Summary: A case gets Kim and Danae into hot water. Margo and Carlos go undercover. Margo makes a decision that affects them all.
Side note:  Carlos still has his job with the Dallas PD.  Recurring characters Margo Jones (Trent's long-time flame) and Danae Launey (forensics specialist).  They're mine.  Don't take.
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Disclaimer:  Oh, ye cruel cruel world!  Alas, that everyone else is not mine!  Curse thou, ô brothers Norris!  Oh how it burns me to owe you everything, but to have nothing!
 
 

        “So I hear that you fellows have a case you can’t crack?” Danae Launey teased Trent Malloy as she walked into Thunder Investigations.  Trent and his long-time friend, detective Carlos Sandoval, had begun a private investigation business four years ago, and it was doing well today.  As of yet, there had never been a case the two boys couldn’t handle.
        Trent told Danae as much.  “Carlos will be here in a half-hour,” he added.
        “He didn’t tell you?” she looked surprised as she sat down a loaded bag of supplies she carried with her at all times.  Her job as a medical examiner required her to be prepared to gather whatever forensic evidence she could find at a crime scene-even on a Friday afternoon.
        “Tell me what?” he the blonde man asked.
        “Meet the newest member of Thunder Investigations,” she said with mock bravado, taking a bow.  “He said you guys were getting nowhere fast on a case about a haunted house and asked if I would help out.”
        “We’re not paying you for this,” Kim Sutter warned from the main room.  Somehow, the perky red-headed secretary always knew what was going on.
        “I’m volunteering,” Danae yelled back good-naturedly.
        “Here’s the case file so far,” Trent passed her a thin manila folder that had scant information between the covers and studied her carefully as she read it.  He had known Carlos forever, and aside from Trent’s girlfriend, Margo, he had never really had female friends until he met Danae two weeks ago.  They worked together on a frightening case that put both of their lives in jeopardy, and afterwards, Carlos had decided not to pursue her.  He had been uncommonly tight-lipped about any feelings he had for her, and for the most part, they seemed to be nothing more than friends.  Occasionally, though, Trent would see a prolonged touch or a straying look between them.
        “I didn’t know you had country in the heart of Dallas,” she said dryly, having finished reading.
        “It’s a few miles outside of the city limits, actually,” he admitted.
        “She hears, ‘inhuman wailing and clanking,’ at night,” Danae read skeptically.
        “She’s old,” Trent shrugged, “and very superstitious, but she’s paying us to find out what’s going on.”
        “Alright, I’m in,” she said, handing Trent’s folder back to him.  “When do we start?”
        “Carlos and I were planning on going out tomorrow,” Trent told her.
        “You should make her come to practice with us,” Carlos said as he walked into Trent’s office with a grand smile on his tan face.  “Hey,” he said to Danae.
        “Hey,” she said back, her own contagious smile growing.  “What practice?”  She turned back to Trent.
        “I make this big lug train with me every Saturday,” Trent joked.
        “In a futile attempt to teach me how NOT to get my ass kicked,” Carlos added humorously.  “You should come.”
        “He’s a slow learner,” Trent said.  “You should come.”
        “Well…sure, I guess,” she answered.  “Do I need to bring anything special?”
        “Nah,” Trent brushed aside her comment, “Just wear clothes you can move in; I’ve got lunch covered.”

        Bright and early Saturday morning, Danae parked in front of Thunder Karate, Trent’s other booming business.  She slowly walked in the front door of the huge warehouse-esque building and let her eyes adjust to the darker interior.  Blue mats covered the open floor, with assorted exercise apparatus ringing the floor.
        “Hello!” Trent called from his office upstairs.  He quickly jogged down the steps and stood before her.  “You ready to get started?”
        “I thought Carlos was going to be here,” she said as Trent led her to the center of the blue mats, first asking her to take off her shoes.
        He’s probably still in bed,” the blonde man laughed.  “And besides, he hates stretching.”
        “His loss,” Danae said with a grin.  She quickly pulled her short hair into a ponytail and sat down tailor-style in front of Trent, mirroring him.
        “Never fear!” Carlos came into the dojo dramatically after they had finished all their stretches, “Carlos the Great is here to save you!”
        “Right,” Trent said dryly as he folded his arms across his chest.
        “What’d I miss?  Stretching?  Good,” Carlos winked to Danae as he sat down on the edge of the blue mat.
