“Mom!” Nick protested.
Tracy shrugged, wiping away the tears of mirth. “Sorry, honey. Blake’s right. You shouldn’t sneak up on people like that.”
“Not ‘people,’ ” Blake corrected her. “Adults. Teachers, for crying out loud. In my day you’d have had a whip taken to ya for something like that.”
“In your day they didn’t have phones,” said Nick, still angry. “Your idea of fun was hitting a ball on a string. You know what your problem is? You don’t know how to have fun.”
“Nick!” said Tracy. “Apologize.”
“Sorry.” The word dripped with sarcasm. “I’m going to my room.”
Seconds later Nick’s bedroom door slammed.
Blake looked at Tracy. “Why do you encourage him?”
“Oh come on. It was funny.”
“It was puerile.”
“That’s because he’s a kid,” said Tracy. “You don’t always have to come on quite so ‘Sam Eagle’ about everything.”
Blake looked hurt.
“I’m not his friend, Tracy. I’m his parent.” Realizing what he’d just said, Blake blushed. “Well, I mean . . . you know . . . I’m . . .”
“You’re his parent,” Tracy said seriously, laying a hand over Blake’s. “He’s lucky to have you. We both are.”
Tracy felt tremendous love for Blake Carter. Pushing seventy now, the old cowboy had been a wonderful father figure to Nicholas and the dearest friend Tracy ever could have wished for. She knew that Blake loved her. He’d even proposed once, years ago. And though she couldn’t love him back in the same way, she absolutely considered him family.
“Is something the matter, Tracy?” Blake asked her. “Besides Nick?”
That was the other thing about Blake Carter. He saw right through her. Trying to hide things from Blake was like trying to hide them from God—a wasted effort.
“I had a visit today,” Tracy told him. “From the FBI.”
Blake Carter stiffened, like a deer sensing danger.
“And the CIA,” Tracy added. “Together.”
“What did they want?”
Tracy told him. Not everything, but the bare bones of what had been said, as well as Greg Walton’s proposal that she fly to Langley.
“What did you say?” Blake asked.
“I said no, of course. I’ve never met this woman, I’m sure of it. And what I know about counterterrorism you could write on the back of a stamp.”
“But these guys thought you could help?” Blake said gently.
“Well, yes,” Tracy admitted. “They did. But they’re wrong. Don’t tell me you want me to go to Langley?”
“Of course I don’t want you to go,” Blake’s voice grew gruff with emotion. “But maybe it’s not about what I want. Or what you want. These 99 people . . . they’re out of control. Someone needs to stand up to them. They’re against everything this country stands for. Everything America was built on.”
“You see, there you go again,” Tracy said archly. “Sam Eagle.”
“All’s I’m saying is, they need to be stopped. Don’t you agree?”
“Of course I do,” snapped Tracy. “And they will be stopped. Just not by me. I’m not a spy, Blake. I have nothing to offer here. Heaven knows how this woman Althea knows about me, or why she mentioned my name. But now she’s got the FBI, the CIA and the White House convinced I have some sort of inside information, some magic power to find her and do their jobs for them. The whole thing’s ridiculous! I feel like Alice down the rabbit hole!”