Operation Nanny

“Oh.”

“I’m in a hurry to make a hire, you see,” she added quickly, as if she realized what she’d just admitted made her sound ill prepared. “I haven’t had much luck since I sent my request to Ellen. In fact, you’re the first person who’s even applied for the job.”

He was pretty sure he knew why. The story about the car bomb that had been meant for her—the one that had killed her sister and brother-in-law instead—had made the national news. There weren’t a lot of wannabe nannies willing to walk into a situation like that.

“Anyway, best-laid plans and all that.” Lacey breathed a soft sigh. “So tell me about yourself.”

“I’m thirty-four years old. I spent a decade in the Marine Corps, and then over the next four years, I went to college and earned a degree in early-childhood education.”

“Really? First a Marine, now a nanny?” That piece of information seemed to pique her interest.

“I’d eventually like to run my own day-care center,” he said, wondering if she’d believe it.

“What sort of experience with child care do you have?”

“I raised my younger siblings from the age of fifteen. My father was a police officer who died in the line of duty, and my mother had to go back to work. I had three younger siblings, ages two through eleven. I was their full-time caregiver until my mother remarried shortly after I turned eighteen. At that time, I joined the Marine Corps.”

“That’s your most recent child-care experience?”

“After college, I worked a couple of years as a nanny for a family in Kentucky.” He slid his résumé across the table to her. “Their contact information is on my résumé.”

She set Katie on the floor and picked up the paper. After a few minutes silently reading what was written there, she put the paper down and looked up at him, her gray eyes narrowed. “Assuming your references check out, how quickly can you start work?”

“As soon as you hire me.”

“What about the family you were working for? You don’t need to give them any notice?”

“No. Mrs. Beckett decided she was missing too much of her children’s lives by working in an office, so she took a job that enables her to work from home. So I’m back in the job market.”

“I see.”

She fell silent again, her gaze wandering back to the résumé, as if she might find something new written in the words on the page. What was she looking for? Jim wondered. A reason to hire him?

Or a reason not to?

A tug on his pants leg drew his attention. Katie stood at his knee, her gray eyes gazing up at him with curiosity. When she saw him looking, her little face spread into a big grin.

“Hey there, Katiebug.”

At the sound of his voice, she lifted her arms.

“May I?” He looked at Lacey for permission to pick up the child.

“Sure.”

He picked up Katie and set her on his knee. She grew instantly intrigued by his blue-striped tie, her fingers playing with the fabric. He couldn’t hold back a smile, which she returned with a giggle.

She was at a very cute age, just a shade past two. Pretty steady on her feet, starting to build her vocabulary, curious about everything that crossed her path—she had probably already started becoming a handful before her parents suddenly and tragically disappeared from her life, leaving her in the care of her aunt.

Her aunt, who was a single woman with a high-powered, very public career. Earlier, he’d wondered just how much Lacey Miles knew about taking care of a small child. He was becoming more and more certain she was clueless. No wonder she was desperate to hire a nanny.

“Katie likes you,” she said. “A point in your favor.”

“Ms. Taylor said you needed a live-in nanny. Does that mean you’ll be going back to work soon?”

Lacey’s sandy brow notched upward. “What makes you think I haven’t been working?”

“I haven’t seen you on air. I guess I shouldn’t have assumed you weren’t working behind the scenes.” It wouldn’t do for her to realize just how much he already knew about her. She was already on edge as it was, and the attack this afternoon had only made things worse for her.

It had been a brazen attack, during daylight and out in the open. Although, if he hadn’t happened to be walking down that alley when he had, it might have been very easy for her attacker to kill her outright or carry her and the child away in the van that had been waiting for him.

The big question was why. Why had someone gone after her today? Why had someone set a bomb under her car a couple of weeks ago?

Just how much danger were she and her niece really in?

“I guess you know why I have custody of my niece now. I’m all she has. Both sets of grandparents are dead, and Toby didn’t have any brothers or sisters.”

He nodded. “I’m very sorry about your sister and your brother-in-law.”