        “So what’s next?” she asked Trent after she tossed a smile Carlos’ way.  She spent the next hour and a half learning a few different types of punches and kicks.  She was a fast learner, but she made many mistakes since she had never done anything like this before.  Even Carlos had some background in boxing, enabling him to whiz through Trent’s lessons.  When they were through, Trent and Carlos were glistening in sweat and panting, while Danae-the most out of shape-was breathing heavily and wiping her face with her tee-shirt.  “Great!” she smiled in spite of being exhausted.  “So now I get to meet this lady looking like this?”
        “There’s a shower upstairs if you want,” Trent offered, handing her a white towel.  She excused herself and the guys sat down on the mats.  “She’s a natural at this.  If she keeps it up, she’ll be better than you,” Trent teased Carlos as the handsome Hispanic took a drink of his water bottle.  He nodded.  “She’s incredible, Carlos,” Trent pressed.
        “I know,” Carlos agreed.
        “But?”
        “But…” Carlos ran a hand through his dark spiky hair.  “I don’t want to ruin it, you know?  She’s a great pal,” he smiled, white teeth flashing against his tan skin, “She’s the best.  I don’t want to lose her by being an idiot.”
        “So you’re going to see other women?” Trent asked.
        Carlos just grinned impishly.
        “I’m serious, Carlos!” Trent joked.  “I worry about you being single.”
        “I’ll be fine,” his dark friend assured him.

        Carlos drove them all in his beige four-door sedan.  It was a long trip, as they had to fight the Saturday traffic in town, then travel an additional fifteen minutes or so out of the city to get to their destination.  That left Danae and Carlos much needed time to catch up.
        “So you went back to Indiana?” he asked her.  “How was it?”
        Danae sighed in the back seat.  “Really weird,” she said softly.  “There was no Gabe, no Nic, and everyone was really torn up about it.”  Gabe, her ex-fiancé and drug dealer, was killed by his drug lord, Nic, who then came to Dallas with intent to kill Danae in the aforementioned plot that nearly killed Carlos and Danae.  “And no one knew what happened but me.
        “Since he’s dead,” she went on, “the police decided not to make a big public scene about it.  Nobody understands why I’m so upset…Nic and Gabe are still the good guys.”
        “That’s rough,” Carlos agreed.  “How are you coping?”
        “It’s better here,” she admitted.  “You, at least, seem to get it, and all your friends are really supportive.  You’re lucky.”
        “I know,” he laughed.  “I wake up every day and realize that.”
        “I’m just looking forward to getting on with my life,” she concluded enthusiastically.  Carlos raised an eyebrow and stole a quick glance at Trent.  It sounded like Danae’s plans involved moving beyond the whole messy situation…and the tenderness she and Carlos had almost had at that time.  Trent shrugged.  He wasn’t going to read too much into it.  Even if Carlos and Danae couldn’t see it, Trent knew they would be great together.  How could he set that up without being obvious or forcing the idea on them?
        “Speaking of getting on with life, I hear they’re sending Margo back undercover,” Carlos said.
        “Really?” Trent sounded very surprised.  “She didn’t say anything about it to me!  Wait…how did you know that?” he asked suspiciously.
        “It’s going to be a joint venture between the police and the feds.  They’re looking at sending me in, too,” Carlos replied.
        “What kind of case?” Trent asked.
        “Well,” Carlos shrugged his massive shoulders uneasily as he stumbled over his words.  “We’re investigating a gated community in Dallas proper…”
        “We?” Trent asked.  “I thought nothing was definite yet.”
        “You’re soooo busted,” Danae called out from behind them, and Carlos grinned.
        “Margo and I are posing as a married couple,” he finally admitted to his best friend.
        “Ma-Married?” he asked.  He laughed after a pause.  “That’s probably what she wanted to tell me.”  He scoffed again.  “She’d been acting funny ever since she got back from Danae’s apartment, but I didn’t let her tell me what was going on.”
        “Why not?” Carlos asked.
        “I told her I loved her,” he admitted with only a faint blush.  Danae cooed in the back seat, making him smile broadly.
        “Congratulations, buddy,” the Hispanic said with a sly smile.
        “Yeah, she’s moving in with me,” Trent added.  “I’m so psyched!”
        “That’s great,” Carlos said with a genuine smile and a glance into his rear-view mirror, where he made eye contact with Danae for a second before turning his attention back to the road.
        “Turn here,” Trent said as Carlos turned right off the lonely highway and onto a rural road.  The sun had faded the yellow lines on the road so that they were barely visible.  The houses were few and far between, and they sat far from the main road.
        “It’s like being home again,” Danae murmured as they passed a tall farmhouse.
        “This is true hick country,” Carlos said.  “There are more animals than people.”
