Identity Crisis

“Damn, Essie, I want that to be true.”

“I know you do. Her big brother does, too. So—” She took a deep breath, then exhaled and instructed him briskly, “Just do exactly what I say.”

Kristie had promised Justin Russo she’d wait a full half hour before putting their plan into action, allowing plenty of time for him to smuggle a phone into Randy’s room at the juvenile detention center. The agent was risking his case by putting her in touch with a detainee without alerting defense counsel, and was probably risking his career as well, all because of his faith in a woman he had never met.

Now it was up to Kristie. Or rather, up to Melissa Daniels. Because Kristie Hennessy definitely intended to delegate this particular assignment to her red-haired counterpart. Melissa had gotten her this great job, and had been a virtual operative for several of her most challenging assignments. Now she was going to crack this kidnapping case.

The spinner propped three pictures on a shelf in front of the phone for inspiration. The first was a photo of fourteen-year-old Randy Rodriguez, a typical boy with bravado to spare, yet gentleness behind his soft brown eyes. According to all reports, Randy had played hero in his five-year-old sister’s life since the very day she’d been born.

Little Lizzie Rodriguez. She had the same brown eyes and dark hair as her brother and was just as adorable. Staring back at Kristie from the second photo, her eyes danced as playfully as the teddy-bear emblem on her pink polo shirt.

Each of those photos was an inspiration, but given the chutzpah needed for this endeavor, Kristie focused on the third picture—a computer-generated image of Melissa Daniels. Long legs and a perfect body, cut-and-pasted from the Internet and clad in black leather. Luxurious red curls framing a face that was based on Kristie’s, but with shamrock-green eyes, sharper cheekbones and a sinfully generous mouth, all accentuated by sultry makeup and a saucy smile.

When she was just about as psyched up as she could hope to be, Kristie glanced at her watch, confirmed that it was time, then took a deep breath and reached for the no-frills cell phone she kept in the top drawer of her dresser.

She didn’t dare use her home phone to make this call, knowing that SPIN monitored and taped it. Her cell, on the other hand, wasn’t registered, since she had purchased it solely for the purpose of making private calls. Not that she generally made any such calls, but she had always hoped her love life might one day reactivate itself, and when it did, she didn’t want anyone, much less Ray Ortega, listening in.

Meanwhile, this phone’s day—or rather, its night—had apparently arrived.

Bracing herself, Kristie entered the phone number, then began to count the rings. One, two, three—

“H-hello?”

The plaintive voice brought a lump to the spinner’s throat, but she banished it and spoke confidently into the phone. “Hi, Randy. My name is Melissa Daniels, and it’s my job to help little girls in trouble. I’m six feet tall with flaming-red hair and a black belt in karate. And I’m not afraid of a damned thing in the whole damned world. How does that sound to you?”

Dead silence greeted the announcement.

“Randy? Are you still there?”

“I already told the police—”

“I know what you told them. I also know why you told them that. I’m very proud of you, Randy, but you and I both know there’s more to be done, don’t we? And we have to act fast. Right?”

“I don’t know.”

“That’s because you’ve never done this before. But I’ve saved hundreds of children, so I know exactly what to do. Just stay on the phone with me, and keep listening to my voice, and everything will be fine. Okay?”

He didn’t reply, but the sound of rapid breathing told her he was beginning to panic.

“Take a deep breath, sugar. I’m going to ask you a question, and you’re going to answer it yes or no. And after that, we’re going to go find Lizzie and bring her home. Okay?”

A small sob that sounded suspiciously like his sister’s name was his only response.

“Are you ready for the question, Randy?”

“Y-yes.”

“Okay. When Coach Horton talked to you today—”

“I can’t talk about him! Please don’t make me! If I do—”

“If you do, he’ll hurt Lizzie? That’s all I needed to know.” Kristie’s pulse began to race. “Horton told you she’s alive, right? That’s why you confessed—to keep her alive. You did the right thing. The smart thing. The only thing. And now with your help, I’m going to make sure he never has a chance to hurt her again.”

“You don’t understand! He doesn’t have to do anything to her. He already did it.”

“Did what?”

