From an Unknown Sender, page 4
Cole shrugged. “You were coming over, and the trash can was already full.”
Only Cole. Isabelle shook her head. “I’ll be right back.” She went back to the dining room table.
Her mother stood up. “Since you’re doing the dishes, I’m going to unpack and get ready for bed.”
As soon as her mom left the room, Isabelle said, “You should get some sleep, too, Dad.”
“I will in a little while.” He remained where he was and pulled out his cell phone.
“You aren’t planning to work tonight, are you?”
He crossed his ankle over his knee. “I’m just going to check my email and catch up on things.”
“Is there something going on I should know about?”
Her dad glanced toward the bedroom. “I’m not sure yet.”
She leaned down and whispered in his ear. “I really hate it when you don’t include me in your need-to-know circle.”
“As soon as I’m sure you have a need, you’ll be the first to know.”
Isabelle straightened. “That’s what you always say.”
She collected the rest of the glasses and headed back into the kitchen.
Cole put the last plate in her dishwasher. “Is that everything?”
“Yeah.” She glanced over her shoulder to ensure they were alone and indulged herself by pressing her lips to his for a quick kiss.
When she started to pull away, Cole put his hand on her waist to keep her in place. He peeked over her shoulder and then lowered his lips to hers once more. The loneliness of the past two weeks vanished, and Isabelle couldn’t resist lifting her hands to draw him closer.
Cole deepened the kiss, and Isabelle let herself get lost in the joy of having him here, of having him home.
The scrape of chair legs against the wooden floor in the dining room reminded her they weren’t alone. She pulled back and cast another quick glance at the door.
“I guess I should probably head home early tonight.” Cole released her. “I don’t want to get on your parents’ bad side.”
“Before you leave, I have something I need to talk to you about.”
“Work or personal?”
“Work.”
“Have you swept your apartment today?”
Before Cole could respond, her mom poked her head through the kitchen doorway. “Did you want me to help you sweep up?”
Isabelle bit back both her frustration that she couldn’t trust her own mother with the true nature of her profession and her amusement that her mother had assumed Cole was talking about using a broom to clean rather than using an electronic sweeper to search for listening devices.
“Mom, we’re fine. Cole and I will take care of it.”
“Okay. Well, I’m going to bed, then,” her mom said. “It was nice meeting you, Cole.”
“It was nice meeting you too,” Cole said with sincerity in his voice.
Isabelle glanced at him. Cole lied well, and she couldn’t tell if this was one of those moments when he was utilizing that particular skill.
Her mom crossed to Isabelle and kissed her cheek. “Don’t stay up too late.”
“I won’t.” Isabelle waited until her mother left before she whispered, “I already swept my apartment today.”
“Then, what’s up?”
“I redirected a package of a suspected smuggler, and I need your help retrieving it.”
“Look at you, getting into fieldwork when I’m not looking.” Cole grinned. “When and where?”
“December 27 in Amsterdam.” Isabelle swallowed before she added, “The Van Gogh Museum.”
The humor drained from his face and was replaced by concern. He lifted both hands and gripped her arms. “Tess? You sent a package to Tess?”
“I didn’t put her name on it, but I needed a location close to the original destination,” Isabelle explained. “The package was already supposed to go to a museum in Amsterdam. Tess’s museum was the only one I could think of where I knew we would be able to recover it without an issue.”
Cole released her. “You shouldn’t have involved her. She has no idea what I do for a living.”
“She doesn’t have to know. All you need to do is see if she can intercept the package and hold it for you,” Isabelle said. “You’re planning to go to Amsterdam next week anyway.”
“Fine.” Cole huffed out a breath. “But you have to come with me.”
“Come with you?” Delight surfaced, but Isabelle shook her head. “I don’t want to intrude on your time with your family.”
“You let me intrude on yours.” Cole slipped his hands around her waist and drew her closer. “Besides, two weeks was too long to be apart. I don’t want to have to leave you again next week.”
“I guess I could take a few days off work.”
“Great. I’ll take care of your plane ticket.” Cole leaned in and kissed her. “Can I see you tomorrow?”
Isabelle nodded. “I’d love that.”
Chapter 5
Jeroen Schmid tapped on the control to reset the security camera overlooking the right side of the main gallery of Stedelijk Museum. For nearly three years, he had worked at this and several other museums situated around Amsterdam’s famous Museumplein, the large public square surrounded by the most important museums in the city.
Too bad he didn’t care about museums. As far as he was concerned, the modern art on display in this particular building could have been created by a five-year-old with free access to paint and a canvas. But protecting what the curators considered to be valuable artwork paid his bills, barely.
He shook that thought away. He wouldn’t have to wait much longer for his ship to come in. A new business, a few new contacts, and he would be able to afford a place to live beyond his tiny, studio apartment. Finally, he would have enough money to go out to eat whenever he wanted to and be able to travel at his leisure. He was ready for all of it. Just a few more days and his new life would truly begin.
