Sam was the first to relax again and lean back against John, who sat up stiffly behind her. He lowered his lips again to Sam's ear.
"If they've found out, someone will want to take out the Powells quickly and quietly."
"Who would inherit by default, Finch?" Sam asked.
"I'm working on searching through the family, which is extensive. Any one person could have found out about the will and informed the others."
"You met her, John. Does she have any other security besides Powell?"
"There's a guy who's there at night, why?"
"If they're waiting for Mrs. Willman to die, I wouldn't be surprised if they tried taking out all three of them."
"That would be too obvious," Finch said. "The family would be suspected immediately once the will was discovered."
"The Powells are the numbers that came up, Sam," John whispered. "We need to concentrate on them."
Sam giggled all of a sudden and looked lovingly at John.
"What are you doing?"
"We're getting some weird looks," Sam told him. "Comfortable under cover, remember?"
At that information, John smiled and gave her a short peck on the lips.
"What's our next move?"
John considered the question for a moment, glancing at the Powells then back at Sam. "We need to get out of here. We can't be this close to them if we want to see what's coming before they do."
"Now, Mommy and Daddy, you're so stiff!" Candle had made it over to them. Sam exchanged a look with Mel before looking up at the instructor. "That's no position to make baby comfortable." She leaned down and touched Sam on her shoulders, intending to push her back in more of a reclining position.
Sam grabbed her wrists and pulled her hands off. "Touch me again, and die." She felt John forcing back his laughter.
Candle's smile flickered. "Mommy's forcing all of that energy to baby. She'll regret it later on if she doesn't lighten up."
Sam bristled at the condescending, childlike, singsong voice Candle the Insufferable Hippie was putting on. "That's it. Listen you – mmffph fmmph mffpphrt!"
John's hand came over Sam's mouth, muffling the rest of Sam's lashing out at the unsuspecting instructor. "Sorry," he said with a charming smile. "She gets grumpy if she's not fed on time."
Sam made to twist around and sock him, but he held her firmly in place.
"I'd just let her be if I were you," he advised.
Candle nodded and moved on to the Powells.
Sam then seized the opportunity once John removed his hand. "This is your fault. You did this to me!" she shouted at him.
"Sam," John said testily.
"Oh dear," Finch said over their earpieces. "In a way, she's right, Mr. Reese."
Sam squirmed against him. "Now you're talking about me like I'm some overgrown hamster! 'If she's not fed on time… duh, duh, duh'" Sam mimicked his voice in the most unflattering and stupid way possible.
"What are you doing?" John whispered.
"Getting us out," Sam muttered back. "Don't you dare say I'm being irrational!" she shouted. "I hate it when you treat me like I'm just some crazy person who happens to be carrying your overgrown fetus!"
"Come on, we're going home," John said. He lifted Sam up under her arms and carted her out of the room as everyone stared after them.
"Ugh! I don't wanna go home," she whined convincingly.
They kept the bit up until they were well outside the gym. Sam waddled and held onto John until they reached the car.
"So, what's the plan?" Sam asked as John sat in the driver's seat.
"We wait and keep a close eye on both of them while Finch narrows down the family to a suspect," John answered.
Sam wriggled in the seat, fighting with the faux belly. She looked at John just in time to see his smile before he snatched it away. "Oh no," she said.
"What?"
"You like this," she concluded.
"Like what?"
"This," she waved her hands vaguely over her body. "At least the idea of it. Barefoot and pregnant, right?"
"No," John shook his head once. "Have you found anything, Finch?"
"Not a lot, I'm sorry to say," Finch said. "The family is spread apart. There are a few relatives here in the city, some upstate, the rest are all over the country. The ones who live here are Mrs. Willman's son Nathan and his wife, her brother-in-law, Carl, and the youngest daughter, Cecilia."
"Three suspects," John said.
"Possibly," Finch replied. "The brother-in-law is supposedly out of the city on a cruise."
"Two suspects," Sam corrected, still fidgeting in the seat. "Harold, do I need to wear this anymore?"
"I suppose not for our current purposes."
Before Finch finished the sentence, Sam lifted up the maternity blouse and began messing with the band around her waist. "John, hold this. And this… and this." One by one she pulled out her gun, her phone, and a rolled up shirt from the waist band.
"Do you have a spare car in there?"
"Look at you, being so funny," Sam said sarcastically as she pulled the full contraption over her pants and slid it down her legs. Once it was off, she tossed it into the back seat.
The maternity blouse drowned her as she took the shirt out of John's hands and pulled the blouse off without a question. After a few seconds, Sam sighed out of relief. "You can turn back around now."
John had averted his eyes during the quick change, and looked back at her.
"Next time, you're the pregnant one," she jabbed her finger in the air at him. "I know why you did that, you know."
"What did I do now?" John rolled his eyes, facing the windshield.
"You deliberately put me into that situation when we could have easily dealt with this in a different way."
"You agreed to be the wife, Sam," John said.
"Don't get all technical with me! You did the pregnant thing on purpose to get back at me."
"For what?"
John looked at her and Sam met his eyes. She hesitated. He looked almost as if he were daring her to voice her next thought.
"Let's just say that I know that you know that you missed me, okay?"
"If you say so."
After Lamaze class ended, Sam and John followed the Powells to dinner. They sat in the car across the street from the restaurant.
The silence in the car was palpable. John kept his eyes on the restaurant across the street, but Sam's mind kept wandering.