“He buried her in the dirt, in the middle of the woods, and he’s the only one who knows where she is. If he gets arrested, we’ll never find her and she’ll run out of air. Oh God, now what? I promised him—”

“Randy! Listen to me. Take a deep breath.” She waited a moment, then demanded, “What color hair do I have?”

“R-red.”

“And what am I afraid of?”

“Nothing,” he whispered.

“And how many little girls have I saved?”

The boy was silent for a few seconds, then answered in a voice rich with innocent hope. “Hundreds?”

“You bet your ass, sugar. So, what do you say we make it hundreds plus one?”

Chapter 2

The next morning, SPIN headquarters was buzzing with news of Kristie’s successful—albeit unconventional—foray into fieldwork. Never in the three-year history of the elite service had a spinner directly contacted a suspect or witness, much less interrogated one.

“We should have known you’d be trouble after the way you made monkeys of us at the interview,” David Wong told her as they sat drinking coffee in one of the spacious cubicles that housed the tools of the spinning trade—reference books, faxes and phones, along with the most sophisticated computers, software and peripherals available anywhere.

Kristie laughed with delight. “Don’t look at me. Melissa deserves all the blame for that interview. And she deserves some credit for last night, too. But really, it was Justin Russo’s willingness to bend a few rules that saved Lizzie’s life. I hope he’s getting some strokes, too.”

“Any update on the little girl’s condition?”

“She’s doing okay, all things considered. Thank heavens that creep didn’t really bury her.” Kristie shuddered, remembering the first tense minutes after Justin had arrested Horton. The coach had refused to talk without a lawyer, and the cops had been frantic, not knowing where to start digging. Meanwhile, a small team had torn Horton’s house and vehicles apart, and once again, resourceful Justin Russo had come through, spying an almost imperceptible variation in the striped wallpaper that decorated Horton’s bedroom. Seconds later, Justin had pried open a flat-paneled closet door and had pulled little Lizzie Rodriguez into his arms.

Patting Kristie’s hand, David told her, “Why don’t you ask Ray for the rest of the day off? You must be beat.”

“I’m fine.”

“Kristie!” Ray’s secretary called out from across the expanse that separated the spinners from their boss’s office. “Ray wants to see you,” Beth added.

“I’ll be right there,” Kristie called back, pleased that she was finally going to hear her supervisor’s reaction to the prior evening’s adventure. Ray had taken a big chance hiring her, given her lack of on-the-job experience, and in her first six months at SPIN, he had become both mentor and friend, praising her talent and giving her some of the best cases. Now his faith in her had been justified. She could only imagine how proud he was.

“You might want to tilt his office blinds closed, just in case this turns out to be the big day,” David suggested slyly.

“Pardon?”

Her friend grinned. “People have been hugging you all day. I figure when Ray takes his turn, you guys might not be able to stop. And frankly, it’s about time.”

“Me and Ray?” Kristie glared. “Are you nuts?”

“No, just perceptive,” he said, chuckling. Then he seemed to realize he was the only one laughing, and cleared his throat. “Sorry. Taboo subject.”

“It’s not taboo. It’s not a subject at all. Ray and I are just friends.”

“Right.”

“David! I’m serious. There’s nothing going on.”

“I know that. You’re both too disciplined to have an affair on the job. I just thought—” He shook his head. “Are you saying you don’t have the hots for him? Not even a little?”

“Of course not.” She glanced toward Ray’s office to confirm he wasn’t watching, then insisted, “Ray and I are two peas in a pod. We like the same music, the same books, the same movies. We’ve got the same skills, tastes and political views. We’re the proverbial twins separated at birth.”

“Yeah? Well, do the guy a favor,” David suggested dryly. “When he finally cracks and pours his heart out to you, don’t tell him you love him like a brother.”

Kristie groaned in frustration. “You’ve seen us together, attacking the crossword puzzle and laughing on break, and you think it’s romantic. But it’s not. We’re just kindred spirits. There’s no chemistry. No longing glances or any of that.”

She sighed as she added, “Don’t get me wrong. The guy’s gorgeous. I’d have to be dead not to notice that. But there’s no spark. Nothing. Nada.”

“Fine. My mistake. Forget I said anything.”

She studied him warily. “You’re his best friend. Has he said something to you?”

“Nope.”

“But you really think…?”

David shrugged his shoulders. “Obviously I was wrong.”

