The pretty little four-year-old girl with the golden curls wore a pink princess outfit and knelt on one side of a low table. She picked up a pot.
“Do you want some tea with your cookie?” she sweetly asked the older man sitting cross-legged on the floor across from her.
“How could I say no to such a kind offer from such a darling young lady?” he replied, smiling.
He knew he looked ridiculous in the crown she’d made him wear. But he was so entranced by the girl that he didn’t care. Her skin was the color of fresh cream, and her eyes shone like polished sapphires. He watched her pour the tea into his cup so delicately it made him want to cry.
“Sugar?” she asked, setting the pot down.
“Two lumps,” he said.
She dropped two cubes in his cup and one in her own.
“Milk?”
“Not today, Lizzie,” he said, reaching for his cup.
Lizzie snatched up a pink wand, reached out, and tapped his hand with it. “Wait. I have to make sure there are no evil spirits around.”
His brow knit and he drew back his hand. The little girl closed her eyes, smiled, and waved her wand. His heart melted to see her caught up in fantasy the way only a four-year-old can be.
Lizzie opened her mouth—to deliver a spell, no doubt.
But before she could, there was a knock behind him.
Irritated at the interruption, the man turned, and the crown fell off his head, irritating him further. A muscular bald white guy in his thirties stood in the doorway, fighting not to show his amusement.
“Can this wait, Meeks?” the man asked. “Lizzie and I are having tea.”
“I can see that, boss, but you’ve got a call,” Meeks said. “It’s urgent.”
“Grandfather, you haven’t had your tea and cookie,” the little girl protested.
“Grandfather will be back as soon as he’s done,” he said, groaning as he got to his feet.
“When will that be?” she demanded, crossing her arms and pouting.
“Quick as I can,” he promised.
Grandfather walked to Meeks, who was still smirking, and said, “Fill in for me.”
The smirk disappeared. “What?”
“Sit down, have some tea, and eat a crumpet with my granddaughter. But you can’t wear the crown.”
“You’re kidding, right?”
“Do I look like I’m kidding?”
Acting like he’d rather put a fishhook through his thumb, Meeks nodded and went to the table, where Lizzie was grinning brightly.
“Sit down, Mr. Meeks,” she said graciously. “Have some tea while you’re waiting for Grandfather to come back.”
Lizzie’s grandfather grinned for all sorts of reasons as he walked down a long hallway and into a richly furnished library office. He ignored the books that filled the shelves. They were all his wife’s idea. He hadn’t read a tenth of them, but they looked good when guests came by.
He picked up a cheap cell phone sitting on the desk, said, “Talk.”
“We have problems,” said a man with a deep, hoarse voice.
“Tell me.”
“She’s not listening to reason,” he said. “She’s talking.”
Lizzie’s grandfather squinted, calculated. “You’re sure?”
“Yes.”
“How do you want it handled?”
“We’ll take care of it.”
This surprised him. “Are you sure? There are others we can turn to.”
“Our mess. We’ll handle it.”
Grandfather accepted the decision, set it aside, said, “Other problems?”
“Naomi Cross threw in a wild card. Brought in her uncle. Alex Cross. Google him. Ex–FBI profiler, now a homicide detective in Washington, DC.”
“Reputation?”
“Formidable.”
Grandfather factored that into his thinking. “We’re clean otherwise?”
“As it stands, yes.”
“Then we don’t have a choice. Take care of that situation as you see fit.”
A moment passed before the man on the other end said, “Agreed.”
“Talk to me when it’s done.”
Grandfather hung up and destroyed the phone. Then he left the office and walked back down the hallway, eager for tea with little Lizzie.