        “This is nothing,” Danae said, leaning forward over Carlos’ shoulder.  “There were more pigs behind my house than there were people in my entire town.”  Trent whistled, and Danae sat back.  “I kind of miss the quiet.”
        Carlos chuckled deeply.  “Farm girl.”
        “Well we can’t all have Detective Sandoval’s suburban childhood,” she retorted.
        “Mmmhmmm,” he agreed.  “Don’t diss the Sandovals until you’ve met them.”
        “I wouldn’t dare,” she grinned again, wrapping her arms around his neck and giving him a squeeze to let him know she was joking.
        “It’s up there on the right,” Trent told Carlos, who turned down a dusty path and parked in front of an old farm house.  As the trio approached the front door, it opened, and a tiny, jovial woman in her late sixties came out of the house.  “Mrs. Peters?” Trent addressed her.  “I’m Trent Malloy from Thunder Investigations, and this is my partner Carlos Sandoval.”
        “Nice to meet you,” Carlos took her gnarled hand after Trent had greeted her.  “This is Danae Launey.  She agreed to help us out in this case.”
        “Your house is beautiful, Mrs. Peters,” Danae gushed as she shook hands.
        “Call me Gwendy, please,” the feisty old woman insisted.  “Please, come inside with me, children.”  Trent smiled at being called a kid again and followed her.
        “May I look around outside?” Danae asked.
        “Certainly dearie,” Gwendy said before she, Trent, and Carlos slipped inside the old house.  “Can I get you boys some cookies and milk?” she asked.
        “No thank you,” Carlos answered.  He wanted to get down to business.  “Where are you hearing these noises?”  Gwendy led them up creaky wooden stairs to the second story.  They stared down a well-cleaned wooden hallway.
        “That’s Harold’s room,” she said, leading them into a rustic chamber.  It had been painted a deep red color, and it held a gun cabinet with vintage firearms, an antique desk littered with cute, homemade projects, expertly crafted by someone young with too much crazy glue, and various knick-knacks that had required years of careful collection.
        “Harold?” Trent asked.
        “My husband.  He passed away two years ago,” she answered.  The men expressed their condolences, but she brushed them aside.  “He’s with the angels now.  I keep his room nice to remember him,” she sighed.  “But anyway, this is where the noises come from.”  She stood in the doorway while Carlos and Trent scanned the room with their eyes, trying to find anything that could produce the rattling or moaning she had reported.
        “Do you mind if we leave a tape recorder here overnight?” Trent asked, pulling a slender recording device out of his jacket.
        “Not at all,” she agreed.  They left it on the desk and continued with their journey.  “I hope you boys don’t think I’m batty, but I’ve begun seeing things, as well as hearing them.”
        “In this room?” Trent asked.  He looked to Carlos, who raised an eyebrow thoughtfully.
        “In the hallway,” she said.  “I’ll walk from my room to the bathroom in the middle of the night and there’s someone…glowing!  I tried to talk to him, but he didn’t say anything back.  He won’t say what he wants from me and this house.  It’s haunted, you know.”
        “How do you know?” Carlos wondered.  He never cared for fairy tales or ghost stories because years as a cop had taught him that there was always a person at the root of all problems.
        “There’s so much history in this house, on this land,” she waved an arm dramatically.  “If I were a spirit, I would want to be here, too.”
        “Me, too,” Danae said, finally finding them.  “I forgot how pretty the country is.”
        “Did you find anything?” Trent asked her.
        “Nothing concrete yet,” she answered.  “Is this the room?”  She went over the room, just as the guys had earlier, except that she knelt beside a heating vent behind the desk.  “Does this house still use water circulation heating?” she asked Gwendy in awe.
        “Why yes,” she nodded.  “I believe it does.”  Danae looked out the window above the vent.
        “I’ll be back,” she told them as she left again.  Trent looked to Carlos, who seemed as puzzled as anyone.
        “I’ll follow her,” he suggested.
        Outside, the sun was shining brightly as Danae circled the house, wading through the long grass.  Gwendy, for all of her good vices, was not able to mow her lawn because of arthritis.  It was the long, wild grass that usually grew in fields instead of the short, neat kind in most Dallas yards, Danae noticed.  In fact, the back of the house was quite close to a dead corn field.  She could tell by the way it looked that it had just been harvested the past fall, and the tractor tilling the softened dirt told her that it would be planted again this spring.
        She turned her eyes back to the knee-high grass and noticed several little trails crisscrossing through it.  Mrs. Peters had a mouse problem, no doubt.  Danae squinted up at the house, found Harold’s window, and stood beneath it.  Crouching, she began to examine the ground.