***
Lars adjusted the lens on his camera and held perfectly still. Moments later, the first light of morning broke over the ridge of the ancient church roof, turning the newly fallen snow into sparkling crystals. He clicked the shutter half a dozen times, shifted slightly, and clicked again. Behind him, the distinctive clatter of a bicycle approached. Lars moved out of the bicyclist’s path, snapping a couple of shots of the young man with a red scarf and a black bike against a backdrop of pearly white.
The scrape of a shovel somewhere to his right announced the arrival of the first resident on the street. Lars lowered his camera. The shadows were fading, and Maastricht was awakening. He’d better return to Marit’s parents’ house before they started wondering where he was.
Starting back toward the square in front of the church, he glanced at the single trail of footprints in the snow. They were his. And it was a good thing. He’d been so consumed with capturing the city through his camera lens, he’d paid little attention to his direction, and he had a sinking feeling he’d walked farther than he’d intended.
When he finally reached the familiar blue door, the curtains at the windows were still closed. He paused on the front doorstep to lightly bang the snow off his boots, then he carefully turned the doorknob and slipped inside. Morning light peeking through the chinks in the curtains illuminated the hall. He slid his camera off his shoulder and set it on the hall table before he bent down to untie his boots.
A creak on the stairs was his first warning that he was no longer alone; Thor’s voice was his second.
“Where have you been?” Thor asked.
It wasn’t exactly “Good morning,” but maybe a grumpy conversation starter was better than nothing.
“Taking photographs.” Lars tucked his boots beneath the table and lifted his camera. “Marit thought we might have snow overnight, and I wanted to capture it when the sun came up.”
Thor’s gaze shifted from Lars’s wet boots to his camera. “How long have you been out?”
“An hour or so, I think. To be honest, I didn’t look at the clock when I left, but it was still dark.”
Thor grunted. “Sounds crazy to me.”
Lars stifled a smile. If he’d been paid a euro every time he’d been called crazy for the effort he regularly put in to capturing a stunning photograph, he’d be a very wealthy man. “I’m not a huge fan of getting up in the dark either, but every once in a while, it’s worth it.” He shrugged. “Today was one of those days.”
Thor had reached the hall, and another set of footsteps sounded on the stairs above.
“You’re up already, Lars?” Claudia appeared, clearly surprised to see him standing there.
“He’s been out already,” her husband corrected. “Taking photographs.” Thor’s tone hinted at his opinion of Lars’s unorthodox morning activity.
“Oh dear. Did you have a bad night?”
“I slept very well,” Lars reassured her. “I wouldn’t have left that comfortable bed if it hadn’t been for the new snow.”
The look of concern on Claudia’s face lessened. “I saw it from the bedroom window. It is pretty, isn’t it?”
“Very.” He lifted his camera. Experience told him that his critics tended to moderate their opinions after seeing the end results. “Would you like to see how it looked at dawn?”
She took the remaining stairs quickly, curiosity in her eyes. “I would.”
Lars pulled up the first picture and turned his camera so she could see the screen.
“Oh,” Claudia gasped. “It’s Vrijthof Square!”
“Is that what it’s called?” Lars asked. “It looks like they have a sizable Christmas market there.”
“They do. And you must go while you’re here.”
Lars clicked through a few more images of the marketplace, and Claudia clasped her hands together.
“It always looks marvelous with all the lights on in the evening, but seeing it like this, with a blanket of white . . . well, it’s enchanting.”
Grateful that he’d captured the scene well enough for Claudia to appreciate its beauty, Lars clicked through pictures of a woodcutter’s booth and a large Christmas tree decorated with silver globes until he reached the ones of the old church standing at the edge of the square.
“Wait,” Claudia said. Lars took his eyes off his camera screen long enough to glance at Claudia. Something in her voice had changed. “Thor. You must see this.”
Thor was already halfway down the hall, headed for the kitchen, but at Claudia’s request, he swung around. “What is it?”
Unsure what this was about, Lars turned the camera so Thor could see the image once he drew close enough.
“It’s Saint Servatius Basilica,” Claudia said. “And look. It’s just the way it was the day we got married.”
For five long seconds, Thor stared at the picture in silence. When he raised his head, it was to look at Claudia. “There were no tracks in the snow that morning either,” he said. “It wasn’t until Jorgen reminded me that I’d made him take me there half an hour early that I realized I hadn’t been left at the altar.”
Claudia smiled. “Silly man. You knew I couldn’t get there fast enough.”
Thor gave a fraction of a smile. “You’re always late for everything, even now.”
“Not everything,” Claudia huffed. “I was up before Marit today.”
Thor’s chuckle rumbled softly in his throat. “True. But I hear her on the landing, so it was a close call.”
Seconds later, Marit started down the stairs.
“Hi, everyone.” Her gaze shifted from Lars to each of her parents, and her smile faltered. “What’s going on?”
“Lars was showing us the photos he took this morning of Saint Servatius Basilica,” Claudia said. “Papa and I were just reminiscing about our—”
“Please tell me you’re not sharing wedding stories.” A flicker of panic appeared in Marit’s eyes.
On the heels of her father’s grilling the night before, her concern was understandable.
“It’s okay,” Lars said. “It sounds like theirs is a good one.”
