A Thin Disguise by Catherine Bybee

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

Olivia’s feet sunk into the moist ground and made sucking noises as she stepped out of the mud. “There isn’t one self-respecting animal that is going to come within a half a mile of us,” she declared.

Sasha walked beside her, one of the rare occasions that the two of them spent any time alone. The local kids who had been out shooting for the fun of it had been found and reprimanded. Neil let the boys know that shooting on or near the property would result in charges in the future. He didn’t want them suspicious of what was going on at the log home, but didn’t want them coming back and getting caught in crossfire.

The excitement had lasted for quite a while. But eventually Olivia’s daily walks resumed, and now she and Sasha were strolling through the forest without much care that they were going to get shot.

“We’re not trying to be Cinderella and collect pets.”

The reference wasn’t lost on her, which was a nice change.

They walked a few more yards. “I think we’re in for snow by the end of the week.”

Sasha nodded. “Maybe sooner.”

They passed a set of sensors, something Olivia had spotted on her first walk off the driveway path. “Those will have to be changed out before the weather shifts,” she said, pointing.

“It’s on the list. The men will get on it tomorrow.”

That’s good, she thought. Although after a snowfall they’d be able to see if anyone was walking around.

“Are you feeling stronger?” Sasha asked after several more yards.

“Yes and no. I’m doing the exercises and the pain is getting better, but there’s a part of me that keeps telling me to do more.” She looked up and saw a perfect climbing tree. “Like that. My head is telling me to get up there and look around.”

Sasha nodded. “I understand that desire. Probably not the best idea for you right now.”

“You don’t think it’s odd that I have a longing to climb a tree? I’m not twelve.”

Sasha looked up. “The view would be better.”

Olivia laughed as they walked past the tree.

“Tell me, why don’t you carry a weapon?”

“Don’t need it.”

“You’re not afraid someone could be out here watching? Someone with a gun?”

“If I thought someone was out here with a weapon pointed at us, we wouldn’t be out here.” Sasha’s tone was even and without emotion.

That was fair. “Do you believe there is anyone looking for me? For Leo?”

“It’s a possibility. Maybe when you get your memory back you’ll lead us to the shooter.”

“And if I don’t? If I didn’t see a face? How long does this isolation go on?”

Sasha shook her head, kept her eyes on the landscape in front of them. “We will deal with that when it happens.”

“Waste of time speculating, I guess.” Olivia reached down and picked up a long stick that had been on the ground long enough to lose all its foliage. She tested the weight and twirled it around like a baton a couple of times.

Sasha looked at her briefly, then diverted her attention.

Olivia used the stick to walk a few feet before abandoning it.

She heard Sasha sigh.

“I picked something up for you when we were in town,” Sasha told her. From her coat pocket she removed a bag.

Olivia took it and glanced inside. And then she started laughing. “Is it that obvious?”

“Were you trying to be discreet? Because if that’s the case, you suck at it.”

Olivia folded the edges of the bag that held a box of condoms and put it in her pocket. “Leo’s a good man.”

“But he’s still a man, and eventually he’s going to take you up on your offer,” Sasha pointed out.

She knew that, too. “It’s reckless.”

“It’s human. And when all this is behind us, you won’t want complications.”

“Which is your way of saying that Leo and I are temporary.” Why did that sound like nails on a chalkboard?

“Do you feel it’s more?”

“I don’t know. I have nothing to compare it to. I know I’ve seduced men, but can’t see a single face. I know the mechanics behind using these condoms, but couldn’t tell you the name of whoever popped my cherry. Do you have any idea how frustrating that is?”

“No. On the bright side, you block out any of the bad sex you’ve had.”

Olivia laughed. “I think that’s the first joke I’ve heard come out of your mouth.”

“I’m serious.”

And that was hysterical.

“If it’s more than just sex, you’ll know it,” Sasha said.

“Is that how it was with AJ?”

Sasha hedged. “I was definitely using him for sex.”

Yeah, sure.It was more than that. “And then . . . ?”

“He challenged me. Intrigued me. In my head, I told myself it was only sex. You don’t have to have amnesia to not be in control of your emotions.”

This was more of a conversation than Olivia thought she’d ever have with the woman. She liked it. It started out dry and awkward but now felt like an honest exchange. “You two look tight.”

“We are. Caring for someone is always a risk. But the best things in life are on the other side of fear. I never thought I’d say those words, let alone believe them. But between AJ and this team . . .” Sasha smiled briefly.

“You didn’t believe in love?”

A quick shake of her head. “Wasn’t how I was raised.”

Silence stretched in front of them. “It doesn’t feel normal to me. The seduction, yes . . . that feels, well, good.”

“I hope so,” Sasha muttered.

They both chuckled.