        “What’re YEW doing here?” an uneducated voice asked from over her shoulder.  Danae started, and looked up into blue eyes sunk deep in a weathered face.
        “I’m a guest of Mrs. Peters,” she told the man as she stood up and wiped her hands on her jeans.  She stuck out a hand.  “Danae Launey.”
        “Bucky,” he introduced himself.   “This here is my brother, Wayne.”  Both brothers had strong grips.
        “Do you own the farm land?” she asked them as they put their heavy leather gloves on again.
        “Naw, Peters owns alla this.  We just work it,” Wayne, the taller and skinnier of the two said.  His voice was lower than his brother’s.
        “From here?” she asked.  “I mean, I don’t see a barn or a shed or any other machines here, so I didn’t think…”
        “Barn’s right across that field there,” Bucky pointed over his shoulder, east of the house.
        Wayne spit tobacco juice.  “Listen, Danae,” he said, putting his hands on his hips.  “I don’t know what business you have with the ole lady, but she’s crazy.”
        “Crazy?” she prodded.
        “She sees things.  She hears things,” Bucky drawled.  “It’s best jest not to humor her.  She was always talking about ghosts this and that when she moved in.”
        “Huh…Interesting,” she commented.
        “Danae?” She spun toward the sound of her name, and saw Carlos making his way across the yard to her.  “Who are your friends?”
        “This is Bucky and Wayne,” she pointed to them in turn.  “They’re brothers.  They work Mrs. Peters’ land for her.”
        “Naw, we don’t work for her,” Wayne protested.  “Well, not really,” he amended his exclamation.  Seeing Trent and Gwendy approaching, the brothers took their leave without further conversation.
        “What’s going on?” Trent wanted to know.
        Carlos wiped his forehead with his arm.  “Ask her,” he said.
        “Kits,” she announced proudly, earning a look of puzzlement from everyone.  She bade them come closer and crouched  in the dirt again.  “You’ve got foxes, ma’am,” she told Gwendy.  “See these tracks?  And this is the opening to the nest.  I bet you anything we find mama and a few kits inside.”
        “Foxes are making the moaning and clanking noises?” Carlos asked.
        Gently, Danae pulled back the grass and sticks that hid the entrance to the fox lair.  A pair of large, intelligent eyes beamed back at the four humans, and a brood of younglings pressed against the mother fox’s long, warm fur.  Quietly, Danae pointed out the metal duct that formed one side of the burrow.  “The kits scratch against it when she leaves to hunt at night, and they probably make sounds that echo up into every room through the heating vents.”  Carefully, she covered the opening to the fox hole again and stood up.
        “Well I’ll be,” Gwendy breathed.  “How long will they be there?”
        “How long ago did the noises start?” Danae asked.
        “A couple weeks ago,” she said.  “Almost three weeks now, I guess.”
        “I’d give it two more weeks, then,” she said.  “By then the kits will be going with mama to find food.”

        “So is that case closed then?” Danae asked during the ride back to Thunder Investigations.
        “Not quite,” Trent answered.  “Now she’s seeing ghosts.  I don’t think the fox is responsible for that.  Who were those guys?”
        “Farmers,” Carlos said.  “They work for Gwendy.  Or they don’t work?  I was confused about that.”
        “They work the land that she owns,” Danae explained.  “But she doesn’t know anything about farming, so she’s not exactly their boss.  They said that she was insane and that she had always complained about ghosts.”
        “I want to see what their story is,” Carlos said.  “They acted kind of shady, if you ask me.”
        “It’s not over yet,” Trent agreed.
        “So are you going to come with me to the big Sandoval-clan-dinner tomorrow?” Carlos changed the subject.
        “I can’t,” Trent said.  “I’ve got plans with Margo.”
        “But what about Madre?” Carlos asked his friend incredulously.  “She will never forgive me for not bringing you along!”
        “I’d be there if I could,” Trent told him sincerely, “but we’ve got reservations and there’s tuxedoes and dresses involved.  I fear the wrath of Margo more than I do Madre.”
        Carlos raised an eyebrow.  “That’s saying a lot.  So I’ll have to make a solo appearance?”
        “Take Danae,” Trent suggested without thinking about what he was saying.
        “That’s just plain mean,” Carlos replied.  “Make Danae face the kraken so soon?  She’ll hate me for sure!”
        “Never,” Danae cut in.
        “It’s a good idea,” Trent insisted.
        “It’s a horrible idea,” Carlos argued.
