenny whispered in in reply. "Is it really you?"
"It's me," she replied. "And I've finally got my own back on you for killing my father. Svetlana asked me to punish you for defecting, and I have."
"But she forced me to kill your father."
"I know Anya, I know. And I will kill her next. Goodbye." And she melted away into the crowds in the busy airport.
"Mum, why did she call you Anya? Did she say she killed Chauncey? And who is she killing next? Can't we tell the Police?"
"Becca, I'm going to tell you the whole story when we get home, I promise you. All of it. No more secrets. But we can't go to the Police, and when I tell you, you'll understand why."
On the flight home, they held hands and slept on each other's shoulders.