“They were killed in my car.” She spoke as if she had to force the words from her lips. She was clearly dealing with some pretty hefty guilt about her sister’s death. And he gave her points for being honest about the threat hanging over her head, too, even though it might be enough to scare a prospective nanny away in a heartbeat.

“If you’re trying to tell me there might be a little danger involved in this job, I’d already gathered that much before I ever agreed to apply for the job.”

Her sharp gaze met his. “And yet, here you are. Even after you had to chase away another attack on us just today.”

“I did mention I was a Marine, didn’t I?”

For the first time since they’d met, a genuine smile touched the edges of Lacey’s lips. “You did.”

“Danger doesn’t impress me the way it might someone else.”

“I’m not asking you to be a bodyguard,” she said sharply. “I don’t need a security detail. I think that would probably make things worse, not better.”

He wasn’t sure why she felt that way, but he didn’t want to start asking questions that would make her even more reluctant to hire him. “I’m just saying, I’m not afraid to work for you. If you think I’ll suit your needs.”

She gave him another long, sharp-eyed look. “You’d have to live with Katie and me at my late sister’s farmhouse in Cherry Grove, Virginia. It’s a small town about a forty-minute drive from here in Frederick. The house isn’t completely renovated, but enough has been done for it to be a comfortable place to live.” Her voice faded for a moment, and what was left of her faint smile disappeared completely, swallowed by a look of hard grief. “Marianne and Toby were hoping to have it finished by this summer, but they ran out of time.”

Jim felt a dart of sympathy. “Were they living there when they died?”

Lacey shook her head. “No. Why?”

“I was just wondering why you choose to live there instead of in DC. I thought maybe it was to make things easier for Katie. Not wanting to take her away from the home she knows—”

“No, that’s not it. Just the opposite, actually. See, I was keeping Katie at my apartment when... That night. Marianne and Toby were celebrating their wedding anniversary. New Year’s Eve.” Lacey’s lip trembled briefly before she brought her emotions under control. “I don’t want her watching my front door, waiting for them to come back and get her.”

He looked over at Katie, who’d slid off his lap and wandered over to play with a stuffed cat hanging by a red ribbon from the push bar of her stroller. He felt a rush of sadness for the child, and also for her tough but grieving aunt. Neither of them had expected to be where they were, the only family either of them had left.

Both of them in danger they couldn’t predict or easily prevent.

“I want the job if you want to hire me,” he said flatly, meeting Lacey’s gaze. “I think I can help you. And I need the work.”

She didn’t say anything for a long moment, and he began to worry that she was going to turn him down. It wouldn’t be a complete disaster if she did so, he knew. There were other ways to accomplish what he wanted to do.

But it would be so much easier if she’d just give him the nanny job.

She rose slowly, still looking at him through cautious gray eyes. “I’ll call your references today and see what they say. I’ll be in touch, one way or the other. May I contact you directly?”

He rose, too. “My number is on the résumé.”

She continued to look at him for a long, silent moment, as if trying to assess his character in that lengthy gaze. Finally, she extended her hand. “It was good to meet you, Mr. Mercer.”

“Jim,” he reminded her, taking her hand firmly in his.

She withdrew her hand. “Thank you again for your help this afternoon.”

“I’m glad I was there. I’m sorry I wasn’t able to catch the guy before he got away.”

“Two against one isn’t good odds. Even for a Marine.”

He waited for her to gather up Katie and settle her in the stroller, noting the way her hands shook slightly when Katie started to whine at being confined again.

She needed his help. A lot. And not just with Katie.

He was counting on that fact.

* * *

IN NO BIG hurry to return to the isolation of the Cherry Grove farmhouse, Lacey detoured southeast to Arlington, calling Detective Bolling with the Arlington County Police Department Homicide/Robbery Unit. As lead investigator into the car bomb that had killed Marianne and Toby, he was certain to be interested in what had happened to her in Frederick earlier that day.

He met her in a small café a few blocks from her apartment, smiling at Katie as they sat. “How’s she doing?”

Lacey shrugged. “Hard to know. She’s not a big talker yet.”