        “How about you ask and I decide?” Danae proposed.
        “Fine.  Danae, do you want to brave the fires of Hell to come to dinner with my family?  This includes mama, sisters, nephews, aunts, uncles…”  Carlos would have gone on in detail about the mass chaos that was his family, but Danae cut him off.
        “Sure,” she answered simply.
        “What?”  He asked if she was insane while Trent laughed.

        “Margo?” Trent called as he unlocked the front door to his house.
        “In the bedroom,” she yelled back.  She was sitting on the floor in front of the bed, unpacking a box.
        “Carlos said you’re going back undercover,” his muscled form leaned casually in the doorway, but he crossed his arms defensively.
        “I was going to tell you,” she said as she stood up and faced him.
        “Do you think you’re ready for this?” he asked.  “It’s so soon after the Cirq, and you almost didn’t walk away from that,” he said bluntly.
        “This is exactly why I didn’t tell you!  This isn’t a long-term thing,” she told him as she approached, crossing her own arms.  “And I’m not going solo.  And for God’s sake, Trent, we’ll be in the middle of suburbia!  What’s going to go wrong?”
        “You didn’t answer my question,” his voice was dangerously low, betraying his unhappiness.
        “I don’t know!” she threw her arms in the air.  “I don’t know if I’m ready.  I don’t know if I’m over the Cirq yet, but I need to find out.  This is for me.  It’s not about you.”  She rubbed Trent’s arms.
        “I worry,” he softened his voice as he looked into her eyes.
        “I’ve got Carlos, the Dallas PD, and the FBI to back me up this time.  I’ll be fine.  Have some faith in me.”
        Trent cracked a smile.  “The only thing that worries me,” he kidded, “is Carlos.”  Margo smiled and kissed him.  The argument wasn’t exactly over, but the only way she could prove she was right was by successfully pulling this gig off.

        Carlos picked Danae up at noon on Sunday and spent the trip across town in a nervous rant explaining his family.
“When Hector died, it tore my family apart,” he said of his older brother’s murder by a drug dealer.  “Then we found out years later that Hector was trying to get out and do the right thing.”  He grinned.  “We’ve had a big get-together each year ever since.  And it’s not as bad as I make it out to be.  For one thing, there’s my mom’s cooking.  But,” his face grew dark, “Everyone in the immediate family will be there.”
        “It sounds really nice, actually,” Danae smiled.
        “I’m glad you’re coming with me,” he admitted.
        “Are you always this nervous when you see your family?” she asked him.
        He laughed.  “I’m the youngest,” he explained with evident mirth in his voice, “No wife, no kids…I’m a bad son.”
        “Oh no!” Danae smacked her forehead.  “They’re going to be all over me.”  Carlos laughed heartily and agreed with a wicked smile.  “What do I tell them about us?”
        Carlos parked in front of a small house that was already teeming with people despite his observation that his niece and her family hadn’t yet arrived.  “Just tell the truth,” he winked.  He was not only nervous about showing up still single, but he was also worried about his family not liking Danae and driving her away.  Maybe, though, his relatives would divine Danae’s feelings for him, a subject which occupied his mind far more than it should.
        They got out of his car, and he locked the doors.  He could tell Danae was now apprehensive of meeting his family.  He took her hand gave it a warm, reassuring squeeze as he led her to the front door.  His nephew, Jesse, greeted and admitted them.
        “They’re all in the living room, Uncle Carlos,” the boy-almost a young man-told them.  Carlos made a quick introduction of Danae then continued through the house towards the sound of loud arguing and talking.
        “Do I hear…” a woman’s strong voice asked as she stood from her plush armchair.  “Carlitos!”
        He flashed his hugest grin and stepped around the people on the floor.  “Mama.” He gave her a fierce hug and kissed each side of her face.
        “Is my Trent coming?” she asked.  She hadn’t yet seen Danae, who was hidden from view by Carlos’ broad shoulders.
        “He had an important date with Margo,” Carlos told her.
        “He’s my favorite,” she told everyone.  “He’s got a lovely girl, unlike my other son,” she spoke as though Trent was also her son.  Indeed, Carlos’ longtime friend had become a loved family member by default years ago.
        “Well I brought a new friend for you to love and adore,” he said impishly, stepping aside to let Danae approach.  “This is Danae Launey.  She’s the one I was telling you about the other day.”
        “The one that cuts up dead people?” someone else asked.
        “It’s among my many talents,” Danae laughed.  Strangers were always amazed, and a little grossed out, when they heard about her job.
