Jeff watched Ashley fight against exhaustion. Slowly her eyes closed and her breathing slowed. "We'll be going out for food," he murmured as she drifted off to sleep. "We'll be back soon."

She didn't respond. Maggie bounced into the room, her mouth open to speak. She stopped when she saw her mother asleep, pressing her lips together and then looking at him.

He walked to the door and motioned for her to follow. When they were out in the hall, he stared down at her, wondering what he was supposed to do now. Food, he thought. They had to get food. He hesitated, not sure if he'd ever gone grocery shopping before. As he'd told Ashley, he ate all his meals at restaurants, or at work. It wasn't that he didn't know how to keep food in the house, he simply didn't bother. Despite the furniture in the rooms and his clothes in his bedroom closet, this wasn't his home. It was a place to sleep and work after hours. Nothing more.

"We're going shopping," he announced. "The grocery store."

Maggie hesitated before nodding her agreement. She looked so small standing there in her pink jeans and pink-and-white plaid knit sweater. Two tiny clips held her dark curls off her face. Her cupid's bow mouth quivered slightly.

Not knowing what else to do, Jeff crouched in front of the child. "You know your mom is sick, right?"

"Uh-huh." Her grip on the battered stuffed cat tightened.

"She has the flu. Do you know what that is?"

"It's what I had last week. I was very sick and I got to watch TV in Mommy's bed and eat Jell-O whenever I wanted."

Was that kid paradise? He didn't know. "But you're better now, right?"

Another nod.

"So you know your mom is going to be fine in a few days. I don't want you to worry about her."

Maggie gave him an impish smile. "I know you'll take care of her."

He hadn't thought about his responsibility in quite those terms, but if it made the kid happy to think that, he wouldn't disagree. "Are you nervous about being with me?"

Delicate, dark eyebrows drew together. "What's nerv- nerv- What's that?"

"Nervous. Upset. Afraid. Anxious." His explanation didn't seem to be helping. He searched his memory for a word a four-year-old could understand. "Scared."

This time, instead of smiling, she laughed. "I'm not scared. You like us."

She spoke with a conviction he both envied and admired. If only all of life were that simple, he thought as he rose to his full height. "Then let's go to the food store."

Maggie trailed after him as they made their way to the car. Jeff hesitated, then decided not to set the alarm in the house. He figured the odds of Ashley opening a door or window were greater than someone breaking in during the short time he would be gone.

He held the back door open for the little girl, then helped her fasten her seat belt. She gazed at him trustingly as he secured her in the car. She sniffed loudly. "Your car smells nice."

"It's the leather. I've only had the car a few months."

Her eyes widened. "It's new? You have a new car?"

Her tone of reverence made him wonder if Ashley had ever had a new car. Based on her current circumstances, he doubted it. At least not in the recent past. There were so many things in his life that he took for granted.

"I have to call someone I know," he said as he slid into the driver's seat. "I need to ask her what to buy to make your mom feel better."

"Jell-O," Maggie said firmly.

"Okay, but she'll need other stuff, too." He was thinking in terms of liquids. Or was that for a cold? His first-aid training ran more in the direction of gunshot wounds or emergency amputations.

He backed out of the driveway, then touched a button. A mechanical voice asked, "What name?"

"Brenda," he replied.

Maggie stared at him. "The car is talking!"

He felt himself smile as the sound of a phone ringing came over the built-in speakers. It was nearly five-thirty. Brenda might have gone home.

But his assistant was still at the office. When she answered, he explained that he was taking care of a friend with the flu and needed her advice on what to buy at the grocery store. Also, what would be appropriate to serve a four-year-old for dinner.

With that he glanced at the girl. "Say hi, Maggie."

Still wide-eyed and clutching her stuffed, white cat, Maggie licked her lips. "Hi," she whispered tentatively.

"That was Maggie," he said helpfully.

"Uh, hi, Maggie. Nice to talk to you." His assistant's tone of voice warned him that he would be getting a major third degree when he saw her in the morning.

"Do you even know where the grocery store is?" Brenda asked when she'd recovered from her shock.

"I have a fair idea. I was thinking of soup and juice. Liquids for the flu, right?"

"Uh, yeah, that's right. As for dinner for the little one, there are lots of options. Rule number one is the less sugar the better. Are you cooking or heating?"

Ten minutes later he had a list along with instructions. Brenda cleared her throat. "Are they going to be staying with you for a few days?"

"Yes. Why?"

"If the mother isn't feeling well, then she won't be up to watching her child. Maggie, do you have a preschool you go to?"

The little girl beamed at being included in the conversation. "Uh-huh. Right by Mommy's school. I stay there until two."

"Ashley is a student at the University of Washington," he clarified.

"Which means she'll be missing class while she's sick." He heard Brenda writing on a pad of paper.

"Can we send someone to sit in for her?" he asked.

"Sure, but I need her schedule of classes first. Some lecture notes are available online. Also, Maggie will need a sitter for the afternoon. I can arrange that. What's your student friend's name?"

"Ashley Churchill. She works for us."

There was a moment of silence. Jeff could practically see Brenda's surprise. She knew everyone who worked for Ritter/Rankin Security.

"The cleaner?"

"Yes."

"How did you meet her?" She coughed. "Sorry. It's not any of my business, of course. I'll get on all of this and call you later tonight."

"Thanks, Brenda. I appreciate the effort."

His assistant laughed. "No problem. You know I'm desperate to break into the spy business. There has to be a market for fifty-something operatives. Finding this information will be good practice."