Bolling gave her a look of sympathy before he went into business mode. He listened intently as she told him about the ambush in Frederick, copying the name of the Frederick detective who’d given her his card. “I’ll give him a call. You sure you and the little one are okay?”

“Someone came to our rescue. Chased the guy away. There were two of them, did I mention that? The one who pulled the gun on me got into a van waiting for him down the alley from the employment agency.”

Bolling frowned at that. “Sounds premeditated. Having a getaway vehicle in place.”

“That’s what I thought, too. I think they wanted to abduct me, Detective Bolling. Otherwise, why didn’t he just shoot me right there?”

Bolling’s brow furrowed as he considered that possibility. “That’s a departure from a car bomb.”

“Do you think the situations could be unrelated?”

“Maybe. But it doesn’t seem likely, does it?” Bolling’s frown deepened. “What were you doing at an employment agency in Frederick, anyway?”

“Hiring a nanny.”

Bolling looked at Katie. “Does that mean you’re going back to work?”

Why did everyone assume hiring a nanny equaled returning to her job at the network? What did they think—that all women just naturally knew how to care for a two-year-old when one was dropped in their laps?

Immediately, she felt guilty for the flash of irritation. Most women probably did have at least some clue how to care for a small child. Even those who weren’t in the position financially and professionally to take a sabbatical from work.

“No, I’m not going back to work yet. But I don’t have a lot of experience caring for a child.” She stirred her glass of ginger ale with a long red straw, not meeting Bolling’s gaze. She didn’t want to know what he thought of that admission. Pity or disapproval would be equally unwelcome.

“Did you find a suitable candidate?”

“Maybe.”

“If you’d like, we could run a background check before you hire her.”

“Not necessary,” she assured him. She was as capable as the police to run a background check on Jim Mercer. Maybe more so, since her network connections gave her access to information even the police couldn’t get their hands on. Not without a warrant, anyway. “But I’d like to stay in the loop if you hear anything from the Frederick police about my assailant. I didn’t get the feeling Detective Braun was interested in keeping me updated.”

“I will tell you if anything important comes out of the investigation,” Bolling promised. “You sure you don’t want something to eat? My treat.”

“No, but thanks.” What she wanted, she realized with despair, was to go to her place in Virginia Square, sleep in her own bed and wake up to find everything that had happened in the past couple of weeks was nothing but a bad dream.

But that wasn’t going to happen. Marianne was gone. She wasn’t coming back. And Lacey couldn’t shake the feeling that there might be worse yet to come.

“Have you given any more consideration to hiring private security?” Bolling asked.

“I’ve considered it. But I’m trying to stay off the press’s radar, at least for now. Hiring security guards would just draw more attention to me.” She lowered her voice to a whisper after looking around to see if anyone was listening. “Especially in Cherry Grove.”

“You’re afraid that instead of covering the story, you’ll suddenly be the story?”

She nodded. “Katie has enough to deal with as it is. I don’t want her little face plastered all over cable news for the next few weeks.”

“You have enough to deal with, too. I get it.” Bolling put a ten on the table between them and stood up. “Come on. I’ll walk you to your car.”

The temperature had dropped by several degrees while they were in the café, Lacey noted. The snow predicted for the end of the week might come sooner than expected. She’d have to make sure they were stocked with plenty of firewood in case the power to the farmhouse went out in the storm.

“Is this vehicle registered in your name?” Bolling asked as he helped her settle Katie in her car seat.

“No,” she answered. “It belonged to Toby and Marianne, so I guess it belongs to Katie and me now. I might as well use it until I can get another vehicle.”

“Just be careful, Lacey. Okay? I know it’s possible what happened to you today was random, but...”

But it wasn’t likely. She knew that already.

“I’ll be in touch,” she promised.

Meanwhile, she had some background checking to do.

* * *

JIM HADN’T FIGURED on hearing from Lacey Miles for a few days. He knew she’d already talked to the references he’d provided on his résumé, but he was pretty sure she wouldn’t have stopped there. He’d been watching her reporting for a few years now. He knew she was smart, prepared, resourceful and very, very thorough.

So it was with some surprise that he heard her voice on the phone shortly after lunchtime the day after the interview. “Mr. Mercer? This is Lacey Miles.”