        Mrs. Sandoval hugged Danae in welcome, whispering, “Please marry my son!” as she kissed her cheeks briskly.  The young lady just blushed and smiled shyly as Carlos’ mother winked.  “Manners!” she insisted loudly to the rest of the room, and the others introduced themselves.  Jesse’s mother, Teresa, embraced Danae as the matriarch did.  She also met Jesse’s best friend, Bobby, and other assorted aunts and uncles, each with varying knowledge of the English language.  As the last person, and elderly aunt, was introduced, a woman younger even than Danae, her toddler, new infant, and husband made their entrance.  Carmen was the daughter of Carlos’ other sister, and had married her husband Hector when they were both very young.
        “We’re all here!” one of the elder uncles declared.  “To the kitchen!”
        Danae and Carlos followed the gaggle of Sandovals into another room, where a long table had been set up.  Everyone seated themselves randomly, and Danae wound up at the end of the table across from Carlos.  Teresa and Madre Sandoval set several hot dishes on the table, the enticing aromas making everyone’s mouths water.  Carlos pointed at various dishes and urged Danae to try them.
        “Carlitos,” Teresa picked on her younger brother.  “Can we have a prayer?”
        Carlos stood, bowed his head and clasped his hands.  All others bowed their heads as he began.  “Lord, thank you for bringing old family and new friends together today.  Watch over us as we work and play, and keep Hector in our hearts always.”
        “Amen,” Madre said emphatically.  The others chorused their own “amen”s as Carlos sat back down.
        “Let’s eat!” Hector (Carmen’s husband) rubbed his hands together eagerly; Madre made the best authentic Mexican cuisine this side of the Rio Grande.  The dishes were passed around, and Jesse, seated to Danae’s left, heaped her plate with food.  Chatter burst out as they discussed family matters, but also the individual lives of people seated at the table.  Jesse’s academics, Carlos’ career, and Carmen’s new baby were among the topics.  Before she knew what happened, Danae was sucked into the discussion.  Because of all the talking, the meal lasted for over an hour, at which time the table was cleared and dessert was served.  Afterwards, Carlos, Hector, Jesse and Bobby went outside with the younger children and began playing soccer in the backyard.  The elders took their coffee into the living room and fell asleep on the couch or armchairs, leaving the younger women to sit around, play cards, and gossip.
        They were interrupted just as Danae was finally gaining the upper hand in a game of gin as Carlos entered the house in a huff.  He quickly stomped into the kitchen where he held a trembling hand under the flow of water from the sink tap.
        “What happened?” Madre asked worriedly.
        “There was a piece of broken glass outside in the yard, and I fell on it,” Carlos scowled.
        “You’re cut?” Madre proceeded to panic as only mothers can.  She hovered over her son and began speaking in rapid Spanish.  Danae butted her way in and took his hand gently.
        “Oh he’s fine,” she chided Carlos, who only scowled deeper at her.  His hand hurt!  “I’ll take care of him.  Can I get some tweezers, a Band-Aid, and some cotton balls?”  Madre whisked away into the bathroom to find the items Danae had requested and returned with incredible speed.  Danae shooed her back to the card game while she talked with Carlos.  His palm still had small bits of glass in the wound.  “Don’t look at it,” she warned as she began to pluck at the small shards.
        “Ow!” he jerked his hand away.
        “I told you!” she laughed at him, adding insult to injury.  “Watch Teresa’s hand for me.  I want to win this round!”  As he squinted at his big sister’s cards, Danae quickly pulled the remaining grains out of his hand.  She rinsed the heel of his palm under the sink again and looked to make sure she had gotten all the glass out before pressing a clean cotton swab to the wound and holding it there.
        “I don’t think you’re going to win,” he told her.  The color had returned to his face.  He looked down at his hand, cradled in hers.  “How’s it looking?”
        Danae looked up in his brown eyes.  His face was so close to hers.  He was so close to her.  “I don’t think you’ll need stitches,” she managed to say in a low voice.  Carlos’ face slowly broke into a wide grin, which she mirrored.  She studied his hand again.  The bleeding had stopped, so she covered it with the colorful, cartoon covered Band-Aid and sent the mischievous man back outside with a playful shove.
        “So Danae,” Teresa prompted as she sat back down.  “What’s with you and my brother?”  Danae blushed, grinned, and opened her mouth to reply.