When she decided to go back to her apartment, it wasn't two days before John was there. Had he looked for her before? Sam shook the question out of her head. It was meaningless to think like teenager, coming up with fabricated scenario after scenario.
John shifted in his seat and Sam looked up to see him watching her.
"Anything interesting?"
"They're discussing baby names right now." John looked back at the restaurant window then back at Sam.
He pulled out his phone and muted the transmission from Mr. Powell's phone.
"What is it?" Sam asked apprehensively. John rarely did that in the middle of a job. He liked being thorough.
"When did you come back?" he asked.
"Into the city? A little over two weeks ago."
"And you just got back into your apartment?"
"Why? Were you checking?"
John gave her a Look and didn't answer.
"I was staying with Alina. She's back in the city and said I could stay for as long as I wanted."
"Why did you come back, Sam?" John asked quietly.
John was asking the same frustrating questions Sam had been asking herself over and over again. "You didn't want me to come back," she said conclusively. "It's okay, John. I'm serious. You can say it. It'll be good to know what's in your head one way or another."
"I didn't say that."
"Then say it," Sam demanded. She blinked rapidly and looked away from him unaware of what showed on her face.
"Sam,"
She felt his eyes on her again and she forced herself to look at him.
"I can't say that."
"Why not?"
"Because it's not true. That's one thing that's not in my head."
"Then why are you asking me about it?"
"I'm trying to figure out if you're going to run again."
Sam paused in her instant denial as she realized how much of an honest statement that was, coming from John. He was always honest with her, but only to a point. Everything else was hidden away, locked down in that combination safe of a psyche he had. But in that one sentence, Sam saw John Reese. The vault door opened a little more.
Sam opened her mouth to answer but Finch beat her to it.
"There's something odd about that," he muttered to them.
The vault door slammed shut and John put his phone on speaker and they listened.
"I'll see you at home," Mel was saying to her husband.
Sam looked across the street. The couple were exiting the restaurant, and Tace Powell flagged down a cab. John started the car, ready to follow them, but stopped when he saw Tace close the cab door and wave as the taxi pulled away.
"Finch, do you have Mrs. Powell's phone?" John asked.
"I do, what's happening?"
"Trace it and keep an eye on it, will you? They just split up."
"Did she say where she was going?" Sam asked.
"No," Finch answered.
"We have to split up," John looked at Sam.
"Well, Tace can basically take care of himself. I can stay on him, just to make sure nothing surprises him, right? It looks like he's staying on foot for now," Sam watched him through the window. "The petite pregnant woman will probably need you more than me if she were attacked… right John?"
John considered the idea, then nodded. "Right."
Sam grabbed her gun and her phone and got out of the car. "Stay safe, John," she said.
"You too," John gave her a tight lipped smile.
Sam shut the door and headed across the darkening street.
John caught up to the taxi. It was heading toward Central Park West.
"Is she heading to the Willman's?" Finch seemed to come to the same conclusion that John had.
"Looks like it. Where are you, Sam?"
"Just walking," Sam said through the earpiece. "Powell doesn't seem to want to go anywhere. I don't see anyone else following him. But, I'm not expert."
"You're doing fine. Keep on him," John reassured her.
The taxi pulled up to the curb at the gate and Melanie Powell got out of the back seat. The cab pulled away as she buzzed the intercom.
"Yes?"
"This is Melanie Powell. I wanted to see Angela Willman," she sounded upset.
John opened the car door and got out.
"Finch," he muttered. "Can you cut the feeds to front gate cameras?"
"Give me a few seconds," Finch said.
John strode up to the gate as Mel was buzzed in. She walked through, letting the gate swing back. John caught it just before it closed and locked again.
"The cameras have been diverted."
"Thanks," John said as he entered.
He stayed outside, listening as Mel entered the house and was greeted by Mrs. Willman. John had met the woman earlier that day. She was frail, closed minded as old people often are, and confined to a wheelchair which, in turn, made her unbearably cranky.
"Melanie," John heard Mrs. Willman's voice over the transmission from Melanie's phone. "What's the matter?"
"I'm sorry to barge in on you like this, but I just needed someone to talk to."
"Well don't just stand there dear, come in and sit down. Susan! Make us some tea," Mrs. Willman croaked.
"Mother? What's going on? Who is this?" another female voice entered the scene. John didn't recognize it.
"Celia, don't be so rude," Mrs. Willman snapped. "This is Melanie, she's an old friend of mine, and she seems very upset right now."
"I'm sorry," Mel apologized again.
John backed into the shadow of the building as he listened. "This is weird," he mumbled.
"How so?"
"Mrs. Powell has suddenly become upset for some reason. She was fine when she left her husband about fifteen minutes ago."
"Don't be sorry, dear. How can we help?" Mrs. Willman said.
"I don't know how. I just, can I stay here for a little while?"
"Of course you can, dear."
"You look like you're ready for bed," Mel said. "I should go."
"Don't think on it. Ah, have some tea. You don't have to stay, Celia."
"I was going to bed anyway. Pleasure to meet you."
"This isn't right, Finch." John said. "She's alone now with Mrs. Willman. Could we have gotten this the wrong way around?"
"How do you mean?"
"I mean," John said as he went to the front door and incapacitated the body guard within seconds. "Could the Powells know about the will and now Mrs. Willman isn't dying fast enough for them?"