“But the other parts. He holds my hand, Sasha. Sometimes just one finger as we’re walking. At first I was . . . ‘What the hell is this?’ Certainly someone has held my hand before. Why does it feel so awkward?”

“Maybe they haven’t? I’d had my share of sex before I met AJ, and the only handholding was in the moment.”

“I hadn’t considered that.”

They reached the edge of the property and turned around.

“I didn’t expect this conversation with you,” Olivia admitted.

Sasha nodded in agreement. “That makes two of us.”

Olivia sat in an overstuffed chair, legs tucked under her with a notepad in her lap.

Leo was on her right, taking up the edge of a sofa, a laptop perched on his knees.

To his right, Isaac worked on a crossword puzzle.

Neil scowled with a computer in his lap. Whatever he was working on was not bringing him joy.

The others were scattered throughout the house.

Or maybe Sasha and AJ disappeared in an effort to not be disturbed with a stash of condoms of their own.

The afternoon conversation with Sasha rolled around in Olivia’s head. It had been a long time since she’d had a heart-to-heart with a woman. Even without being able to quantify that, she knew the conversation with Sasha was rare. It didn’t matter that she didn’t remember her life before someone in an SUV drove by, pointed a gun at her, and squeezed the trigger. Deep inside where her body knew her past, her soul knew where she’d come from . . . that part of her knew that the Sasha moment was unique.

So Olivia sat on a chair in front of a roaring fire with three men she hardly knew, one she wanted to know better . . . and wrote in a diary.

Even that felt unique.

But writing down her thoughts was helping them form.

And she wrote down everything.

Neil was pissed. Whatever he was doing on his computer . . . whatever conversation he was having was causing stress deep in his veins.

Isaac vacillated between bored and amused. Every once in a while, he’d concentrate a little harder and become amused again.

Leo . . . The man was harder to read. How was that possible? Shouldn’t the man whose tongue she had had in her mouth come in loud and clear? He was working on something. And whatever that something was he was contemplating . . . it was frustrating the hell out of him.

And because Leo was the glitch in her system, she started with Neil.

“Do you want to talk about why you’re growling at your computer?” she asked.

He looked at her . . . hesitated. “Gwen just told me Emma has been asked to the winter formal.”

Isaac started laughing. Slowly. A sharp staccato that indicated pure joy.

“And?” Leo asked.

That question was met with a death stare.

“She’s too young,” Neil said.

“She’s in high school,” Isaac reminded him.

Another death stare.

Olivia scribbled the note . . . protective of his own.

“Have you met the boy?” Leo asked.

“No.”

“When is the dance?” Olivia asked.

Neil typed on his computer and paused.

They all waited, breath held . . .

“Three weeks. Gwen is talking about dresses.”

Again . . . Isaac started with the short bursts of laughter.

“What’s the problem?” Olivia asked. She knew the problem. Daddy wasn’t ready for his little girl to have big-girl dates. But she asked the question anyway.

“You wouldn’t understand.”

Olivia retreated. The man wasn’t ready for the next thought. Dates led to kissing . . . kissing led to sex.

She glanced at Leo.

He smiled her way.

“Russian World War II gun?” Isaac said, waving the crossword puzzle in his hand. “There’s a k in it.”

Olivia laughed. “There’s a k in every Russian word.”

Isaac lifted the book of puzzles in his hands. “It’s a weapon. Mosin-Nagant is the only Russian World War II gun I know.”

“Tokarev,” she said.

Isaac put his pencil to the puzzle and smiled.

Olivia looked down at her notebook. Several seconds ticked and she looked up.

The weight of the room fell on her.

Her first eye contact was with Leo.

Something inside his eyes clicked.

Isaac moved quickly back to his puzzle, his index finger pushing his glasses higher on his nose.

Neil blew out a breath.

Something was there. Tickling. “Tokarev. It came in both a pistol and a rifle. Semiautomatic rifle. But the bolt-action Mosin-Nagant . . .” Statistics played in her head like it would on a documentary. War weapons. Russian, German, American.

They were all there as if they had been all the time.

She stood, her notebook tossed aside, and she marched toward the dining room hutch where she knew a rifle was hidden.

She grabbed the AR-15 from where it had been stashed and put it on the island in the kitchen.

Once there it took less than fifteen seconds for her to clear the chamber and disassemble the gun, leaving it utterly useless.

She stood looking at the shambles and pieces of a weapon that could remove every heartbeat from the room.

And she started to shake.

How did she know this?

She closed her eyes and tried to capture where she’d learned what she’d just done.

When she looked up, all three men stared.

Neil’s expression was stoic.

Isaac’s concerned.

Leo’s . . . confused.

She left the fieldstripped weapon where it lay, returned to the living room, grabbed her notebook, and left without a word.

