Ripple Effect

Chapter Sixty-Seven: ...checks and balances.

She shovelled in another mouthful of sauce. The tomatoes were too rich, and the béchamel clagged at the back of her tongue.

"Look—" Russell lingered over the word. "I know it's Stevie's birthday on Thursday... I don't want this turning into another Thanksgiving episode."

She twisted around and stared at him whilst she poked pieces of ground beef free from her teeth using the tip of her tongue. "You mean you don't like getting calls in the middle of the night saying the secretary of state is planning to hop in an Uber in a bid to escape from a mental health clinic, only for her to fail to make it one step out of the door?"

She held his gaze for a long moment, daring him to rise to the bait. Had he met her with even a hint of judgment, it might have eased her apprehension a little, but the concern that lurked in his eyes only reminded her just how much the dynamics had changed since the last time she'd been well and at home.

She turned away again, shook her head to herself, and raked through the pasta with her fork. "I just need to figure some things out, that's all."

A heavy pause.

Then a sharp rap-tap echoed through the door.

Elizabeth's head snapped around. Jimmy, her DS agent, stood on the other side of the gridded glass panel set into the door, wearing an apologetic, if slightly uneasy, expression. At Russell's bark for him to come in, he rattled the handle and pushed the door open with a swoosh.

"Ma'am, I'm sorry to interrupt—" He leant into the gap between the door and its frame. "—but, Mr Jackson, can I have a word?"

"Later. I'm a little busy right now." Russell gestured to the takeaway boxes of pasta.

Jimmy shook his head. "I'm afraid it can't wait, sir."

Russell eyed him. "Well, what is it then?"

"It's..." Jimmy's gaze flicked to Elizabeth, and then back to Russell. "...sensitive, sir."

"Sensitive how?"

"If we could just speak outside..."

Russell stared him down, and after several seconds had dragged their way through that wasteland of a pause, punctuated by the clunk...clunk...clunk... of the clock that hung above the door, and still Jimmy hadn't moved, he gave a huff. "Fine." He waved Jimmy away again. "Just give me a minute." Then he sent Jimmy an acid sharp stare. "And there'd better be a war about to break out, or the economy capsizing. I thought I made it clear that we were not to be disturbed."

Jimmy hesitated for a moment, but perhaps had no response to that, or at least not one he was willing to give this side of the door. Then he nodded to Elizabeth—a taut smile—before he stepped into the hallway. With the door closed, he waited there, his back turned to the glass.

Was it wrong that with the way Jimmy's gaze had fallen upon her when he'd said 'sensitive', that part of her hoped that war had broken out? Better that than learning something had happened to Henry, the kids or Will. Though, as Russell and Dr Sherman kept reminding her, she was the target, no one else. There was an odd kind of comfort in that.

"I'll send someone in to sit with you." Russell eased to his feet, and as he skirted around the end of the coffee table and along the gap on the opposite side that ran in front of the two armchairs, he pointed vaguely towards the cartons. "I don't want you sitting in here alone."

"Russell—" Elizabeth's hair swayed against her cheeks as she shook her head. "I'm perfectly capable of sitting in a room with some pasta."

"The other week you weren't," he muttered as he strode towards the door.