Chapter 4

Paolo watched the video of Natalie's interrogation again. Had he missed something? Was there a clue in her body language or voice that should have been obvious to even the most rookie agent? Was he letting his personal history with Natalie Jernigan cloud his perspective as an agent?

The tape ended. Paolo stabbed the rewind button - more forcefully than necessary - and stared at the photo of Natalie in the open folder in front of him.

Six months ago he was a senior field agent in the San Diego office. He loved his job, but had limited free time. However, he did his best in that limited free time to meet as many of southern California's beautiful women as possible. But then an uncle in Ft. Lauderdale was killed in what police termed a botched robbery. His extended family begged him to return to Florida, as if somehow he could help the police solve uncle Luca's senseless murder.

His transfer came through and he returned to Miami. He was absorbed once again into the whirlwind on the Sabbatini clan. No one remained in Italy. From nonni Maria on down, the entire family had emigrated from Naples over the years. His siblings were content and successful in their personal lives and careers. Hardly a weekend passed without a birthday or anniversary to celebrate. Life was good.

Then he was assigned to the Jernigan Task Force. He'd heard bits and pieces about Jeffrey Jernigan during his years with the Bureau, but had no idea of the extent of the man's alleged activities until recently.

Paolo remembered his initial shock when he learned about Jernigan's wife. He read through the file again. Natalie Leigh Fowler Jernigan, age 33. Born in Boca Raton, Florida. Parents still living there - father an electrical engineer, mother a housewife, one older sister. Graduated from the University of Florida with bachelor's and later a master's degree in foreign languages. Currently, a French and Spanish teacher at the rigorous Belle Cove Academy in Miami. Married Jeffrey Keith Jernigan three years ago, no kids. Lives in an exclusive gated community. Pays her bills on time, no outstanding parking tickets, etc. A model citizen.

Was she really as respectable as she sounded? Paolo wanted to believe that. She was certainly no longer the quiet, demure girl he remembered from high school. She exhibited a spirit and determination today that Paolo admired. She had no trouble going toe-to-toe with Jack during the questioning.

She would be davastated when Jernigan was finally brought to justice. As much as he, and everyone on the task force, wanted to nail Jeffrey Jernigan, Paolo winced when he thought about how her life would be forever changed.

Marco stuck his head through the door. "Task force is gathering at ten. The deputy director will be here, too. Word is he really wants to lean on the wife."

Paolo rose from the table and handed Marco the tape. "Anything from those phone taps?"

"Nada. No sightings of Jernigan anywhere. No bank or credit card activity either. The guy's a ghost."

Paolo slid into his suit jacket and retrieved his briefcase. "I have another meeting right now. Call me if anything comes up."

"Will do."

**
Natalie plodded toward her front door, her purse on her shoulder and a plastic baggie of muffins from Leonard's wife in her hand. She paused to pick up the morning newspaper and glance at the neighbors' houses. A dog barked somewhere in a backyard, but otherwise all was quiet.

She fished out her key and opened the door. At least someone had thought to lock it this morning after she was so rudely hustled out by the feds. Her cell phone lay on the coffee table. It rang just as she reached for it. Startled, she gasped and drew back her hand. Thank goodness for caller ID. It was Mrs. Taylor, the nosy retiree across the street.

After the woman left a brief message, Natalie checked for missed calls. None from Jeff, but three from his secretary. Jeff didn't show up at his meeting in Zurich. Did he miss his flight? Is he sick?

Dropping onto the couch, Natalie stared at the phone as if it might give her some answer. Her lower lip began to quiver and hot tears rushed down her cheeks. Apparently, the man she loved and had married was a fraud. Her life with him was a lie. That is, if the FBI could be believed.

The phone rang agin. Another neighbor. Are you okay? Was there an emergency at your house this morning?

"NO, NO, NO. I'm not okay," Natalie yelled and hurled the phone at the wall.

**
An hour later, Natalie sat numbly at her kitchen table in her bathrobe. She'd devoured two more blueberry muffins, called in sick from her teaching job at Belle Cove Academy, then stood in a hot shower until her face was beet-red. She'd called Jeff's cell phone repeatedly, but to no avail. Finally, she called his secretary and gave a brief explanation, hating to hear the woman's gasps of horror and disbelief.

She tossed back two Tylenol and drank some black coffee. She was about to dial Jeff again when the doorbell rang. The security monitor showed it was Randall, one of Jeff's tennis buddies. He wore a Hawaiian shirt, shorts, and sandals. She was tempted to ignore him, but padded to the front door anyway.

"Hey, Natalie. Sorry to drop by so early, but we're off to Hawaii today!" Randall crowed.

Natalie forced a smile. "Oh yeah, the big family trip."

"Right. The wife, kids, mother-in-law, sis and her family. Should be a blast!"

"Sounds wonderful."

"Anyway, I think this belongs to Jeff. I found it in the car after we played tennis last week." He dangled a key attached to a round, yellow plastic key ring advertising "Sensible Storage."

"Daddy, hurry up!" pleaded a kid from the SUV idling at the curb.

Randall threw up a hand. "In a minute, pumpkin."

For a moment Natalie was speechless. "So that's where it was. He'll be glad to have this back. Thanks."

"No problem. Gotta go." Randall waved and bounded back to the car and drove away.

More secrets, Jeff? she wondered. There was only one way to find out. She went to the bedroom to get dressed.