She smiled, relieved. “Thanks for scaring me to death.”

“Whatever.”

He was too quick to look down at his shirtfront, picking at some microscopic piece of lint, and she realized he wasn’t yet convinced. And considering how well he knew Ray, that was beginning to worry her.

“I’m not his type, David. You of all people should know that.”

“I should?”

“You’ve met his ex-wife, right? I found out all about her when I was doing research for my job interview. Red hair, green eyes, svelte. There was another girl, too, one he was engaged to when he was in the army. Angela something. Same type as the wife. And that senator from Ohio that he had a fling with. The one with the gorgeous auburn curls. That’s how I got the idea for Melissa Daniels. Red wig, green contacts, flashy makeup and a push-up bra. The works.” With a wicked smile, she admitted, “It was dirty pool, but I wanted to throw him off guard so he wouldn’t notice any little imperfections in my cover story. I did my best to impersonate his favorite female fantasy.”

David arched an eyebrow. “You intentionally made Ray fall for you?”

“Not for me. For Melissa.” Kristie gave her fellow spinner a halfhearted glare. “This is nuts. If it’s true—if he really does have a harmless little crush on me—it’s a simple case of transference.”

Yeah. Tell him that,” David drawled. “It’ll make him feel so much better.”

“Hey, you two.” Beth bustled over to the spinners and scolded them playfully. “For some reason, Ray thinks he’s in charge. And since he can see the two of you sitting here gabbing, I can’t exactly cover for you.”

Kristie shot a quick look toward the office, and was again relieved to see that Ray wasn’t watching them. Not that there was anything to watch. And not that Ray shouldn’t look at her whenever he wanted—

“Thanks a lot, David,” she muttered. “You’ve completely freaked me out.”

“Sorry. Just remember not to use the b-word when tou talk to him.”

“B-word?”

“Brother.”

Grimacing, she nodded, then hurried to her boss’s glass-walled office.

“Ray? Beth said you wanted to see me.”

Without looking up, he told her, “Close the door and take a seat, Kristie. I’ll be with you in a minute.”

She was relieved to note that the blinds were wide open. And he wanted her to sit on the other side of the desk from him. Business as usual. No sexual tension. He barely seemed to know she was there.

Slipping into a chair, she took a moment to study him. He was a truly handsome man with a ramrod build, raven-black hair and an endearingly boring habit of wearing a white shirt and conservative tie every single day.

Would she have been attracted to him had they met under other circumstances? Probably not. She was a firm believer in chemistry, and there simply wasn’t any between them, at least, not on her part.

Realizing that a full minute had passed in silence, she murmured, “If this is a bad time, I can come back.”

“I’ll be with you as soon as I finish this list.”

“Sounds mysterious. What kind of list?”

He raised his gaze to hers, stunning her with the cold gleam in his usually sweet eyes. “I thought it would be easier if we went infraction by infraction.”

“Oh.” She coughed to clear the surprise from her throat. “I get it.”

“You ‘get’ it? That’s all you have to say for yourself?” Exploding out of his chair, he began gesturing wildly. “What the hell were you thinking?”

“Ray—”

“Don’t ‘Ray’ me!” He took a deep breath, visibly getting his temper under control, then sat back down and began tapping the items on his list. “You used an unregistered, unmonitored cell phone for SPIN business. That alone is a basis for dismissal, and it’s the least of your offenses.”

She squirmed, then offered lamely, “I was afraid if a monitor heard what we were up to, they wouldn’t understand. And there wasn’t time—”

“Five minutes! That’s all it would have taken to call me and clear your plan—”

“And you would have said no!”

“You bet your unregistered cell phone I would have said no. And I would have been right.” He raked his fingers through his thick black hair. “It worked out great. I’m as happy as anyone that the Rodriguez girl is safe. But there were other ways to accomplish it. Ways that didn’t jeopardize Russo’s career, not to mention mine.”

She mentally cringed, but didn’t dare interrupt.

“Do you understand what a disaster it would have been if you’d been wrong? You would have single-handedly destroyed our relationship with the local cops—guys who were busting their asses to find that kid. They didn’t deserve to be made fools of. Plus, you would have ruined the prosecutor’s case and probably gotten us sued for violating the brother’s civil rights.”