        “Well, hon, here’s our new home!” Carlos put his arm around Margo’s shoulder as the moving people (otherwise known as new police initiates) made a show of lugging furniture inside the beautiful, new brick house in the Westwater gated community.  Residents in this closed-off neighborhood had to apply to live there, and they had to meet certain criteria.  No one on the block had children or pets, which was a shame, Carlos thought.  The neighborhood could use the personality a few children would add to it.  The white houses were all alike, with neat, well-kept lawns devoid of any ornamentation.  The hardest thing about this job, Carlos decided, wasn’t going to be finding out who was extorting the members of the community, but keeping his sanity.  He had no idea how right he would be.
        Margo shook out of his embrace and went into their new house as Carlos followed her.  The moving men all tipped their hats and deserted.  Their backs had taken enough abuse for the day.  Margo and Carlos only needed the bare minimum in furniture anyway; they wouldn’t be staying too long.  On the dining room table, they had left a yellow bill.  Carlos picked it up, smiled, and handed it to Margo.  It read, “Good Luck.”  They were operating under the assumption that the house was bugged or otherwise monitored, thus the written note.
        “Since when do they put smileys at the bottom of the bill?” Margo wondered aloud.
        “Are you going to work tomorrow?” he asked her casually.
        “Yep,” she answered.  “I start my management at the First National Bank on Monday.”  The Federal Bureau of Investigations was incredibly interested by the large amount of money inexplicably moving out of certain accounts.  Even more curious than the incredible sum was the fact that the owners of the accounts all lived within a block of each other in Westwater.  All members of the gated community worked in banks and were very wealthy.
        Carlos flopped down on the couch.  Just as Margo was going to sit next to him, the doorbell rang.  Carlos grinned evilly at her.  “Are you going to get that, sweetie?”  She made a rude gesture at him and sauntered off to answer the door.  Carlos closed his eyes and relaxed as he heard garbled talking at the porch.
        “Oh, Carlitos!” Margo called sweetly.  “It’s the neighbors.  Come say hi!”  Carlos groaned.  The only person who could get away with calling him “Carlitos” was his mother.  “This is my husband,” she introduced him, “Carlos Sanchez.”
        He put a face-splitting grin on his face and shook the hands of the couple who had come to visit vigorously.  The greatest thing about working undercover was that he could act however he wanted, and right now he wanted to be overzealous and sinfully nice.  The couple was perhaps a few years older than Margo and Carlos, and he could just envision them playing tennis or badminton on the weekends with matching white sweaters draped over their shoulders and expensive rackets.  As it was, they dressed as though they were models for J. Crew.
        “How long have you been together?” Cindy asked.  Her smoky blonde hair hung straight to her shoulders, and she was a few inches shorter than Margo.
        “We just got married last year,” Margo answered before Carlos could open his mouth.  He put his arm around her shoulder and smiled again.
        “Oh newlyweds!” Cindy gushed.  “How sweet!  You two are going to love it here.”  Her husband wasn’t nearly as excited.  He rolled his eyes and grunted dismissively.  She scoffed at him and turned her attention back to Margo and Carlos.  “Welcome to the neighborhood!  Stop by anytime; we’re the second house down from yours.”
        “Thank you,” Carlos said.  He waved as they stepped off the porch and walked down the sidewalk.  Once they were out of sight, he let his arm drop.
        “He didn’t seem to share Cindy’s idea of the neighborhood,” Margo observed.  Carlos agreed, and they went inside to fix dinner.  Afterwards they went directly to bed.  At least, Margo took the bed while Carlos lay awake on the couch, thinking.
        The next morning, he and Margo awoke early, showered, and ate breakfast.  Then they went to “work.”  To anyone checking their background, Margo Sanchez worked as a financial consultant for banks and had been transferred to Dallas from another bank of the same branch in Arizona.  Her husband, Carlos Sanchez, was a school teacher.  In reality, though, they both drove to the FBI headquarters downtown and gave a report.
        “We don’t have much time or money to waste on this, Jones,” Margo’s crotchety boss called her by her real last name.  As per usual, he was scowling.  “We need you two to come up with something scandalous ASAP.  It must be performed in the house to get the attention of our perp.”
        “What do you have in mind?” Carlos asked timidly.  The old man was chronically cranky, but he commanded respect for the countless years he had spent with the Bureau.
        “I don’t care,” he snapped.  “Sex, drugs, rock and roll, whatever you kids can come up with.”  He dismissed them, and they held a quick conference in the hallway.
        “I’ve got an idea…” Carlos was grinning his mischievous grin.
        “What?” Margo asked, filled with dread.  Ideas associated with that grin were never good.
        “You and Trent…” Carlos let his eyebrows do the rest of the talking.
        “That’s just dumb enough it will work, Sandoval,” Margo laughed and turned on her heel.  “Promise you won’t get jealous?” she called over her shoulder.
