Untouched

Daniel nodded abruptly, not liking one bit where this was going. He wasn’t about to discuss his family with Jack, although there was probably little the CIA super visor didn’t already know. He could follow Jack’s logic. From the CIA’s perspective, Daniel was the perfect choice. He knew Cape Cod like the back of his hand, had grown up there. Daniel, better than anyone, could help Risa acclimate to the community without raising suspicion. If he were inclined to do that. Which he wasn’t, and he didn’t bother to hide the fact.

Jack’s tone was cajoling, but Daniel detected the steel underneath it. He wasn’t being given a choice; it wasn’t his job to argue.

“C’mon Daniel. You go home for a while. You blend in, get to see your family. It’s been awhile, hasn’t it? You keep an eye on Risa, maybe become a friend of sorts, maybe more, who knows? She’s a beautiful girl, and she’s never had any experience with men. Get as close as necessary to get the job done. Report back to us within six weeks, and if there are any signs of her having turned…” Jack’s gaze met Daniel’s as he delivered his final order. “You remove the threat. Permanently.”

1

“HALLOOO? Risa? I have your groceries…halloooo?”

Risa Remington glared at the wide-screen monitor that covered the surface of her small desk. She’d taped a check onto the door as a not-so-subtle hint for her neighbor just to leave the groceries there, but Kristy was getting more insistent about seeing Risa face-to-face.

Risa watched Kristy, who stood clearly in the path of the hallway video feed. If she didn’t open the door, Kristy would probably think something was wrong and get help. That was a hassle Risa just didn’t need. She was trying to keep a low profile, intent on drawing as little attention as possible to herself until she could form some plan for her life.

Plan. Right.

She’d been stuck in this hole of an apartment in this hole of a town for six months. She had no plan but surviving day-to-day.

She looked at the perky young woman on the monitor, her streaked blond hair twisted up into a fun ponytail bound by something pink and fuzzy, her clothes sporty and equally colorful. Risa ignored the twinge of envy that settled in her gut. She didn’t know how to be that kind of girl—pretty, lighthearted, carefree. She didn’t know how to be a girl, period. Her life had been about much more important things than pink sweaters and kicky highlights. Risa didn’t belong to that world—she had no idea what world she belonged in.

Maybe none.

Until she figured it out, she was staying put and depending on her neighbors’ willingness to help out their new “agoraphobic” tenant. Thank goodness for popular TV series like Monk that made it commonplace to be a phobic personality. It worked like a charm. She didn’t have to leave her apartment for anything; she didn’t have to talk to anyone. Until now.

It was obvious that Kristy wasn’t leaving until Risa opened the door. She had to be at least marginally friendly to the woman who’d brought her groceries. There was chocolate pudding in that bag. The only thing that was great about being off the government payroll was that now Risa could eat whatever she wanted. Her favorite thing was chocolate pudding. She could live on the stuff.

She opened the door as Kristy’s hand was poised midair to knock yet again. Risa forced a smile and a hurried excuse that were both lies.

“I’m so sorry, Kristy—I was in the bathroom and didn’t hear you. Are those mine? Thanks. I appreciate you doing this.”

Reaching for the very full grocery bag, she hoped to duck back in, but Kristy wasn’t so easily thwarted.

“I thought maybe you’d like some company. Today’s my day off, and I picked up some warm bagels at the bakery—do you have coffee?”

Kristy moved forward, comfortable with inviting herself in, apparently. More from reflex than anything, Risa’s arm shot across the doorway, blocking Kristy’s progress in a clear warning not to continue. When Kristy frowned, catching her eye, Risa forged another smile, and another lie.

“I’m sorry. Again. I just really have a lot of work to do today.”

“You said you’re a writer?”

“Yes. Technical. Freelance manuals for televisions, stoves, you know, that kind of thing. Nothing interesting. Nothing they put my name on.”

Kristy looked nonplussed. “Oh. Well. I just thought, you know, since you never get out that you might like someone to come in and chat for a while. I read on the net that agoraphobics like company, they just don’t like public places.”

Risa clamped her teeth together, pushing down her irritation at Kristy’s insistence. Her head was starting to hurt—the horrible headaches she’d had since the accident were fewer, but still intense—and her patience was wearing thin.

“Really, I just have so much work, but thanks….”

Tugging the heavy bag from Kristy’s arms and nodding toward the check still taped to the door, Risa started to turn away, annoyed that she’d have to find another way to get her groceries. Kristy was getting far too nosy.

“Hey, are you okay?”

Kristy’s voice seemed far away as Risa leaned against the door, the heavy bag disappearing from her arms as her knees turned to water. She heard a moan, probably her own, but as usual, when the headaches hit, she lost control completely. She didn’t even feel the floor as she slumped, her body numb, her mind vaulting into another place, and she was powerless to stop it….

“A PUPPY!” Risa cried out joyfully as the tiny chocolate Lab ran in a crooked line, its oversized paws sliding on the slippery floor as it made its way to her. She picked up the soft, brown bundle and nestled it close, looking up at her mom with great hopes that the puppy was not just a temporary visitor.

“Is he mine? Can I name him?”

“Absolutely, honey. He’s yours to keep. But you have to be very careful with him. He’s just a baby and will need a lot of love and training.”

“I promise. His name is Buddy.”

Her mother stepped back, looking at Dr. Laslow, who stood to the side, smiling, too.

“Dr. Laslow! I have a puppy!”

“I see that, Risa. Good for you. Now, can you tell me what his stats are?”

Her mother’s smile turned into a frown; Risa knew her mom didn’t like it when Dr. Laslow asked her to tell him things, but Risa didn’t mind. It was even kind of fun showing off her special powers.

Risa ran her small hands over the puppy’s silky coat, warm, happy feelings cascading through her. She answered the doctor’s question very clearly. “His heartbeat is one hundred seventy-five beats each minute, and his temperature is one hundred and one. He’s healthy.” She smiled, looking up for the doctor’s approval.

“That’s great, Risa. Can you tell me anything else about Buddy?”

“He’s happy. He likes me,” she announced with utter certainty and no small amount of pride. She couldn’t read the animal’s thoughts in the way she could a person’s, but she could pick up on its physical and emotional state.

“Uh-oh.”

“What, honey?” Her mother stepped forward, concerned.

“Buddy feels funny…he’s very excited. I think he has to go.”

She put the puppy down and sure enough, Buddy piddled immediately. Risa looked up, worried that the adults would be angry and take Buddy away. But her mom just smiled, reassuring her everything was fine. Dr. Laslow was too busy writing something in his notebook to notice. Her mom was saying something to her, and she listened closely, but she couldn’t quite hear…it wasn’t making sense….

“Risa. You’re okay. Just rest a minute.”

Opening her eyes, Risa stared at the blank, off-white stucco of her apartment ceiling, interrupted by Kristy’s very concerned expression as she leaned over and looked down into Risa’s face.

“What did you say?”

“You passed out. You must not have eaten enough this morning, had a blood sugar dip. Are you hypoglycemic by any chance?”

“No. You can go. I’m fine.”

Kristy knelt by where Risa lay on the floor, putting a hand to Risa’s forehead, much in the way Risa’s mother used to do, and pushed her hair back.

“I’ll just stay with you for a while. Make sure you’re okay.”

Risa pulled back—she didn’t like being touched. The dream was still too fresh, the reality too sharp. When Kristy touched her she felt…nothing. Touching just reminded her of how cut off she was, how much she’d lost. It had taken her months to get used to using her computer manually; she felt cut off there, too, but had managed it. People were a different story.