“I knew Randy wasn’t guilty, Ray. So I knew none of that would happen.”

“You’re a frickin’ genius,” he agreed dryly.

“I didn’t say that. But it went well—”

“Did it? Since there’s no tape of the call, I’ll never know exactly what you said to that kid. But the unofficial story is you promised him his sister was still alive and you were going to find her. What if Horton had already killed her? Dammit, Kris, what were you thinking?”

“I had a feeling—”

“Screw feelings and hunches and all that crap,” he advised angrily. “I don’t believe in that baloney, and neither should you. You’re good—great—because you make inferences other people miss. You connect the dots in a coroner’s report or a psych test or an interrogation transcript. That’s the second most important part of your job, and you’re terrific at it.”

“And the first most important part of my job is being able to articulate my theory to the field agents based on facts.” She gave a heartfelt sigh. “I’ve heard you say that a million times. And guess what. I tried, but I couldn’t. I knew it was Horton, but I couldn’t put my finger on why.” Completely deflated, she slumped in her chair and admitted, “I screwed up.”

Ray snorted. “Is this where I’m supposed to tell you it’s okay because it all turned out for the best?”

“No. Not at all.” She studied her hands for a second, then summoned the nerve to ask, “Am I fired?”

“Yeah, right. I’m gonna fire you the same day I’m ordered to give you a commendation.”

“Ordered?” Her gut twisted into a knot. “By whom?”

“Your secret admirer. Ulysses S. Payton.”

Kristie groaned, knowing how much Ray resented the colonel’s license to meddle in his project. “I don’t want a commendation from him.”

“You don’t have a choice. It’s already part of your record, just like the telegram from the kids’ parents, praising you—or rather, Melissa—for saving both their children. Congratulations,” he added bitterly.

“I’m sorry, Ray.”

“Just tell me it’s never going to happen again.”

“It won’t. I promise. It was a unique, once-in-a-lifetime screwup. I take full responsibility, and I give you my word it will never, ever happen again.”

“There’s enough blame to go around,” he murmured. “I should have seen this coming with you. You’re too involved with your cases. And way too chatty with your operatives. I’ve given you latitude because you’re—well, because you’re you. That ends today.”

“I’m not me anymore?” she quipped, but when his eyes flashed, she told him quickly, “I’m just joking because I feel so guilty about letting you down. And just for the record, it wasn’t your fault. You made the rules very clear to me. I knew I was breaking them.”

“With Russo’s help. That stupid screwup.”

“Don’t blame Justin.”

Ray snorted again. “If anything, I blame him the most. He’s an experienced agent. He should’ve known better than to let you call the shots.”

“He was desperate. After six days of frantically searching for that sweet little girl, he believed he had failed. The poor guy felt like crap when he called me. Then I promised him we could find her if he did exactly what I said. That’s the only reason he smuggled a phone into Randy’s cell. So don’t judge him, please?”

Her boss eyed her intently. “New rules, starting today. Is that understood?”

“New ones? Wouldn’t it be enough if I just started obeying the old ones?”

“You’d think so, wouldn’t you?” Ray agreed. “But no. You apparently need some extra ones. So here goes. I want you to register any and all personal telephone lines and cell phones with us from now on. We’ll randomly monitor them just like we do everything else.”

“Fine with me. What else?”

“Start using your backups. That’s what they’re there for.”

Kristie grimaced. The thought of slaving over a scenario and getting it perfect, only to abandon it for twelve full hours every night was unbearable. She had faith in her fellow spinners, but knew in her gut no one could run her cases as well as she could.

Ray leaned back in his chair and rubbed his eyes, clearly frustrated again. “You can’t live this job twenty-four hours a day, Kris. It affects your objectivity.”

“And objectivity is the key to good spinning? I believe that as much as you do. But the field agents never call at night unless it’s an emergency, and in emergencies, it’s especially vital for the original spinner to take the call.”

“This isn’t a negotiation.” He exhaled sharply. “Do you understand that you’ve got to get a life? Make friends. Go to parties. Go on dates! It’ll make you sharper. More valuable to everyone, especially the field agents.”

“I have a life. I don’t just sit by the phone and wait for operatives to call at night, you know.”

When he arched a disbelieving eyebrow, she explained, “I exercise. And study. I actually have a lot on my plate.”

