Covert Christmas Twin. Heather Woodhaven

“Great. I’m losing her.”

      “Beverly wanted us to split up. There could be eyes watching her.” Joe stepped into a side alley. “I think she’s going to her place, her real place. She has a town house for show, but I’ve been to her actual house once. It’s probably best we go a different way to meet her.”

      “I have a million questions that won’t wait and—” She placed her hands on her hips and regarded him. “Why do I have the feeling you already know what I’m going to ask?”

      He took a deep breath. It felt like lying not to admit what he knew. “I found out recently about you and your twin sister, Audrey. The circumstances for you meeting Beverly today aren’t ideal, but—”

      She took a step backward and bit her lip before a mask of nonchalance dropped in place. “How did you find out I have a twin? I didn’t even know until a few months ago, and ever since then, the FBI has been diligent in making sure no one else found out. So I know whatever you’re doing here with my—with Beverly—isn’t FBI-sanctioned. Why are you here, Joe?”

      His recent training taught him how to handle many a delicate moment, but this discussion felt like entering an unmarked minefield. He exhaled, trying and failing to imagine what meeting Beverly had to be like for her. “You should know that even though Beverly seems like a hard woman, I know for a fact she cares more than she’d ever admit. Beyond that, answering your question right now is a little tricky. I’m not sure it’s my place to really—”

      She grabbed his shoulder and turned him until they were face-to-face. “It’s about me, Joe. I think it’s my place to know. Start talking.” Her cheeks reddened slightly and she let go and took a step back. “Please. It’s not a pleasant sensation to feel like you’re the last to know who your own mother is.”

      He studied her face, missing the smile that had been on her face so often back at Quantico. “Like I was trying to tell you, I’m actually in the process of resigning from the Bureau. I took an extended leave that’s about to be permanent.”

      Her eyebrows rose. “Why? You have a great reputation.”

      “That’s nice to hear, but I found it just wasn’t for me. I came here to utilize the theology—”

      Kendra placed a hand on her hip. “Joe, how many degrees do you have now?”

      He collected degrees like most people did books, although he mostly stuck to the fields of psychology and sociology. “Only five. I’ve been auditing your mo—” He caught himself before saying mother. “Beverly’s classes. Actually, she was the one who made me realize I wasn’t ready to completely cut ties with the FBI. So after I tender my resignation, I’ll apply to continue with the FBI on a volunteer basis.”

      “Volunteer? You can’t volunteer for the FBI.”

      “As an FBI chaplain.”

      She pulled her chin back and frowned. “Huh?” The sirens grew louder as the sound of revving motors got closer. She pointed to his arm. “Walk with me.”

      He did as she asked. She grabbed his hand with her right and walked with him, head down, as if they were a couple strolling. “Until I know what’s going on, I think it’s best to leave the police out of the loop. Look up and act surprised by what’s happening.”

      Three police cars zoomed past them. The air crackled with the chaos that came after a shooting. Joe wasn’t ready to process that he’d been the one to fire a bullet that had taken a life, even if he only did it to save a life.

      Another cruiser slowed ever so briefly as the officer in the passenger side glanced at them. They were looking for the shooter, but Kendra’s face showed the perfect amount of confusion and concern that he knew the officer would assume they were just bystanders. His suspicion was confirmed as the officer shook his head and they zoomed away, likely to check all the nearby alleys.

      “Covert work comes naturally to you, doesn’t it?” He couldn’t help but wonder if she pretended to be part of a couple with a lot of agents.

      Kendra dropped his hand. “I don’t mean to be rude, but can you get to the part about my supposed mother telling you about me?”

      Another reminder it wasn’t time to catch up. “Yes. She’s made brilliant discoveries in the field of behavior analysis, she’s an excellent professor and—” he peeked around the brick building before rounding the corner “she’s also watched very closely by hired guns, like the one who tried to kill you.”

      He pointed ahead to a blue Victorian house that from the outside appeared to be falling apart. The porch sagged and the landscaping, while trimmed neatly, contained more weeds than grass. Even the windows were covered in grime from years of neglect. They would have to cross the street, in the open, to reach it. “I really think I should let her have a chance to explain the rest. You won’t have to wait much longer.”

      The time he’d spent with Beverly taught him she was a woman so defined by pain she couldn’t see life as offering anything else. He needed to weigh his words with care and make sure he didn’t interfere with any chance for her and Kendra to make amends. “If you have any questions afterward, I’ll be glad to tell you what I know.”

      She exhaled, her curled lip expressing her distaste for his decision.

      “I promise,” he added. The compulsion to say such a thing surprised him.

      A silver sedan turned the corner. He gestured for Kendra to step in the shadow made by a nearby dumpster, and they pressed their backs against the brick until it passed. “Oh, and, Kendra?”

      Her wide green eyes studied him. “Yes?”

      “If she thinks you’re in danger, you have every reason to believe her.”

       TWO

      Kendra followed Joe through the side door of the Victorian house. The place appeared to be standing on its last legs. Inside was no better. Dust swirled in the sunbeams shining through the front windows. The wooden floors were warped from age and possible flooding, and the furniture sported beige tarps. “You’re telling me this is where Beverly really lives?”

      She hadn’t needed Joe to tell her about the other house Beverly apparently kept for show. Kendra had already looked it up online. Why anyone would choose to actually live in an old dump over a home with modern upgrades, though, was beyond her.

      Joe walked down the hallway, stopped at a metal basement door and knocked to the musical rhythm of “Shave and a Haircut.”

      “Really?”

      He flashed what she considered to be his trademark smirk, the one she’d felt drawn to during their time at the academy. He had to know how attractive he looked wearing that mischievous expression. The sound of metal sliding echoed around them. Joe turned the handle and swung open the door to reveal carpeted stairs and an electronic lock and keypad installed on the wall.

      She fought to keep her face neutral, knowing he was watching for her reaction. He closed the door behind her and pressed the red lock button on the keypad. They descended into an apartment complete with gleaming wooden floors, stainless kitchen appliances, lighting that mimicked natural sunlight and colorful red and blue love seats arranged around a tiled coffee table covered in hardback books.

      Beverly stepped out of a side room to face them, her blond hair pulled into a ponytail. She’d already changed into jeans and a hunter green sweater. She crossed her arms across her chest. “How’d you find out?”

      Kendra clenched her jaw. The nerve. If anyone deserved answers, it was her. Fine, she’d play Beverly’s game, but only because Joe had promised to tell all later. “I chased down every informant and asset I’ve ever had. After a little pushing, I found a common thread in about a third of my cases. Anonymous tips that seemed too convenient, some in the form