“It is,” Thor said, heading back down the hall. “Listen to your boyfriend.”
Marit blinked.
Her mother followed after her husband. “Let’s all go to the kitchen and have breakfast,” she said.
“Want to tell me what spell you cast on my father?” Marit whispered, reaching Lars’s side a moment later.
“I think ‘lucky break’ might be a more accurate description,” Lars murmured in reply. “But I’ll take it.”
“Yeah.” Marit’s look of relief mirrored his own feelings. “Think you can make it last for another two days?”
Lars glanced at his camera, the beginnings of an idea starting to form.
“Is there anywhere nearby that can print a photo for me today?”
Marit raised a puzzled eyebrow. “FotoLab usually offers a one-hour printing service.”
“Great.” Lars reached for her hand. “I can’t make any promises, but I think that if we go there right after breakfast, the magic’ll linger a little bit longer.”
***
Cole still didn’t know what to think about Isabelle’s parents. He’d barely woken up this morning before Isabelle had texted to invite him to join them for breakfast. Then they had insisted he spend Christmas Eve with them, again acting like he was a welcome addition to their family. Had he not offered to go out and pick up fresh bread for dinner, he probably wouldn’t have escaped Isabelle’s apartment all day.
He tightened his scarf against the brisk wind that whipped over him and tucked his hands in the pockets of his coat.
Mr. and Mrs. Rogers were plenty nice now, but what would they be like if he and Isabelle broke up? Isabelle’s father had been armed every time Cole had seen him so far.
If he and Isabelle broke up, not when. That thought caught up with Cole and sent a new streak of panic through him. He couldn’t remember a single previous relationship in which a breakup hadn’t been inevitable. His life was unpredictable at best, both personally and professionally. Yet even though he couldn’t picture what his life would look like a year from now, he also couldn’t imagine moving forward without Isabelle as part of it.
He stepped into the warmth of the bakery down the street from Isabelle’s apartment, the scent of fresh bread mingling with the spiced cakes and various pastries. Cole ordered the rolls for dinner and added some croissants and breakfast pastries for tomorrow. No need to have anyone cooking on Christmas morning. Maybe if Isabelle had paper plates, they wouldn’t have to do dishes either.
As soon as he completed his purchase, Cole headed back toward Isabelle’s apartment, back toward Isabelle and her parents.
Not quite ready to return to that crowded space, he used his free hand to pull his phone from his pocket and dial Lars’s number.
“Hey there,” Lars answered. “I was wondering when I was going to hear from you. Are you back in Vienna?”
“Yeah, I got back last night.” Cole glanced at the other pedestrians on the sidewalk, sizing everyone up as a potential threat.
“And you’re still coming to Amsterdam for Tess’s birthday, right?”
Cole sidestepped a woman and her schnauzer, which appeared determined to use up the entire width of the sidewalk. “I said I would be there.”
“Yes, but you haven’t returned any of my texts for two weeks.”
“I was a little busy with work.”
“I’d love to ask you about that,” Lars said, “but I won’t.”
Cole silently thanked his cousin for not putting him in the awkward situation of not being able to answer his questions. Even though Lars knew Cole worked for the CIA, he was not privy to his travel or the reasons behind it. “I wanted to ask a favor. Or, I guess, it’s really Marit I need the favor from.”
“Then why didn’t you just call her?” Lars asked.
“Because your number is the one I have on my favorites list.” Cole didn’t wait for Lars to press the issue. “Isabelle is coming with me to Amsterdam. I hoped Marit wouldn’t mind if she stays with her.”
“I’m sure she’ll be fine with that,” Lars said. “How are things going with you two?”
“Fine, I think.” Cole reached the door to Isabelle’s building. He stepped inside but remained at the base of the stairs leading to Isabelle’s apartment. “I met her parents.”
“I had a feeling that might happen. Marit mentioned that Isabelle said they were flying in for the holiday.” Lars paused. “I guess things are getting serious for both of us.”
Cole’s chest tightened. “I’m not ready for things to get serious.”
Lars laughed. “Sometimes, you can’t control it.”
“Why not?” Cole asked, desperation rising inside him. “I mean, taking things slow is good, right?”
“It can be, but that isn’t always how it works.”
“You aren’t helping.” Especially not when Cole couldn’t imagine his future without Isabelle in it.
“Don’t panic. It’s not like Isabelle is expecting you to put a ring on her finger this Christmas.”
“Great. Now I’m panicking.”
Lars laughed again. “Just tell me one thing.”
“What’s that?” Cole asked.
“Is Isabelle’s father’s name Hulk?”
“Hulk?” Cole shook his head. His cousin was losing it. “No. It’s Bryan. And I think you’ve been drinking too much eggnog.” A door on an upper floor opened and then closed. “I’d better go. I’ll see you next week.”
“You’re sure Isabelle’s dad’s name isn’t Hulk?”
Cole rolled his eyes. “I’m sure.”
Chapter 6
Marit slid into the passenger seat of Lars’s car and released a long breath. Almost three days of living under the same roof and they were leaving Maastricht with her father and Lars speaking to each other cordially. She was certain that qualified as some kind of miracle.