        “I might get nauseous!” he yelled at her retreating form.  “Ew,” he said to himself.
        After he checked in with his boss at police headquarters, Carlos was dismissed again to spend the afternoon as he saw fit.  He sighed when he realized Kim would kill him if he didn’t come to Thunder Investigations and finish signing off on old charts.  Carlos hated paperwork with a passion.
        “Great!” Kim said as she gathered up her purse and coat.  “You can run things while I get food.  I’m starving!”  With one last smile, she bustled out of the office, leaving Carlos alone.
        With a sigh, he retreated into his office and began to look over old cases.  He needed to review them one last time before he could sign off and declare the case officially “closed.”  He was only half-way through his first one when Kim’s phone rang.  He sprinted into the waiting area and answered.
        It was a wrong number.
        Then his cell phone rang, and he dashed back into his office to entertain a quick call from Danae.  Because of his undercover work, he told her, he wouldn’t be able to meet her for dinner without drawing suspicion, but he convinced her to come see him at Thunder Investigations when she got the chance so they could catch up.  After much coaxing, she agreed to come in the next afternoon, Friday, to see him. They hadn’t gotten a good chance to talk about the party at Madre Sandoval’s yet.  Carlos was interested in what she thought about it now that she’d had a few days to recuperate from the Mexican food and realize his family belonged in a psycho ward.
        “I gotta go,” he told her as he heard the front door open.  “Be right there!” he yelled at whoever had come in.  “I’ll talk to you later,” he grinned into the phone.  “Bye.”  As he turned and walked out into the parlor, his silly grin melted off his face, replaced by a look of shock.
        The girl with vivid red locks ducked her head self-consciously under Carlos’ stare.  “Carlos Martinez,” she smiled shyly.  “You never called.”
        “Nicole,” Carlos leaned in the door jamb.  “Wow.  No, I didn’t, but I had a good excuse,” he beamed an ironic smile at her.  He couldn’t believe it was really her.
        “Yeah, I heard about Johnny,” her eyes were distant; he couldn’t read them.  “Who knew?”  She sighed.  “I read about it in the paper:  how Johnny Prima was some drug lord and how he almost killed you.  But your name was different?”
        “Sandoval,” he told her.  “I was undercover for the PD to bust the El Vaquero drug ring.”
        Nicole scoffed.  “I must have sounded so stupid coming onto you at that club.”
        Carlos raised an eyebrow thoughtfully.  “I should have called.  I would have called, but if we had gotten too close, you could have found out and blown my cover, so I didn’t.  And then my cover got blown anyway, and it was all pointless after that.  I would have liked to have been able to call you,” he smiled slightly at his inane rambling.  Four years after the El Vaquero gig went horribly wrong, Nicole was still one of the most beautiful women he’d ever seen.  Her red hair-shoulder length when they had first met-was now layered and fell softly down her back, framing her perfect face and piercing brown eyes.
She blushed again and looked at her hands, leaving them in an awkward pause.
        “So are you here on business?” he asked her finally.
        “Yeah,” she nodded, and Carlos ushered her into his office, closing the door behind him and offering her a chair.  Nicole laughed nervously.  “I didn’t realize you actually worked here.  You’re not with the police anymore?”
        “I went through kind of a rough patch a few years ago and quit the force, but I had to rejoin soon after.  It’s my life.  I was lucky they still needed me as much as I missed them.  But enough about that.  What can I do for you?” Carlos folded his hands and leaned forward, flashing a comforting smile.
        “I think someone is following me,” she returned.
        “Why?”
        “Believe it or not, Carlos, I’m worth quite a bit nowadays,” she teased.  More seriously, she went on.  “I’m secretary to one of the biggest corporate lawyers in the country, and I know all his secrets.  A case went bad a few weeks ago, and there was a threat, and I just don’t feel safe anymore.”  She would have gone on if Carlos hadn’t interjected with some comments.
        “There was a threat to your life?”  Nicole nodded.  “Do you have any hard evidence?”
        “If I had that, I’d just go to the police,” she answered with a pout.  I just feel like I see the same guy everywhere I go, and I could swear the same car follows me to and from work and shopping.  I can’t tell whether I’m paranoid or not.  All I have is a hunch, which is why I came here for help.”
        “Calm down,” Carlos told her.  He could tell she was getting worked up by the inflection in her voice.  He asked her a few more questions before deciding to take her case.  He would survey Nicole for a week and gather evidence.  “No charge,” he added impishly, “For all those times I didn’t call.”