He put down the Glock he was cleaning and sat up straighter. “Ms. Miles. How’s Katie? How are you, for that matter? Recovered from the attack?”

She didn’t answer for a moment, as if his questions caught her off guard. “We’re fine,” she said after a couple of beats of silence. “Just fine. I’m calling about the job you interviewed for yesterday.”

“Yes. Have you made a decision?”

“I have,” she said, her voice a little stronger. “I’d like to hire you to care for my niece. Were you serious when you said you could go to work immediately?”

“Yes, I was.”

“Then could you be here by four this afternoon? I have somewhere I need to go this evening. Somewhere I can’t take Katie.”

He frowned, not liking the sound of that. “You’re not going out alone, are you?”

“I beg your pardon?”

Damn it. You’re a nanny, not a Marine. Remember that. She’s your boss, not someone you’re protecting. “I’m sorry. You’re right. I have no right to ask you such a question. I just—After the bombing and what happened to you yesterday...forget I asked. Yes, I can be there by dinnertime. I just need the address.”

“Do you know how to get to Cherry Grove? East of Lovettsville, near the Potomac. There’s a big fountain in the center of town. Shaped like a cherry.” She couldn’t quite keep a hint of laughter out of her voice. “Trust me, you can’t miss it. If you’ll stop at the gas station across the street from the fountain, just ask for the old Peabody farm. They’ll tell you how to get here.”

“Got it,” he said. “I’ll pack a bag and be there by four. Will that work?”

“Yes. Thank you. We’ll give this a try and see how it goes.” She hung up before he could say anything else.

He punched in a phone number and waited. He got an answer on the second ring. “It’s Mercer.”

“Any news?”

“Yeah. I’m headed to Cherry Grove. This evening. She’s going out and needs me to watch Katie. Says we’ll give this a try and see if it works out.”

“It’ll work out,” the voice on the other end of the line said firmly. “You’ll make it work out.”

“Understood.” He hung up the phone, picked up his Glock and started cleaning the weapon again.

Chapter Three

“What do you say, sweet pea?”

Katie gazed back at Lacey, her gray eyes bright with curiosity, as if she was trying to make sense of the question.

Lacey ruffled the baby’s blond curls and laughed self-consciously. “It’s okay, sweetie. If Aunt Lacey doesn’t know whether she’s done the right thing, she doesn’t expect you to know.”

“Wacey,” Katie said solemnly.

Lacey picked her up and gave her a hug. Apparently not in the mood for a snuggle, Katie wriggled in her grasp, and Lacey set her down on the floor again with a sigh. “You sure know how to make a girl feel better about her mothering skills, Katie.”

Katie flashed a lopsided grin and toddled off to the window, where she’d left her favorite stuffed cat sitting on the windowsill.

Lacey looked around the small front parlor, feeling entirely overwhelmed. When she’d decided to move herself and Katie out here to Nowheresville, Virginia, she hadn’t realized just how little of the farmhouse had been renovated. Half the sprawling old Folk Victorian house was still trapped in limbo, somewhere between demolition and reconstruction, and she had no idea how or when she’d be able to finish the work.

The contractor she’d hired to assess the status of the renovation had assured her that the foundation had been made sound, the roof was new and there were no safety hazards to worry about, although there had been some question about the safety of an underground tunnel the contractor had discovered in the basement, which was the only remaining part of the antebellum home that had burned to the ground a few years before the farmhouse had been built on its foundation.

But most of the upstairs rooms had yet to be repaired and painted. There was a whole bathroom in the master suite that had been completely gutted. And the sprawling kitchen at the back of the house was only halfway finished, though most of the remaining work was cosmetic rather than functional.

Poor Jim Mercer didn’t have any idea what kind of mess he was about to walk into.

Her cell phone rang, a jarring note in the bucolic peace of the isolated farm. She checked the display and grimaced when she saw the name. “Hi, Royce.”

“I heard you’re hiring a nanny.”

“Where’d you hear that?” she asked, wondering which employee of Elite Employment Agency had let that information slip to the wrong person.

“Oh, around. You know.”