"I'd be lost without you in the office. I can't afford to let you go into the field."

"So you keep saying. But I think you're just being kind and trying to not hurt my feelings. Oh, well. I'll call you later, Jeff. Bye, Maggie."

"Bye," Maggie piped back.

Jeff disconnected the call, then wondered how Brenda could ever be foolish enough to think of him as kind.

Chapter 3

"They're very good," Maggie said earnestly.

They stood in the cereal aisle of the large grocery store just down the hill from Jeff's house. He'd never been inside in all the time he'd lived in the neighborhood. He doubted Maggie had been here, either, yet she led the way like an expert, wielding her miniature shopping cart around other patrons, calling out names of favorite brands and making decisions with the ease of an executive. Now she held out a box of Pop-Tarts and gave him a winning smile.

"I had them at Sara's house. Her mom fixed them for us. She said only kids could eat something that purple." Her smile broadened. "I said that the purple is the best part."

He looked doubtfully at the picture on the box. It showed a toaster pastry covered with vivid purple frosting. Just the thought made his stomach tighten. In this case, he'd have to side with Sara's mom. "You really want those?" he asked, not sure how that was possible.

Maggie nodded vigorously, making her dark curls dance around her head.

"Does your mother buy these for you?"

Big blue eyes suddenly turned away from him. She became intensely interested in the contents of her cart, rearranging the three frozen kid meals he'd bought her. Finally she returned her gaze to him and slowly shook her head. "No."

Outside of his abilities, he didn't count on very much in the world, but he would have bet his life that Maggie Churchill was incapable of lying-whether because of her age, her character, her upbringing or a combination of the three. He didn't think he'd ever met anyone like her before.

"Would you really eat them if we got them?"

Questions filled her eyes. Questions and hope. She practically vibrated her assent.

"All right." He tossed the package into her tiny cart. "If you're sure."

She gazed at him as if he'd just created a rainbow right there in the grocery store. She threw herself at him, wrapping her arms around his legs and squeezing tight.

"Thank you," she said fervently. "I'll be good. I promise."

He hadn't known she could be anything but.

They continued their shopping, going up and down each aisle. Jeff found that buying bread for sandwiches also meant buying something to go in between the slices of bread. Maggie favored peanut butter and jelly. He thought her mother might appreciate something more along the lines of sliced turkey or beef. Which meant an intense discussion on mustard versus mayonnaise, and an interpretation of whether or not Maggie's shudder at the thought of pickles meant her mother didn't like them, either.

The girl's cart was already full and his was nearly so when they turned the corner and found themselves in the pet food aisle. Maggie touched a can of cat food and sighed.

"Do you have a kitty?" she asked, sounding hopeful. "I didn't see one but maybe she was asleep."

"Sorry. No pets."

"Why? Don'tcha like them?"

"Cats?" He'd never thought about them one way or the other. Dogs could be a problem. Dogs made noise, alerting people to the presence of intruders. More than one mission had nearly been compromised by the unexpected presence of a dog. But cats?

"I travel a lot," he said, then hesitated. Conversing with Maggie was both easy and difficult. He didn't mind spending time in her company, which surprised him, but he wasn't sure what to say. How did people talk to children? He only knew how to talk to adults.

"Pets are a big responsibility," he continued. "It wouldn't be fair to the animal to leave it alone all the time."

She considered his statement, then nodded slowly. "Mommy and I are home plenty, but she says we can't have a kitten just yet. They can be expensive. Not for her food, but if she got sick or somethin'. Mommy gets sad about money sometimes. She cries in the bathroom." Maggie pressed her lips together. "I don't think I'm supposed to know, but I can hear her, even with the water running. Can you make Mommy not be sad?"

He wasn't sure what to do with the information Maggie shared. Based on the little he knew about Ashley's situation, he wasn't surprised by her financial concerns. But he also wasn't willing to take on responsibility for her emotional state.

"Your mother isn't sad now," he said, sidestepping the issue.

Maggie thought for a moment, then nodded her agreement. "Mommy's happy."

Jeff thought that might be a stretch. Ashley might be relieved to be out of the shelter, but he doubted she was pleased with her present circumstances. His guess was she wouldn't rest easy until she had her life back in order.


* * *

While Jeff heated soup in a pan on the stove, Maggie watched her frozen kid's dinner as it warmed in the microwave. The entree had come with a small toy, which she clutched in her hand as she danced from foot to foot, waiting for the timer to beep.

"I like chicken," she announced. "And macaroni and cheese. I've never had them together before." It didn't sound like much of a treat to him, but then, he wasn't four. After stirring Ashley's soup, he returned to the task of putting away the rest of the groceries. As the pantry shelves were bare, it didn't take long. He put milk and juice into the refrigerator, along with several cartons of yogurt. Frozen foods went into the freezer.

Grocery shopping and cooking had to be two of the most normal activities, and yet they all felt foreign to him. He didn't eat yogurt from a carton. The last time he'd had the stuff had been during a covert operation in Afghanistan and the goat responsible for the yogurt had watched him warily, as if to make sure he swallowed every spoonful.

He stirred the soup again, then checked on Maggie's dinner.

"Twenty more seconds," she told him, never taking her gaze from the timer.

He dug through kitchen cupboards, pulling out a bowl from a set of dishes he doubted he'd ever used. He also unearthed a wooden tray. After rinsing and drying the bowl, he poured the soup, then, along with a spoon, set it on the tray, next to some toast and a glass of juice. When the microwave beeped, he lifted Maggie's dinner onto the tray, along with cutlery and a drink, and started toward his guest's room.