He undid the lock and pulled open the cover to reveal a large stack of envelopes, each one labeled with a different name: Franklin Hobart, Brian Yancey, Everett Singer, Larry Steczynski…it was this last one he grabbed and pulled open, emptying its contents into his wallet and pockets.
“Larry Steczynski?” I asked incredulously.
Sage smiled. “You don’t think it suits me?”
“Oh, I think you suits you perfectly. How many aliases do you have?”
“I’m a bit of a collector.”
I placed a hand on his wrist, stopping him as he transferred something into his wallet. “Does Larry Steczynski carry a black AmEx?”
“He might.”
“My mom doesn’t even carry a black AmEx.”
“Apparently your mom doesn’t move in the same circles as Larry Steczynski.”
“Sage,” Ben called from across the room. He had knelt down to gaze closely at a sculpted figurine that sat on an end table, and his voice broke with awe. “This...this is a real Michelangelo, isn’t it?”
“Yeah, yeah it is.”
“But it’s a Michelangelo!”
“Yep.”
“And that painting,” Ben said, nodding to a piece on the wall featuring a sketch of what looked like a somewhat cherubic version of Sage himself. “That’s a real Rubens?”
“It is.”
“It looks like you.”
“Strong genetics in the family line,” Sage explained.
CLEA!" she screamed, and threw herself into my arms. It wasn't exactly inconspicuous, but I didn't care. I hugged her fiercely in return. She pulled away and saw Sage, and her eyes went completely round.
"Is this the trouble you're in?" she asked, looking him up and down. "I so approve."
"Rayna, this is Sage. Sage, Rayna."
"Pleased to meet you," Sage said, offering his hand.
"The pleasure is all mine," Rayna purred. "Unless, of course, it's all Clea's, which is even better."
Sage smiled and might have even blushed a bit, which was highly entertaining.
Before leading us to the car, Rayna insisted I take her heavy winter coat. It was thirty-four degrees outside, and I was still wearing my little black sundress. Of course, Rayna herself was wearing a lacy push-up camisole. She took Sage's arm "to keep her steady on the ice," though I think her main goal was to see if his arm was as muscular as it looked. By the openmouthed gape she shot me after her first squeeze, it was.
"They'd make a cute couple," Ben said, nodding to Sage and Rayna. "Don't you think?"
I settled for a noncommittal "Hmm."
In the car, I slipped into the front seat beside Rayna. With only her eyes, she asked me if Sage was mine. With a scrunch of my nose and a shrug, I explained it was complicated. She nodded-she understood-then gave an eye roll that clearly said I was insane if I did anything but jump at the chance to be with him. The whole conversation took about a second.
If there was any doubt about the authenticity of his fake ID, it would now be put to the test. As Sage waited for the Secret Service to do their due diligence, I wondered how much our mission to find Dad would be set back by Sage taking a quick detour to federal prison.
“He’s clear,” the lead agent finally said.
Great, we could go in. Sage politely insisted that Rayna and I enter before him.
“Not sure that’s such a good idea,” I said, but he wouldn’t hear it. Rayna, Ben, and I shared a knowing smile. Then I shrugged and stepped over the threshold…immediately triggering the Piri alarm. I don’t know how she knew; she was all the way in the kitchen. But the minute I stepped into the foyer she raced in, arms waving in the air, a high-pitched scream keening from her lungs.
“AIIIIIIEEEEEEEE!!”
“He made me do it, Piri,” I said, happily tossing Sage under the bus. “I tried to tell him-“
Piri strode right up to Sage, her head barely reaching his sternum, and jabbed her finger into his chest to emphasize each scolding word. “You never let a woman enter this house before a man! Very bad luck! And when the senator’s doing business! Jaj!”
She pushed us back outside, closed the door, and spit three times on the porch (barely missing the shoes of one of the Secret Service agents), then turned her baleful eyes to Sage, asking him to do the same.
“I don’t think I really need to spit on Clea’s porch,” Sage said uncomfortably, but Piri’s glare only grew more and more violent until he withered under its power…and spit three times. Piri smiled smugly and opened the door, gesturing for Sage to enter. Ben went next, bending to Piri’s ear to murmur, “If it’d been me, I would have gone in first.”
“That’s because you’re a smart boy,” Piri said, kissing him on both cheeks.
Once we were all in, Piri greeted us as if for the first time, with huge hugs and two-cheeked kisses.
As she led us to the luncheon raging in the other room, Ben crowed to Sage, “You know, a real European scholar would be up on old-school superstitions.”
Sage grimaced.
Rayna beamed as she hugged everyone good-bye and accepted their wishes for a long and happy relationship. Sage looked dazed.
“How did it go?” I asked.
“I think your mother just arranged peace in the Middle East while brokering a marriage deal for Rayna and me.”
“I’m not surprised. How many kids are you having?”
“Four. But we can’t start until she’s twenty-six, three years after the wedding. Oh, and we’re honeymooning at the minister’s beach house in Tel Aviv.”
“That’s nice. I’ll have to pop in for a visit.”
Sage just shook his head, still shell-shocked.
“Piri forgive you yet?” Ben grinned.
“I don’t think so. She put an inch of garlic on everything she served me.”
“Don’t take it personally. There’s lots of garlic in Hungarian food,” I assured him.
“Including my chocolate torte,” Sage added.
“Okay, you can take that personally,” I admitted.
Who might this young man be?”