Maybe it had been Jim Mercer himself who’d spilled the news. Maybe he’d decided to do a little background checking on her, as well. She couldn’t really blame him if he had, she realized. He had a right to know just what sort of mess he was walking into if he took the job. “You called to find out whether or not I’m hiring a nanny?”

“No,” Royce said in a tone of long-suffering forbearance. “I called to find out whether your decision to hire a nanny meant you were coming back to work.”

“Not yet. You said I could take a few months. Have you changed your mind?”

“If I said I had, would you come back to work?”

“No,” she answered flatly. “I need this time off, Royce. If you can’t give it to me, I’ll turn in my notice. Then when I’m ready to return to work, I’ll give one of the other networks a call.”

“No,” Royce said quickly. “I said you could have the sabbatical. I’m not going to renege.”

“I really do appreciate your understanding.”

“I hear the cops still don’t know who set the bomb or why. Do you think it had something to do with that piece you were doing on al Adar?”

“I don’t know,” she admitted. Not long before the car bomb that had killed Marianne and Toby, Lacey had spent several months in Kaziristan, a Central Asian republic fighting for its very existence. A terrorist group known as al Adar had risen from the ashes earlier in the year, after several years of near dormancy, taking advantage of an economic downturn in the nascent democracy to stir up trouble and violence. Her exposé on the troubling rise of the terrorist group had just been nominated for a Murrow Award for investigative reporting.

But al Adar hadn’t yet made a name for themselves outside of Kaziristan. They hadn’t really started exporting terrorism on a regular basis, despite a few aborted attempts a few years back.

Or had they?

“I want to hire security for you and your niece.”

“Royce, we’ve talked about this. If I make a big deal out of what happened, the press will do the same. They’ll start publicizing where I am now, something that only a few people know about at the moment. Since I’d like to keep it that way, no—I’m not going to hire a bunch of bodyguards that’ll start tongues wagging all over the East Coast.”

“You’re a target, Lacey.”

“I’ve taken a sabbatical. I’m not reporting on al Adar or anyone else. Maybe that’ll be enough to appease whoever it was who came after me.” She wasn’t sure she believed it, but the last thing she wanted right now was to live under the watchful eyes of a bunch of muscle-bound security contractors who’d try to watch her every move and keep her from doing what needed to be done.

Regardless of who had set the bomb under her car, she was the one who felt responsible for her sister’s death.

She had to be the one who figured out who hated her enough to kill her. And stop him before he could take another shot at killing her.

“Do you really think it’ll be enough to appease someone who wants you dead?” Royce asked.

“I don’t know. But it’s better than living in a cage until the cops finally figure out who set the bomb.”

Royce was silent for a long moment before he spoke in a hushed tone. “Tell me you’re not thinking about tracking down this killer yourself.”

She didn’t respond.

“Damn it, Lacey. You’re a reporter. You’re not a cop.”

“I tracked down the head of al Adar when the US government thought the man was dead.”

“Different situation. You weren’t his target, for one thing.”

There was a knock on the front door. “I have to go, Royce. I’ll call you later.”

She hung up the phone and walked to the front door, sneaking a peek through the security lens. Jim Mercer stood on the other side of the door, dressed in a brown leather bomber jacket, his hair ruffled by the cold wind moaning in the eaves outside.

She unlocked the door and opened it. “You’re early.”

His eyebrows lifted slightly. “Is that a problem?”

“No, of course not. I just mean, you’re not late.” She forced a smile, acutely aware that the past two weeks had done a number on her social skills. “Come in. I’ll show you your room and you can get settled before I have to leave.” She closed the door behind him, careful to lock the dead bolt.

He stopped in the middle of the foyer and looked around. “This place is great. How old is it?”

“I think it was built in the eighteen nineties. Something like that. It was updated in the sixties or seventies, I think, but Marianne and Toby were planning to renovate the place with its history in mind. You know, try to match the styles of the Folk Victorian era even while they updated the plumbing and electrical.” She led him into the large family room. “They did take down a couple of walls to make this place more open concept, but the hardwood floors are all original, and so are the window trim and the crown molding.”