She did regularly change bags.
And each time Agent Dawson picked her up she had already changed into her street clothes. She wasn’t like a lot of the medical professionals who lurked around in public while wearing scrubs. Not that it was such a bad thing, she supposed. She simply wasn’t comfortable doing so.
She pulled the door to her walk-in closet almost completely shut, leaving just enough room to reach out with one hand and flip on the switch. Once the door was closed, she set Agent Dawson’s flashlight aside and started her search.
Every jacket, skirt and pair of slacks had to be examined from top to bottom, in side and out. She didn’t know that much about electronic listening or surveillance devices but, again, plain old commonsense told her they could come in virtually any shape or form.
Before diving into her clothes, she went through her bags. There were fewer and they were certainly easier to rummage around in.
Nothing suspicious. A few crumbs from the packs of snack crackers she carried in one. A couple of dollars in another. Wow! A peppermint breath mint from her favorite restaurant in the last one she picked up.
She unwrapped the mint and popped it into her mouth before moving onto her clothes.
This would take for ever.
If Hennessey woke up she would be in serious trouble. She wondered if Dawson had told the other agent on duty about their little excursion. He hadn’t mentioned it and she hadn’t asked.
Hurry! Hurry!
Her hand stilled, backed up and moved over the pocket of her favorite slacks. A tiny bump. Her heart thundering, she reached in side and withdrew a small wad of chewed gum wrapped in tissue.
“Great,” she huffed.
The door to her closet suddenly opened and Elizabeth wheeled around to identify her unexpected guest.
Not Dawson.
For several moments she couldn’t breathe.
David.
Then the lingering redness and swelling crashed into her brain.
Hennessey.
“We’ve already done this, Doc,” he said calmly but those startling blue eyes gave away the fury brewing behind that laid-back exterior. “Our technicians didn’t find any thing. You’re not likely to, either.”
“This wasn’t Agent Dawson’s idea,” she said quickly. “I forced him to bring me here.” She smoothed her suddenly sweaty palms over her thighs. “I threatened to come alone if he didn’t bring me.”
“Dawson and I have already spoken.”
“Oh.” She looked around at the wreck she’d made of her closet. And she’d thought the worst thing she had to worry about was falling prey to Hennessey’s charm. Look at what she’d done. She wasn’t equipped to play this kind of game. “I guess I’ll just clean up this mess.” She manufactured a shaky smile for him. She refused to admit that coming here had been too dumb for words. She’d needed to come. “You don’t have to hang around. Dawson will bring me back.”
“I sent Dawson back already.”
She blinked, tried to hide her surprise. “Okay.” She reached for a jacket lying in a twist on the floor. “I’ll be quick.”
“I’ll be waiting.”
He exited the closet, closing the door behind him.
Elizabeth stood there for a time, grappling for compo sure.
David had cheated on her. She didn’t need any evidence. She knew.
The CIA obviously thought he’d used her as well or they wouldn’t have been nosing around in her house. There was no arguing that conclusion. A part of her wanted to be angry, wanted to scream, but what was the point? It was done. David had done this to her.
Elizabeth closed her eyes and fought back the tears. She would not cry for or about him. He was gone. He’d been gone for a long time before he died.
Any other emotional wringers she put her self through related to him were a total waste of energy.
Slowly, piece by piece, she put the contents of her closet back to order, purses and all.
She thought about snagging a few items to take back with her, but she wouldn’t be there much longer. There was no need.
As soon as she opened the door she flipped off the closet light. It took several moments for her eyes to adjust to the darkness. She thought about turning on the flash light but there was really no reason since she knew her way around her own bedroom.
“You finished with what you came here to do?”
She stumbled back, gasped, before her eyes finally made out the image of someone sitting on the bench at the foot of her bed. The voice left no question as to identity.
Hennessey.
“Yes, I guess so.”
Since he made no move to get up she sat down next to him.
Joe told him self to get up, to get the hell out of her bedroom, but he couldn’t.