Alias

She stood and placed the relief in a frame padded with cotton, then excused herself to wash up and change into a T-shirt. When she came back Jack was exactly where she’d left him.

“Charlie? You want some eggs or cereal?” she said as she tipped the relief so it was level and started building barriers around it with thin sheets of metal and pins.

“Toaster tarts!” he called back and Jack chuckled.

“Oh, I so don’t think so.” Bending, she inserted metal frame pins to hold the irregular shape in place.

“Mom,” he whined.

“Pick one, kiddo.”

“Eggs,” Charlie said, sulking as she started mixing chemicals and plaster.

“You look like a mad scientist with all that,” Jack said.

“This will make the face form mine, in relief. It’s plaster, but it has a liquid plastic hardener that will make it come out of the mold and stay hard. Then I’ll just take the old head form, cut the face off, and apply a fresh one.”

“Yes, Dr. Mengela.”

Her chuckle was sinister as she slowly blended the plaster with a kitchen hand mixer. “Then I mix up the polymer clay and with some foam, start building the face.”

“Should I be concerned that you’ll develop dual personalities?” he asked, lifting a full mask of a man’s face.

She smiled. “No, I like being a woman. I put that on the women I help, Jack, so the trail vanishes and nothing can be traced back to here, and Charlie.”

“But this underground railroad you’re part of—”

“Don’t mention the illegalities, please.” He harped on that a lot.

“You said it, not me. What if something happens while you’re moving through it? It’s so secret even the cops can’t find the trail.”

“Why would they want to? Safe house means in secret. A lawyer and a cop come to the women and take pictures and statements at a different location. It’s a requirement to remain at the safe house that they file formal charges and appear in court if they have to.”

“They’d like to have authority over it. Make sure nothing gets thrown out of court on a technicality.”

“Hasn’t yet.”

Jack moved to the stove, pulling out a small frying pan. “Man, you are so stubborn.”

“Look who’s talking.” Darcy looked over her shoulder, her expression questioning.

“Charlie’s eggs.”

“Thanks. Scrambled.”

“Oh good, the only kind I can do.”

“Make some for yourself if you want.”

Darcy felt weird. He’d been here before, just not for long and certainly not cooking in her kitchen. She didn’t want to think about how comfortable it felt to have him here. When he was done, he cleaned up and took the plate to Charlie, and since the kitchen table was occupied with her latex, he had Charles sit at the coffee table. Then he plopped down beside her son and joined him.

Darcy’s heart did a little leap at the way he looked at her son. Charlie’s own father hadn’t even held him when he was born. Maurice demanded she abort and when she refused, he threw her down the stairs, hoping she’d lose the baby. Pushing her kept his hands clean. An accident, he’d say. The memory blasted through her and she flinched, feeling each bang of the steps. Curling her body into a ball to protect her baby, the cool tile floor beneath her cheek.

“Piper?”

She blinked. Jack was standing close, holding the empty plates. How long had she fazed out?

“You all right?”

Tears burned her eyes and she quickly looked away. “Yeah, fine. Got powder in my eyes, I think.”

Jack didn’t believe her, she could tell, yet he soaked a towel for her. “Let me see.”

“It’s fine now.”

“Let me see,” he insisted and tipped her face up, then blotted the wet cloth over her eyes. There was nothing there, but he pretended there was. He eased the cloth from her eyes and she opened them. Her vision filled with him.

“Okay?”

Darcy breathed him in, his strength, his scent. His face was so close, his mouth inviting. His gaze raked her face, as if searching for answers she knew he wanted. But he didn’t say anything.

Then his head dipped, his mouth a breath from hers.

“Don’t, Jack.” Yet she didn’t back away.

“Don’t what?”

“Oh, I know you’re not stupid and neither am I. Don’t take this friendship there.”

“Are we friends, Piper? I figured I was just the hired muscle.”

“Yeah, that, too.” She eased away from him. Instantly she felt more alone.

“Friends trust each other.”

“I trust you with my life, Jack.”

His look went sour. “You give that to cops and firefighters.”

“What do you want from me?”

“To know you.”

“You do.”

“No, I don’t.” He gestured to the array of chemicals and powders, makeup and fake hair spread across her kitchen. “I’m wondering if anyone does.”

Darcy didn’t say anything. Because it was true. No one really knew who she was, least of all her. Jack stepped away, reaching for his jacket and hat. Darcy cleaned off her hands and walked him to the door.

He had his hand on the knob when he said, “By the way, I saw Charlie on TV last week.”

And the bottom of her world fell out.

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