Page 2 of Four Cards Exposed

“Susan. Just the person I was hoping to see.” Lorraine spread her hands open in front of her, signaling to the empty space in front of her. “Let me buy you a cup of coffee.”

Susan slipped into the booth. She didn’t like that she was facing the wall, but Lorraine had already taken the seat facing the exit.

Moments later, the owner of the café came around to the table.

“Hi Susan. What’ll it be, your usual?”

“Yes, please, Diana.” Susan liked her coffee as dark as possible, untainted by milk or sugar or anything else that diluted the flavor.

“How are things? How are you feeling?” Lorraine asked in her raspy voice as soon as Diana had moved away.

Susan winced.

She’d been getting this question a lot, but it didn’t get any easier to answer.

“Did Natalie call you?”

She regretted the words as soon as they were out of her mouth. Natalie was sharp—she clearly realized that something was wrong, but going to Lorraine wouldn’t be Natalie’s style at all. As well as her boss, Natalie was Susan’s friend. She’d come to Susan directly if she had anything to say.

Lorraine didn’t answer immediately, but stirred some sugar into the frothy concoction in front of her.

“Natalie didn’t call you.”

“She didn’t call me. Should she have called me?” Lorraine asked.

“No,” Susan said sharply. “It’s just, ever since the … incident … Natalie and Rob have been smothering me with care. My most exciting days are when I get to hand out three parking tickets.”

“They probably want to give you the time you need to recover,” Lorraine said, with the look of someone who knew she was stating the obvious.

They sat in silence until after Diana had dropped off Susan’s coffee. Susan inhaled the delicious scent. She lifted the mug, tipping the liquid gently until it just touched her lips. It was scalding hot, just the way Susan preferred it.

“I don’t need more time to recover,” Susan said, finally.

If Lorraine noticed the bags under her eyes, she was too polite to say anything.

Susan liked Lorraine Vasquez. She had the feeling she and Lorraine could have become good friends, and not just because they both had Latino heritage in them. There was something about the federal agent that made it easy to talk to her.

The reason Susan had done her best to keep her distance had nothing to do with Lorraine and everything to do with her partner, Special Agent James Ramsay.

With his polished shoes and starched shirts, the uptight federal agent was the exact opposite of the kind of man Susan normally went for, but something about him just called out to her.

It doesn’t help that he’s hot.

It was on the tip of her tongue to ask Lorraine where he was, but she stopped herself just in time. She didn’t need to know.

“You’re not here to talk about me, Lorraine,” Susan finally said. “And as much as I appreciate the free coffee, why don’t you tell me what’s going on?”

The older woman laughed. “I’ve always admired your direct nature, Susan.” She pulled out a folder from her black leather handbag and pushed a picture towards her. “I want you to see this.”

Susan inhaled sharply. The smiling, dark-haired young woman in the picture could have been her twin. In a game of spot the differences, one could argue the woman was maybe one or two years younger, her face a bit leaner, her tan a bit deeper than Susan’s own rich golden color. But at first glance?

It’s like staring at myself in a mirror.

“Who is she?” The picture was a close-up, and didn’t reveal much about the context or location it’d been taken in.

Lorraine placed another picture on the table, right beside the first. This time, her hand shook lightly.

“Was.” She pressed her lips together so hard they went white around the edges. “She died two days ago, in a motel outside Redham.”