***
Jo didn’t have much to gather, and once she was packed, she sat on the edge of the bed, listening to the hum of the air-conditioner.
Forty-five minutes later, she went to the lobby and checked out. Then she stood near the revolving doors, certain she was being watched. Exactly one hour from the time that Kline had called her, the black SUV drove up to the hotel entrance and the driver got out. He greeted her politely as he held open the back door, and once she got in, they drove in silence to a large apartment complex, where he stopped in front of a three-story building.
Kline stood in front of a door at a ground-level unit, a tablet in one hand, dark sunglasses on. Jo waited for the driver to open the door, and when he did, she got out. As she walked up the sidewalk toward Kline, he gestured toward her duffel bag. It contained her few changes of clothes, toiletries—and her knife, which she’d gotten back from Detective Holton.
“That’s all you have?” he asked.
Jo nodded. “I don’t need much.”
She waited, thinking he might ask to search the bag, but he didn’t. He unlocked the apartment door and stepped back to let her inside. She entered a small living room, sparsely furnished with a couch, a loveseat, and coffee and end tables. A large TV hung on a wall opposite the couch. There were no knickknacks anywhere, only a cheap painting of a lake scene strategically hung above a fireplace. She knew why it was there.
“If it works out, you can decorate,” he said.
She turned to look at him, eyebrow cocked. “If?”
The blinds over the front window were closed, making the room dim. He took off his sunglasses, flicked on an overhead light, and stared at her. “You’re on a trial basis. That’s standard for the Babineauxs.” He logged on to the tablet. “I need you to sign some forms before we proceed.”
He had her fill out some paperwork and sign employment forms and a confidentiality agreement. That made her official. She’d had to think ahead about being paid, and she’d opened a new bank account so that her paychecks could be deposited there rather than to National Bank. When she finished, she handed him the tablet. He motioned toward the kitchen.
“The cupboards and refrigerator are stocked, but if you have any special dietary needs, let me know.”
The offer was polite, and she doubted she’d ask for more. He started down a hallway and called over his shoulder.
“Same with the bathroom. Let me know if you need anything. And here’s the bedroom.”
Jo walked into a large bedroom with a queen-size bed, nightstands, and a dresser. There was nothing on the walls, and no knickknacks. The room was functional, and that was all she needed. She set her duffel bag on the bed.
“This looks fine,” she said.
He opened a closet door, where tan slacks, white blouses, and lightweight blazers hung on a rod. He glanced at her.
“There are various sizes. If none fit, we’ll get something else,” he said.
“I’ll try them on as soon as we’re finished.”
“You keep in shape?” Kline asked.
“Of course.”
“The apartment complex has a gym. The door code’s written on a notepad in the kitchen.”
“I like to run as well,” Jo said. “I could work around Lydia’s schedule, run early in the morning, or in the evenings, after she’s home for the night.”
Kline eyed her. “As long as you can get to the mansion in a reasonable amount of time. You are on call for this position, and Lydia should not be kept waiting.”
“I’ll run around the neighborhood.”
He nodded. “See that you do.”
“Thank you.”
“Let me show you your vehicle.”
He spun on his heels, marched down the hall, and was out the front door. She hurried behind him, and he crossed the parking lot to a black SUV with tinted windows.
“On the surface, it looks like any other vehicle, but it’s an armored car,” Kline said as he donned his sunglasses.
With high-strength metal and bulletproof glass that would withstand gunshot fire, the SUV would handle differently. Jo was prepared for that. The SUV probably had a tracking device hidden on it as well, not only to track Lydia, but her. She kept her face blank as Kline continued.
“There’s pepper spray and a stun gun in the glove box. You’ll carry those with you at all times.” He opened the door for her to look in. “I’ll get a permit for you to carry, but I don’t expect there to be any problems. The kinds of functions Lydia attends usually have security, and they’re not the kind of place we would expect trouble.”
“I’m insurance,” Jo said.
“Yes.” He motioned to the back seat. “You’ll open doors for Lydia, and you’ll be briefed ahead of each function to know what you need to do. In some situations, you’ll stay with the vehicle, but sometimes you’ll need to go in with her. If there are any issues, if you suspect anything, you text 911 to me. Understand?”
“Yes.”
He gave her his number. Before hiring her, he would’ve checked her phone records, and he would’ve seen her calls to Dack and to her father and sister. Those were safe phones, though, with numbers registered to other people. Friends, she’d told him, ones that she didn’t have a lot of contact with. He’d assume she was a loner. And Dack knew she was keeping a low profile, so they hadn’t had contact in days.
“When you’re with Lydia—at a function, or in the car—your first priority is to remove her from any dangerous situation. Keep her safe at all times.”
“Yes,” Jo said.
He handed her a credit card. “Use this for gas and any other expenses, and get me the receipts. Keep the car clean. It’s a reflection on the Babineauxs.”
“Yes,” she repeated.
He pointed to the dashboard. “The GPS is programmed with several addresses you’ll need. If you have any other questions, let me know.” He closed and locked the vehicle, then handed her a set of keys. “JD is tied up, and Lydia has a charity dinner tonight at seven. You’ll need to be to the mansion by four, and we’ll go over specifics.”
She nodded. “I’ll be there.”
“Ring the bell, and the butler will show you to my office.” He scrutinized her. “Where did you say you served?”
“Afghanistan.”
“And after that?”
“I was with Civil Affairs.” Keeping it simple, as always.
“Where?”
She told him what was in her file, what she knew he could access. His asking again wasn’t a good sign, though. Had she drawn his suspicions?
Kline scrutinized her again, then turned and strode to a black sedan. He got in and drove slowly out of the parking lot. When the car turned the corner, Jo walked toward the apartment. The whole time, she resisted looking around. Kline may have left, but she knew she had to be under surveillance. He was too cautious a man to not be watching her closely. She went inside and closed the door, then immediately began searching for surveillance equipment. There were no cameras, but as she’d suspected, she found a small listening device behind the lake painting over the fireplace.
She stepped away from the painting, then yawned and stretched dramatically. Whoever was listening should’ve heard that. She walked into the kitchen, not disguising her movements as she checked the cupboards. Various boxes of cereal, dry foods, canned goods, snacks, protein powders, coffee, and tea. The refrigerator contained fruits, vegetables, eggs and other dairy items, and she found plenty of meats in the freezer. A fancy coffeemaker sat on the counter. All suitable, with the expectation that she would provide a better list of what she wanted later. As she perused the kitchen, she also checked for cameras or listening devices but didn’t find any.