In her room, she tossed her notes on the bed and walked into the bathroom. Leaning on the edge of the sink, she found her reflection in the mirror.

Every single thing that had “come” to her in the past month was just like the AR. Knowledge without reference. Where had she learned to pull apart a gun she couldn’t ever remember seeing in the past? How did she know the name of a World War II weapon, let alone one made in Russia?

Who the hell was she?

Seconds ticked into minutes, and all she could do was stare at her reflection. A sharp rap on her door brought her back. She turned the water on cold and splashed her face in an effort to wake herself up.

She patted her face dry, moved into the bedroom, and opened the door.

Leo stood on the other side. “Are you okay?”

She shook her head and turned away from him, leaving the door open.

He followed her in, closed it behind him.

After crawling up onto her bed, she tucked her legs in and retrieved her notebook. “How did I know how to do that? And why do I know about Russian war guns?”

“What do you remember?” he asked instead of trying to answer her questions.

“Guns.” She closed her eyes and envisioned weapons of all shapes, sizes, makes, and models. “There is a list a mile long in here,” she said, pointing to her head. “All the calibers and capabilities. Which ones are reliable and which ones would be better off used as a kickstand on a bicycle. None of that information was there twenty minutes ago.”

Leo attempted a smile. “This is good. It means you’re remembering.”

“Weapons?” she asked. “Okay, if I was an agent like you, maybe that makes sense. But . . .” Wait . . . was she? “Am I?”

“A federal agent?” he clarified.

She nodded.

“No. Not unless you’re really deep undercover.”

“So . . . maybe.”

He sat on the edge of the bed, shifted a knee so he faced her. “What do you know about the FBI?”

Olivia pulled her thoughts inward. “You investigate crimes, terrorism, civil . . . organized crime, obviously. Threats to the United States, foreign and domestic, right?”

“Yeah. Can you think of any specifics? Something that would indicate you’re working undercover?”

She sat up a little taller, thinking for the first time that maybe she was onto something here. And Leo wasn’t completely disregarding her train of thought.

“Let’s look at the facts.” She opened her notebook and looked over her notes. “I was in Vegas. Wasn’t carrying a purse or any identification. No one came searching for me.” She glanced up. “If I was undercover, all of that fits.”

Leo placed a hand on his chest. “If I went missing, my department would investigate. Hospitals and morgues would be the first things they check.”

“Yes, but how much time would you have before they realized you were gone? You check in every week here, but . . .”

He shrugged. “There are times the assignment keeps you silent longer, but weekly check-ins are more common.”

“Is anyone looking for me now? We’re going on nearly two months since I dodged the reaper.”

Leo cringed. “I don’t like when you say it that way.”

“It’s true. I’m lucky to be alive. I know that. And I’m strangely at peace that I was shot. Almost as if I was expecting it. Doesn’t that sound like something you’d say?” she asked. “If you woke up in the hospital and Neil was looking down at you . . . ‘You were shot, next time duck faster,’” she said in a lower voice in an attempt to sound more like Neil.

Leo slowly started to nod. “I can’t deny what you’re suggesting.”

She pointed to the closed door of her room. “What I just did out there, with the AR. I have weapons training.”

“Do you remember shooting a gun?”

She blinked several times. “No, but I know I have.”

“I’m trained in firearms, but I know nothing about what the Russians carried during the war,” he admitted.

“But I would bet there are plenty of people in the FBI that do.”

He shifted his position, and she could see his mind working through her suggestions. “Not impossible.”

“I attacked Sasha. Punching, blocking.” Olivia’s thoughts shifted to her walk earlier that day. “And when we were out today, I picked up a stick. Just a stick . . . but after I tossed it on the ground, I kept thinking I could use it to defend myself.”

“That’s a skill set I don’t have,” he said.

She leaned forward, placed a hand on his knee. “I think I might be onto something.” And for the first time, the fog felt as if it were lifting ever so slightly.

“There might be a different explanation.”

She smiled. “But we can’t rule this one out.” She wondered if there was a boss out there wondering what the hell happened to her. That thought stilled inside her. Like a dead end. “Do we ask your people if they’re missing someone?”

“My department has been trying to figure out who you are since this happened. We came up completely empty.”

She patted his knee. “If I was undercover, that would make sense.”

“Yes, but eventually there are breakthroughs,” Leo said. “Very few people go undetected in this world.”

Something about this felt so right. And then she had a sobering thought. “If I’m right about this, then maybe you weren’t the target, and I was all along.”

“I’m not prepared to release that guilt quite yet.”

Olivia couldn’t help but smile. “Let me guess, you’re Catholic.”

He shrugged. “Only on Sunday when my grandmother is looking.”

“Leo, this feels right.”

He covered her hand with his. “I don’t think it’s going to be long before it all comes in clear.”