In an instant I sorted through every possibly explanation for Sage’s presence, but judging by the way Mom was looking at him, I knew she already had it in her head that he was a romantic prospect, and she’d go on believing that even if I said he was purely a homeschool friend. And if she thought I was interested in him, no political luncheon would stop her from sitting us down and grilling Sage in front of everyone so she could dig up any deal breakers before I had to find them out the hard way. She’d probably even encourage her guests to join in, and I knew they’d be happy to do it-I’d seen it happen to Rayna.
The problem was, I couldn’t spend all day hanging out at Mom’s lunch. I needed to go through Dad’s things, and I wanted to finish before the Israeli minister and his Secret Service protection left the house open for any not-so-welcome visitors to return.
“This is Larry Steczynski! You can call him Sage. He’s my new boyfriend!” Rayna suddenly chirped, threading her arm through Sage’s and giving him a squeeze. To his credit, Sage looked only slightly surprised.
Just one more thing to add to the long list of reasons I love Rayna. She knew exactly what I’d been thinking and had found the one answer that would leave me completely off the hook.
“Really!” Mom said meaningfully. “Then we should talk.” She turned to the group and asked, “Gentleman?”
Without hesitation, all the senators and the Israeli minister agreed that the next topic of their agenda should clearly be a debate of Sage’s merits and pitfalls as a partner to Rayna. As Mom took Sage and Rayna’s hands and led them to the couch, two senators gladly moved aside to give them space. Sage shot me a look so plaintive I almost laughed out loud.
Why would Grant password-protect this one file?"
"To frustrate his daughter and her best friend to no end?"
"Good guess, but probably not.
I promised her we’d be quick, and Ben and I slipped away, just in time to hear Senator Blaine clear his throat and say, “So, Sage…what if any personal views about women do you have that might interfere with your obligation to treat Rayna with the respect that she deserves?”
“He may have faced down swarms of crazed New Age militants,” I whispered to Ben, “but I bet this is his first Senate confirmation hearing.”
“It’s cruel and unusual punishment, Clea,”Ben said, smiling, “but I like it.
Butterhorn?” Ben asked, holding out a bag full of pastries.
“Well, you did condemn yourself to bad luck just to get them for me,” I said, “So absolutely!”
“Yeah,” Ben agreed, “they’d better be worth it.”
“Mmmm, completely worth it,” I said with my mouth full. “The rest of you have to have some of these.”
“Hmmm,” Sage mused, examining his, “no garlic. I’m not entirely sure my taste buds will know how to handle this.”
“Um, you guys,” Rayna asked, “where am I driving?”
“Excellent question-let’s find out!” I pulled the cribbage board out of duffel bag and handed it to Sage, pointing out the longitude and latitude notations on the back. “Where is that?”
Sage took out his phone, then entered the coordinates. “Interesting.”
“What?” I asked. “It’s not Antarctica, is it? I didn’t pack a parka.
I’ll get ‘em.” Ben tried to walk back inside, but Piri blocked his way.
“NO!” she screamed. “Never turn your back when you leave the house. Very, very bad luck.”
“It’s fine, Pirir,” Ben assured her. “I just want to grab the cookies.”
“I’ll get them. You come here and look in the mirror. Give a dirty look, then everything’s better.”
“I would, I swear, you know I would, Piri, but we’re kind of in a rush. I’ll just grab the cookies.”
As Ben pushed past her and went inside, Mom hugged both Rayna and Sage, who apparently was going to be like a son-in-law to her. Ben loped out with the butterhorns, and everyone climbed into Rayna’s car, then Mom and I gave each other one last hug.
Spill-what’s the deal with Hottie McDreamMan?”
“Sage?” I laughed.
“No, I mean Minister Sanders.” She threw a pillow at me. “Of course I mean Sage! He’s the one, right? The guy from your dreams. Oh my God-he’s real and he’s hot! Does he kiss as well in real life as he did in your dreams?”
“I wouldn’t know,” I admitted. “We haven’t kissed.”
“What are you waiting for?”
“So the whole randomly-popping-up-in-pictures thing doesn’t bother you?”
“Nope.”
“The whole strange-cultists-chasing-after-him? That doesn’t bother you either?”
“Nobody’s perfect, Clea.”
“How about if I told you he might be a serial killer? Would that bother you?”
“Debatable. Elaborate.”
I told her about the nightmares and about what I’d seen in his house. As I unrolled the story, her expression went from flip and giddy to openmouthed and riveted.
“Oh my God, Clea.”
“Crazy, right? And I still have no idea how he got into all those pictures.”
“That part’s easy.”
“Really?”
“Of course,” she said. “You’re soulmates.
“Rayna…”
“Fine, I know, you don’t like that word. But you can’t possibly deny that you have a deep, powerful soul connection. By definition you have that. You said yourself, he found you in four different countries and four different times. Out of all the people in the world at any given time, he found you. The only possible way he could have done that is if your souls were connected. He’s a soul-seeking missile.”
“But he told me he wasn’t there for any of the pictures.”
“Yes, he was! Don’t you get it, Clea? Your souls are connected-he’s always with you, whether he’s there physically or not. And you’re the one who told me about cameras capturing people’s souls, right? So that’s what it’s doing-capturing the soul that’s always with you, because you’re always connected. It’s very romantic.”
I thought about what she said, ignoring the last sentence because I knew by now that everything was very romantic to Rayna.
“Okay,” I ceded, “I’ll give you the connection. But what about the serial killer thing? What fi we’re connected because he tracks these women down, acts like he loves them, and then kills them?”
“Kills you. You’re them.”
“Yeah, thanks, that’s a much nicer way to put it,” I said, rolling my eyes.
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