Face Of Deception. Ana Leigh
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believed that only the United States and the Soviets were involved with outer space. I soon discovered that European markets launched satellites as well. And after the frenetic pace of my old job, working with the relaxing atmosphere provided by Clayton soon cured me of burnout. I even began to enjoy taking photographs again.”
“You gonna finish those fries?” She shook her head and handed him the plate. “What about the kid? Did Burroughs raise him?” he asked, popping a French fry into his mouth.
Her face softened in sadness. “Two years ago Clayton’s son and daughter-in-law were killed in an airplane tragedy, and that’s when Brandon came to live with his grandfather.”
She finished her coffee and smiled. “Well, you asked for it. That’s the whole story.”
Whatever doubts he still harbored remained concealed behind an enigmatic gaze. “More coffee? Dessert?”
“I’m fine.”
“I’ll see you back to your hotel.” He threw down some bills on the table, then gathered up her packages.
Once outside the mall, he flagged a cab and they returned to the Watergate.
“Mind if I come in and check your room?” he asked when they reached her door.
“I thought you said you were off the case, Bishop?”
“After the incident today, I put myself back on it, Hamilton.”
He entered the room ahead of her, and after a quick check in the closet, bathroom and even under the bed, he walked to the door.
“What do you intend doing about dinner?”
“I’m intending to eat it,” she said. He ignored her flippancy.
“Well, there are two selections on the menu—with me or with me watching you. Which do you prefer?”
“Are you inviting me to have dinner with you, Bishop?” she asked, amused.
“Pick you up at seven. Lock this door after me.”
Her gaze followed his broad shoulders and tight buns as he walked away. “I haven’t heard the click of that dead bolt, Hamilton,” he called back without turning.
Smiling, she closed the door, turned the dead bolt and then slipped the chain into place.
The hotel room was lonely without Brandon. In the past two years he’d been such a big part of her life that she’d come to think of him as her son.
Ann plopped down on the bed, grabbed the telephone and dialed the number of the British Embassy, which Avery Waterman had given her. After being shifted from one extension to another, she finally heard Brandon’s “hello” on the other end.
“Hi, honey, this is Ann.”
“Hi, Ann.” He sounded glad to hear her. And just hearing his voice lifted her spirits.
“How are you doing, sweetheart?”
“I’m having a good time, Ann. Mrs. Millen—but she said I should call her Sarah—is real nice. She’s the one taking care of me. We’re playing a game of Old Maid now, so I gotta go, Ann. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“Yes, honey. I’ll be there.”
“Bye,” he said, and hung up.
Ann slowly put the phone aside. She felt more depressed than ever. He sounded as if he was having such a good time that he didn’t miss her. Like she never played Old Maid with him. Dear God, what if they found some legal loophole to take him away from her? It would be more than she could bear to lose Clayton and Brandon, too. They were as near to a family as she had. Ann lay back dejected, thinking what her life would be like without Brandon.
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