The Undercover Affair. Cathryn Parry

Lyn Francis. She has a complete online persona as Lyn Francis, thanks to Wesley.” Here, Wesley smiled at her. “Lyn Francis is the only person on our task force with an undercover alias, and we will get to her mission in a few moments’ time.”

      She couldn’t wait to hear it.

      “Pete,” Commander Harris continued, “has been investigating the background of area contractors as flagged by Lyndsay. We have reason to believe that locals are involved, and Lyndsay’s efforts here are crucial. Pete is also serving—and will continue to serve—as backup for Lyndsay. Simon has been following up on crime scene investigations, as well as investigating insurance company reports, alarm system company personnel, and staff at burgled homes. Wesley is with us part-time. He will be installing cameras at the congressman’s home, but we’ll get to that later, as well.” He turned to Wesley and nodded.

      It seemed to be a signal, because Wesley tapped at the keyboard of a laptop before him. On a wall screen, a photograph of Congressman MacLaine appeared.

      “This is Congressman MacLaine,” he said unnecessarily. The congressman’s familiar long face and full head of thick, brown hair, was a common fixture in the local media. Lyndsay hadn’t actually met him or his wife yet. She also hadn’t dared to poke about too much in their possessions in any of the twelve rooms of their oversize beach cottage.

      “Lyndsay,” Commander Harris said, “the congressman has specifically requested that you stay in his cottage, beginning Monday, for the next two weeks while he and his wife are away on a cruise vacation. There is a guest room that looks over the street, and you may set up in there.”

      Her mouth was open. She hadn’t expected this order, at all.

      “Wesley will be there on Sunday evening,” Commander Harris continued, “to place a network of hidden cameras in the MacLaine home, which will give a complete picture of the surrounding grounds as well as the rest of the street and the three mansions facing them. While he is there, your job will be to cover and assist him.”

      She blinked. “Do you expect the congressman’s home to be targeted? Has there been a tip?”

      “Not at this time. The congressman has requested the cameras. If his home is to be targeted, he wants evidence. He’s funding this part of the effort, though that is not to be made public knowledge.”

      She nodded. “Of course.” But still it niggled at her. What was she supposed to do there? “With all due respect, sir, what will I be investigating?”

      He gave her a censorious look, so she folded her hands and waited. Sometimes it was difficult to follow the dictates of the chain of command.

      “Officer Fairfax, your primary mission is to maintain your cover. Do not break it for any reason. I repeat, for any reason. Not even the local authorities have been made aware of your presence, or of the existence of our task force. If you are so much as stopped for a traffic ticket, you will give them your cover name. If necessary, you will allow yourself to be arrested and even locked up.”

      She gaped at him.

      But Simon was nodding. “Been there, done that,” he muttered.

      She glanced at Pete. He was shrugging.

      “This isn’t a game, Officer Fairfax.” Commander Harris gazed sternly at her. “You’re to keep your eyes and ears open. You will remain at the MacLaines’ home, and your backup officer will maintain contact with you by phone. Additionally, you two will conduct a short daily meeting at a nearby rendezvous point.”

      Pete leaned over and murmured to her. “There’s a convenience store nearby, just a walk out the back slider and down the beach. I’ll fill you in later.”

      “But what police work will I conduct?” she asked Commander Harris. She’d already gathered the names of the local contractors. She couldn’t imagine what else he needed her to do, just sitting idly at the congressman’s home all day, watching and waiting for a break-in that might never come.

      “Your daily investigative duties will be up to your backup officer,” Commander Harris said. “Rest assured, your undercover presence is extremely valuable, and we have more than enough work to keep you occupied, if you will listen for one moment.” He sent her another censorious look, so she pinched her lips together and waited.

      Commander Harris nodded to Wesley. The computer technician pressed a button for the next slide. A picture that looked like a driver’s license photo flashed on the screen—a female who looked to be Lyndsay’s age. She had shoulder-length, dark red hair, and a direct, fiery gaze. “This is Kitty MacLaine.”

      Interested, Lyndsay straightened her spine. She hadn’t seen a photo of the congressman’s wife before. Information about the congressman’s private life was woefully scant on the internet. She knew; she’d searched for it.

      Kitty looked quite a bit younger than the congressman, but Lyndsay knew better than to make a comment.

      “Kitty is not aware of the task force. She’s not aware, Lyndsay, that you are an undercover police officer. But she is aware of you as Lyn Francis.”

      “Oh,” Lyndsay murmured.

      “On Monday morning at nine, your assignment is to meet with Kitty MacLaine in her home and review your design plans with her.”

      “What?!” Lyndsay nearly exploded. Her design plans? She hadn’t expected that any of her computer renderings would be seriously considered by anyone. She swallowed, a vain attempt at tamping down her panic. “But I’m not a professional designer, sir. Surely, she will see through that.”

      “You have to trust us,” Commander Harris said, his tone sharp. “As you know, you’ve been given an internet cover as a designer working under Karen Talbott, owner of the DesignSea company. What you didn’t know was that Ms. Talbott’s seacoast home was the first one burgled, and she’s been eager to assist us. She’s also a friend to the congressman, and it was his influence that got her onboard with us.”

      “So...I’m to meet with Ms. Talbott first?”

      “I recommend it, yes,” he said calmly. “Although Ms. Talbott is pleased with your ideas and feels you have talent.”

      Someone snickered—Simon, it sounded like. Lyndsay knew her face was red, but she didn’t give him the satisfaction of turning to look at him. She focused on Commander Harris. “I don’t know anything substantial about Kitty, or her desires and needs,” she protested.

      Commander Harris looked blankly at her. As did Pete.

      “For example, is she the congressman’s first wife? How long have they been married? I understand they don’t have children, but—”

      “Is that relevant?”

      “Certainly. I know from—” from Andy Hannaman, but it wasn’t relevant to mention his name “—from a longtime local that the congressman’s beach home has been owned by him for almost twenty years, but that during the past five years or so, he was rarely there. Then suddenly this past autumn, after he retired, he started visiting more often.”

      “And?”

      “And, An—the local,” she corrected herself, “said that he was with a wife he’d never seen before.”

      The commander sighed.

      “Also, does he have any children by any former relationships? I wasn’t able to tell from his internet profiles, but I assume not.”

      “No, the congressman has no children,” said Commander Harris wearily.

      “I know you assume this is all peripheral to the task force,” she said to the room at large, “but I really should be clear with these details.”

      “Karen Talbott,” he said in a no-nonsense voice, “will fill you in with what you need to know from the design standpoint.”

      “And then I’m to review the design plan