An Enchanted Meeting

The little girl cried out, “F-father, please…” but heard only the gentle closing of the door.

Rachael White jolted awake. Her ice-blue eyes snapped open before she squeezed them shut again, steadying her breathing. She ran her hands through her long chestnut hair. She had dreamed the same dream for years. It no longer frightened her; it simply reminded her of things she’d rather forget.

She rolled over and stared at the clock on the nightstand next to her bed. Five o’clock a.m.—the same time she had woken up every day for years. Today she was to meet with Mr. Moses and get information on her next job.

She glanced around the small loft she rented. The apartment contained only what she needed: a bed, dresser, table, and coffee maker. Nothing worth unpacking. Nothing worth getting attached to.

With a sigh, she rose and got dressed for her meeting with Mr. Moses. She wore simple jeans and a white blouse—an outfit that helped her blend into a crowd rather than attract attention. She twisted her hair into a tight bun, checked her reflection in the mirror above the dresser, and left without another glance.

Rachael walked silently into the café, noting the sparse number of people she had come to expect at this hour and carefully watching the movement of the staff. Arriving early, as always, she chose a table near a window with a view of the door and waited for Mr. Moses.

She did not care much for talking or getting to know people who weren’t her marks, People only let you down anyway, she reminded herself whenever she felt drawn to someone. It mattered little who he was or where he came from. He was simply Mr. Moses—the handsome man who brought her work.

The café door opened and Mr. Moses entered. Tall, with dark hair and perfect posture, he was the kind of man who never wasted words. He came straight to the table and sat down. As always, there was no greeting or pretend niceties. He simply pulled out a small drive and handed it to her.

“Your next assignment will require a bit of care. There are three suspects that need to be checked out. They are causing problems for the Crystal Corporation. Have you heard of it?”

“I have,” Rachael answered, placing the small drive into her pocket.

Images of news articles and their contents flipped through her mind. Large company. Diamonds. Charity balls. Publicly respected.

“They manufacture jewelry, am I correct?”

“Yes. However, they recently were forced to lay off a number of employees. They believe one of them is using sensitive information to harm the company. We need you to figure out who is harming the company, gather whatever information you can on them, and stop them by any means necessary.”

Rachael didn’t even blink. “Understood.”

Mr. Moses stood, inclined his head, and left.

After lunch, Rachael headed back to her small loft. She passed View Park Ave., the turn that would take her toward the White estate, just twenty miles away. This time, however, she drove past it.

She hadn’t been back in months. Some houses were built with stone, but hers had been built with secrets. Despite those secrets, Rachael retained a living space there. Sometimes she would return home when she knew her father would not be there or when she knew her sister would.

Her sister, who still believed in love.

Rachael almost scoffed at the thought and continued toward her loft.

When Rachael arrived back at the loft, she sat on the bed and pulled a laptop from beneath it. She inserted the drive that Mr. Moses had given her and opened the files. Her mission this time did not seem all that difficult.

There were three men on her list. The first was Brian Smith.

Teacher. Womanizer. Predictable.

She doubted he would last a day under her attention.

The second was Harold Washington. By all accounts, he was a mob boss operating in the same city as Mr. Smith. He had faced charges ranging from money laundering to murder. However, he had always been let go on technicalities—the kind ‘good’ lawyers used to free the guilty.

He too would not pose too much of a problem.

Men were her specialty, after all.

The third file held her attention.

Osiris Lancroft was another teacher at the same school as Mr. Smith and lived in the same area. He was different, both in appearance and background. The eyes staring back at her from the photograph seemed to see more than they should.

His history was unusual: childhood amnesia, the loss of his parents, jail time, and eventually a teaching career. Since turning his life around, he seemed to have a very clean record, which only made Rachael wonder if perhaps she had already found the one responsible.

She still needed the proof, and that would require her to get close to all three men.

At least none of them were disgusting on the outside. They all seemed handsome enough. She could do this.

She reached into her other pocket, pulling out a cell phone. She would need Claire, the hacker Rachael trusted for this particular assignment. Having worked together before, Rachael knew what she was capable of. Claire would make the arrangements for her to be transferred into the school as a student immediately, as well as check the story about the layoffs.

Not that I care— she thought.

Information was always useful, and the more you had, the better.

Minutes later, she received an email from Claire. The persona she would take up for this mission was Katrina Evans. According to the file, Katrina and her family had struggled to get by before becoming involved with dangerous people. Eventually, her parents died. No one knew what truly happened to Katrina Evans.

Rachael knew.

She had taken the girl’s alias years ago.

Now, she would step back into that role.

As Rachael continued through the file, she realized just how well Katrina Evans’ identity would work. They looked almost identical.

It’s possible my father could have been hers too, she thought. She wouldn’t have been surprised.

She knew what she must do and she was ready to do it. She packed only a few things, leaving almost everything else behind. Among them were two pieces of old jewelry she would use as part of Katrina’s history: a small barrette set with beautiful diamonds and an intricate diamond necklace that matched it.

She took one last look at the file to ensure she had not missed anything. Then Rachael closed it and looked at the student identification card.

Katrina Evans smiled back at her.

Rachael paused. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d smiled like that.

By morning, Katrina would be real, and if everything went according to plan, someone at that school would be dead within months.