“You study?” He chuckled. “What’s left for you to learn? I thought you knew it all.”

“If you must know, I’m teaching myself Italian. And a little Greek. And kickboxing, too. All the things I lied about in my interview that impressed you so much.”

“You’re teaching yourself kickboxing?”

“I have a great video.”

His tone was gently mocking. “You can’t learn self-defense that way, Kristie. Let me set up some lessons for you. Or I can teach you myself. I have a black belt in karate—”

“And I have a pink belt in pacifism,” she retorted. “I don’t need self-defense training. I just want to understand what my operatives go through. It’s a Zen thing—mental, not physical.”

“Zen kickboxing?” Ray chuckled again, then shook his head as though to clear away the congenial moment. “Starting today, you’re using your backup.”

“But—”

“If something happens that your backup can’t handle, he or she will contact you, even if it’s three o’clock in the morning. You’ve got to trust them to do their jobs half as well as you do yours.”

“Like I said, the operatives don’t call in the middle of the night unless it’s an emergency. Which means the backup is going to have to refer the call to me anyway. It just seems like a waste of time.”

“Emergencies?” Ray reached for a pile of folders and flipped open the top one. “According to this file, you specifically told Will McGregor that he should contact you—day or night—with any question or concern, however small.” Raising his gaze, he repeated in disgust, “However small?”

“Okay. I went a little overboard. And for the record, it didn’t have any effect. McGregor has never once contacted me. Not at night, not during the day. Not for anything, big or small.”

Ray surprised her by grinning at that. “Drives you nuts, doesn’t it?”

“No.”

“Sure it does. It bugs you that he won’t let you play virtual field operative. He does his job his way, not yours. That’s why I’ve been assigning so many of his cases to you. So you’d learn the division of labor around this place.” His voice softened. “Just for the record, McGregor never contacts any spinner once the case is under way. Not even me. So don’t take it personally. But do try to learn a lesson from it.”

Leaning forward, he explained, “You and McGregor are a great team. Every assignment you’ve had with him has been an unqualified success. Why? Because you prepare a flawless background report and identity for him, and he takes it from there. End of story.”

“He really doesn’t call you either?”

Ray confirmed with a nod. “I used to handle all his cases personally because they’re invariably hot potatoes. But I’ve never once spoken to the guy in my capacity as a spinner. And only rarely as the director of SPIN. To him, we’re just an anonymous resource. Because he’s a true professional.”

“I’m sold,” she assured her boss. “From now on, I’m putting a new note in my file. Something like, ‘If you have a nonemergency question between the hours of midnight and 6:00 a.m., please contact my backup.’ How’s that?”

“Six hours off? No way.” Ray leaned forward. “Seven p.m. to 7:00 a.m.—and all day Saturday and Sunday.”

“I’m okay with seven to seven on work nights, as long as the operative is in the same time zone as us. Otherwise, I’ll have to adjust it. And weekends are tricky—”

“Did I mention this isn’t a negotiation?” he asked, clearly struggling not to smile. “But it’s a step in the right direction, so I’ll take it for now.”

“And?”

The smile became a full-fledged laugh. “Yeah, you’re back in my will.”

Kristie sighed in relief. “I really am sorry, Ray.”

“Stop apologizing. You’re a pain in the ass, but you also saved that kid—both kids, actually—so you’re getting another chance. Don’t blow it. And Kris?”

“Yes?”

He walked around to her side of the desk and grasped her chin in his hand, then looked deep into her eyes and murmured, “Nice job.”

She bit her lip, unsure of how to respond, especially in light of David’s remarks.

Then Ray made the decision for her, stepping back and reminding her gruffly, “I’ve got tons of cleanup to do today, thanks to your little prank. And you’ve got a new red folder waiting for you on your desk, so get cracking. Your moment of glory is officially over.”

It was a relief to head back to her SPIN cubicle, tucked in a corner with a view of treetops and clouds. She knew that some people would balk at the industrial furniture and artificial lighting, but to Kristie, this high-tech workspace was heaven.

She checked her messages—three new ones in the last half hour, all complimenting her on the Rodriguez case. Then she reached for the new assignment Ray had left on her credenza, but a ring from her priority line, which was reserved for operative assistance, stopped her.