Cathryn Parry - The Undercover Affair

“Hi, Dad.”

“Lyndsay! I wasn’t sure if I’d be leaving you a voice mail. You’re off the undercover assignment now, I see.”

“Yes. I’m about to head into a meeting. What’s up?”

“Oh, I’m just calling to check on you. Wanted to make sure everything went well.”

“It did.” Lyndsay watched a police car turn the corner of the building, down on the street several floors below. She knew her dad wanted to hear details about her assignment, but she couldn’t say anything just yet. “I met my objective for the week, so I can say that I’m pleased.”

“You were successful, I assume.”

She smiled to herself—her dad always expected the best of her. She could forgive him for the pressure of the expectations—she knew he loved her, and she knew how he loved the job.

“Well, I’m not sure if my small part will help catch the bad guys, but I’ll get a better idea shortly.” Honestly, she wasn’t sure about the big picture, but that was because she’d been on a need-to-know basis. Today, she hoped to be moved beyond that.

“I’m proud of you for seeking out the assignment,” Dad said. “It’s a tremendous opportunity you’ve snagged.”

“I’m not sure what happens now,” she admitted. Her father was her best confidante, and she’d missed not talking to him during the past week. A police chief himself, recently retired, he felt nostalgic for the job. And, he enjoyed living vicariously through her. It drew them closer, and she didn’t mind that. In fact, she liked it. “Dad, honestly, now that I’ve got a taste of it, I’m not keen to go back to patrol.”

“Enjoyed being an undercover detective, did you?” The pride in his voice was unmistakable.

“Yes, I did like it. Very much.” She thought briefly of the freedom and the camaraderie she’d felt at the beach. It had been fun. Even being checked out by a handsome bar owner was something she’d decided she could handle. Especially after she had called Pete yesterday afternoon and he’d relayed that so far, John Reilly’s background wasn’t raising any red flags. In fact, he had an honorary discharge from the Marine Corps. She should be able to relate to him when and if the time came.

“...You need to go in there and tell them you want the promotion to detective,” her father was saying. “You need to step forward and ask for the increased responsibility. Obviously, they needed a woman with your skills for the short-term task force. Who would have known that year in interior design school would come in handy for you? But the point is, you can’t let them discard you now. There’s a bigger picture, and you need to insert yourself—”

“I know, Dad.” He was getting too passionate. Among the drawbacks of having a father who had also been in law enforcement for his entire career was that he sometimes got too involved.

“So what’s your game plan?” he demanded.

Going with the flow, that was her plan. Working with what came up, as it came up, had always gotten her through life’s difficulties. “I’ll handle it, Dad. I’ll be okay.”

He sighed aloud. “Aw, I’m just so proud of you.” His voice lowered. “I never had the opportunity to do what you’re doing. I always regretted that.”

“I know,” she said softly. Her dad had been the big fish in a small law-enforcement pond—a small town in the mountains, the chief of police on a tiny force. Now he was driving her mom a bit nuts being underfoot all the time. “I’ll come and visit you both soon, but I have to go now, okay?”

“Remember to ask for the job, Lyndsay.”

She smiled in spite of herself. “Ten-four, Dad. And say hi to Mom for me.”

At two minutes to the hour, she found her conference room. It seemed that she was the last person they were waiting for, and as she sat, she lifted her chin higher and glanced surreptitiously around.

She was the only woman at the meeting, and she assumed that meant she was the only woman on the task force. Around the table she recognized Commander Harris, the imposing and serious man in charge of the task force as well as the superior who’d initially selected and interviewed her for the assignment.

Pete—her backup partner—caught her gaze and smiled broadly. Beside Pete were two other men that Lyndsay didn’t recognize. Commander Harris introduced them as Wesley and Simon. Wesley was a young, nerdy-looking camera technician. Simon was middle-aged and fierce, with a thick growth of scruffy beard and a tattoo showing on his neck above the collar of his dress shirt. He looked as if he’d be more at home on a drug enforcement or organized crime undercover task force. Lyndsay knew that a burglary task force was tame compared to operations that the state police were known for. Frankly, she was glad for this one. She’d spent her time at the gun range and at the gym for martial arts class, and she was confident of her skills. But she’d rather not be undercover with violent people if she could help it.

“Pete has taken the information you gathered from your surveillance, Officer Fairfax,” Commander Harris was saying, “and he was able to ascertain that none of the principals were the likely perpetrators of the burglaries.”

Lyndsay nodded. That was good news—she’d been hoping that none of her new friends were involved in anything illegal. She had suspected that was the case, but that Pete had confirmed it made her breathe easier.

“Furthermore, I’m told that nothing out of the ordinary occurred to break your cover. Is that the case, Officer Fairfax?” Commander Harris asked her.

“No, nothing out of the ordinary happened,” she confirmed. Frankly, the assignment had been easier than she’d thought. She hadn’t even had to lie much, really, because it was true she’d been trained as an interior designer. Sort of, if one year of design school counted.

“You did good work,” Commander Harris said. Pete gave her a quick smile. Wesley blinked, but truthfully, he looked greener than she did. Simon didn’t change his expression—he still looked bored by the whole thing.

Licking her lips, she shifted in her seat, wondering if she should break in and ask questions. She was aching for a broader view of the case.

“Last night we had another burglary ten miles up the coast,” Commander Harris said, his tone grim. “Our fifth burglary since February. Same MO. Paintings and jewelry stolen, and a safe cracked and emptied.”

“Any signs of forced entry?” Pete asked.

“None. The homeowner had a surveillance system, but nothing registered as out of the ordinary. The alarm never triggered. And there was no evidence of forced windows or doors.”

Simon sat up taller in his seat. “Sounds like an inside job.”

“We’re considering that possibility,” Commander Harris replied. “I’d like you to check it out, Simon. The theft has been kept from the police blotter. There’s no media attention. These paintings were uninsured, so there will be no outside interference.”

Simon nodded. “I’m on it.”

Lyndsay shifted in her seat. Obviously, paintings were an important part of the common thread. She thought of Pete’s request. The Goldricks had indeed displayed one valuable oil painting—a modern landscape, which she’d dutifully noted to Pete. She hadn’t told him yet, but within the MacLaine home there were two huge oil paintings over the congressman’s fireplace, but she didn’t know if the paintings were important or valuable. They were both female nudes, of the same model. To Lyndsay’s mind, the congressman’s private possessions weren’t her business, and she’d known better than to offer her opinion. But, if all the thefts had been of paintings... Maybe she should say something.

I want to be a detective, she thought. Good detectives always get to the facts. She cleared her throat. “Do all of the burglaries to date involve stolen paintings?” she asked. “Sir,” she remembered to add.