Damsel Not In Distress

Chapter One

Eleven hours later I was sitting in the hot sun on the patio of a Miami bar and grill sipping a virgin mojito*. My sunglasses hid the bags under my eyes. Paranoia had me scanning the perimeter every two minutes and it still startled me when he sat down.
"You look good, kid."
"You look... The same as always."
"Flattery will get you no where." Sam Axe: retired Navy Seal, drunk, CIA civilian intelligence; saved my life continuously; also known as Chuck Finley. He passed me a file folder, slamming his hand on it before I could open it. "My services don't come for free." I raised my eyebrow at him, leaning back in my chair and crossing my arms. Of course not. I'd learned a lot about Sam since we met way back when, one of the most important being he was a man of his word. If he needed me to do something I would because he would be there when I needed it. His haiwaiian shirt fluttered where it was too unbuttoned at the top for a grown man when he shifted in his seat. He produced a second file, seemingly very judicial and organized for him.
"There's this woman."
"You've peaked my interest."
"She asked us to get her kid back from her exhusband."
"Us?" I narrowed my eyes at him.
"I think Mike's getting a little too close-" My chair was already pushed out as I shot up on my way to a swift exit out of Sam Axe's life completely. I would get by on my own.
"Harper, come on. I just need someone on the outside that's not so close to this." I spun on my heels, almost taking him down with my momentum. I set my Jaw, leveling him with a stare. "You promised, Sam." On the list of names I never wanted to hear again Micheal Westen was at the very top. Once upon a time we created a messy history. Not a bad one perse, just one that was better left buried.
"He doesn't even have to know you're involved. Fi and I are worried. Someone that's not so close to Mike has to look into it." Westen? Getting to close? What. A. Surprise. "He says he's got it handled, but he's been dropping everything for this." I snatched the file back from him, huffing and rolling my eyes. Evelyn, the client, showed up spouting woes of an abusive exhusband who had absconded with her little boy. This had tailor-made bait written all over it. Sam must have been genuinely concerned to keep this from his best friend.
"What do you want?"
"Check up on her, get some Intel."
"You can do that. What's the catch?" Sam just stared at me as if there was something I was missing. "you're joking. I've got to catch another bullet for this man?" I rolled my eyes. Of course that was the deal.
I sighed. "Micheal never knows I was involved?"
"Doesn't have to know a thing." I narrowed my eyes at him. Sam had to be worried to be willing to keep things from his bestfriend.
"Preferably not. I just would like this taken care of discreetly."
"You'll help me if I do this?"
"Whatever you need." I begrudgingly shoved the file in my bag. "You better come through." It was a hollow undertone of a threat. He would. I could trust that. They knew If they were checking up on him Michael would find out and feel distrusted. He hadn't spent a decade as a squeaky clean spy for no reason. He was good but everybody has blind spots. Michael's was human emotion. He had a soft spot for people that could make him feel something or could feel something without hindrance. Mine was unfortunately staring me in the face. The last time I saw Micheal flashed through my mind briefly before I shoved it away. Still the sound of a gunshot echoed into my present. I shook it away, opening the file in front of me.
Doug, "the abusive ex", had apparently squirreled away Jasper, the woeful woman's son, and gone off grid amidst a messy divorce. Sam said there were lots of teary eyes, but hardly any actually tears. The file was thin. Red flag number one. Mike hadn't done any of his own research. All of the information was pure hearsay coming solely from the divorcee. It was unlike him to not at least fact check. A Google search of Doug alone unearthed an article comending him of his recent philanthropy in the form of a hefty donation to an abused children's center. Odd for a guy who was supposedly beating his wife and kid, but not the first time someone thought throwing money at the problem would make it better. I had, however, located my cover story.
My first trip was to the county clerk's office*. On the outside it was tall and grey. On the inside it was cold, more grey, and smelled of leather bound ledgers much like all other bureaucratic buildings. The countertop was granite, the floor marble, and there were no windows. It was the last place you'd want to be in a place as sunny as Miami so you're going to need a good explanation. Judging by the excitement on the clerk's face about the presence of another human being and the soft layer of dust on the floor no one had been here in a while.
"How can I help you?"
Telling someone you're a reporter will get you whatever information you need, but it draws unwanted attention and whoever you're acquiring about will catch wind of it. Easier to go with something similar, but lower profile.
"Hello." The precious little old man behind the desk greeted me, smiling widely and I almost felt bad I was about to lie to him. Almost.
"Hi. I'm writing a book and I would like to know if you had any information on Doug Simmons and his wife."
"I might. What's it for?" He peaked at me through the side of his eyes.
"He's really big in charity. The book is to honor a collection of prominent individuals that care to give back to their community."
"That's wonderful. Do you have his address?"
I recited the address held in the file hoping it was the correct one. The man tapped away at his keyboard, clicking through a few folders. "It seems the only information I have is for Doug himself and his son Jasper."
"Not even his wife?" The old man shifted the screen my way so I could see. Very clearly beneath Doug's name there was another; Mary Simmons. Next to that, however, was a blue internet link labeled obituary. "she's deceased?"
"Recently. Poor things, him and Jasper. It was such a tragic accident." This is why you lie. You absolutely do not need a cover to acquire public records from the city, but if you have one and you're fairly polite you won't even need them.
"Do you know what happened?"
"Car accident, suspicious if you ask me." I almost chuckled, but thought better of it. Everything was always suspicious.
Who was Eveyln then?
"You know, actually thank you so much, but I think I'm going to just respect the family's grieving at this time. Thanks for all your help." He nodded with an understanding smile as I rushed out the door to call Sam. It rang too many times for my comfort.
Pick up. Pick up. Pick up.
As soon as the line went live I rushed the words out as fast as I could. "Find Micheal, whoever Evelyn is she is not Doug's wife."
"Are you sure?"
"Yeah. Her name was Mary and she's dead." Sam hung up before he said anything presumably going to find Micheal. I fell into the front seat staring at the file again. There was a photo of the woman named Evelyn. I couldn't put my finger on why, but she looked so familiar... and that could not be a good thing. I drummed my fingers on the steering wheel as I raced towards... where? Sam? The bar? I had not the slightest clue where they were. I just had to get there fast. Apparently my plan was to just drive around in a panic until maybe I stumbled across him. The traffic was too slow, infuriating me to no end considering it was normally non-existent. A black charger in front of me swerved to pull over, nearly taking us both out in the process.
"Hey! Watch it!" Whoever it was obviously couldn't hear me, stepping out of his vehicle to greet a tall blonde sporting sunglasses and a scarf. It was then as the sun reflected off her hair that I recognized the woman from the photo. Evelyn. Which means that must be- Micheal removed his sunglasses to open the door for her, turning to signal to me his apologies just as I slammed the visor down to block my face. I lifted my hand to signal it was alright. To my surprise, and to his it seemed, she kissed him. Evelyn was really playing up the bit and he was really not stopping her. Fi was never wrong. I dialed Sam immediately.
"I found him."

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*No idea if you can even make a virgin mojito let alone order it that way